Archive of Our Own

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Prologue
  There was something so idyllic about the southern seas in the early morning. The way the sun’s fiery light reflected atop the soft blue waves; the smell of salt and cold air mixing together; the distinctly freezing southern air that, somehow, could not permeate (y/n)’s thick jacket.

She felt strangely warm standing at the bow of the ship, staring at the towering icebergs that the ship easily slipped between. She wondered how anything could become so large, so imposing, but she supposed it was part of the southern charm.

The last she had heard, the Southern Water Tribe had dwindled in numbers. Fire Nation soldiers imprisoned their waterbenders decades ago and, though they were accustomed to the cold, not every child could survive in such extreme conditions. No outsiders, including the Fire Nation, had set foot in Southern Water Tribe territory in years. (y/n) could only imagine how sparse their population was. But they were persistent, these Southerners, like the icebergs. They had not let the Fire Nation get the best of them.   “What are you doing out at this time?” a voice asked from behind. “It is far too cold and early.”  “Catching some peace,” she said simply. “My gut is telling me that today is going to be different.”  A hand came to rest on the railing beside her, old and weathered and gentle, but still admirably strong. Connected to the hand was, well, perhaps the only Fire Nation nobility she had been able to tolerate in years.   General Iroh, now retired, had a kind face and a soft smile that she was sure would alone keep her warm if she had not been wearing her jacket. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead, and the deepness of his smile lines did not age him but, rather, did the opposite. He reminded her of a mischievous - yet remarkably wise - child; one that could not be trusted alone with a basket of sweet treats. He shivered in his red robes, but he kept a firm grip on the icy metal railing.  “And why do you say that?”  (y/n) turned her gaze back on the icy path ahead of them. She had always trusted her intuition, knowing that it was a better weapon than her knives or even her bending, but she often couldn’t explain the reasons why she felt things. Maybe it stemmed from her childhood, some sixth sense she had developed by guessing what her mother would make for breakfast or which way her father would take her on his ostrich-horse to get to the Royal Palace in the mornings. Perhaps it was some semblance of a spiritual connection - one of Iroh’s stories that had taken root and given her a strong mind.  She wasn’t sure what her answer to his question should be.  “Just a feeling,” she said. She always said.  It seemed to be enough to appease Iroh. “We are nearing the south pole. I fear that my nephew will be let down once more.”  It was a justified concern. The reason they both stood on this ship, thousands of miles away from home, was a fruitless hunt, bred from punishment, shame, and a terrible lust for honour and, ever a self-centred royal, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was determined to get what he wanted.  The Avatar.  Two and a half years the three, and a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had been hunting the living legend down. It was a futile search - Fire Lord Ozai was aware of this when he had banished his son - but Prince Zuko was adamant. He had ordered them around the world in search of a man who had not been seen in a hundred years, and thrown a princely fit every time they did not find him.   Iroh was right to worry. Prince Zuko’s sole ambition was to find the Avatar and restore his honour, taking back his rightful place as heir to the title of Fire Lord, but it made one wonder what would happen if he were to accept that the Avatar was unreachable.  Not that he would ever accept it.  “This isn’t the right path for him,” Iroh murmured. Despite there being nobody else on deck, he kept his voice low, leaning closer. “Capturing the Avatar is not the correct decision.”  He cast her a meaningful look, something in the wise, dark eyes sparkling as he turned and walked away, likely to make himself a cup of tea.  (y/n) breathed a sigh, watching the misty breath hover in front of her before dissipating. This was not the first time Iroh had hinted at the secret she kept close to her chest, clutched in iron fingers. If anyone else were to know, she would likely be dead by now. But Iroh shared her cause.  If they ever found the Avatar, wherever they were, she would fight tooth and nail to ensure Prince Zuko could never take them back to the Fire Nation.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Distant Light"  Bright lights were never a good sign.  Bright lights meant danger. They meant something new. They meant -  “Finally.”  (y/n) turned her gaze from the beam of blue miles and miles ahead to the prince standing just a few feet away. His expression, which usually displayed nothing more than frustration or displeasure, had moulded into something she recognised far too well - hunger . Eyes bright and murderous, hands fisted by his sides as if ready to attack at that very moment, Prince Zuko felt as though he had found exactly what he was looking for.  And though most strange encounters led to there being no Avatar, only disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel sick this time.  “Uncle, do you realise what this means?”  Iroh, sitting at a low table decorated with pieces for his favourite game, Pai Sho, said “I won’t get to finish my game?”  “It means my search is about to come to an end,” Zuko announced.   He stared at that beam of light as if it held the power of the entire world and, though she didn’t want to believe it, (y/n) had an inkling that it did. Every place they had gone before this in their pointless search had only ever been discovered by chance, or had been home to various Air Nomads a century before - the extinct people from which the Avatar was part of. Nothing like this had ever happened. She wanted to believe that it was the magic of spirits, or perhaps a rogue waterbender that made the sun reflect off the water, but she knew in her heart and her gut that it wasn’t.  Iroh only sighed, placing another piece down on the table. How he could play alone was something (y/n) would never understand, but something she had never questioned.  Zuko turned to face his uncle once again. “That light came from an incredibly powerful source. It has to be him!”  The bright light faded, leaving only the clouds in the sky.  “Or it’s just the celestial lights,” said Iroh. “We’ve been down this road before, Prince Zuko. I don’t want you to get too excited over nothing. Please sit. Why don’t you enjoy a cup of calming jasmine tea?”  “I don’t need any calming tea! I need to capture the Avatar! Helmsman, head a course for the light.”  That was the way it had always been. Despite Iroh’s best attempts, Zuko would never listen. And, of course, he would get his way.   Sitting down across from Iroh, (y/n) offered him a small smile. “I’ll have some tea if you don’t mind.”  She could hear Prince Zuko scoff behind her before trudging rather loudly to the bow of the ship, but she paid no mind. Over the years, she had learned many ways to ignore the prince’s attitude yet, still, it took far more effort than it was worth to tolerate his presence. She had never wanted to be on this stupid quest for honour in the first place, much less with him.  “What is on your mind?” Iroh asked as he handed her the tea.   The cup warmed her hands, which felt like they were becoming solid blocks of ice. Perhaps, in time, she may become an iceberg floating in the southern sea. It sounded like a better fate than being stuck on this ship for much longer. But, even so, she had a duty to fulfil. A duty to not only her parents but to the world.  “I can’t help but feel as though he’s right,” she uttered.  Iroh gave her a quizzical look. “My dear, of course, he needs some jasmine tea! Whatever are you on about?”  She fought the urge to laugh. “About the Avatar, I mean. Something’s telling me that the source of light… it was him.”  “I am merely on this journey to protect my nephew and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed,” Iroh said. Then, his voice dropped to nothing more than a whisper. “I am not here to capture the Avatar. If there came a chance that Prince Zuko did manage to capture him…”  The words went unsaid, but she understood them all the same. If the Avatar was caught, she would have to set him free.   Iroh was wiser than most. He understood the intricacies of the world better than anyone (y/n) had ever met, and he was by far one of the strongest firebenders in decades. He realised how important balance was for the world - how having a world ruled by a tyrant like Ozai could destroy everything they held dear. If there was anyone she was glad to have in her corner, it was him.  But, in the long run, he would not be able to save her if she was caught.  The day passed slowly, slower than many before, but perhaps that was because of Zuko’s anticipation. He barked orders at the soldiers every chance he got. Demanded the ship sail faster as if firebenders could do anything about that. There was a slight reprieve; after all, his focus was solely on reaching the Avatar rather than spending his time being an ungrateful, brooding prince who wanted the world handed to him on a silver platter. Or his honour. She wasn’t quite sure which he would rather.  It wasn’t until the evening that she shared her first words with Zuko that day.  They didn’t talk often. Despite being the same age, (y/n) could not imagine that they had an awful lot in common and, well, his temper wasn’t exactly ideal, so she opted to just exist in the same space as him. It was plenty enough for Zuko. They hadn’t been friends growing up, merely children who played in the same vicinity.  Sometimes, she wished she had known him as a child when his mother was still around. Ursa had been a kindhearted woman, and while she lived in the palace, (y/n) had only ever heard good things about the prince. It was beyond her station to befriend him, but, even still, she much would’ve preferred his company over the perpetually angry boy she had to spend every day with, now.  For the sake of her mission, she pretended to tolerate him, to listen and obey as a member of nobility should. Inside, she seethed.  But, seeing him stand silently on the balcony of the ship’s tower, she could almost see that boy again. The one with a spark in his eye - for the entirely wrong reason, but even still, it was better than his usual look. It was a hopeful spark, full of ambition and purpose, and, for a short moment, she could feel her anger fade away. He was just a boy, wronged by his father, proving he was capable of being loved.  Then his gaze found hers, and all notions of sympathy ebbed away like ice in a stormy sea.  “What do you want?” was all he said.  (y/n) wrapped her robe around her body tightly as she stepped out onto the balcony, staring out at the evening sky. Slowly, so slowly, navy blue seeped into an inky black, speckled with sparkling stars. Stars like she had never seen in the Fire Nation Capital. She wondered if stars had always looked like this.  “It’s late, Prince Zuko,” she said, offering a small bow. “You should get some sleep.”  The prince all but scoffed. “I’ll sleep when I have the Avatar in chains.”  Was it wrong for her to want to strangle him? Her father, bless his soul, would be mortified at the mere thought, but her mother would’ve smiled at her in that unique way of hers, with her jade eyes crinkling and her cheeks becoming rosy. The way that said all the words she would never dare utter.  “Do you really believe you can capture him?” she asked. “I mean, your father and your grandfather tried. Neither succeeded.”  “That’s because their honour didn’t hinge on his capture.” Zuko’s voice was tight and as sharp as a blade. She’d have to be careful not to push her luck. “I will defeat the Avatar.”  She wasn’t sure what to say to that.   “I’m going to bed,” she decided. “I’ll see you in the morning, my prince.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Last Airbender"  Firebending came as easily as breathing.   Every twist of her hands, every kick and strike came like second nature, perfected by years of practice. Each breath, each placement of her feet and hands was carefully calculated. The heat that swirled around her felt like home.  “Power and firebending come from the breath,” Iroh instructed. “Not the muscles. The breath becomes energy in the body. The energy extends past your limbs and becomes fire.”  The words were familiar and they took root deep in her gut, powering every shift of her stance. She could feel the power flowing through her lungs, extending into her blood and bones as though it were a part of her. It was. Fire was the centre of her being.

Prince Zuko stood before her, knees bent slightly and hands fisted before him. (y/n) would have admired the determination on his face had it not been borne out of sheer frustration to move on to more advanced firebending. His slow progress was his own fault - he focused on the wrong parts of his power. She was trying to help him improve, but he was busy trying to pummel her.  With a thrust of his arm, Zuko sent a blast of fire towards her, aimed at her face.

It was an easy dodge, made with a simple shift of her feet and leaning to the side slightly. As another blast came barreling towards her, she ducked and sent her own counterattack. The prince flipped over the flames, sending a burst of fire from his feet.

There was a brutal elegance to his fighting, she had to admit. With every slice of his arm through the air or strike of his foot, it resembled some of the traditional Earth Kingdom dances she had seen on her travels as a child. Rough, but strong and precise.

Yet not precise enough.

(y/n) did not struggle to evade the onslaught of attacks. She had been taught to firebend by her father, a man not so wise or knowledgable as Iroh, but well-read and practised on, perhaps, less conventional firebending techniques. As the airbenders a century ago would have ducked and dodged, so she did, too. Like a firebender, she struck, but only when she found it necessary. She would never become a Fire Nation soldier with this training - not that she really wanted to - but she could at least fight skillfully.

And, well, she didn’t really have an issue with sparring Zuko. She would have loved nothing more than to put the snarky prince in his place, but she had to be careful around him. Who knew if he’d throw her off the boat for beating him in a training session? She didn’t entirely trust her chances.  “No , Prince Zuko!” Iroh said. “From the breath , not the muscles. Didn’t you listen?”  “Enough!” Zuko snapped. “I want to move on to the advanced sets.”

It was not often that Iroh displayed anything but being easy-going, but it was evident that even he was becoming frustrated. These last years, he had been training Zuko personally in firebending though it wasn’t seeming to stick. Zuko was driven by a tainted ambition; it clouded his mind and, mixed with his impatience, he was not progressing at the speed that was expected of him.  In no world would (y/n) ever think of giving him advice. She wasn’t sure how long she could’ve gone without trying to strangle him, or vice versa. She did not entirely trust the prince not to lash out at her.  The muscles in Zuko’s face twitched, twisting the mottled scar around his eye. “I have spent all day drilling this set. Running it through with her won’t change anything.”  (y/n) scowled but bit her tongue. She was a far better sparring partner than the soldiers on the ship.  “You have yet to master your basics,” Iroh insisted. “Drill it again.”  Zuko snarled. “The Sages tell us that the Avatar is the last airbender. He must be over a hundred years old by now. He’s had a century to master the four elements. I’ll need more than basic firebending to defeat him. You will teach me the advanced set!”  The frown twisting Iroh’s face was like nothing she’d seen before. There was a harshness to it that seemed completely foreign to her, but there, at the corners of his eyes, was a hidden softness he held only for his nephew.   “Very well,” he said. A smile began to tug at his lips. “But first, I must finish my roast duck.”  – –   Firebenders didn’t often get cold, but (y/n) found herself shivering without her thick jacket. The cold air seemed to permeate the robes she wore, biting into her skin without remorse. Oh, how she disliked the cold.  She had to admit, though, that she was loathe to leave. The quiet was something she had longed for on the busy streets of the Fire Nation Capital. The soft bobbing of the boat on the sea had become a comforting feeling that helped her sleep at night. The sunrise and sunset were beyond anything she had ever witnessed anywhere else. But if they found the Avatar - which, despite her gut feeling, she thought unlikely - they would be leaving immediately, on course for the Fire Nation and back on another long, arduous journey with Prince Zuko who, instead of being miserable and snappy, would probably never stop talking about being able to restore his honour.   Honour, honour, honour. That was all this was to him. He didn’t care about the balance of the world. He didn’t think twice about how he was going to strip somebody of their life, how the lives of those all over the world would be ruined further.  She looked at the hawk perched on the edge of the ship, sporting the Fire Nation symbol on the centre of its chest. With numb hands, she slipped her letter into the casing on its back.  “Royal Caldera City,” she murmured. “Jomuk Aoro.”  The messenger hawk’s eyes glimmered, and with a powerful flap of its wings, it launched into the sky and disappeared into the clouds.  "A message for your father.”  It was less of a question and more of a statement.

(y/n) bowed her head, pressed the heel of her palm to her enclosed fist, and turned to Prince Zuko.

“My prince,” she said. “Yes, it was.”  Zuko’s presence was almost suffocating as if the fiery anger he bore consumed all of the oxygen around them. With the hard set of his jaw, the indignant furrow of his brows, and the malicious sparkle of his golden eyes, he looked an awful lot like the legacy from which he stemmed. Firelord Sozin, Azulon, Ozai - spirits, he even mirrored the face of his younger, and somehow even more twisted, sister, Azula.   “What did the letter say?”  “The usual. Calm waters, cold nights.” She clasped her hands behind her back, trying to coax some warmth into them. What good was firebending if she couldn’t warm herself?

“And did you mention the Avatar?”  This was the question she dreaded. She could often figure out beforehand what kind of answer Zuko wanted, or the kind she would be punished for, but this was one she did not have the answer to. Once more, she found herself trusting her gut.

“No,” she said, “I did not.”  There was a moment of silence, and (y/n) found herself perched on the edge of it, far too invested in what would follow.   When Zuko finally spoke, his voice did not hold the harshness she had grown used to. “Good. So long as only we and the crew know, there is complete assurance that I will regain my honour.”  She did not breathe a sigh of relief. That would be saved for later, hidden in the solitude of her cabin where her mission would not be revealed.  The possibility of the Avatar had absolutely been included in her letter, but the words would just be shared between her and her parents. The Fire Lord and his lackeys would not be made aware, lest more people be sent on the hunt - but this was not to ensure the prince’s success. It was to ensure hers.  “What is that?”  (y/n) frowned. “What?”  Zuko pointed just to their right. “ That .”  There was no other way to describe it other than a flare of some kind. A straight, vertical shot of grey smoke topped with a sparkling golden light that twisted in the air and began its descent. Zuko dashed over to the telescope perched on the deck and squinted into the glass.  "The last airbender,” he said. “Quite agile for his old age.”  Surprisingly, he moved to the side, allowing (y/n) the space to look through the telescope herself.  And, sure enough, there he was. He was too distant to make out anything distinctive, but he wore the traditional orange-and-yellow robes the monks of the airbending temples donned during their time. She could even see the strips of blue tattooed on his head, and faintly his hands, which would likely be tipped by arrowheads - the tattoos of an airbending master. Somebody else stood with him, dressed in blue, but she couldn’t make out anything else. Only that they were part of the Southern Water Tribe.

It felt like a hot rock had been lodged in her throat.  “Wake my uncle!” Zuko ordered, turning back to face the soldiers behind. “Tell him I found the Avatar.”  The soldiers dashed off, feet pounding against the deck as they hurried. Best not to keep the prince waiting.  “With all due respect, my prince,” (y/n) said. “How are we going to find his hiding place? The south pole is huge, and airbenders were notorious for travelling fast.”  Zuko’s hand pressed against the telescope, pushing it left. “Why don’t you take a look?”  Without a telescope, she would never have been able to see it, but nestled in the snow, miles and miles away from where the Avatar and his companion were, was a small village compiled of igloos and tents, with smoke rising from small fires.   A village that Zuko would not feel mercy for.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Contrition"  (y/n) did not want to face the people of the Southern Water Tribe.  They were strong people, resilient to the bone, but she did not want to see the effect the Fire Nation had had on them. She had been taught of the Fire Nation’s brutality by her mother and had read scrolls from her father’s contacts across the world, detailing the horrific treatment of civilians in Earth Kingdom cities and towns. But this… This perhaps was worse.  The Southern Water Tribe had been purged of their waterbenders, first. Then, all able-bodied men had left to fight in the war against the Fire Nation. She was unsure she could keep her composure if met with the remnants of the tribe.  But she had to. Her prince demanded it.  So, she donned her armour, and stepped out of the ship, following just behind Prince Zuko and tailed by soldiers whose almost skeletal masks put even her on edge.  The first thing that hit her was the cold. It was worse than it had been while sailing, but perhaps the metal armour absorbed the icy air and sent it straight into her bones. With less than a thought, small flames licked her fingers, clasped behind her back, and gave some semblance of warmth to her hands.  A boy lay in the snow at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, face painted in the traditional style of the Southern Water Tribe’s wolf. He couldn’t have been any older than sixteen, like herself, and yet here he was, facing the Fire Nation alone. She had to admire that. For a millisecond, fear filled his blue eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by anger. He hefted his club and, with a yell of indignation, he stood and charged.  It was an honourable thing, (y/n) thought, protecting his village himself. But there was no telling what his training growing up had been like, and it was certainly not to the standards of Fire Nation children.  Zuko’s leg shot out, kicking the boy off of the ramp they walked down and into the snow. His expression didn’t even shift.  The rest of the village stood before them - most of them children. Boys and girls no older than eight hid behind their mother’s legs, eyes teary and gloved hands shaking. The women stood trembling, not from the cold but from fear. (y/n) couldn’t begin to imagine their fear, and she felt terribly guilty that she was part of it.  Prince Zuko stepped forward, boots crunching in the snow as he approached the terrified villagers. He made his way over to an older woman - the matriarch of the tribe, perhaps.  Her face was weathered with age, adorned with deep creases in tawny skin. Her grey hair was pulled back, hidden in the mass of her furred hood, but two thick strands of hair hung by her cheeks, tucked behind her head. It was something all of the women shared, a distinctive piece of their culture, like the boy’s war paint. The woman’s rank, however, was clear. With the way she held herself, she showed herself to be the protector of these people, despite her age. She was the only one who did not look afraid.   The girl beside her, presumably her granddaughter, was no older than fourteen. She clutched her grandmother’s arm, eyes wide with worry, but there was something hidden deeper in the ocean blue - loathing. Pure, unadulterated hatred.  “Where are you hiding him?”  No one dared to answer. Zuko was met with only the sound of the unforgiving winter air, which bit at their exposed skin.  Wordlessly, he lunged forward and grabbed the old woman by her hood, dragging her over. A collective gasp rang out. (y/n)’s heart lurched as he turned her to face the small crowd.  “He’d be about this age, master of all elements.”   Still no answer. The villagers, if possible, looked even more terrified.   Zuko released the woman and gave her a shove. She fell into her granddaughter’s arms, losing all pretence of confidence.   Fire burst from the prince’s fist quicker than thought, lashing out above the villagers. The flames brought out screams of fear that made (y/n) want to be sick. Despite the screaming voices in her mind telling her to help these people, she kept her hands clutched tightly behind her back and her face a cool mask of indifference.   “I know you’re hiding him,” Zuko snarled.  A bellow came from behind, and the crunching of snow beneath fast feet gave (y/n) all the indication to move that she needed. With a quick step to the left, she dodged the oncoming Southern boy’s heavy club. The boy continued forward, aiming for Zuko’s head, but, once more, he did not stand a chance. Zuko grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and flipped him over his head, sending the boy sprawling. Another flame burst from his fist, and the boy scurried out of the way.  But he was not disheartened. He reached over his shoulder, pulling free a shining piece of metal, bent at an angle. With a yell, he threw it, aiming for the prince’s face. Zuko dodged it easily.  The look on the boy’s face was scathing. Almost all of his war paint had been smeared off by the snow, revealing features acutely similar to the girl clutching onto her grandmother. His blue eyes held no remorse.  “Show no fear,” called a small boy from the crowd.  He tossed a spear, which the older boy caught easily. There was no hesitation in his charge, running full speed towards Zuko, spearhead aimed for his chest. He made for a brave soldier, (y/n) gave him that.   But Zuko had been trained by the best the Fire Nation had to offer. And, though he himself was not the best , this boy was no match for him. He snapped the blade of the spear off, wrenching it from the boy’s grip and jabbing him square in the head with the end multiple times until the boy fell once more. He snapped the shaft and threw the remains into the snow.  For a terrible moment, nothing was said. But, there was a quiet sound just to the left. Faint, but growing slightly louder.  Before she knew it, something metal and bent at an angle hit Zuko on the back of the head, sending him toppling off balance. Had it not been for his helmet, he likely would have suffered much worse.   A boomerang, she realised. The boy was skilled with a boomerang.   Zuko all but growled, his expression murderous. From his hands shot dagger-like flames, burning so hot that even (y/n) could feel them from where she stood.  This would be it: her front-row seat to the true brutality of the Fire Nation, and nothing she had been taught could prepare her for it.  Then, something came shooting past her - a blur of black and white, orange and yellow. It struck right at Zuko’s feet, sending him toppling. He landed face first in the snow at (y/n)’s feet, groaning and red-faced - from embarrassment or the cold - as he stood to face the culprit.  It was then, as the young children cheered, that (y/n) almost lost her composure. But not at the thought of her nation’s brutality. No. The culprit was no more than a penguin, which hobbled away grumpily, and a boy no older than twelve. With his shaved head, the tattooed arrow on his head and hands that disappeared beneath his orange-and-yellow robes, it became abundantly clear who he was.  If Zuko had not been enraged before, he certainly was now.  As he took on a fighting stance, the soldiers surrounded the boy in a semi-circle. Though she didn’t want to, (y/n) had a facade to uphold. She took her place next to Zuko, fingers straight as her hands moved into their position. The first difference between her training and the traditional. The rest of her group’s hands were clenched in tight fists.   The boy hefted his staff, and though he was only a child, the calm that overtook his expression was admirable.   His staff swept side-to-side, sending snow to cover the soldiers on either side. He slammed it down on the ground in front of him, sending a wave of snow down on Zuko and (y/n).   She tried not to have any hard feelings, truly, but as the snow melted off her heated skin and trickled down her back, she had to admit she was a little bothered. Steam rose from her skin.   “Looking for me?” was all the boy said.   Zuko took on a fighting stance again as the snow melted on his armour. “ You’re the airbender? You’re the Avatar?”   The villagers themselves looked shocked by the revelation.   “Aang?” said the girl, the one who had clutched onto her grandmother.   Zuko and the Avatar circled each other. “I’ve spent years preparing for this encounter,” Zuko said. “Training. Meditating. You’re just a child!”   The Avatar - Aang, if the girl was to be believed - paused and tilted his head. “Well, you’re just a teenager.”   Ever dramatic, the prince did not take kindly to that. With thrusts and jabs of his hands, he sent fire propelling towards the Avatar, who spun his staff and flung the flames away. With each strike, he used the staff and his airbending to dodge the burning flames, protecting not only himself but the villagers behind him.   But some flames came far too close. The villagers cried out as the fire stretched its amber limbs towards them, and (y/n) could feel her heart in her throat. She wanted to use her bending to keep the flames away, but she couldn’t give up her position.   “If I go with you,” said the Avatar as he swung his staff once more, “will you promise to leave everyone alone?”   Zuko stood straight, bringing his arms down by his side. Wordlessly, he nodded.   Immediately, two soldiers stepped forward, tearing the staff from the Avatar’s grasp and each taking one of his arms, walking him towards the ship. The girl who had called his name scrambled forward, but she did not dare come too close.   “No, Aang,” she cried, “don’t do this!”   “Don’t worry, Katara,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Take care of Appa for me until I get back.”   It took all of (y/n)’s strength not to look back at the tribe, for she knew all she would see was a group of broken people.   “Head a course for to the Fire Nation,” the prince ordered ahead of her. “I’m going home.”  – –  “This staff will make an excellent gift for my father,” Zuko said. He twisted the airbender’s staff in his hands, studying the simple wood as if it held the secrets of the world. “I suppose you wouldn’t know of fathers, being raised by monks. Take the Avatar to the prison hold and take this to my quarters.”   He thrust the staff into his uncle’s hands before striding off.   Iroh’s eyes glimmered as he looked over to (y/n), passing a message wordlessly. Then, he passed the staff to one of the soldiers and followed after his nephew.   “I will accompany you,” (y/n) told the soldiers who flanked the Avatar. “Airbenders are slippery.”  The soldiers led the way down to the prison hold, and she made sure to keep a few paces back. Better to have space to think ahead.  “So,” the Avatar said. He had a squeakier voice than she thought he'd have. “I guess you’ve never fought an airbender before. I bet I can take all of you with my hands tied behind my back.”   (y/n) did not doubt that. Even if the boy was young, he was an airbending master. To add to that, nobody had fought an airbender in a hundred years. There was no telling how he would attack.   “Silence.”   The answer to her queries came almost immediately. Aang the Avatar took a deep breath and then let it loose. The soldier in front was slammed into the prison door and knocked unconscious from the powerful blast of air, while the one behind, as well as (y/n), was sent flying backwards when the Avatar slammed into him.   (y/n) crashed into the stairs and stars filled her vision, but she managed to grab the Avatar’s arm before he could slip away.   “Wait,” she said.   He did not want to wait, but she kept a firm grip on his elbow as he struggled to escape. The boy may have been powerful, but she had an iron grip.   “I want to help you,” she uttered, loud enough that he could hear her but not so loud that the unconscious guards would be awoken and discover her betrayal. “Your staff - you need it, right?”   Hesitantly, the Avatar nodded.   “I can’t get it for you,” she said, “but I can give you directions. Be wary of Zuko - he’s not stupid. He’ll be waiting to see if you’ve escaped.”  “Then untie my hands,” Aang said. “I can take him then.”  “If I do that, he’ll know someone set you free. I can’t compromise my mission.” She groaned as she tried to sit up a little bit. It was likely her back was already covered in bruises. “Besides, I bet you could take him anyway.”  He was beginning to get impatient, and she didn’t want to keep him so long that the soldiers regained their consciousness and caught him, so she gave him the directions to Zuko’s quarters. As he scurried up the stairs, she could only feel dread as she pushed herself to her feet. She could only hope that he’d escape. If not, she’d have to get creative.  Her motive for the moment, however, was to get up these cursed stairs with shaky legs and burning pain in her back. Below her, the soldiers were beginning to stir. The longer they were unconscious, the more time Aang would have to retrieve his staff and escape, but, quite frankly, there was no way for her to delay them from alerting the guards.  The facade of the daughter of the loyal Fire Nation advisor came as easily as breathing. She placed a hand on the wall beside her and the other on her lower back, twisting her expression into a mix of anger and pain.  “The Avatar got away,” she growled. “Alert the rest of the crew.”  One of the soldiers, disoriented and very clearly worried about the punishment Prince Zuko would undoubtedly give him, dashed up the stairs, wobbling on his feet slightly.  “My lady,” said the other, a hand pressed to his side. “You’re injured. Let me take you to the infirmary.”  “Absolutely not,” she said. “It is our job to make sure the Avatar does not escape.”  She turned on her heel and trudged up the stairs, wincing when the muscles beneath her skin ached and burned. The soldier neared, holding out a hand behind her in case she fell.  “I am fine,” she insisted. “Now get up there quickly and I’ll try and convince the prince to lessen your punishment for letting the Avatar slip away.”  It had the intended effect. The soldier hurried up the steps, disappearing over the top to join the rest.  (y/n) groaned as she rubbed her back, but fought her way up the stairs. When she emerged back out into the cold, it seemed that everything had moved on much more quickly than she expected.   The Avatar stood in the centre of the deck, hands untied, staff clutched tightly in his grip as he faced Zuko, who looked ready to pounce. As she took her place on deck, (y/n) took on a defensive stance, wincing as she did so.  “You will not get away,” Zuko said. The muscles in his scar twitched.  Luckily for Aang, Zuko had a penchant for being incorrect. A deep bellow pierced the sky, and something appeared in the clouds above, flying closer and closer. It was a massive beast, covered in beige fur and a brown arrow, much akin to Aang’s tattoo, on its forehead. A large saddle was strapped to its back, containing two people clad in blue. With a flap of its mighty tail, it soared nearer.  “What is that ?” cried Zuko.   Aang’s face broke out in a smile. “Appa!”   With his attention drawn elsewhere, Zuko took his chance and sent a burst of flame towards the Avatar. Just in time, Aang withheld the blow, spinning his staff in his hands. The power knocked him backwards, but he floated in the air for a short while, staff spinning above him as he landed, almost falling over the side of the ship.   Zuko sent another blast of flame, which was dodged once more. (y/n) knew she had to do something to keep her cover, so she kicked her leg out, sending a stream of bright fire towards Aang. It was easy enough for him to deflect, but he still looked at her as if she had three heads.   She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to convey the message that this was just an act, hoping to any and every spirit that he understood. He ducked under another of her blasts, and for a moment it seemed as if he would be able to get away easily.   The prince began his onslaught of attacks. All of the fierceness he had displayed that morning during their training came back tenfold, fireballs hammering down on the young airbender and pushing him back, back, back until -  Aang lost grip of his staff, which was sent flying. One more burst of flames, and he toppled off the side of the ship, falling into the icy water below.  “Aang, no!” cried someone above.  Atop the flying beast, it became clearer now, were the older boy and girl from the village. Zuko was clearly unhappy about their presence and opened his mouth, no doubt to make an order to blast them out of the sky, but the ship started to shake. Water began to rise and from it came the Avatar, standing atop a spire of shining seawater. His eyes and tattoos glowed a bright blue, similar to the beacon that had led them to him, as the water rose higher and higher until it was at least twice as high as the ship. The soldiers around her trembled.   He dove for the deck, landing on nimble feet as the water swirled around him. With a flick of his hands, the water lashed out, and they were all sent flying backwards.   (y/n) spat out a mouthful of water as her back hit the side of the ship. She was sure she heard a crack, and her vision was going black at the edges. Many of the soldiers were dazed and could barely move. Prince Zuko had gone flying over the side of the ship, and nobody was able-bodied enough to leap down after him.   The flying beast landed on the deck as the young Avatar fell to his knees, and his two companions darted over to help him.   Shakily, (y/n) stood and crossed over to them, summoning fire in her hands.   The girl, Katara, held out her hands, and water flowed up from the deck and between her hands.   A waterbender . So they weren’t all gone in the south.   “Make this look real,” (y/n) said. “I’m going to let you escape, but we need to sell it.”   The girl tilted her head. “What?”   (y/n) shot a blast of fire towards her, albeit weak. Katara barely dodged, and when she attempted to shoot a volley of water back, it only fell back on the deck. A waterbender, but untrained. This made her job much harder.   The girl’s brother ran over, holding his club in his hand.   “Oh, good,” she said. “Hit me hard.”   The boy frowned. “What?”   She jabbed forward, landing a punch on his left shoulder. “Knock me out or something. Before the others get up.” A kick to his chest.   “I was going to hit you,” he said. “But now I don’t want to. Not because you want me to.”   “Stop making this difficult!” She punched his left shoulder again, earning an annoyed Ow! In return. “I’m trying to help you.”   Aang, who had climbed atop the flying beast with Katara’s help said, “Do it, Sokka. We can trust her.”   It seemed to confuse the boy more, but with the anger he’d built up from getting hit and (y/n)’s weak stance, he seemed to like his odds even if it was a trick.   So, with a yell akin to his others, he swung the club at her head.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Dubiety"
  It took a whole day before their pursuit of the Avatar continued.

Concussed and shaky on her feet, (y/n) was ordered to aid the soldiers and guards aboard the ship by melting the snow and ice the Avatar had sent to stop them from following their trail. It took the better part of her energy, and the noise and bright winter light only made her feel worse.

But orders were orders.

When they finally set sail again, the ship bobbed along slower than before having faced some serious damage. Prince Zuko, as expected, was extremely unhappy about it. He was unhappy about everything, though.

“We’ll lose him at this rate,” he grumbled, pacing the deck. “Who knows where he’s heading next?”

(y/n) gingerly peeled the bandage around her head off, exposing the cut on her temple to the icy air. “With respect, my prince, the Avatar is a kid, and so are his friends. I can’t imagine they’ll get awfully far before stopping.”

She hoped she was wrong. She hoped desperately that they were far, far away already, because how else would he stay safe? If he was only a child, then it was extremely unlikely that he’d mastered the four elements, right? With Zuko hunting him relentlessly and Fire Lord Ozai planning his empire, he would need all the time he could spare to master the elements.

“We underestimated him once,” Zuko said. “That will not happen again.”

She refrained from scoffing.

We

. The prince just wanted to soften his own shame of being bested by a pre-teen by blaming her, too. How predictable.

Iroh placed down a board piece for his game of Pai Sho. “The captain has assured me that we will reach the nearest Fire Nation docks shortly, and the engineers will begin repairs. We will not be far behind the Avatar, nephew.”

“It will still be too far! I want him on this ship in chains

immediately.

”

The healing paste the ship’s medic had given (y/n) stung against the torn skin on her temple, but she gritted her teeth. She was glad the boy - Sokka - had finally done as she had asked, she just wished he hasn’t hit her so damn

hard

. She had made a mental note not to get on the wrong side of a Southern Water Tribe club again.

She thought back to the Avatar, to the fact that he was no more than a boy. How could that have been possible? There had been no airbenders for a century, and certainly no masters, so how was he so young? Unless, by some miracle, he had been more than just

hidden

…

“We’ll be able to catch them up,” she told them. “While we’re getting repairs, I’ve got a feeling that they might stop somewhere.”

Zuko’s scathing gaze turned on her. “And where would that be?”

“The Southern Air Temple isn’t far,” she said. If this kid had been gone for a hundred years, he would want to visit one of his temples, surely. “I have a good feeling they’ll stop there.”

“Then that’s where we have to go.”

Iroh shook his head. “The Southern Air Temple is only accessible from the air. The path our ancestors may have taken will be gone by now. We must focus on getting the ship repaired and our crew healed. You will not lose the Avatar.”

Zuko did not seem overly convinced, but he turned on his heel and marched to the bow of the ship. His tight ponytail blew in the wind as he clutched the railing with white-knuckled hands. There was a distinct tension between his shoulders, one (y/n) was herself familiar with. Anxiousness.

“I worry about him,” said Iroh as he placed down another boardpiece. “You know, he used to write me letters while I was at Ba Sing Se asking me to come back and teach him more Pai Sho methods. Now he does not want to play at all.”

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a family relative just sad at the fact that the child they loved dearly did not want to spend time with them, but (y/n) knew it was much deeper than that for Iroh.

It was not just about Pai Sho. It was no secret that Zuko was not just a nephew to Iroh, especially not after the death of his own son some years ago, instead, he held a much deeper part of the retired general’s heart. Why else would he join them on this ship, suffering through almost three years of insults from his nephew while they searched for someone they didn’t believe they’d ever find? No. Iroh was worried about the soul that had been hidden somewhere inside Zuko’s darkened heart. A soul she was not entirely sure had stayed intact.

“You did well,” he said quietly. “Helping the Avatar escape. How’s your head?”

(y/n) wiped the excess paste onto the old bloody bandage. “If you speak quietly enough, it hurts a little less. I just wish I hadn’t been hit so hard.”

Iroh laughed, and the sound made her feel a little warmer. “You’ll find that Water Tribe weapons are very blunt and

very

painful.”

He stood from where he had been sitting and plucked the fresh bandage off the top of her crossed legs. Slowly, he wrapped the bandage around her head, lifting the loose hair that hung by her face out of the way.

“You have to be careful not to wrap this too tightly,” he told her, “or you could hurt yourself more. And drink lots of water. Shall I make you some tea?”

It was pointless asking because he began making some regardless. (y/n) smiled gratefully when he passed her the cup after a few moments. She had always been close with her parents, and she was of the mind that her family was much kinder than many other Fire Nation noble families, but there was something heartwarming about someone she wasn’t even related to treating her so warmly. Like she was more than just a girl made to join their mostly inefficacious journey,

– –

“Uncle, I want the repairs made as quickly as possible. I don’t want to stay too long and risk losing his trail.”

“You mean the Avatar?” Iroh said.

Zuko turned on his heel, bringing his face close to his uncle’s. “Don’t mention his name on these docks. Once word gets out that he’s alive, every firebender will be out looking for him, and I don’t want anyone getting in the way.”

“Getting in the way of what, Prince Zuko?” asked a voice.

(y/n) tore her gaze from the towering Fire Navy ships that stretched along the harbour from left to right and looked over to the approaching man.

He was middle-aged, face lined with deep frown lines that she was sure Zuko would one day have for himself. With his tight topknot and thick sideburns, he was the perfect picture of a Fire Nation militant. (y/n) hated him. She hated his rich red robes, his spiteful smile, and the cruel glint in his gold eyes. It was the look of a man who killed and called it mercy.

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. “Captain Zhao.”

“It’s Commander, now,” said Zhao.

She wanted to slap the smug smirk off his face.

“And General Iroh.” Zhao bowed at the hips, still donning that infuriating smirk. “Great hero of our nation.”

Iroh himself bowed. “Retired general.”

The commander’s horrible eyes slide over to her. “(y/n) Aoro. Daughter of Fire Lord Ozai’s most trusted advisor, if I’m correct? My, how you’ve grown tall.”

(y/n) gritted her teeth before pasting on a polite smile and bowing. “Yes, Commander. A pleasure to see you.”

It was not a pleasure. She hated this man with every fibre of her being. He was cruel and needed a good kick up the backside, but she had to admire his loyalty to the Fire Lord. Even if the loyalty was misplaced.

“The Fire Lord’s brother and son, and his advisor’s daughter are welcome guests any time,” Zhao said. She was sure he didn’t entirely mean the words. “What brings you to my harbour?”

Iroh gestured to their ship behind them. “Our ship is being repaired.”

“That’s quite a bit of damage,” Zhao noted.

“Yes,” Zuko said. She could tell he felt put on the spot. “You wouldn’t believe what happened. (y/n), tell Commander Zhao what happened.”

“Of course,” she said, clenching her fists behind her back.

Zhao’s head tilted slightly. “Does it have something to do with that cut on your head?”

She cursed inwardly. Purposely, she had styled her hair to cover the fresh scar on her temple, but she evidently hadn’t done well enough. She adjusted the hair over it, and breathed a deep sigh, once again playing into her noble role. She had learned to lie from her father.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she said. “Prince Zuko will tell you, we crashed right into an Earth Kingdom ship and quite a few of us got injured. I was lucky to just end up with a concussion.”

She had hoped that Zuko would say something helpful, but he only nodded. It seemed she was the only one who was trying to get them out of this - even Iroh just smiled in an utterly unconvincing way and nodded.

“Really?” asked Zhao. He didn’t seem swayed. “You must regale me with all the thrilling details.”

“Of course,” she said. “Although you must forgive me, Commander, for my memory has been off-kilter after hitting my head. The concussion, the medic says. My, you don’t have any healing herbs, do you? Something to help the pain.”

That part was no lie. She sincerely hoped for something to kill the aching. Her knees were feeling wobbly, and it felt as though there was a rock in between her brain and skull.

Zhao nodded. “Why don’t you join me for a drink?”

The question was aimed at Zuko, to whom he leaned closer. The tone of his voice told (y/n) everything she needed to know - this man did not believe one word she had said.

“Sorry,” Zuko said, beginning to turn away, “but we have to go.”

“Prince Zuko.” Iroh grasped his nephew’s shoulder. “Show Commander Zhao your respect. We would be honoured to join you. Do you have any ginseng tea? It’s my favourite.”

Iroh and Zhao began to walk off, leaving (y/n) and Zuko a few steps behind.

Zuko growled, fire sprouting from his clenched fists for a moment. “I don’t trust him.”

(y/n) walked alongside him, adjusting her armour slightly. It was freezing to the touch. “Neither do I. But we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t get moving until the ship is repaired.”

It was more than the two of them not trusting Zhao. They both had their reasons to dislike the man, and Zuko’s feelings in particular were more than evident. She couldn’t blame him, though. Not really. Not after what their last interaction had caused.

Moments like this - not necessarily a mutual hatred for a man, but common ground - made it a little easier for (y/n) to sympathise with Zuko. It humanised him, changed him from a person hellbent on achieving a twisted goal to a traumatised boy who just wanted some kind of validation. In times like these, she almost wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand to reassure him that it would be okay.

Almost

. She’d never dare, not that she entirely wanted to, either.

And, besides, in Zuko’s case, it probably never would be okay. Being okay for him meant capturing the Avatar, and she was going to make sure that never happened.

– –

Zhao’s war tent was warm, perhaps too warm, but (y/n) found herself welcoming the heat after the chill of the southern seas.

A map hung at the back of the tent, displaying the vast Earth Kingdom, the curved Fire Nation, and the Water Tribes at the north and south. It was like every other map she’d seen, nothing overly special, but Zhao was pouring over it as if it were a birthday present gifted to him from the Fire Lord himself.

(y/n) didn’t listen to most of what he was twittering on about - nothing she wouldn’t read from the letters her father sent her - and it seemed that Zuko and Iroh also had no apparent interest in his words. Zuko sat with his back to the map, frowning in a distant sort of way that indicated his mind was elsewhere, whereas Iroh was waddling around the tent, touching this and that like a curious child. She was just waiting for him to knock something over.

“- and by years’ end,” said Zhao, “the Earth Kingdom capital will be under our rule. The Fire Lord will finally claim victory in this war.”

Zuko, who had seemingly been paying more attention than she had given him credit for, said “If my father thinks the rest of the world will follow him willingly, then he is a fool.”

Zhao sat in the chair across from (y/n), next to Zuko. “Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue. Perhaps you should leave the talking to your friend, instead. She has a much kinder way of speaking.”

He gave her a pointed look, and she plastered on a sickly sweet smile. “What Prince Zuko means is that people need to be shown respect before they will be willing to give it.”
  It was evident that he knew her words were a double-edged blade.
  “Of course,” Zhao said. His eyes made it clear he was eager to change the subject. “So, how’s your search for the Avatar going?”

A crash sounded to their left, and Iroh turned, face bright red. Spears toppled from their stand and fell to the floor noisily. He clasped his hands behind his back as though the action would absolve him of any guilt, but he realised it made no difference. Stalling, perhaps. Iroh was not usually so clumsy.

“Uh… my fault entirely,” Iroh said.

“We haven’t found him yet,” Zuko said.

(y/n) hoped Zhao wasn’t looking at the prince’s eyes. He wasn’t the best liar. Years on a ship together had made her privy to many of his quirks, like the way his eyes would dart to the side for just a moment when he was lying or how the corner of his mouth twitched in the cold.

“Did you really expect to?” Zhao asked. “The Avatar died a hundred years ago, along with the rest of the airbenders.”

She hated the way he sounded proud of that - proud of their nation for eliminating a whole nation of people simply because of one person. It was revolting. It made her ashamed to be part of the Fire Nation.

But Zhao was onto them. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the anticipation of speaking his following words.

“Unless you found some evidence that the Avatar is alive.”

Zuko was great at playing the Shamed Prince. He tore his gaze from Zhao and looked at the table between him and (y/n) with a mix of longing and irritation twisting his features. He was almost believable.

“No. Nothing.”

“Prince Zuko,” said Zhao as he stood from his chair, “the Avatar is the only one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning this war.” He bent at the waist, leaning closer to Zuko. “If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you’ll tell me what you found.”

“Commander Zhao,” (y/n) said, “you would be the first we would tell if we had found the Avatar. With your expertise, he wouldn’t stand a chance. But, as you said, the Avatar likely died a long time ago.”

Zuko stood. “Come on. We’re going.”

He made for the tent’s exit, but guards stepped forward and crossed their spears, stopping him short.

(y/n) stood quickly. “How dare you! That is the prince of your nation.”

“Commander Zhao,” said one of the guards, “we interrogated the crew as you instructed. They confirmed Prince Zuko had the Avatar in custody but let him escape.”

“Your friend does have a way with words, Prince Zuko,” Zhao noted. “I almost believed her lies. Now, tell me again, how exactly was your ship damaged?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Agni Kai"
  It had not been on (y/n)’s list of things to do to be held like a prisoner in Commander Zhao’s war tent.

In all fairness, they were treated relatively well, despite Zuko smashing a table. Iroh was given tea, (y/n) had been made an herbal concoction to help with her concussion as well as some paper and ink so she could write to her father - although, really, Zhao had one of his guards watch her as she wrote to ensure she made him and the Fire Lord aware of the Avatar’s presence.

As if her father didn’t already know.

She had to detail how Zhao would be pursuing the boy and subtly hinted that he be given more troops to aid him in his cause. The twelve-year-old was not to be underestimated,

again

, she was told.

As soon as the last character was finished on the page, the guard snatched it away, giving it some time to dry before rolling it up and striding out of the tent.

Zuko looked positively furious. “Wonderful. Now my father will hear of more of my failures.”

She couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Maybe that’s why she spoke the words that followed.

“My father and I had a game when I was young,” she said quietly. “A secret language. We confused my mother all the time - she never knew what we were really talking about.”

There was no guarantee that Zuko understood what she meant, but the faint glimmer in his eyes gave her a clue. It was a dangerous thing, revealing that she and her father had a code. Did it mean he would want to read the letters she would send him, trying to decipher hidden messages? Even revealing that the childhood game had carried on even now meant that she could jeopardise her own goals.

Despite Zhao being persistent in what he wanted her to write, and the guard he had left ensuring this, she had managed to twist some of the words so that her code would make sense. If he read the words in a certain order, just like he had when she was a child, there would be a new message entirely.

Maybe she imagined it, but she was sure she saw a hint of gratitude in Zuko’s eyes.

It wasn’t long before Zhao returned. His presence was nauseating - as if the strength of his arrogance was enough to make anyone feel off-kilter.

"My search party is ready,” he announced. “Once I’m out to sea, my guards will escort you back to your ship and you will be free to go.”

Zuko scowled. “Why? Are you worried I’m going to try and stop you?”

The laugh that escaped the commander’s lips was almost deafening. “

You

, stop

me

? Impossible.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Zhao.” Zuko stood from his seat. “I will capture the Avatar before you.”

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh warned, “that’s enough.”

“You can’t compete with me,” Zhao said. “I have hundreds of warships under my command. And you, you’re just a banished prince. No home. No allies. Your own father doesn’t even want you.”

He was good at finding strings to pull on, (y/n) had to give him that. She could see the carefully concealed pain hidden in the slightest slump of Zuko’s shoulders, in the way the corner of his mouth twitched downwards. He was an easy person to get a rise out of.

“You’re wrong,” said Zuko. “Once I deliver the Avatar to my father, he will welcome me home with honour and restore my rightful place on the throne.”

Zhao’s eyes shone. “If your father really wanted you home, he would have let you return by now, Avatar or no Avatar. But in his eyes, you are a failure and a disgrace to the Fire Nation.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have the scar to prove it,” Zhao said.

That was what did it. Zuko strode close to the commander, standing only centimetres away with unadulterated fury written across his face. In all her years, she had never seen Zuko so enraged. That was an accomplishment in and of itself.

“Maybe you’d like one to match!” Zuko yelled.

“Is that a challenge?”

“An Agni Kai at sunset,” the prince said.

Zhao stepped back. “Very well. It’s a shame your father won’t be here to watch me humiliate you. I guess your uncle and girlfriend will do.”

If (y/n) had not been so shocked by the challenge that had been demanded, perhaps she would’ve had more of a reaction to Zhao’s comment. But she couldn’t think of much else than the Agni Kai as she watched the commander leave.

She had seen one in all her life - the very same one that had given the prince his scar - and it was not something she was particularly thrilled to see again. They were brutal fights, fought by cruel and merciless idiots who had no right to have any sort of power. And, unfortunately for the Fire Nation, many of the people who competed in Agni Kais were nobility, the very people holding power. Stupid, intolerable nobility.

If anything positive could come from it, the Agni Kai at least delayed their pursuit of the Avatar. It gave her mother and father time to write back to her and give her some advice on strategy. She knew that they were confident in her abilities, but,

spirits

, did she want some guidance.

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh warned. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you duelled a master?”

Zuko’s back faced them, but his anger was palpable. “I will never forget.”

– –

Tension filled the bitter breeze, thick and cloying as smoke. With the sun setting on the horizon, and the absence of noise, it almost felt as though she was back in the Fire Nation Capital’s training grounds. Silence was demanded of those not training. Anyone who did not follow that single rule was punished.

The Fire Nation had a brutal way of training not just their firebenders, but also the rest of the population. Fear was driven into hearts, hatred coursed through blood. It was an effective method - she had never met warriors such as the Fire Nation’s in any parts of the world - but it created soldiers with tainted ambition and violent tendencies.

Such could be seen from the Agni Kai taking place before her.

There was a certain beauty to it, a kind of dance shared by Zuko and Zhao, but often it felt as though they were a few beats apart, dancing to different music. Zuko was on the offensive, striking and striking and never stopping until he had to take a breath. Zhao was blocking, taking Zuko’s fire and making it his own. Both were ruthless. Both were determined to win.

She could see the determination in Zuko’s eyes as clearly as she would have if she had been standing right before him. Never again would he refuse to fight. Never again would he beg for mercy.

No, now it was his turn to make others beg.

(y/n) could remember Zuko’s first Agni Kai as clearly as she remembered her mother’s name, and she could hardly imagine how the memories haunted the prince. She remembered how her father had held her afterwards, apologising in a way she had never seen before for not being able to prevent her from seeing it. But the Fire Nation would not stand for weak children. She’d had no choice but to watch.

She sometimes heard Zuko’s cries when she looked at him, as she could now. The way he had begged his father to stop.

It was the day she truly learned of Fire Lord Ozai’s callous nature. He had stripped the prince of any semblance of good he had left in him and sent him on a futile hunt. It was the day she had sworn he would fall.

Zuko’s scar twitched as he sent a blaze of fire at Zhao’s head as if remembering the flames it had been created by in similar circumstances. It was a powerful blast, but Zhao had years of experience on him. His arm swept through the flames, dissipating them and leaving nothing but blistering heat that fought the icy chill of winter. The air above the hard ground shimmered with the heat.

With Zuko panting and slightly out of breath, Zhao took this as his moment to attack. He was brutal and merciless, pushing the prince back with powerful bursts of fire.

“Remember your basics, Zuko,” Iroh called. “Break his root!”

A firebender’s root was one of the most important parts of the fight. If a bender had no root, no balance, they were easy to defeat. Opponents like Zhao, however, had decades of practice. The commander held himself well, perfectly balanced on his feet and strong in his core which would make him especially hard to beat.

And Zuko was trying. Truly, he was, but any hope (y/n) had felt began to ebb away. He was knocked onto his back, hitting the ground hard with an audible thump. Her own back hurt in some strange lapse of sympathy.

Zhao kept on with his attacks, and Zuko could barely deflect them. Until finally,

finally

, some sense rose in his mind.

He’d had multiple opportunities to perhaps not

best

Zhao, but weaken him, all of which had been missed. The slight movement of his left foot when he went to strike, or how his body twisted just so after sending a blast of fire, exposing his lower ribs to be hit. To (y/n), someone who almost exclusively fought on the defensive, they were as clear as the ocean on a summer's day. But to Zuko, a bender who wanted to get as many hits in as possible, they had not been so obvious.

Now, though, it seemed he had seen something.

The prince found another opening. On his back, he pressed his weight onto his hands and spun into the air, swiping out his legs and kicking at Zhao’s ankle - the ankle that did not hold all of his body weight, meaning it was an easier target. The force took Zhao by surprise, and he stumbled back a step.

With Zuko now on his feet, he sent currents of roaring fire towards Zhao. The commander, trying desperately to find balance while backing away from the flames, tripped and rolled on the ground with a grunt.

As he rolled onto his back, leaning his weight on his elbow, Zuko stood over him, fists out and ready to send out a burst of fire.

The scowl on Zhao’s face was enough to make a tigerdillo uneasy. “Do it!” he shouted.

With a yell, Zuko released a white-hot flame from his fist, but it did not touch Zhao. Instead, it scorched the ground beside his head. Iroh’s breath caught beside (y/n).

“That’s it?” Zhao demanded. “Your father raised a coward.”

Zuko’s shoulders were tense with rage. “Next time you get in my way, I promise I won’t hold back.”

The prince turned and began walking away. (y/n) grabbed his robe off the ground where he had left it, ready to pass it over when she saw movement in her peripheral vision and then bright, burning orange.

Before the flames could reach Zuko, a hand cut through it, grabbing the commander’s ankle in a weathered but iron grip.

Iroh’s knuckles were white around Zhao’s leg, and the look on his face was furious. With a shove, he let go of his ankle and sent the commander toppling to the ground again.

Zuko made to charge at Zhao, but Iroh stopped him short. “No, Prince Zuko,” he said, and his voice was deceptively mild. “Do not taint your victory.” Slowly, he turned around. “So this is how the Great Commander Zhao acts in defeat?

Disgraceful

. Even in exile, my nephew is more honourable than you. Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious.”

And with that, the retired general turned and left the arena with Zuko and (y/n) on his heels.

“Did you really mean that, Uncle?” Zuko asked as they walked.

Iroh’s easy smile had returned. “Of course. I told you. Ginseng tea is my favourite.”

And, despite herself, (y/n) thought she saw the ghost of a smile on the prince’s face.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Ablaze"
  (y/n)’s chambers were particularly cold that morning, but it was something she was slowly becoming accustomed to. No matter the flames crackling just before her, or the fire that tickled her fingers, the chill was not something she could shake, even as she meditated.

Even still, she felt at peace. While her fingers shook and her skin prickled with gooseflesh, her mind fell into a state of blissful ease. The soft sounds all around her melded into one, becoming a soft lull in the back of her head. Here, cross-legged on the floor, she could finally arrange her thoughts into an order that made sense.

She often found herself meditating, desperate to find solace throughout her journey with her companions, so it was safe to say that she did not enjoy being interrupted. It seemed, however, that the cosmos was against her.

Her door slammed open, bringing with it the sound of angry footsteps and furious breathing. The flames in front of her flickered, almost dying out from the strength of the draft caused by the door, but returned just moments later.

“Prince Zuko,” she said, bowing her head from where she sat. She didn’t even need to look to know that it was him. “How may I help you?”

“The Avatar is elusive,” the prince stated. He stomped over to the wall across from the door, staring up at the collection of decorative and combat-ready knives she had displayed. “There have been sightings of him almost

everywhere

here in the south, but he’s - he’s

zigzagging

!”

(y/n) frowned, finally turning to look at Zuko. He was scowling so deeply that one would think his face had been moulded that way from childhood. With careless hands, he plucked one of her knives off the display and began twirling it absentmindedly in his hand. She wasn’t sure whether she should have been annoyed at him for grabbing her things or worried that he would end up hurting one of them. If one thing was certain, though, it was that he was definitely related to Iroh.

“Zigzagging, my prince?” It was hard not to laugh.

“He’s been spotted in almost all of the Earth Kingdom’s southern islands, and yet we still can’t catch him. There’s no way of us knowing where he will go next.”

“My father has contacts across the world,” she said, standing and stretching her back. “I can write to him and ask those contacts to stall the Avatar and send word directly to us if that would help.”

Zuko pondered the suggestion for a moment. “Yes. See to it immediately.”

“Of course, my prince.”

While she pulled a sheet of paper and prepared her ink, Zuko hesitated as he put the knife back in the display. It was brief, barely noticeable, but (y/n) caught it.

“In private,” he said, voice as sharp as ever, “you may call me Zuko. You’ve loyally aided me in my cause for two and a half years - I think you’ve earned that honour.”

She almost scoffed.

Honour

. She wouldn’t necessarily call it that, but it would save her a lot of breath.

My prince

this,

my prince

that - she was positively sick of the words.

“Thank you, my prince. It is my honour.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment. “Remember,

only

in private. I will not have the rest of the crew being so informal.”

Fighting back an eye roll, she nodded. “Of course.

Zuko

.”

The prince stopped at her door, paused in his steps as if figuring out whether or not he liked the informality. In the end, he seemed to tolerate it and trudged out of the room.

– –

Shortly after her conversation with the prince, (y/n) sent off the letter detailing Zuko’s plans and her insistence that while some contacts would need to send word of sightings of the Avatar directly to her for the sake of appearance, most would not or would send decoy letters. It was vital that they stalled Zuko’s, and the Fire Nation’s, hunt as much as they could without jeopardising their own positions.

She worried for her parents often. Regardless of their mission to keep balance in the world, their family was in a precarious position, holding secrets that, if found out, would destroy everything they had worked so hard to accomplish. But, if the Fire Nation somehow

did

find out what they were up to… Well, she just wished that she would be given the mercy of a quick death.

It was startling waking up some mornings from nightmares where she had watched her parents die at the hands of Fire Lord Ozai. Her father may have been his most trusted advisor but Ozai was ruthless and would kill him without a second thought. Her mother, well, she would put up a fight without a doubt, that much was guaranteed from her heritage alone, but Ozai - he would save a brutal death for her mother. It was horribly selfish, but she wished that, if in the case they

were

discovered, she was not there to witness their deaths before her own.

She watched the hawk soar away with an aching throat. Every letter sent was a risk, but it was vital she keep communication. Her father was depending on her. Spirits, the

Avatar

was depending on her, even if he didn’t truly know it.

The afternoon was spent pouring over a map with the captain of the ship and some of the crew, trying to figure out the course the Avatar was on. Had it been easy to figure out, she would’ve made up some issues that would have sent them off course slightly, but it seemed Aang and his friends had already covered their bases. Zuko’s description of ‘zigzagging’, which she had wanted to laugh at in the moment, made perfect sense now. There was no sense in their pitstops.

“Smart boy, this Avatar,” uttered the captain. “He’s got all of us stumped.”

“Spending an awful lot of time in Earth Kingdom islands,” one of the soldiers beside her said. “I thought airbenders were supposed to be detached from the earth, or something.”

“Earthly attachments,” (y/n) corrected. “Either way, it’s a strange strategy, whatever it is they’re doing, but they’re definitely getting

us

to waste time.”

The captain frowned. “I’m not going to lose my job if we keep ending up at these places

after

the Avatar’s left, am I? Got a family at home.”

“Everything costs a fortune now, too,” muttered another soldier. “I could do with keeping my job.”

(y/n) ran a hand across her face. “No, none of you will lose your jobs. I’ll make sure of that. We’ve got plans in place to give us a better chance of reaching him. If those go awry, then the prince can blame me. How does that sound for you guys?”

Unsurprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. She may have gotten on well with the crew, on the whole, but they were ultimately going to save their own skins before hers when it came to Prince Zuko and the ‘mercy’ of the Fire Nation. And, really, she couldn’t blame them.

As time passed and the sky beyond the windows darkened, one of the ship’s austringers appeared with a hawk perched on his gloved arm.

“My apologies for interrupting,” he said, bowing his head. “Lady (y/n), a message for you.”

Frowning slightly, (y/n) brushed the hawk’s feathers gently before plucking the rolled scroll from the casing on its back. The austringer disappeared, leaving her with the captain and crew watching as she opened the letter.

Most messages for the ship were addressed to her, they had been over the years seeing as she had been deemed the only one with complete loyalty to the Fire Nation, so it was no surprise that she was the one to receive this letter. It was the symbol drawn on the corner of the page that had her confused.

Part of her wondered if, somehow, the hawk she had sent had flown with unbelievable speed and reached her father, then been followed by dozens of messages sent by him across the nations, but she knew it was impossible. This was a coincidence - a lucky coincidence for Zuko, but not so much for her.

“Kyoshi Island?” Zuko cried. “The Avatar is at

Kyoshi Island

?”

His hands slammed down on the dinner table’s surface, causing the plates to rattle and earning a quiet grumble from Iroh, who had been given a slight shock.

(y/n) unrolled the letter and showed it to him. “From one of my father’s most trusted contacts.”

“And why is

he

on Kyoshi Island?”

“

She

is on Kyoshi Island,” (y/n) said, trying not to grit her teeth, “because civilians of the island are notable for being warriors, as you can guess from their patron being

Kyoshi

. She is there to keep tabs on them, to make sure they do not become a threat to the Fire Nation. In fact, she trained as one of their warriors a few years back, so as to fit into the population better and prevent uprisings.”

Zuko scoffed, but a hard look from Iroh stopped him short. Of all people, Zuko should not have been one to judge women becoming warriors. His younger sister was, quite frankly, a far superior firebender than he and, not to be arrogant, so was (y/n). He was in no place to judge.

“And how do we know that she has not betrayed us?” Zuko asked.

“What reason would she have?” was all she said.

The prince stood, eyes narrowed with determination. “Uncle, ready the rhinos. He’s not getting away from me this time.”

Iroh pursed his lips and pointed at the mostly uneaten food on Zuko’s plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

Zuko snatched up the plate and said, “I was going to save it for later!”

Then, he stormed from the room.

– –

(y/n) was not a fan of riding the Fire Nation’s rhinos. They could be lovely creatures but, as with most people of the Fire Nation, they had been moulded by fear and cruelty and were now as vicious as most of their riders. Even her own rhino, would had been gifted to her by Iroh upon the start of their travel and had no cruel bones in its body, had learned the ways of its fearsome companions. It snorted and huffed and pawed at the ground impatiently, throwing its head slightly. The long, onyx  black horn at the tip of its nose gleamed dangerously in the golden sunlight.

The Fire Nation seemed to taint every living thing with violence. It was revolting.

She much preferred the ostrich-horses her father had back home. They were common for riding in the Earth Kingdom as well as Fire Nation colonies, but few people owned any in the Capital City or the surrounding islands. Her parents, like she, found the rhinos too boisterous, instead enjoying the more peaceful company of the ostrich-horses.

In her opinion, the saddles used on the rhinos were much more uncomfortable, too.

Though it was winter, Kyoshi Island was significantly warmer than some of the other places they'd inspected and (y/n) regretted putting on her thicker tunic beneath her armour. Her armour was not as elaborate as Zuko’s, lacking some of the details and embossing, but it was still befitting of her station and, therefore, far too heavy. Not so much that it weighed her down, but it wasn’t exactly perfect for combat. More decorative than practical.

Zuko led the group of soldiers, face contorted with resolve. “I want the Avatar alive.”

They rode up the dirt path leading towards the first village silently. Kyoshi Island hosted many different villages and towns, consisting of farmers and fishermen and, perhaps her favourite part, the Kyoshi Warriors - a band of women who fought to protect their villages and the island. Growing up, (y/n)’s mother had told her stories of the Kyoshi Warriors. She spent a good part of her childhood dreaming of becoming one.

“Your contact lives in this village?” Zuko sneered.

(y/n) nodded, drawing her rhino closer to the prince’s. “She will meet us just before the village and give us a brief of what she’s seen. As far as I’m aware, the Avatar is still here.”

It didn’t take long to find her father’s contact.

Aiyosa had not changed much since the last time (y/n) had seen her, which had to have been at least five years ago. Her face had deepened with smile lines, and her thick, dark hair had begun to grey at the roots, but there was still a lively spark in her forest-green eyes. She was perched on a fallen tree, dressed in the typical green garb of the Earth Kingdom, looking quite at home in her surroundings.

She smiled upon seeing (y/n), standing from her makeshift seat. “Prince Zuko. Lady (y/n),” she said, pressing the heel of her palm to her enclosed fist and bowing. “I’m glad to see that your travels were safe. The waters of Kyoshi Island have been plagued by the Unagi for far too long, and I feared it may have tried to attack your ship.”

(y/n) could not help but smile. “I thought you told me the Unagi was a myth.”

“Your father did not appreciate me scaring you with monsters,” Aiyosa said. “Your mother used to be scared by such stories when we were children.”

She found that hard to believe - her mother was afraid of nothing.

Zuko nudged his rhino forward slightly. “This is your contact? Your

aunt

?”

“My aunt is a very capable woman,” (y/n) assured him. “She, under instruction of Fire Lord Ozai and my father, became a Kyoshi Warrior in this village so as to learn more about their culture and to ensure no plans were being made to go against the Fire Nation.” Like I mentioned before, she thought, as if he'd ever really listen to her.

There was a twinkle in Aiyosa’s eyes, one shared between only her and (y/n), and it was startling how similar she looked to her mother. To anyone else, it would look like pride. She was a non-bender, like the rest of the maternal side of (y/n)'s family, but an incredibly skilled fighter, so it was no wonder she had fit so well into the Kyoshi Warriors. But, really, that was never the reason for her easy assimilation—no need for Zuko or the Fire Nation to know, though.

“The Avatar has been here for a few days,” Aiyosa said. “Has the village wrapped around his finger, quite frankly. There was no need to even stall him - the young girls are utterly obsessed with the boy. He’s not been able to go far without them on his heels.”

“So, you’re saying it’ll be a struggle to get him?” (y/n) asked.

Her aunt’s eyes darkened just so. “He’s a slippery one, I’ll give him that. But it’s the people’s love for him that will cause a problem. If you so much as harm a hair on his head, well, they will not take it lightly. One of his past lives is the patron of this island. They will take it personally.”

“Let them,” Zuko said, scowling. “The Avatar is mine, whether they like it or not.”

Without another word, he dug his heels into his steed’s sides and urged it onwards, followed closely by guards and soldiers. (y/n) hung back, watching them lumber up the remainder of the dirt path.

“Where is he?” she asked when they were out of earshot.

Aiyosa stepped closer. “He went off down to the beach earlier with some of the girls. They returned not long ago, but he and one of his friends are still down there. But if Zuko makes a move against the village, he will come back to protect them.”

It seemed in a short matter of time, Aang had stepped into his role of the Avatar well. (y/n) pursed her lips, hands tightening on her reins. Her rhino threw its head, and she softened her grip. Best not to agitate the beast.

“You’re doing well,” her aunt said. “You’ve kept the prince off his back this far. I have complete faith you will continue to do so.”

Her throat felt a little tight. “I’m trying. It’s hard to decide which places to keep Zuko from going to and others that he

should

go to. It feels like sentencing people to a death sentence. Why should they be the ones to suffer?”

Aiyosa’s hand, warm and calloused, reached up and enveloped hers with a gentle squeeze. “It shouldn’t be a decision you have to make, and I’m sorry that it’s you that’s been put in this position. But your parents would be

so

proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice didn’t feel like much more than a whisper.

“Now, go,” Aiyosa said. “You’ve an Avatar to save. The villagers knew it was a risk taking him in, so they’re at least a little prepared for Zuko. They can defend themselves.” Her expression softened, and the smile she now donned was filled with love. "I wish we could speak for longer. It's been so long."

"I know," (y/n) said. "I've missed you, Yosi."

Her aunt's hand squeezed her hand again. It was warm and comforting. The mere touch had her emotional - it was more than she'd had in years. "We'll see each other again, okay?"

(y/n) nodded, swallowing the guilt that had been building up in her throat. Then, with a squeeze of her heels, she urged her rhino forward.

She caught up with the group quickly, taking her spot just next to Zuko, and steeled herself. To be there next to the prince meant being on the offensive. If Zuko attacked, then she would have to as well. Seeing the village the closer they got, the people flitting around trying to get back to their homes for safety, made the guilt she had felt come back tenfold, clogging her veins and arteries. She didn’t want to hurt another village.

Zuko halted his beast. “Come out, Avatar,” he shouted from beneath the grand statue of Avatar Kyoshi. “You can’t hide from me forever.”

The village stayed silent. People’s heads poked out from windows and doors before ducking back inside, pale-faced and terrified. The Avatar did not appear.

“Find him,” Zuko ordered.

The soldiers broke off from the group, guiding their mounts through the silent streets.

If not for her trained eye, maybe she wouldn’t have noticed them - the prince certainly didn’t - but, from where she sat, (y/n) could just spot figures moving on the rooftops. Silent and crouched so low it shouldn’t have been feasible, it was almost impossible to see them move.

They proceeded with unmatched speed as they launched themselves at the soldiers, fans spread wide. Their dresses were traditional, emerald green with the addition of protective black padding across their torsos, and paired with their weapons and the makeup they wore, they mimicked Avatar Kyoshi herself. Every move they made was full of brutal elegance.

“The Kyoshi Warriors,” Zuko seethed.

The women knocked soldiers from their saddles and deflected spears with their fans effortlessly. It was breathtaking watching them fight. Their limbs moved gracefully and the ease with which they handled their weapons, which did not seem like weapons at all at first glance, was admirable. But this was not her first time seeing a battle like this.

One warrior, presumably the leader, charged towards Zuko and (y/n), ducking under the blasts of fire sent her way by both. She was fast and agile, but when she got too close, Zuko spun his rhino around, hitting her square in the chest with its tail. She was sent flying backwards and hit the ground hard.

The prince sent another blast of fire her way, but somebody cut through it with their fans.

Standing in front of the girl was the water tribe boy - Sokka, if (y/n)’s memory served her correctly - dressed in an outfit befitting a Kyohsi Warrior, completed with the makeup and fans. She might have laughed, but the look on his face was murderous.

Zuko sat straighter in his saddle and readied himself to send another attack, but a Kyoshi Warrior shot down from a rooftop and knocked him off his mount. Shortly after, the very same happened to (y/n).

Her back hit the ground hard, and she could feel the pain ricocheting through every piece of her spine. She latched her hands onto the arms of the warrior, slipping her bent knee between them and flipped her over her head. With a struggle, she pushed herself to her feet, a little unbalanced.

The warrior charged at her and, although (y/n) didn’t want to hurt her, she didn’t have much of a choice with Zuko not far away. With a sweep of her foot, she sent a current of fire towards the girl, which caused her to veer sideways and lose her momentum. She launched herself at (y/n), who took the girl’s weight and spun around, sending her crashing to the ground. Her fans skittered away from her.

(y/n) frowned, but not necessarily at the girl. She wasn’t

out

of practice, per se, but she certainly needed to focus on her hand-to-hand the next time she got a chance. She was getting sloppy.

All immediate threats seemed to be covered for the moment, so she stepped out onto the dirt street. A cool breeze swept through, ruffling her top knot and the thin braids in her hair. It felt like a promise, but of what she couldn’t decide.

Zuko was already there, scowling. “Nice try, Avatar,” he called. “But these little girls can’t save you.”

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, from behind them, “Hey, over here!”

She and Zuko turned to face the village entrance again. And there, standing by the statue of Avatar Kyoshi, was Avatar Aang. His blue tattoos seemed especially bright in the warm light of the village, and he held his staff with such confidence it was easy to believe that he was standing by one of his most fearsome past lives and embodying her.

“Finally,” said Zuko.

With a grunt, he swiped his arm through the air, bringing with it a large stream of fire that went spiralling towards the Avatar. Multiple more followed after, each dodged by Aang albeit a little clumsily.

The boy spun his staff and floated into the air before dropping down just a few feet away. He continued to dodge the flames with his staff until Zuko kicked his leg out and flung it from his grasp. Aang jumped away, snatching up two discarded fans from the ground and, as Zuko charged him, he spun in the air and used the fans to guide a blast of air so strong it sent Zuko crashing back into one of the houses.

Aang looked at (y/n), evidently unsure of what to do. She flashed him a small, sly smile before sending a barrage of flames his way.

The expression on his face made it clear that he knew she wasn’t truly attacking him. He deflected each of her strikes, each weaker than she would usually have them, before catching her eyes.

She’d never really looked at his eyes before, but they were a startling, deep grey and extremely telling. She could see every emotion in them, and his gratitude was clear.

So was his apology.

With another powerful blast of air, her feet were torn from the ground and she was sent flying backwards. She didn’t have the impact of hard wood or solid ground on her back this time. Instead, she slammed into Zuko, who had just been trying to stand up and crumpled to the ground with a groan of pain.

Zuko’s hands were startlingly hot on her wrists as he rolled out from underneath her and pulled her to her feet. Despite the fury written across his face, she found herself grateful for the action and, quite frankly, shocked that he had even helped her up.

“Are you okay, my prince?” she asked, more so because of his actions rather than the fact that he had broken through solid wood and then hit with a whole person’s body weight. When he didn’t reply, she said, “Zuko?”

It was as if his name shook him out of his stupor. He glared through the hole he had created in the building and, with one of his hands still on her wrist, dragged her through it and back onto the street.

The village was ablaze.

Almost every single home had been swallowed by horrible orange flames. The ones that were not, well, they were no longer homes, rather crumbling foundations reduced almost to ash. The statue of Kyoshi at the village entrance was on fire, too. She looked surprisingly regal, despite the fire eating at the paint, with bright flames flickering from the fan’s leaf. Soldiers in skeletal masks stalked the streets, the orange fire reflecting off their deep red-and-black armour as they continued to blast red-hot fire.

The sight made her sick to her stomach. She thought of her words to Aiyosa; feeling as though she was sentencing towns and villages to death when selecting them to keep her ploy going, and she could feel her hands trembling.

This

was what she hated about the Fire Nation: its need and desire for destruction to ensure its own gains.

This

was what her family was working against.

Zuko’s fingers wrapped around her wrist made her feel a horrible mix of nausea and rage. How dare he even touch her after allowing such an act of terrorism? She wanted to tear it from his grasp, maybe break a finger or two.

He

had caused this destruction.

He

was the person for whom she was subjecting these villages to horror.

A deep bellow sounded above them, and when they looked up, the Avatar’s beast - a sky-bison, she had discovered over time - soared above them, with Aang and his companions on its back.

“Back to the ship,” ordered Zuko. “Don’t lose sight of him!”

As they hopped onto their limited mounts, with at least four people to a rhino, a loud rumbling sounded from ahead of them. Down in the bay, the seawater rippled before something broke through the surface.

(y/n)’s heart dropped. A serpentine beast rose high above the water, at least a hundred feet in length, with alarmingly green eyes. If the sheer size of it did not put terror in their hearts, the sound it made definitely did. It shrieked so loudly she thought her eardrums would burst, before spitting a massive stream of water in the direction of the city. Water rained down on them, steaming on the armour and soaking their hair and clothes. The fire consuming the village behind them died down, reduced to nothing but horrible grey smoke.

The Unagi

… So Aiyosa hadn’t just been saying that for the sake of a joke.

A tiny figure jumped from the monster’s back, clad in orange and yellow, and landed on the back of the soaring sky-bison.

Without even looking at Zuko, she could feel his rage when the Unagi slipped beneath the water again.

His voice was tight and clipped as he spoke. “Back to the ship," he repeated.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"For Now"
  “You’re not focused.”

(y/n) gritted her teeth, holding her fists and arms in front of her face defensively. She was panting a little, the breath having been driven from her lungs after her sparring partner’s last jab. Sweat trickled down her spine uncomfortably, and her skin felt sticky from heat despite the cool breeze on the ship’s deck.

“Yes, I am.”

Her partner threw another punch, which she narrowly ducked under before kicking his chest and pushing him backwards. Strands of hair fell from her braid, sticking to her forehead and neck. She’d been at this for what felt like hours.

"I’ve seen you defeat soldiers twice your size in a matter of minutes,” Iroh said. “You are not focused.”

As if to emphasise his point, her partner swept his leg out and knocked his foot into her ankles, sending her falling to the deck. Her back slammed onto the ground, and she could feel the pain reverberate through the rest of her body.

Get up

, she told herself. But she didn’t have the energy. As she lay there, panting and sweaty, she heard Iroh tell her sparring partner to go have a rest. Soft footsteps padded towards her, and suddenly Iroh’s face was looming over hers. He wasn’t smiling, but she could see the ever-present hint of one at the corners of his lips. He looked more concerned than anything.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked as he pulled her into a sitting position.

She shrugged, taking a sip of the tea he handed her. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

He gave her a look that emanated the kind her father gave her as a child when he knew she was lying. He sat cross-legged beside her, nursing a cup of tea close to his chest and waited. And waited. And waited.

“I just…” She could feel the cold air sticking to her skin now and shivered. “Back on Kyoshi Island, seeing it all burned the way it was… I was a part of that, Iroh. That’s not - that’s

not

what I signed up for. When I agreed to do this for my parents, I didn’t want to be picking and choosing which towns we destroyed. All of those people, they did nothing wrong, and yet their village has been destroyed.”

One of Iroh’s hands reached out and squeezed her knee. “It is not your fault.”

“But it is. How am I meant to continue hurting people?”

“You’re helping protect the Avatar,” Iroh said. “His survival is fatal for the world’s future.”

She felt short of breath. “And that makes it okay to hurt people in the process?”

His eyes softened. “Of course not. Sacrifices aren’t always easy. But, if all ends well, you will have helped that Avatar. You could be a hero.”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” she murmured. “I just want to be good.”

There was a sad smile on his lips, then. “And you are, (y/n). Better than most. You are doing what you can while keeping yourself and your family safe. That’s very admirable. Many do not have the courage to do such a thing.”

It felt selfish to want to give up, to take a little boat and sail away. To make a life for herself in the middle of nowhere and invite her family to keep them safe. But they would never be safe. They would be traitors, hunted by the Fire Nation just the same as the Avatar. And who was to say that the Avatar would stay alive with Zuko, Zhao, and the rest of the Fire Nation on his tail?

“I need to get back to training,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I don’t want to get out of practice.”

Iroh stood slowly. He was looking at her with more sympathy than she would’ve liked. “I think it’s best you rest. You will not be able to fight if your body is tired.”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about sparring.

– –

Sitting on the balcony railing, feet dangling in the salty air, (y/n) should have felt on top of the world. She could see for miles, much farther than she would’ve on deck. The distant mountains miles and miles past the coastlines they followed; the tiny, far-off ripples of sea creatures swimming around or birds diving into the water.

But she couldn’t shake the constant guilt she felt. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see the burning statue of Avatar Kyoshi; see the Fire Nation soldier’s skeletal masks as they set the village ablaze; feel Zuko’s white-hot grip on her skin. It was like a nightmare she couldn’t shake - one that clung to her like a second skin, determined to get the best of her. The memory of the burning village had plagued her in her sleep for days now. She wondered if it would forever.

She had known what she was in for when her father volunteered for her to join Zuko on this hunt. She knew that, after his father’s banishment of him, he would do anything to have the Avatar in his clutches. It was a different thing seeing it firsthand and knowing that she had allowed it to happen. Maybe she could’ve hidden the letter or convinced others it was just a catch-up with a family member. She hadn’t been forced to show the prince the content.

People were losing their homes and their livelihoods because of the decisions she had to make.

How could one person be worth such a sacrifice?

“Aren’t you cold?”

The voice shocked her from her stupor, but she didn’t have to turn to recognise the voice. Perpetually annoyed-sounding, it was always easy to discern who it was.

“Firebenders don’t get cold,” she said.

Zuko came to stand next to where she sat, hoarding all of the heat she really lacked. “Yet you’re always shivering.”

She pursed her lips, not entirely pleased that he knew that. “It’s the south. It doesn’t agree with me.”

“Does anything?”

“I’ll have you know,” she said, “that I am quite an agreeable person.”

He didn’t say anything in response to that. Even still, it felt strange just having that short interaction, one that hadn’t involved titles and the degree of tolerability they both seemed to harbour for each other. For a moment, it felt like two regular people having a conversation - a

joke

. When was the last time she had a conversation not involving the Avatar? She couldn’t remember.

“Is there anything you need me for?” she asked, gripping the cold metal railing tightly. Her feet swung softly in the open air beneath her.

When she glanced over at him, she found that he was standing with his scar on the side furthest away from her, his face tilted slightly away. As if he was trying to keep it out of sight.

She knew it was something he was ashamed of. To have a punishment branded on him so obviously, to have people staring at it wherever he went, she could understand wanting to limit the amount of people seeing it so clearly.

“Iroh expressed worry for you at dinner,” Zuko said, rather matter-of-factly. “I don’t want you to be distracted when it comes to fighting.”

Of course. Not that he cared that she was upset - not that she would ever tell him the reason

why

- just that he couldn’t have a soldier falter under his command. It would make not only her but also

him

seem weak. He had appearances to keep up, just as much as she did.

For a moment, despite her annoyance at the statement, she found herself able to relate to the prince for once. Both of them were trapped, forced to put on a facade for the sake of their own individual missions. Both of them had very few people with whom they could speak to about it. Maybe in another life, they could’ve spoken to each other. Shame, really, that she was working against him. Maybe in that other life, his blunt and brooding personality wasn’t so hard to swallow.

“It won’t be a recurring thing,” she assured him. “I didn’t sleep well last night is all.”

Or any of the previous nights before.

He hummed in response, clutching the railing. “I find that my uncle’s lemon balm tea helps me sleep.”

What was this? An attempt to

help

her? She must have been dreaming, surely.

But even still, she nodded. “Thank you. I’ll try it.”

The sky was growing darker overhead. Flocks of gulls flew by, squawking as they passed, and Zuko frowned in their general direction. It was strange seeing only the unscarred side of his face, almost like looking at a new person entirely.

Abruptly, he stood straighter, brows furrowing slightly as if coming out of a trance. “Have you had any word of sightings of the Avatar?”

“No,” she said. “He’s tricky. But we’ll catch up to him.”

He nodded. “And what of your father’s letters? Has my father…”

Zuko did not often falter when speaking, but he did now. She could hear the unspoken words, feel the barely concealed anxiety rising in his chest and swarming the air. His hands clutched the railing harder, knuckles turning white.

“Fire Lord Ozai is aware of the Avatar’s survival.” She brushed hair out of her eyes, only for the strands to pull in the wind and tickle her face again. “He awaits his capture. As far as I know, he doesn’t care if it’s you or Zhao that brings the Avatar to him.”

There was a long moment of silence. She was overly aware of the scent of smoky fire, clinging to their clothes as it always did, mixing with the sharp tang of the salty sea. After years of travelling as a child, it was a familiar scent, reminding her of nights spent cuddled in bed with her mother, having her hair stroked as her father told a story from the end of the bed.

What she wouldn’t give to have her mother’s hands in her hair now, soothing her to sleep. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to again.

Movement startled her. At first, she thought it was Zuko turning to leave, but he swung his leg over the railing, then the other, until he was sitting beside her. He seemed slightly unnerved, staring at the long drop beneath them for a few seconds, before turning his gaze to the dark sea beyond. A few strands of inky black hair slipped from his tight ponytail.

They sat there in silence for a while, surrounded by some temporary camaraderie that had (y/n) internally scratching her head. This was perhaps the longest they had ever spent in each other’s presence without there being some ulterior motive. It seemed, strangely enough, that he was here for the same reason as she was. Peace.

For what had to have been at least an hour, they did not speak. Rather, they sat in a somewhat comfortable silence, watching the moon slowly rise in the sky, dipping in and out of the clouds every so often.

She could dislike him in the morning, she decided. For now, it was nice to have the company of someone who she could relate to, even if he didn’t know it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Capable"
  It was a strange feeling, being so close to home yet so far away.

From where she sat in the trees by the edge of the forest, (y/n) could see across the vast expanse of the sea all the way over to the horizon that hid the islands that made up the Fire Nation. They had been sailing up the southwestern coast of the Earth Kingdom for over a week now, with periodic stops to track the Avatar, but here, they were almost parallel to the Fire Nation. With a day and a half’s sailing, they would reach Ember Island, where most nobles went to escape the day-to-day life of the court.

She wasn’t particularly desperate to return to the Fire Nation. If her parents weren’t still there, she would have no motivation to go back there again. But it was as if her heart was connected to theirs, for it was pressing strongly against her ribcage, begging to go back.

She pressed the pads of her fingers into the rough bark of the tree branch in an attempt to stop herself from thinking of her family too much.

Turning her gaze behind her, she glanced down at the guards and soldiers below, scouting out the forest floor for any signs of the Avatar. In their glistening armour, they cut a striking figure in the lush green foliage and looked like they did not belong there at all. She had to keep convincing herself that this would not be like Kyoshi Island - they would not be burning this place to the ground.

She’d finally been able to sleep over the past few days, courtesy of Iroh’s lemon balm tea, but that only meant that the nightmares became more vivid. More often than not, she was waking up in a cold sweat, terrified that the room around her was in flames. That the screams were not her own.

Fire had never scared her, not really. Now, though, it made her chest cease breathing when she saw others firebending.

“Are you coming down, Lady (y/n)?” called a voice from below. One of the guards. “Prince Zuko has ordered us to go back to the beach. We will be setting sail shortly.”

She looked down, avoiding the pale face of the skeletal mask. “Yes. I’ll find my way back.”

There was no finding to do - she was essentially already at the beach, perched in the thinner part of the forest that framed the golden sand, but the guard still hesitated. After a moment, he nodded, pressing the heel of his palm to an enclosed fist, before disappearing into the greenery.

It took a few minutes to convince herself to climb back down. Maybe if she stayed in the trees long enough, they would assume some carnivorous beast had gotten the best of her and would leave without her. But she was never so lucky, so she planted her feet firmly on the ground and sighed deeply.

Zuko was already pacing by the time she made her way down to the beach. He was waiting for his uncle to return from his ‘relaxing bath’, but the sun was slowly beginning its descent in the sky, with no sign of Iroh. They, along with a deployment of guards they had stay with them while the others returned to the ship, waited the allotted half hour that Zuko had allowed his uncle and gave him some lenience, waiting another half hour.

Still no sign of Iroh.

It was then, when the moon began to peek over the top of the horizon after over two hours of waiting, that Zuko charged into the dark forest in search of his uncle with (y/n) and their guards on his heels.

“He never listens,” he sneered. “We have places to be. He has no idea how important it is that we leave.”

The further they walked, the worse (y/n) began to feel. Something didn’t feel quite right: the way the ground dipped beneath their feet; the strange silence of the forest; the depth of the bitter cold surrounding them.

It was only when they reached the clearing Iroh had been bathing in that the severity of the situation began to set in.

Iroh was no longer there, however his clothes were. They hung on a low branch, swaying gently in the breeze, cold to the touch. The pool where he had sat was empty - well, not even. It was filled with jagged earth that converged to a central gap, wide enough for a person to fit in.

“It looks like a landslide, my prince,” said one of the guards.

Zuko glared at the ground beneath their feet. “Land doesn’t slide upwards.”

He was right. The ground hadn’t slid at all. In at least eight smooth tracks, earth travelled from the trees that edged the clearing up to the pool into those jagged points. Nothing natural had caused that.

“My uncle was kidnapped by earthbenders.”

– –

Upon the prince’s command, rhinos were brought from the ship to begin the search for Iroh. A handful of guards separated off into groups, heading off in different directions in search of him. Each was given a horn that would signal to others that they had found the retired general.

(y/n) found herself riding alongside Zuko, taking the path that led more inland than the others.

Iroh was not her family, but she found herself sick with worry, terrified that something truly bad could have happened to him. She knew he could take care of himself - he was more capable than anybody she had ever known - but the site of his kidnapping showed no sign of struggle. He had been caught off guard, so who was to say he could get himself out of whatever he was in?

Their search seemed fruitless for the first hour or so, but, eventually, luck seemed to be on their side.

“Those tracks,” (y/n) said, pointing a few feet ahead. “Those are ostrich-horse tracks. We’re going in the right direction.”

Ahead, at least half a dozen separate tracks in the distinctive two-toed shape of ostrich-horse feet led further into the distance. The space between each footstep indicated they were walking so, given the rhinos’ speed, they would be able to catch up shortly. Hopefully.

“Should we let the others know?” she asked, placing a hand on the horn strapped to her waist.

Zuko shook his head, ponytail swaying. “We have no time to wait for them. We’ll go off ahead.”

Strangely, she found herself unwilling to protest. Usually, she would find something to disagree with him about, which was simply down to the fact that he more often than not irritated her to the bone, but this was something entirely different. She was eager to agree, anxious to move faster.

Her hand moved from her horn and back to the reins, urging her rhino on more. They picked up a considerable pace, fast enough to gain on Iroh’s kidnappers yet not so fast that it would tire their mounts and make them stop short. Zuko seemed pleased enough with their speed.

He was awfully silent throughout, and (y/n) somehow found herself wanting to fill the silence. She had yet to hear him complain about his uncle not taking precautions or gripe about having to pause their hunt for the Avatar yet again, and though she didn’t find herself missing it, she didn’t like this uncomfortable silence.

“Your uncle will be alright,” she said, but it was more for herself than for Zuko. “He’s gotten this far.”

“I’m not worried about my uncle,” Zuko said.

Oh, but he was. He was shifting his weight in his saddle and there was a distant look in his eyes, very concealed, that clued her in on everything she needed to know. The care he had for Iroh, though not always shown, ran deep.

They went on in silence, trudging on as the sky slowly grew darker. The moon had risen further in the sky, casting a beam of silvery light down on them like a beacon, guiding them on their way. They rode along paths carved into the sides of mountains, further and further inland than they thought they would have needed to go.

But these earthbenders had an agenda, and (y/n) had a feeling she knew what it was.

“Ba Sing Se,” she murmured.

Zuko cast her a strange look. “What?”

“We’re heading to Ba Sing Se,” she said. “Look, we’re headed east. Who would hold the biggest grudge against Iroh and, conveniently, is east of here?”

The prince cursed, gripping his reins tighter. His rhino threw its head. “We have to move quickly. There’s no time to -”

His sentence was cut short by his own shock. Wordlessly, he slipped from his rhino’s back, leaving (y/n) to catch its reins before it tried lumbering away. He crouched down in the middle of the path and stood a moment later, holding something between his fingers.

A flip-flop. Of all things.

She was about to insist that they keep moving if there was no time to waste, but found herself short of any words when Zuko held the shoe to his nose and sniffed. Unsurprisingly, he ended up holding it far away from his face, gagging in the other direction.

“It’s Iroh’s,” he managed

All she could find the strength to say was, “Oh.”

Zuko slipped the flip-flop into his saddle bag and shut it tight before climbing back on top of his mount. “Let’s keep moving. There was a sign of struggle on the path. My uncle left that on purpose, somehow.”

And so they did. For what could well have been hours, they kept on the mountainous paths, following the ostrich-horse tracks and the moon.

It made sense, really, why the earthbenders were taking Iroh to Ba Sing Se. In his days as a Fire Nation general and Crown Prince, he had led a six-hundred-day siege on the city until the death of his son, Lu Ten, and the vast casualties his troops had taken. The siege had caused great damage to Ba Sing Se’s fortifications and had depleted their resources. Regardless, they would have still held the grudge. (y/n) couldn’t blame them, but her love for Iroh made it a complicated matter in her mind.

This was the people of Ba Sing Se’s justice. They would make him have a trial and, if not, they would enact their revenge in a cruel way that reflected the pain he and the Fire Nation had wrought upon them.

It was strange thinking of Iroh’s time as Crown Prince and a general. He had still been much kinder and wiser than most from the Fire Nation, but he had caused great damage across the Earth Kingdom, as well as the Water Tribes, under the rule of his father, Fire Lord Azulon. (y/n) liked to think that, had he become Fire Lord, he would have changed things and ruled justly, but there was no promise. Especially not when his main reason for ending his siege on Ba Sing Se was merely his son’s death.

Would he have continued the siege if that had never happened?

She tried not to think too much about it. She’d always been confident in her morals and beliefs, but Iroh was where it all became muddy.

People could change, she reminded herself.

She found herself glancing in Zuko’s direction at the thought. With his rigid posture and the hard set of his jaw, he reflected his legacy - the harsh rulers of the Fire Nation - but she wondered if he could be more. The gradual softening of his fingers around the leather reins or the spark in his eyes she had seen on occasion; could they have meant that he was capable of such a change as Iroh?

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about anymore.

– –

The sun had begun its ascension into the sky before anything substantial happened.

They had been following the tracks for hours when the beast appeared above them. Its beige fur stuck out in the blue-and-pink sky, accented by the brown arrow on its head that gave all the indication of who was likely on its back. It made the occasional grumbling sound, loud enough for them to hear it clearly.

“The Avatar,” murmured Zuko.

He turned his rhino around, ready to follow the sky-bison from the ground, but his gaze turned back to the tracks in the dirt path. The ones that led to Iroh, who wouldn’t be far away. Not if the signs of struggle they had found along the way meant anything.

For a moment, there was no movement other than the huffing breaths of their rhinos and the breeze in the grass and trees. (y/n) could feel her heart racing, worried that they had come all this way for Iroh just for it to be thrown away in a moment.

Zuko’s struggle was evident. His eyes kept flickering between the sky-bison, which was getting further and further away, and the dirt tracks ahead of them. His brows were furrowed, shadowing his eyes so that she couldn’t even get a glimpse into what his decision may be.

Wordlessly, he turned his rhino fully and urged it on. In the direction of Iroh.

(y/n) could feel the relief blossoming in her chest, taking form in the sigh that parted her lips. She pulled her mount alongside Zuko’s, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. His face revealed nothing.

Despite herself, she allowed a small smile to fight its way onto her lips.

The day passed slowly. They stopped occasionally to allow the rhinos a rest and a drink from the small stream they had been following for a short while before clambering back on and continuing. (y/n) passed Zuko some food from her saddle bag as they rode, and they went on in almost complete silence. Every now and then, they’d exchange a word: the tracks were closer together, so the group had been moving quicker; signs of a struggle down the side of the slope.

Yet again, she found herself disliking their silence. It wasn’t necessarily that she wanted to speak to the prince, even if their conversation a few nights ago on the ship wasn’t too painful, but rather the thought of something bad happening to Iroh made shivers run down her spine. He was her only true ally on the ship and the only person keeping Zuko in check.

Then the voices appeared.

The sky, once again, had begun to grow dark when they heard them. Maybe half a dozen male voices, slightly distant but close enough to make out most of what was being said.

(y/n) and Zuko slid off their mounts, securing the reins to the trees that lined the path, before creeping over as quietly as they could to a small ridge.

The ridge overlooked a crater-like pit in the ground, at least fifteen feet deep. Towards one end, a pile of fallen rocks blocked off what might have been the original path that led down to the crater’s floor. Every other side was smooth, offering no footholds to get in or out.

But that would be no issue for the men down below.

Dressed in green-and-black tunics, hats of a similar fashion and bare feet, eight earthbenders stood in a circle around a central figure who was chained to a boulder by his hands. His grey topknot was almost undone, the rest of his hair and beard frizzy and knotted, but it was unmistakably Iroh.

Zuko made to move, but (y/n) placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him back. He shot her an incredulous look but did not move.

“These dangerous hands must be crushed,” one of the earthbenders announced.

His foot dug into the ground with a

thump!

and with the impact, a large boulder was torn from the ground, hovering in the air. With rigid movements, the boulder moved slowly in the air until it floated just above Iroh’s hands.

This time, (y/n) did not stop Zuko.

He leapt from where they were crouched into the pit. With incredible strength, he kicked his leg out, sending the boulder shattering across the far wall before slamming his ankle down onto Iroh’s chains, freeing his hands.

(y/n) jumped down after him, landing on nimble feet as she found her place beside the prince and his uncle.

Iroh stood, chains dangling from his wrists still, and smiled in a way that felt coldly unfamiliar to her. “Excellent form, Prince Zuko.”

“You taught me well,” Zuko said as he took a defensive stance.

“Surrender yourselves,” said one of the earthbenders, presumably the captain. “It’s eight against three. You’re clearly outnumbered.”

“That’s true,” Iroh said. “But you are clearly outmatched.”

The ground exploded around them. With powerful thuds of feet and outstretched fists, the earthbenders sent volleys of boulders and paths of sharp earth towards them. Iroh leapt out of the way, breaking through some of the rocks with his chains. Zuko sent red-hot blasts of fire at their opponents, knocking them off balance or preventing their onslaught of attacks while (y/n) raced in and fought the remaining earthbenders hand-to-hand.

She didn’t want to hurt them, truly, but there was a terrible rage in her chest, burning with white flames and blistering hot, at the thought of these people having come so close to hurting somebody she cared about. It was almost a physical pain that was capable of stealing her breath, but it was fueling her now.

The traditional style of fighting in the Earth Kingdom was familiar to her, and she found herself in a sort of dance against the three men circling her. Where they stood as immovable as stone, so did she. When weaknesses were revealed so slightly, she exposed them. One favoured his left side over his right. Another was weaker with his left hand, which looked strangely burnt. The last was cocky. All things she could manipulate to her advantage.

Sounds of fighting surrounded her, and the pit was getting exceedingly hotter with Zuko’s rage-filled flames. Shattered stone flew this way and that, cutting into firebender and earthbender alike. Chains rattled noisily as they cut through stone.

(y/n) made quick work of her opponents. They were not intent on killing her and, while she was not either, she was angry. So,

so

angry. They were pulling some of their punches, but she was not. They lay, scattered across the ground shortly after.

And then there was one.

Zuko had just sent a wall of fire at the captain when she turned, watching as the earthbender rolled out of the way. His foot slammed into the ground and he rose his arms into the air, bringing with them towering pillars of stone.

In another world, maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. Maybe she would’ve watched the rocks on their descent, thinking that maybe it was a deserved fate.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not even when it was Zuko at risk.

Her feet moved quicker than her mind. Before she knew it, she was shoving Zuko to the side, propelling them both out of the line of fire. She braced herself for the terrible rumbling, the impact of tonnes of rock slamming into the ground just short of them, but when it came, it was much further away.

The captain lay on his stomach, unconscious beneath his barrage of stone with chains wrapped around his feet. Iroh stood a few feet back in just his loincloth - as he had been the whole time, really - barely breaking a sweat.

(y/n) and Zuko pulled themselves to their feet, brushing dirt off their clothes. She tried not to think about her actions too much, or the fact that she had done it all for nothing, but it was harder than she’d imagined when she could see Zuko looking at her from his peripheral vision. It was a strange sensation feeling her cheeks burn.

A small smile found its way to the prince’s lips, and despite how strange it was seeing him smile, it wasn’t necessarily bad. He was looking at his uncle and, finally, she could see some emotions in his eyes - relief.

“Will you put some clothes on?” was all he said.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Acrid"
  For all that Zuko had achieved by choosing to save Iroh over pursuing the Avatar, (y/n) should have known that it wouldn’t last.

Promptly following Iroh’s rescue - and his redressing - Zuko, (y/n), Iroh, and a handful of guards who had followed them after a day of not hearing anything, headed inland in the direction the Avatar’s sky-bison had been flying earlier that day. Eventually, they found a small village. One that Zuko interrogated.

This village, thank the spirits, did not face the same fate as the one on Kyoshi Island.

However, their fear betrayed their loyalty to the Avatar. They told Zuko all he wanted to know. It could not be helped, and they could not be blamed; anybody would have done the same.

It wasn’t until they were back on the ship, sailing at high speed in pursuit of the Avatar and his friends that anybody spoke about their destination.

"Sailing into Fire Nation waters,” Iroh said gravely. “Of all the foolish things you’ve done in your sixteen years, Prince Zuko, this is the most foolish.”

Zuko did not tear his gaze from the telescope. “I have no choice, Uncle.”

Iroh frowned, deepening the lines on his face. “Have you completely forgotten that the Fire Lord banished you? What if you’re caught?”

It was hard to hear the pure worry and exasperation in his words. Iroh, who was usually so calm and collected, was losing his mind over the potential troubles they’d face going forward. Crescent Island Fire Temple would likely host even more issues for them, mainly Zuko, and he was sailing straight for it.

“I’m chasing the Avatar,” Zuko said. It was then that he turned from the telescope, with a look that gave a clue to his frustration. “My father will understand why I’m returning home.”

“You give him too much credit.” Iroh crossed his arms. “My brother is not the understanding type.”

The prince merely scowled at him before turning back to the telescope.

For a few moments, there was silence. Iroh caught (y/n)’s eyes and gave her a helpless shrug. There was an irritation bubbling under his skin, that much was clear from the tension in his shoulders and the downturn of his lips, but she didn’t say anything. Whatever hope she’d had about Zuko having the capability to change for the better was almost entirely gone now. She expected this from him; Iroh did not.

“There they are,” the prince announced, pointing ahead of them. “Helmsman, full steam ahead!”

The ship’s speed built up as the Avatar’s sky-bison came closer into view, and they hurried down onto the deck. A section of the floor opened up and a catapult rose from the innards of the ship. A few of the soldiers loaded a heavy missile on it, coated in foul-smelling oil and waiting to be set alight.

“Really, Prince Zuko,” Iroh groaned, “couldn’t you shoot them down with something more fragrant?”

The prince did not deign to answer. With a grunt, he released a blast of fire that covered the missile entirely.

“On my mark,” he said as the soldiers prepared to loose it. “Fire!”

The line was cut, and the missile was catapulted into the air with a stream of thick, pungent smoke. It was narrowly avoided by the sky-bison, and though the disappointment and anger of missing infuriated Zuko, they had bigger problems.

“My prince,” (y/n) said. “There’s a Fire Nation blockade ahead. What do you propose we do?”

A few miles ahead, dozens upon dozens of massive Fire Navy ships bobbed on the water, gleaming in the bright winter sunlight. The ships loomed in the distance in two rows, patrolling the edge of the Fire Nation waters. Though they were far off, the small shapes of multiple catapults on each ship were still evident. If they were fired, she had a feeling that whoever was commanding the blockade did not care whether they hit Zuko’s ship in the process.

Iroh stroked his beard. “Technically, we are still in Earth Kingdom waters. Turn back now, and they cannot arrest you, nephew.”

“The Avatar isn’t turning around, neither will we.”

“Please, Prince Zuko!” Iroh begged. “If the Fire Nation captures you, there’s nothing I can do. Do not follow the Avatar.”

Maybe she was kidding herself, but (y/n) could’ve sworn that there was a hint of remorse on Zuko’s face.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said. “Run the blockade!”

It was almost as if the heavens were raining down on them. Well, angry, fiery heavens. The flaming missiles from the blockade flew overhead, dodged narrowly by the Avatar’s sky-bison, before crashing into the ocean around them, sending seawater spraying onto the ship. (y/n)’s skin was slick with the water, and she could taste salt on her lips as clearly as she could smell smoke. More and more came, and each had their ship rocking precariously on the waves.

One missile came concerningly close to the ship, slamming into the water just short of the rear starboard side. The ship tipped in the other direction, sending everybody sprawling and clinging to whatever they could grab as a large wave descended upon the deck, turning the whole crew into strange variations of drowned rats. (y/n) clung onto the catapult with a tight grasp, but the seawater was making her hands and fingers slippery. Rope burned the palms of her hands, tearing the skin open slowly, and splinters stuck into her fingers like thorns.

Another smashed onto the stern of the ship, exploding in a massive cloud of orange flames and thick smoke. The ship trembled and juddered.

Zuko was only a few feet away, standing despite the terrible rocking, and was watching the fiery missiles soaring above.

“Prince Zuko!” called one of the ship’s engineers. His face was smudged with soot and sweat. “The engines are damaged! We need to stop and make repairs.”

A deep scowl overtook the prince’s face as he turned to look at the blockade ahead. “Do

not

stop this ship.”

Ahead of them, the sky-bison dove towards the water, flying close to the cerulean surface as it dodged the explosives. (y/n) and Zuko stumbled to the bow of the ship, clutching onto the railing desperately as their ship laboured forward in the dangerous waters.

A small figure leapt from the sky-bison’s back, clad in orange-and-yellow, as a massive barrage of missiles came raining down towards them. There was a horrible lump forming in (y/n)’s throat as she watched, half worry and half guilt. Worry because, should the Avatar die, who would save the world from Ozai’s tyranny? Guilt because she could not do more to save him.

The fiery missiles drew nearer, and her heart felt like it was going to stop.

A burst of air, larger than any the Avatar had produced while she was present, exploded from his small frame in a deadly stream. It tore through the missile, shattering it into nothing but shards of rock and smoke, and, just like that, they were past the blockade.

As their ship drew nearer to the blockade, she could feel the heat of Zuko’s fury as though he were holding flames a centimetre from her face. His knuckles were white as he clenched his hands around the railing, watching as the ships directly ahead of them slowly closed in on each other in an attempt to stop their pursuit of the Avatar.

“It’s Zhao,” (y/n) said. “It’s got to be.”

Iroh pushed strands of wet hair out of his eyes. “We’re on a collision course!”

“We can make it,” Zuko insisted.

And he was right. As they reached the much larger ships, the rumbling of their engines faded away and the ships stopped their moving, save for bobbing on the waves. Zuko’s ship glided through the gap as easily as a bird through trees.

But there was Zhao, standing on the deck of the right-hand ship, looking down on them as if they were no more than mere insects. It was likely all three of them - (y/n), Zuko,

and

Iroh - glared up at him in return.

She wondered what sort of image they made, soaked to the bone. Her hair, which had been neatly braided, stuck to her face and neck which were likely bright red from being slapped by cold seawater. Iroh, usually prim and proper, shook the sopping sleeves of his robe with disdain. And Zuko, well, Zhao would always view him as some sort of spectacle - one to jest about.

They sailed onwards, trailed by a massive cloud of smoke produced by their damaged engines. There was no land directly nearby, but even if there was, Zuko would not have permitted them to stop and make repairs. Not when the Avatar was so close and in his home territory, no matter how long he had been banished.

Standing on the balcony by the ship’s bridge, now, (y/n) tried to wring the remaining water from her hair, which felt awfully rough and straw-like from the salt. The prince stood by the telescope, glaring ahead in a way that was oh-so-Zuko of him that it made it hard not to roll her eyes.

"What’s he up to, Uncle?” he demanded, not even sparing Iroh a glance. “Why didn’t Commander Zhao arrest me?”

“Because he wants to follow you,” Iroh said. His hands were tucked behind his back beneath the slowly-drying sleeves of his robe. “He knows you’ll lead him to the prize you’re both after: the Avatar.”

There was something in Zuko’s eyes then, akin to the spark she so often found herself looking for. But this was not the kind she had seen on that night when they’d sat on the balcony’s railings. No, this one was malicious.

“If Zhao wants to follow our trail of smoke, then that’s exactly what I’ll let him do.”

– –

“My prince,” (y/n) said. “

Zuko

. Let me come with you. Surely if you mean to capture the Avatar, two of us have a better chance than just one,”

She had no intention of helping Zuko capture Aang, but she had to try her best to prevent it. That malice she had seen in his eyes - most of it was saved for Zhao, the arrogant man, but part of it was for the Avatar. She dreaded to think what the prince would do if he got his hands on him again.

Zuko looked up at her from the deck of his small boat, perched on the ship’s ramp, waiting to be lowered onto the smoke-clouded water. For a moment, he actually seemed to consider her offer.

Then, his brows shadowed his eyes. “No. I need you on the ship. Keep heading north while I use the smoke trail as a cover. Zhao will keep following the ship and, should he come aboard, I will need you to lie our way out of whatever he’s scheming.”

She didn’t mean to challenge his authority, but the words came out faster than her brain was working. “Couldn’t your uncle do that?”

It was no big feat of disrespect, but her heart stilled nonetheless. Zuko was unpredictable.

But, surprisingly, he let out a huff of a laugh. “We both know my uncle cannot lie his way out of much. I’m entrusting you with this, (y/n).”

Before she could get another word out, the chain holding his boat aloft began to move, slowly lowering it into the water. He stayed on the deck as he descended, gaze fixed on her in a way that made her skin prickle, and gave her a curt nod. Then, he disappeared into the control room and veered his boat off.

There was a strange feeling in her stomach then, something that had followed his words. I'm entrusting you with this. Not necessarily trust as a whole, but almost. She needed him to trust her so that her plan, her parents' plan, could be enacted successfully, but there was a small part of her that felt a little bad. If he ever did learn to trust her entirely, she would betray him. Like everybody else.

Zhao’s ship kept on their tail, drawing nearer and nearer by the minute. (y/n) and Iroh stood on the deck, watching the larger ship’s pursuit and preparing themselves for the oncoming interrogation.

Soon enough, Zhao’s ship was parallel with theirs, and a ramp lowered down, latching itself onto their ship. Moments later, the hulking figure of Commander Zhao came sauntering down, donning that infuriating smirk of his. His red-and-black armour glimmered in the sunlight like dark crimson blood.

“General Iroh,” he said. “Lady (y/n). May I ask where Prince Zuko is? A traitor coming into Fire Nation waters must be dealt with swiftly, especially when the Avatar is in reach.”

(y/n) gave a stiff bow of her head. “Commander Zhao. I hope you are here to offer to help repair our ship. Your attack on the Avatar has left our engine significantly damaged. We may not even reach land at this rate.”

The corner of Zhao’s mouth twisted upwards as a horrible keening sound came from the engine room below. “Unfortunately, we are unable to do that. We have many other agendas to fill. Now, again, I will ask for the Banished Prince’s location.”

“Prince Zuko is belowdecks,” (y/n) said, watching the short flash of disdain in Zhao’s eyes at her absence of the word

banished.

She tucked her hands behind her back, holding her chin and shoulders high. She would not be intimidated by this snake of a man
. “Our medic says he has inhaled too much of the smoke produced from the engines. He, along with a few of our engineers, is currently being treated and resting. He has asked not to be disturbed, and I am loath to face his wrath for the purpose of this visit. We intend to leave these waters shortly.”

Commander Zhao was silent for a few counts, considering her words and scrutinising any expression on her face. She kept it purposely indifferent, an expertly developed skill of hers after living on a ship with someone she intended to betray for almost three years.

“You know,” he said, taking a slow step closer to her, “you are very much like your father, Lady (y/n).”

She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “How so?”

Zhao drew closer still, and she could see how Iroh tensed up just to her left. The commander was close enough now that when he leaned forward, his face was mere inches away from her ear.

He spoke quietly, threateningly, so only she could hear him. “Because you are a very good liar. I almost believed you for a moment. But you have a tell, just as everyone does. Do you realise that you always twitch your eyebrow upwards? Your father does the exact same thing. It would be a pity if Fire Lord Ozai were to find out that two of his most loyal subjects may also be traitors.”

(y/n) kept her face as neutral as she could, but she felt the worry shooting through her veins as clearly as she could feel Zhao’s bitter breath on her neck. He was bluffing, surely. There was no way her father had a tell when he lied. There was no way anybody could know of his true intentions. He had been on his own agenda for years with no suspicion from anyone.

Zhao stepped back, eyes gleaming with pride. Clearly, her silence was a testament. “We almost missed it for the smoke, but we spotted a small FIre Navy boat sailing under the cover of the smoke before veering off, thinking we had not seen it. I assume that the Banished Prince is on that boat?”

“No, he’s not,” (y/n) insisted, but it was clear that Zhao had already known the true answer before he had even set foot on their ship.

"We will be on our way,” the commander said. “I do apologise for the state of your ship, but I fear we will be preoccupied with capturing the Avatar and Fire Nation traitors.”

The look he gave her then, just as he began to turn and walk up the ramp, sent an unfamiliar roil fear down into the pit of her stomach. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she wanted to curse. She was (y/n) Aoro; she did not fear men like Zhao.

It wasn’t until the ramp was unhooked and Zhao’s ship veered off that the nausea truly set in.

She had to keep up a pretence of indifference - the crew was watching her. She could not afford for them to see how badly Zhao’s words had rattled her. But she knew they were curious. Their eyes followed her too-stiff movements, watched the nervous way she rolled her shoulders beneath her armour.

“Keep a slow pace,” she ordered, keeping her voice steady. “We must perform what repairs we can while on the water and also give Prince Zuko a chance to return to this ship.”

And, so, everybody returned to their duties. The sound of hammers against metal and the whirring of drills soon resumed, filling the quiet, smoky sky with horrible noise.

Iroh’s hand clutched her elbow, guiding her to the starboard bow railing. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened with concern as he turned her towards him.

“What did Zhao say to you?”

She didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, and if it was real, then her whole family was in danger. It made sense, Zhao knowing people’s tells for lying - it was a commander’s duty to know the body language of his soldiers, to know their faults and weaknesses. It made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable to know he had used that knowledge against not only her but her father, too. How much did he know? And why hadn’t he told Ozai already?

Her throat felt raw as she spoke. “I think he knows.”

Iroh’s brows lowered a fraction. “About Zuko? He did announce to the whole ship that he knew.”

His worry for his nephew was thick in his voice despite his attempt to brush it off. There was a line between his brows that was gradually getting deeper.

“About

me

,” she murmured. “And my father. He suspects us.”

Iroh cursed, staring at the silhouette of Zhao’s fading ship. There was something in his eyes, something akin to the look Zuko had earlier, but it disappeared in seconds.

“He will use this to his advantage,” he said quietly. “It’s entirely possible he has kept this to himself to exploit. If he had intended to tell Ozai, you would already be dead. He has another agenda.”

That made more sense than anything her brain had tried to scramble up.

“I will not let him,” Iroh promised, squeezing her hand. His was calloused and rough, but it was soothing nonetheless. The hand of a firebender, just like her father.

She nodded and took a deep breath. But as she watched Zhao’s ship disappear over the horizon, dread was the only thing she could feel.

– –

By the time Zuko returned, red-faced and furious (no surprise), (y/n) was covered in engine oil up to the elbows, face covered in soot. Her tunic was stained beyond belief, her hair a complete mess, and yet she still felt like she was in a better state than he was.

Appearance-wise, nothing had changed about him, but his whole demeanour, somehow, was even more sour than usual. He seemed positively irate, with a wild look in his eyes. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she could have sworn a piece of his long, dark hair was smoking.

He gave her a once-over. “Why are you covered in oil?”

She scowled at a mildly sulfuric scent. “Why do you smell like lava?”

The question had come out before she’d had a moment to think, and once it had passed her lips, she realised her error. Her nerves had set her on edge, and she wasn't thinking straight or controlling her words as carefully as she usually would. Zuko’s face grew slightly darker but, strangely, there was a slight curl at the corner of his lips. There was a brief moment of relief in her chest.

Iroh clutched his nephew’s arms, checking him over for any injuries before taking a deep, steadying breath through his nose. Then he laughed, though it sounded slightly worried. “You do smell like lava! Zuko, what on

earth

happened?”

“Zhao came and ruined everything, that’s what happened,” Zuko said, and that hint of a smile slipped from his lips, trampled underfoot as he turned back to (y/n). “You were meant to distract him. What happened?”

Once again, her throat felt raw. She thought about the letter she had sent to her father not long ago, warning him of Zhao’s potential knowledge of their betrayal. She thought of Zhao’s acrid breath on her neck as he had leaned close to her, threatening her. Her heart thumped horribly in her chest. She wiped her hands on a dirty cloth tied to her belt to hide the trembling.

“He already knew,” Iroh said. “He boarded the ship for pretence. To see if we would tell him the truth. But he already knew.”

The hard set of the prince’s eyes softened just so, but his jaw was still clenched. “And you’re covered in oil and soot,

why

?”

“They needed extra hands to help with repairs.” She hated the way her voice just slightly wavered and prayed to all of the spirits that Zuko did not hear it. “We couldn’t stop at any land to repair, so we’ve been doing it on the go. We’ve enough power to dock somewhere, but major repairs need to be done while we’re not in the middle of the ocean.”

“Fine.” Zuko turned to look at the surrounding crew members, who were carrying on with work whilst trying not to look as though they were eavesdropping. “Take us to land!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

”Our Own”
  The cold air bit at (y/n)’s bare arms, raising gooseflesh across her skin. Warmth, however, filled her very bloodstream as flames leapt from her fingers, spiralling into arrows of heat that shot towards Zuko. Her training tunic was itchy, due a wash, but the aspect of a spar had only just been sprung on her that very morning.

She, once again, was standing in as his sparring partner, though this session was much more enjoyable than their previous ones. He was beginning to advance in his training, and while he didn’t pose much of a challenge for her, she was able to perform more complex moves for him to deflect and fight against rather than the same basics over and over again.

He ducked under the blazing darts, narrowly missing the final two, before punching his fist through the air and directing a strong blast of red-hot fire at her face. She easily spun out of its range, feeling the energy of the flames in her core. With a twist of her wrist, the flames changed their course, soaring back towards Zuko with incredible speed. He flipped over them, landing on nimble feet.

She would have been impressed by the easy landing had they not been thrown sideways at that very moment.

The ship tilted to the starboard side, and they crashed into the railing. (y/n)’s ribs ached from the impact, and she rubbed them as the ship righted itself, levelling out on the waves again. Her lungs felt a little short of breath for a moment.

Zuko, who had seemed in a relatively decent mood, had a sour look on his face. “Somebody’s changing our course.”

He pushed himself off the railing, face slightly red with rage, and stormed across the deck. (y/n), with her aching ribs, followed as he made his way up to the ship’s bridge, where the controls were. The walk was never one of her favourites, tramping up a stuffy staircase that seemed to go on forever, but even she was preoccupied with confusion.

For once, she had not been the one to control any detours. Over the course of their pursuit of the Avatar since leaving Fire Nation waters, she had received letters from her father’s contacts, claiming they had eyes on the Avatar and his friends, and so Zuko would order them to these different villages across the Earth Kingdom’s coast, only to no avail. But this was not her doing.

The possibilities swarmed in her mind as they entered the control room. The ship’s helmsman stood before the metallic rudder, none the wiser to Zuko’s rage.

“What’s the meaning of this mutiny?” the prince demanded. “No one told you to change course.”

Iroh, who was sitting to one side with a group of crewmembers playing Pai Sho, had a little smile on his lips. “Actually, someone did. I assure you, it is a matter of utmost importance, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko’s fists clenched by his sides. “Is it something to do with the Avatar?”

“Even more urgent.” Iroh scratched his head. “It seems I - I’ve lost my lotus tile.”

“Lotus tile?” The prince’s voice was strangely soft, ridden with confusion.

Iroh nodded. “For my Pai Sho game. Most people think the lotus tile insignificant. But it is essential for the unusual strategy that I employ.”

(y/n) frowned, but remained silent as Zuko took an angry step forward and said, “You’ve changed our course for a stupid

lotus tile

?”

“See,” Iroh’s eyes narrowed, “you, like most people, underestimate its value. Just give me ten minutes to check the merchants at this port of call. Hopefully, they’ll have the lotus tile in stock and I can get on with my life.”

Zuko’s shoulders tensed with fury, and a burst of flame came straight from his mouth, akin to the kind that gave Iroh his renowned name, Dragon of the West, during the Siege of Ba Sing Se.

Iroh only smiled. “I’m lucky to have such an understanding nephew.”

– –

The merchants’ pier was surprisingly warm compared to the other Earth Kingdom villages they had visited due to the oncoming dry season, but there was still a bite in the air. Stalls decorated the streets, filled with ripe fruit, glittering pieces of jewellery, delicately embroidered tunics. Iroh hobbled between them, admiring little stone and marble figurines or asking merchants about their wares.

Zuko glowered the whole time, and (y/n) wondered if his face would set permanently that way if the wind changed direction. That’s what her mother had always told her as a child when she pouted.

She hovered a few feet behind the two, admiring some of the pieces for sale at the stalls. Small shards of crystals gleamed in the bright sun in dozens of shades of green and pink and blue and red. She found herself transfixed by them, watching how the mottled colours within seem to blend so seamlessly.

Some were wrapped intricately in twine to be worn as necklaces, and, gently, she took one in her fingers, admiring the vine-like patterns in the translucent stone.

“Moss agate,” said the merchant. A middle-aged woman with deep-set green eyes and thick dark hair pinned at the back of her head, save for the strands that curled behind her ears. “Curious that you were drawn to it. It is tied closely with the Air Chakra, with love and loss, emotional balance. Have you loved and lost recently?”

It was a rather invasive question, but (y/n) found herself uncaring at its personal nature. She was focused on the way her heart skipped a beat, every vein filled with a brief flood of terror and worry. She had not lost anybody yet.

Yet

. But Zhao…

“How much?” she asked instead. Maybe she’d send it back to her mother - the green reminded her of her eyes.

The woman smiled, the crows feet beside her bright eyes deepening. “Not a penny for you, dear. Please, take it”

Strange, she thought as she took the necklace from the woman’s calloused, weather-worn hands. She was clad in her Fire Nation armour, gleaming red-and-black in the Earth Kingdom sun, and yet the woman had not been afraid. For a moment, she felt a pang of horror - had the woman tricked her, somehow? Maybe there was some sort of curse upon this very necklace. The woman’s hands felt obtrusive, now, and she slipped them from her grasp, clasping the necklace tightly.

But the woman only smiled at her and, as if reading her thoughts, said, “We are kind to our own.”

(y/n) hesitated, studying the woman’s face carefully. Her deep smile lines, the mole beneath the right side of her mouth. There was nothing untoward, but the words struck her deeply.

Somehow, this woman knew a secret she was sure nobody outside her family was aware of. Just by looking at her she had known, and that made her feel almost as vulnerable as she had when Zhao had revealed how to tell when she was lying. Her hands felt a little clammy but, really, she didn’t feel like she was in danger. But if somebody could tell who she really was just by looking at her, how many others would know?

Her eyes were drawn to Zuko and Iroh just a short few feet away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course,” said the woman but her eyes deceived her.

And, as she made her way back over to the others, she was sure she heard a whispered, “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

Iroh was smiling when she caught up to them, but Zuko looked ready to set his uncle’s beard on fire.

“I have asked at every stall,” Iroh said to her, “but there is not a single lotus tile in the entire marketplace! Can you believe that?”

Zuko crossed his arms indignantly. “It’s good to know this trip was a complete waste of time for everyone!”

“Quite the contrary.” Iroh’s cheeks were pink as he smiled. “I always say the only thing better than finding something you are looking for, is finding something you weren’t looking for at a great bargain!”

Guards strolled past them then, arms laden with all sorts of curios and goodies Iroh had been acquiring throughout the day. (y/n) thought of the necklace she had tucked into the pocket of her tunic beneath her armour and glanced back at the stall she had found it at. The woman, strangely, was gone.

“You bought a sungi horn?” Zuko asked, eyeing the brass instrument as it passed.

“For music night on the ship,” Iroh explained. “Now, if I only had some woodwinds.”

They traipsed along the pier, eyeing the other stalls, before coming across a large wooden ship. Its red sails flapped aimlessly in the breeze, unassuming, but (y/n) had a bad feeling.

“This place looks promising,” Iroh said with a grin.

Before (y/n) or Zuko could protest, Iroh hobbled up the ramp and onto the creaky wooden deck.

The sky glowed orange above them, and she could see that Zuko was getting antsy. She was grateful for Iroh’s detour but even she was eager to keep going. This pier made her feel uneasy.

Inside the ship, belowdecks, consisted of more strange bits-and-bobs than the rest of the market combined. Oddly carved figurines, inlaid with rubies and sapphires that drew Iroh’s attention. Maps with markings that did not match any she had seen before. Pieces and small artefacts from different cultures. Many beautiful pieces, many strange, and she had a feeling that they had not been acquired in a conventional way.

Iroh’s eyes were fixed on a monkey carved from dark stone, with eyes and a necklace of sparkling blood-red rubies. He grinned as though he were a child surrounded by sweet treats.

“Oh, that is handsome!” he exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it look magnificent in the galley?”

She did not answer. Instead, she caught Zuko’s eyes and gestured to their right with her head.

Over to the side, two men sat at a table. One, dark-haired and lean, had a strange kind of grin permanently set on his face despite the tension corded in the muscles of his bare arms. The other, well, perhaps he was the source of (y/n)’s bad feeling. His long hair was a deep grey, covered at the top with a large-brimmed hat that shadowed his sly, wrinkled face. An iguana-parrot perched on his shoulder with glaring, beady eyes that seemed to watch them with piqued interest.

(y/n) and Zuko inched slightly closer and the voices of the men became slightly louder.

“We lost the water tribe girl and the little bald monk she was travelling with,” said the dark-haired man. He leaned slightly over the table, closer to the older man, with a grim look in his eyes that contrasted his odd smile.

“This monk,” interrupted Zuko, “did he have an arrow on his head?”

The older man looked up at them, and the light filtering through the stairway cast bizarre shadows on the plains of his cheeks. There was a crude twist to his lips, and his hands clasped atop the table in the way a person who held power and knowledge over others would.

“Perhaps he did.” His voice was thick and raspy, raw from years of shouting. “Who’s asking?”

Zuko stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. If you have any information regarding this monk, you will tell me.”

(y/n) noted the absence of the Avatar’s title. It seemed that Zuko was smart enough to realise that revealing such a name to men like these,

pirates

, would not benefit him in the slightest.

The pirate, who she assumed was the captain, tilted his head, eyes narrowing as his lips twisted further. “The Banished Prince. Interesting. Well,

Your Highness

-” The title was mocking, and Zuko’s muscles tensed - “everything comes at a price. How much is this monk worth to you?”

– –

The

monk

was worth a lot to Zuko, it seemed.

Shortly after, he, (y/n), and Iroh, along with a handful of Fire Navy soldiers, stood on their smaller Fire Navy boat, making their way down a winding river alongside the pirate and his crew on their ship. The captain, who had not deigned to tell them his name, stood on their boat, staring at the darkening sky ahead of them.

“Shouldn’t we stop to search the woods?” he asked. The shadows on his face looked even stranger now.

“We don’t need to stop,” Zuko said. “They stole a waterbending scroll, right? Then they’ll be on the water.”

(y/n) caught Iroh’s eyes, trying to gauge what he thought of the situation. They both didn’t want the Avatar in Fire Nation hands, nor did they want him in the slippery grasps of pirates, and she was entirely unsure of how to handle the situation. He had been the one to get them into this, albeit unwittingly, and she prayed to the spirits that he had some kind of idea.

The look in his eyes did not give her hope.

She was twitchy as their boats sailed along, trying to think of any kind of plan that could get the Avatar and his friends out of this mess that they had caused by stealing the pirate’s scroll.

Well, it wasn’t his if

he

had stolen it. She completely sympathised with the water tribe girl, Katara. She’d seen her skill firsthand, and it would not be enough to train the Avatar.

Surrounded by pirates and with Zuko watching everybody like a hawk, it was unlikely that

should

they catch the Avatar and his friends that there was much she could do. But Zuko had left out the Avatar’s identity. It was not something she could exploit without endangering herself, but maybe it was something she could hint at somebody else doing…

The sky was dark and speckled with stars before they had any sign of anything.

At first, it wasn’t noticeable. (y/n) passed it off as noise coming from the pirate’s crewmembers aboard his ship, gleeful at their circumstances. Then words became more discernible, and the tone - distinctly feminine - was clear. There were no female pirates aboard that ship that had voices as bright as this.

Zuko and (y/n) shared a look. The pirate captain glared ahead and gave a small nod. If (y/n) hadn’t been able to recognise the voice, then it was clear that was his confirmation. He had found his thief.

There was a pit in her stomach when she realised that the only prisoner Zuko intended on taking was the Avatar. Katara and Sokka would be unaccounted for.

The boat slid its way into the sand lining the river with a keening sound, and they all hopped off quickly. Zuko’s intention was to draw Katara’s attention away with the noise while the pirates snuck up on her.

And, by the sounds of struggle, it seemed that his plan had worked.

She reached the clearing Katara had been practising in with enough time to see her waterbending, slightly more advanced than before. The pirate who had been holding her with a tight grip, at least twice her height and weight, got a face full of water and stumbled backwards.

Katara made to run, only to come face-to-face with Zuko, who grabbed her by the wrists.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll save you from the pirates.”

She kicked and fought the entire way back to the ship. It was not a long walk by any means, but she put up a good fight, good enough that Iroh was frowning and commenting on how long it took them to get back.

(y/n) grabbed the thick rope from where the pirates had piled it on the sand, feeling the grains sticking between her fingers and beneath her nail beds. As Zuko held Katara in place, she tied her to a towering tree framed by moonlight. The prince turned to speak to the pirate captain, scowling and grumbling about something or other while they figured out their plan of action.

She leaned forward just so, making it look as though she were tying the rope as tightly as she could.

“I’m going to get you guys out of this,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the knot. “I’ve got a plan.”

Katara glowered, and part of (y/n) was unsure whether it was at the situation or at her for being a part of it. “They’re going to come for me.”

“I’m counting on it,” (y/n) murmured. “Your brother will come in quite handy if I can get to him. Just hang on, okay?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

She restrained a small laugh as she mimicked finishing a tight knot before trudging over to stand beside Zuko.

His hands were clenched behind his back as a show of authority, but (y/n) knew better than anybody that he was on edge. These pirates gave them both a bad feeling. He’d told her as much when they’d boarded their boat.

He took a step nearer to Katara, whose ocean-blue eyes were filled with hatred. “Tell me where he is, and I won’t hurt you or your brother.”

“Go jump in the river!” she snapped.

“Try to understand,” Zuko said, moving closer, “I need to capture him to restore something I’ve lost - my honour. Perhaps in exchange, I can restore something you’ve lost.”

From his pocket, he pulled a piece of navy ribbon with a carved blue pendant hanging from the centre. (y/n) could remember a few weeks back when they’d visited a prison rig the Avatar and his friends had liberated, there had been a few things Zuko had taken interest in but not kept. One thing, however, he had plucked from the ground and stuffed away for future usage. She had never seen what it was until now.

It was a simple thing without much standing in other cultures around the world, but a prominent part of both the Northern and Southern water tribes. And, clearly, it meant a lot to Katara.

“My mother’s necklace!” she cried. “How did you get that?”

Zuko moved away, dangling the necklace in his grip as if he were teasing a dog. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re wondering.

Tell me where he is

.”

“No!”

The pirate captain scowled and stepped forward. “Enough of this necklace garbage! You promised the scroll.”

(y/n) produced the scroll in question from where she had strapped it on her belt. “This scroll? I wonder how much money this is worth,” she said, tilting her head.

Pursing her lips, fire rose from the fingertips of her other hand which hovered beneath the scroll. She had no intention of burning it, in fact she was hoping to return it to Katara, for whom it would actually prove useful, but she was trying to buy time. And, besides, Zuko had given her permission to toy with the pirates should they make things difficult. He had his own agenda, and they would receive the scroll not a second before it was fulfilled.

The gathering of pirates gasped at the sight of the red-hot flames. She felt a little bad for playing into the Fire Nation stereotype - she did not want to be known as cruel - but pirates had a reputation. She did not mind making them tremble. What gave them the right to steal and profit?

“A lot, apparently,” she said, glancing at Zuko, who was beginning to look smug.

“Now,” Zuko said, “you help me find what I want, you’ll get this back, and everyone goes home happy. Search the woods for the boy and meet back here.”

The captain watched the flames covering (y/n)’s hand carefully. “Fine.”

It was morning by the time the pirates returned. With them they brought two nets that held writhing figures within, one dressed in orange-and-yellow, the other in blue. They struggled against the sturdy rope, but to no avail.

“Nice work,” said Zuko.

(y/n) stepped forward with the waterbending scroll in one hand, the other prepared to create fire should any ‘funny business’ occur, in Zuko’s words.

The pirates pulled their captives from their nets and bound them tightly despite their protests. It had been a while since she had seen any of them so closely, having only been able to see them from a ship’s deck while they flew in the sky above, and her heart lurched, coming face-to-face with the reminder that they were all younger than her, save for Sokka. They were children.

She

was a child.

“Aang,” Katara said, “this is all my fault.”

The Avatar looked extremely child-like at that moment. “No, Katara. It isn’t.”

Iroh, from beside Katara, said, “Yes. It kind of is.”

“Give me the boy,” ordered Zuko.

“You give

us

the scroll,” the pirate captain said.

It was at that very moment that (y/n) caught Sokka’s eye. There was no guarantee that he would understand what she meant when she gestured over at Aang with the slightest nudge of her head, and her heart felt as though it were in her throat as she waited for him to speak. She’d been hoping to at least have had him within arms-reach to get her plan into action.

But Sokka was smart, smarter than people gave him credit for, apparently. His blue eyes gleamed with understanding. Perhaps he was already halfway to understanding her unspoken plan before she had even hinted at it.

“You’re really going to hand over the

Avatar

for a stupid piece of parchment?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t listen to him,” Zuko said. “He’s trying to turn us against each other.”

But the seed had already taken root. The pirates looked between themselves and Aang, sizing the boy up and scrutinising his robes and tattoos.

“Your friend is the Avatar?” asked the captain.

Sokka gave a wily smile. “Sure is. And I’ll bet he’ll fetch a lot more on the black market than that fancy scroll.”

“Shut your mouth, you water tribe peasant!” Zuko shouted.

“I’m just saying,” Sokka said, glancing at the surrounding pirates, “it’s bad business sense. Just imagine how much the Fire Lord would pay for the Avatar. You guys would be set for life.”

The captain was convinced. “Keep the scroll. We can buy one hundred with the reward we’ll get for the kid.”

Zuko’s expression was murderous. “You’ll regret breaking a deal with me.”

The fight that ensued was chaos incarnate. Small black beads were thrown at the ground by the pirates, exploding into massive clouds of thick smoke that encased them all. (y/n) tucked the scroll back into her belt and drew her knives, gripping the hilts so that she could resort to her bending should she need to.

She made her way backwards, ducking under surprise attacks from colourful pirates or accidental swipes from Fire Nation soldiers, until she was just beyond the grey cloud. There was Katara, pulling at her ropes. (y/n) had tied them loosely enough that they should have been easy enough to slip out of, but panic made a fool over everybody.

On quick feet, she hurried over and untied the ropes to be sure that no suspicion of Katara’s escape would fall to her should they be seen as having been cut.

“Take this,” she said, pressing the scroll into Katara’s hands. “With the smoke, it’s believable that you stole it. Get to one of the ships, get on it and get out of here. I’ll stall us here as much as I can.”

Katara gripped the scroll tightly and looked up at her. “Why

are

you helping us?”

There were the makings of a bitter smile beneath her lips. The merchant woman’s words came back to her, but in place of green eyes, she saw Katara’s child-like youth. Her own. “We’re kind to our own. Now, go!”

She darted back towards the smoke, skirting the edge, until she found Zuko clambering out  of it, facing the pirate captain. The captain’s sword gleamed in the murky light, glowing molten in the brightness of the flames that shot from Zuko’s fists. Zuko caught the captain’s wrists, preventing him from slashing at him with the sword, but his arms were slowly beginning to shake.

(y/n) raced forward, knives drawn, and swept the captain’s legs from underneath him. He toppled to the ground with a crash and a wave of sand, but was soon on his feet again. A burst of flame shot from her fingers as she caught the blade of his sword on the crossguard of her knives.

Her arms shook with the pressure, metal grinding against metal, but it was a short pain. Zuko sent a barrage of flames towards the captain, which were narrowly missed, and the sword slid back up the short blade of her knife as he stumbled backwards.

Before she knew it, Zuko was beside her, panting just so slightly. “Thanks.”

She wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the fact that the prince had just

thanked

her, or Iroh’s sudden appearance before them, keeping the captain from charging at them. His serene expression gave way to unusual frustration.

“Are you so busy fighting,” he said, “that you cannot see your own ship has set sail?”

“We have no time for your proverbs, Uncle,” Zuko scolded.

“It’s no proverb,” Iroh said.

He pointed to the right and, sure enough, the red-sailed ship belonging to the pirates was hurrying its way downstream, propelled along by the water itself. The small figures of Aang and Katara stood on the upper deck, performing smooth actions with their arms that had the water pushing them along.

“Bleeding hog monkeys!” cried the captain.

(y/n) was sure she must have been dreaming, because Zuko began to laugh as the captain rushed down the beach. His cheeks grew red from the hilarity he apparently felt, and she found herself unsure as to how to react. Part of her suggested laughing along. Another was content to just stand and stare in awe.

The laughter faded off very quickly, however, when they became aware that their own boat had been smuggled by the pirates.

They raced across the sand, but the ships moved much more quickly than they did. By the time they reached the waterfall the ships had been sailing towards, the metal hull of their boat was already crushed against the rocks below, beyond repair. Pirates floated in the water below, coughing and spluttering. Ahead, the shape of the Avatar’s sky-bison was growing smaller as it soared away.

“My boat!” Zuko cried.

Iroh, who had been panting not a moment earlier, began to chuckle. “Prince Zuko,” he said, “you’re really going to get a kick out of this. That lotus tile was in my sleeve the whole time!”

He produced the tile that had caused all the calamity with a proud grin.

Zuko panted, shoulders heaving with anger as he tore the tile from his uncle’s fingers and threw it over the cliffside into the water below.

(y/n)’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I suppose you don’t have a spare back on the ship.”

“No,” murmured Iroh. “I do not.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

”To Respect”
  “A letter from your mother? How unusual.”

(y/n) smiled, clutching the scroll in a soft grip as she looked up at Iroh. “I sent her a gift I bought back at that market. You know, the one with the pirates? She’s received it.”

She supposed it would seem unusual, though. Out of the entire crew, she received the most correspondence, being the most trusted member of nobility on the ship. Iroh was trusted, but held at arm's length after his failure at Ba Sing Se and Zuko… Well, Zuko was self-explanatory. But all the scrolls she received were either from her father or his global contacts, all of which could be easily identified due to her father’s status and the fact that all of the contacts shared the same seal.

The Shayin crest, which was stamped in wax as a seal for the letter, was not widely recognised.

Her mother had not been from any kind of prominent social standing. Many of the elder family members on her mother’s side had been barely literate, without money to pay for proper education in populated areas of their home island, and had received the bare minimum. They could string together sentences, as she had seen in letters sent to her mother, but it had been her mother and aunt that brought a new future for the family.

It was not often that her mother used her own seal, usually resorting to the Aoro crest since her marriage, or even sent her own letters, but it was a purposeful decision, that much she knew. The necklace seemingly meant more to her and her past than (y/n) had anticipated.

“How is your family?” Iroh asked, sipping on a steaming mug of jasmine tea. “Well, I hope. After Zhao’s threat, I admit I have been worried.”

Her smile melted away, replaced by a fear she had worked so hard to push down. “Nothing has changed. Ozai still trusts my father. There hasn’t been any strange activity around our home. My mother believes she would have heard some gossip if anything was suspected, but there has been nothing.”

“Good,” Iroh murmured. He seemed to take into account the sour look on her face, and looked at her with round eyes. “Oh, I apologise. I did not mean to worry you.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a shrug. “My father has been keeping me updated consistently. I think the austringers are beginning to get sick of me.”

She glanced over at the hawk perched on the railing, with its bright, alert eyes and fluttering feathers. One of the austringers stood beside it, feeding it small pieces of meat from his gloved hand.

“What do you think Zhao has planned?” she asked after a moment. “He wouldn’t tell me that he knew unless there was some ulterior motive.”

Iroh thought for a moment, stroking his grey beard. If he titled his head back, hiding his Fire Nation top-knot, he almost looked like an Air Nomad or, at least, like the kind she had read about.

“He believes you are entirely loyal to Zuko.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He will use this knowledge to turn you against him, somehow. To aid

him

in capturing the Avatar rather than Zuko.”

(y/n)’s fingers tightened around the scroll, crinkling it slightly. “What a

snake

,” she seethed. “If he or anyone

connected

to him harms a hair on my family’s heads -”

A small laugh parted Iroh’s lips. “Your parents are very capable of protecting themselves. If they were to be harmed, there would be riots in the streets, believe me.”

It wasn’t much solace, but she clamped her mouth shut. The nauseous pang of worry still roiled in her stomach and, as she always did, she fought it down. She did not have the luxury to be afraid - afraid of the fire that tore villages apart and stripped people of their lives, of the threats that had been awaiting their moment to surface since before she was even born. Her life had been filled with the promise of fear, fear she had never allowed herself to feel.

Now, though, it felt as though it was something she was always fighting off. She didn’t like being scared. Her mother and father had always protected her, they’d shown her how to protect herself. Her life was in danger because of her imminent betrayal, because of hidden secrets that her family could not afford to have told, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear people across the world felt under the tyrannical rule of the FIre Nation.

Ultimately, she still had a home she could go back to. Her parents were alive and breathing and they loved her. She had been given a good education, had been taught extensively of her history and the history of other cultures, and she could fight and firebend with skill beyond her age. Everything she needed had been given to her. The same could not be said for many others.

They lived in fear every day of their lives, and now their only hope was the Avatar.

Curse Zhao. Curse Ozai. Curse Sozin and Azulon, Zuko and Azula. Curse everybody who had caused innocent people to fear for their lives.

She tucked the letter in her belt and looked at Iroh. The lines on his forehead and beside his eyes had deepened considerably, but something softened in them when she met his eyes.

“I will not betray Zuko for Zhao,” she said. “He said I remind him of my father; well, he does not understand the extent of his trickery.”

— —

The sky was clear of any clouds, gleaming a beautiful bright blue, but Iroh frowned at the horizon. He stood at the starboard bow railing, nose tilted upwards slightly as he took a deep breath in.

“There is a storm coming,” he said. “A big one.”

Zuko glanced at (y/n), frowning with confusion, and said, “You’re out of your mind, Uncle. The weather is perfect. There’s not a cloud in sight.”

“A storm is approaching from the north,” Iroh insisted. “I suggest we alter our course and head southwest.”

“We know the Avatar is travelling northward,” said Zuko, “so we will do the same.”

Iroh’s voice took on a scolding tone. “Prince Zuko, consider the safety of the crew.”

“The safety of the crew doesn’t matter,” Zuko snapped. “Finding the Avatar is far more important than any individual’s safety.”

He glared at a soldier who had just come above deck before storming inside. The soldier, a lieutenant, kept on a mask of indifference until the prince disappeared, then his expression melted into something akin to disdain.

“He doesn’t mean that,” (y/n) said, though even she wasn’t convinced. “He’s just worked up.”

The lieutenant glowered in the prince’s general direction, before trudging over to a group of guards and barking orders.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Iroh to be proven right.

They sailed onwards and as time passed, a dark haze began to form up ahead. As they neared, the clouds took on a more imposing shape, dark grey and filled with the promise of trouble. They hovered close to the surface of the water, swirling maliciously. Iroh himself watched them with a close eye.

Zuko eventually deigned to step outside, eyeing the dark storm clouds as he came to stand beside (y/n) and Iroh.

The lieutenant turned from his group of soldiers and crossed his arms. “Oh, looks like your uncle was right about the storm after all.”

“Lucky guess,” insisted Iroh.

“Lieutenant,” Zuko snapped, “you’d better learn some respect, or I will teach it to you.”

The prince strode over, standing inches away from the lieutenant. Both looked at each other with something that bridged on hatred, and it had the whole crew’s hackles raising.

“What do

you

know about respect?” the lieutenant demanded. “The way you talk to everyone around here: from your hard-working crew, to your esteemed uncle and Lady (y/n), all of whom have been nothing but loyal to you, shows you know nothing about respect.”

(y/n) and Iroh stepped forward slightly, and she could feel the tension so thickly in the air that she could cut it with her knives.

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself! Then again, what should I expect from a spoiled prince?”

That was Zuko’s breaking point. He had been making to walk away, back turned to everyone there, but he spun around wordlessly, hand extended in an invitation to fight. It wasn’t a surprise when the lieutenant did the same, expression moulded in anger.

“Easy now,” said Iroh, but it seemed neither was intent on listening.

Their wrists came together, clashing with an audible ring from their metal vambraces.

It was then that (y/n) grew sick of it. Of the tension that had been present on the ship for the two and a half years they’d been travelling together. Of the insistence that everything needed to be resolved with a fight of some sort.

She stormed over, grabbing both of their wrists and pulling them apart, uncaring as to what punishment Zuko may give her later.

“Enough!” she said. “I get it, being at sea for so long would make

anybody

angry, but everybody needs to cool off.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as she removed her hands, and for a second she was worried they would start fighting regardless of what she said. But the lieutenant only scowled and turned, trudging away.

Zuko turned, too, staring at the clouded horizon with narrowed eyes. “I don’t need your help keeping order on my ship.

Either

of you.”

Iroh sighed, coming to stand beside her now. All of the infighting made him weary, more so than it did (y/n). He placed a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder, but Zuko shook it off and strode over to the bow, insistent on ignoring them all.

— —

It took a few hours for (y/n) to convince herself to check on Zuko. In ordinary circumstances, she likely would have left him be, but she was adamant that she would not be journeying on a ship with people who refused to get along. She’d rather throw herself into the murky depths below.

But it wasn’t just Zuko who would be getting spoken to. No, as she carried a bowl of steaming noodles towards his chambers, it was likely that Iroh was having his own words with the lieutenant and the soldiers as they ate in the mess hall.

It was a little unfair, she thought, that Iroh had sent

her

to check on Zuko. The prince was

his

nephew, not hers, but he seemed to think that her age would give her an advantage. Stupid thinking for a wise man.

She knocked on his door, waiting for a reply. When there was nothing, she knocked again and called, “Prince Zuko? It’s (y/n). I’ve brought you some food.”

Silence for a moment. Then a muffled, “Come in.”

Zuko’s chambers were larger than her own, and considerably barer. The orange glow cast from the fire at one end of the room lit the few belongings scattered around, made the Fire Nation symbol tapestry shimmer like live fire. Dual broadswords hung on the wall, crossed over one another, and glowing ominously. In the dim lighting, she barely managed to even spot his silhouette.

He sat cross-legged in front of a low table, laden with a few paintings of who she assumed to be his mother and him. His armour was still strapped on, blood-red in the darkness, but it was slightly askew. He didn’t look at her as she made her way over.

Hesitantly, she sat beside him and slid the bowl of food in the gap between his legs and the table. For a moment, he simply stared at it as if contemplating the makings of it or maybe wondering why she had bothered to bring it. Then, he grabbed the chopsticks and slowly ate.

Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she heard an uttered

thank you

. Just as well he likely hadn’t said it - she probably would have had a heart attack from the sheer notion of him thanking her

again

.

She didn’t want to bring up the topic of the lieutenant, but that was her whole reason for sitting in his room, wasn’t it? Taking a quiet breath, she steeled herself for the possibility of an oncoming disagreement.

“I’m sorry for snapping up there,” she said, though she wasn’t sorry at all. “I just - I’m sick of people fighting. I apologise for overstepping.”

Zuko chewed thoughtfully on his food, his face still set in that common frown of his. “You didn’t overstep. The lieutenant did.”

She had her work cut out for her but a part of her was glad that

she

wasn’t facing any consequences for her actions.

“People who do not

give

respect do not deserve it,” he grumbled. His fingers held the chopsticks so tightly she feared they may snap. “He most certainly did not deserve respect.”

(y/n) clasped her hands in her lap. “Personally, I think everybody deserves respect until they’ve proven otherwise. And, well, respect will not be given unless the recipient themself feels respected.”

His eyes were on her then, scrutinising her. “Are you saying that I should respect

him

? When he has acted so out of line?”

“No,” she said. “I think you should respect him because he's a human being. I think he should be respected because he has given his time and his life to help you on this mission. And, in turn, he should respect you. Not just because you are the prince, but because

you

are a human deserving of it.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched beneath his narrowed eyes. “He was wrong. I do respect you. And Iroh. And this crew.”

“With all due respect,” she started, “you may respect them, but you don’t show it.”

Silence. She half expected him to burst into a pillar of flames and scorch her hair from her scalp and, really, it would have been preferable over the silence. It was disconcerting, not knowing what was going on behind those gold eyes, and the quiet only set her further on edge.

But he heaved a sigh and turned his gaze away. “I

do

respect them,” he repeated, though it was quieter. “How do I show them that?”

She almost laughed when he said that, finding the way he sounded sick quite funny. Zuko did not like admitting to being wrong.

“They lay down their lives for you,” she explained. “Yes, partly because you are their prince, but also because that’s part of who they are. I’m not saying you need to lay down

your

life, but if you show them that their lives matter to you, I’m sure it’ll clue them in.”

He nodded silently, contemplating her words and, for a moment, a part of her felt like it could understand him. She knew what it felt like, to have people look up at you and see nothing more than spoiled nobility. They were more than that, she knew as much, though Zuko didn’t often show it. He hid his true self beneath that mask of cold authority, a mask so strong she hadn’t even seen the real Zuko for years.

Maybe that’s why she had begun to feel so conflicted about this business with the Avatar.

She would always choose saving the Avatar over anything. His survival and restoration of peace was her sole goal in life, and she could not afford to go against the plans made by her parents.

But Zuko wasn’t helping her cause. He was working directly against her, even if he didn’t know it, but these moments spent speaking as though the Avatar did not exist, as though they were two people without so much responsibility on their shoulders, made it significantly harder.

It had always been easy to see Zuko as a villain. Perhaps not so much as Zhao or Ozai, but he was still working against the world’s best intentions. Now, he was humanising himself. He was making it exceedingly harder to imagine him as simply a block in the road to world peace. A small piece of her was beginning to feel inklings of guilt for betraying him.

He was just lost. Trying to prove himself. She couldn’t fault him for that.

“I do respect you,” he murmured in a way that seemed so unlike himself. Her heart lurched, almost begging for the Zuko that sneered and scowled over this strange, unfamiliar version of him. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

Her mind struggled for something to say. Their two and a half years together on the ship had been spent with her wanting to throw him overboard at every turn. She had survived solely because of her ability to curse his name every night in her chambers, praying for him to give up on what they thought was an impossible mission.

How could she do that when he was

complimenting

her?

It seemed that the spirits were on her side, though. Before she could say anything in return, the whole ship shook as though it had taken a massive hit. They tumbled across the room, smacking hard against the far wall. As she looked up, she could feel nothing but pure gratitude that his dual broadswords were strapped to the display.

“Come on,” he said, standing. “We have to find out what that was.”

He offered her a hand to help her up and, hesitantly, she took it. With a strong grip, he pulled her to her feet and they darted out of the room as alarms began blaring. The ship felt as though it was juddering, struggling through the storm more so than it had been previously. The strong winds that had been rocking the ship now felt ten times stronger.

It was even worse above deck.

The sky above them was almost black with storm clouds that flickered with bright forks of lightning. Wind howled around them, tearing hair from ties and slapping their faces. An icy rain lashed down on them, stinging their skin, and waves washed over the deck.

“Where were we hit?” Even standing two feet away from the lieutenant, Zuko had to shout to be heard over the wind.

“I don’t know!” the lieutenant replied.

“Up there!” (y/n) called, pointing upwards.

Above them, the bridge and smokestacks were surrounded by billowing clouds of black smoke. The smell of metallic burning mixed horribly with the scent of rain and seawater.

Worse still, the helmsman was hanging from the remnants of the bridge’s balcony. One of his hands had already slipped from the metal railing, and even from a distance it was clear that his second hand was slipping.

Lightning struck a few feet away from the ship. The hull resonated from the impact.

Without hesitation, Zuko was gone. Rather than running up the stairs that led to the bridge in a mind-twisting spiral, he sprung onto the ladder that led all the way up the outer wall and began climbing with speed (y/n) did not know he possessed. He was followed shortly by the lieutenant, and they both climbed at least two rungs at a time.

Another blast of lightning came rocketing towards the ship. She prepared for the impact, the electricity that would ricochet through the metal hull, but it never came. Instead, Iroh took a wide stance and spread his arms.

His body seemed to absorb the lightning, surrounded by static yellow energy that shot through one arm and out the other, into the sea.

(y/n) stared in awe. The ability to redirect lightning was a rare feat amongst firebenders and to see it first hand was an entirely different thing to hearing about it.

Especially when the lightning left Iroh’s body and he was left smoking with his hair pointing in all directions.

The ship tilted up a steep wave, sending everybody stumbling, and up above, the helmsman’s hand slipped from the railing. The world seemed to slow down for a minute, extending a horrible moment into something no-one would want to watch.

But, then, Zuko caught the helmsman’s wrist. A cheer rang out amongst the soldiers on deck as he passed him down to the lieutenant who gripped the helmsman tightly as he made his way back down the ladder.

Rightfully so, the helmsman looked shaken as he stepped back onto the deck. His legs trembled and he gripped onto the lieutenant so tightly that it was likely his armour would be dented.

Despite the storm, it was at that moment that Zuko’s luck began to surface. Up ahead of them, crashing through the waves, was an all-too-familiar sky-bison with two people in the saddle.

Zuko stared ahead at it, frowning. “The Avatar!”

“What do you want to do, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

Tense silence as Zuko contemplated. (y/n)’s heart was in her throat. Should they pursue him, it was unlikely their ship would survive. The lives of the entire crew would be at risk. But Zuko had already put them at risk by continuing the pursuit. The helmsman had almost died. The ship was damaged. She wouldn’t be surprised if they continued on.

She was surprised, however, when he said, “Let him go. We need to get this ship to safety.”

“Then we must head directly into the eye of the storm,” Iroh advised.

And so they did. The ship struggled along, fighting the waves and the lightning, until finally there was a circle of bright light above them where the storm clouds swirled. The sea was  calmer there, and the ship limped to a gradual stop until it was only bobbing along the water. Seawater drained over the sides of the ship. Soldiers shook water from their boots and  smoothed their static-risen hair down.

Zuko’s head dropped. “Uncle, I am sorry.”

Iroh smiled and placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Your apology is accepted.”

(y/n) stood beside Zuko as Iroh hobbled away, staring ahead as the Avatar and his sky-bison soared away.

“You may have just earned their respect there,” she said. “That was pretty admirable.”

Too admirable, she thought. She stared over at the murky horizon and prayed that things would maybe return to how they were. Maybe then the guilt wouldn’t be slowly eating away at her now.

And, even still, Zuko still made it worse.

“Thank you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Saboteur"  (y/n)’s day had been going remarkably well until Zhao’s lackeys appeared.  The sun was shining. The ship had been successfully repaired after the storm. Zuko and the ship’s lieutenant, Jee, could hold a conversation without growing too frustrated with one another. Had the search for the Avatar been removed from the equation, she likely would have been thoroughly enjoying her day.  Of course, the Avatar was all Zuko could talk about. And, even less surprising, the boy was also on Zhao’s mind.  Hence his soldiers standing before them on Zuko’s ship, holding a hand-drawn image of Aang alongside instructions.  “The hunt for the Avatar has been given prime importance,” said the soldier in the middle. His grip crinkled the scroll. “All information regarding the Avatar must be reported directly to Admiral Zhao.”  “Zhao has been promoted?” Iroh didn’t even bother looking in the soldier’s general direction. “Well, good for him.”  Zuko was scowling so deeply it was entirely likely that his face would never move from the expression again. “I’ve got nothing to report to Zhao. Now, get off my ship and let us pass.”  “Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area.” The soldier rolled the scroll up and, rather insistently, handed it to (y/n). She scowled as he pressed it into her hand.   “Off my ship!” shouted Zuko.  With a little reluctance, the soldiers turned and made their way out of the bridge. Zuko turned his back on the crew, glowering as he looked out of the bridge’s window and watched as the soldiers made their way across the deck and back onto their - much larger - ship.  (y/n) stood beside him after tossing the scroll aside, eyeing the ship cautiously as it began to sail away, leaving behind a trail of thick, dark smoke from the smokestacks.   “Zhao’s planning something,” Zuko said, still scowling.  She refrained from rolling her eyes. Of course he was. He had been planning something ever since he found out about the Avatar’s return - capturing the Avatar, and ruining any prospect Zuko had of returning to the Fire Nation as anything but the Banished Prince. It didn’t take a genius to understand that.  But she understood what he meant. There was something more to it than what could be seen on the surface. Zhao never did anything simply.  “I want to spar,” the prince declared. “Meet me on deck in twenty minutes.”  And, with that, he was gone.  She was loath to follow what was evidently an order. He had no care as to whether or not she wanted to spar or was well enough to. She was, of course, but it was the premise that bothered her.  Even still, she found her way to her room and slipped out of her armour, changing into a lighter tunic. She was on deck before Zuko, who was probably nursing his bruised pride at having to follow orders from Admiral Zhao. He likely couldn’t bear the thought of his father paying more attention to Zhao than him.  When the prince finally did come up onto the deck, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he got into a defensive stance, fists clenched in front of his face. (y/n) raised her hands, fingers straight, and spread her feet apart, keeping her weight as balanced as she could on the bobbing ship.  Zuko, as usual, struck first. Thrusting his fist forward, a blast of red-hot flame came rocketing towards her face. As she spun out of its way, she could feel the heat of it against her skin; a narrower dodge than usual. Either Zuko was getting better or she was getting rusty. She didn’t like that thought.  She remained on the defensive, allowing Zuko to strike and strike until he slowly began to tire himself out. That was his issue: he would keep going and going, not thinking that his opponent was simply waiting for him to cause his own loss. He was all about strength through attack rather than defence. If she tried to tell him that with the mood he was in, well, it wouldn’t go down well. He’d also be learning a good piece of advice that, should her plans go south, would make things much harder for herself.  Sweat glistened on his skin as he launched another barrage of flames towards her, but these were significantly weaker. With a kick, she sent her own blast of fire towards him that sent the prince stumbling backwards. She took the distraction as her moment to move, leaping forward and knocking his feet out from under him.  Zuko fell back onto the deck with a loud thud! Before he could think to get up, (y/n) held out her hand, coated in flames, and pointed it at his chest.  He panted as he glared up at her, and for a moment she worried that he would give her some kind of punishment for not letting him win, like the spoiled prince he so often acted like, but his head fell back and he momentarily closed his eyes.  “That was a good round,” (y/n) said, offering her hand to help him up.  He considered it for a moment, perhaps thinking of the brief moments of comradery they shared at random intervals, before wrapping his hand around hers and letting her pull him up. His hands were startlingly hot, or maybe hers were just strangely cold, as they so often seemed to be, and she pulled out of his grasp quickly.  “Not good enough,” he grumbled. “I need to be advancing quicker than this. The Avatar is a formidable opponent.”  She could feel the unspoken words: So is Zhao . But Zuko had beaten him once before. She may not have been on his side in the grand scheme of things, but if it came to supporting Zuko or Zhao, she would be with Zuko without hesitation. The lesser of two evils, she told herself.  “If you don’t mind me saying,” she said, “you need to work through it much more slowly. If you rush through the forms and movements, they will not come easily to you. And if you rush to attack , it may not end the way you want it to.”  Maybe she would regret the advice later, but she had faith that should Zuko actually take it, it would be useful against only some of his foes. He could defeat Zhao again if he thought before he attacked. The Avatar, on the other hand, well, he would be difficult. Nobody of the Fire Nation, or likely any of the nations, knew how to go about fighting an airbender. Her advice would likely not work in his case, thankfully.  She half expected Zuko to scoff at her words, but he seemed to think them over.   And, so, they continued to spar and spar and spar.                              His attacks were still driven by anger, but something about them seemed more skilful; more purposeful. A couple of times, she felt the heat of his flames brushing the skin of her cheek or her arm, gentle as a loving touch but burning bright and furious. More than anything, she was beginning to get frustrated that his blows were coming so close.  By the time Iroh came out on deck, they were both panting and sweaty, drained of fire. (y/n) brushed stray hairs off the nape of her neck, allowing some cool air to brush against her skin. It felt heavenly.  "Is everything okay?” asked Iroh, hands tucked in his sleeves. The lines on his face were deepened with worry as he looked over at his nephew. “It’s been almost an hour and you haven’t given the men an order.”  “I don’t care what they do,” Zuko said.  Something in Iroh’s eyes softened. Zuko could lie about as well as a guilty child. “Don’t give up hope yet. You can still find the Avatar before Zhao.”  “How, Uncle?” A strange sort of desperation flickered on Zuko’s face for a moment, and there was a confusing guilt in (y/n)’s chest at the sight of it. “With Zhao’s resources, it’s just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar.”  He turned away from both she and Iroh, then, staring out at the sea before them. There was a terrible slump to his shoulders, one that made her feel slightly sick. She hated that she felt that way.  “My honour, my throne, my country - I’m about to lose them all.”  (y/n) and Iroh shared a look. With a small nod of acknowledgement, she made to leave, allowing Iroh time to speak to Zuko privately.   She didn’t agree with him capturing the Avatar - it went against her whole purpose of being on the ship with him - but she would much rather Zuko catch him than Zhao. It would be much easier to get him out of the prince’s grip than Zhao’s.  Her room was colder than it had been earlier, and she immediately lit a fire, filling her room with a warm glow. The knives on her wall glimmered in the light, and she felt a strange sadness in not having used them in a few weeks. Her mother had taught her how to fight with them, among other weapons, and to let them sit on display felt like a waste.  She wondered how her parents were doing. It had been days since she had heard from them - not uncommon - but she found herself missing them more now than before. Perhaps it was because she was close to returning home, at least in Zuko’s greatest hopes. If, somehow, the prince caught the Avatar instead of Zhao, they would return to the Fire Nation. She would see her parents again.  It had occurred to her many times during the years that, should they find the Avatar and her sabotage be successful, she was simply prolonging the time she spent apart from her parents. The thought was never a kind one. Many nights, she had found herself curled in her bed, the skin around her nail beds picked until they were raw and bleeding, wanting only her mother’s warm embrace or her father’s soft, lulling voice as he told her a story. Part of her had blamed her parents for the distance, trying terribly hard to hate them for sending her away. Another part of her blamed herself. Perhaps she should have fought their plan more.  By fourteen, she had come to terms with it. Iroh stopped asking about the blood around her nails.   But, looking at the knives, some engraved with phrases in her mother’s handwriting, she felt irrevocably homesick.  The Fire Nation was cruel. It bred viciousness and spite, instilled fear in children and adults alike. And, even still, nowhere in the world had a sunset quite like the Capital City. Nowhere else held a home, marked with ink on the walls and fans tucked away in drawers and books upon books on shelves, that belonged to her parents.   There were many places she would have liked to call home. Small villages that dotted the Earth Kingdom’s coastline. Fire Nation colonial islands that were so far from the Nation that they almost slipped from its control. Icebergs and igloos in the north or south. Treetops in the jungles of the Earth Kingdom mainland. Deserts that spanned so wide that she could live in perfect solitude.  No matter how hard she wished, the Fire Nation was her home. Her parents were her home.  It was a shame, then, that she would likely never return.  – –  “Strange that Zuko has not appeared,” murmured Iroh. He chewed thoughtfully on his dinner. “Komodo chicken is his favourite.”  (y/n) only nodded, taking a bite out of her own food. She tried not to dwell on the expectant silence that followed Iroh’s comment, but combined with the not-so-subtle looks he kept giving her, it was becoming unbearable.  “What?” she demanded. “Why can’t you take the food to him?”  Iroh pulled a sour expression. “My nephew did not appreciate my advice about Zhao and the Avatar. I believe it is best I leave him be.”  “And I have to deal with him in a bad mood?”  Even still, she swiped the bowl from where it sat beside Iroh. The smile he gave her was grateful, bordering on mocking, and if she did not hold as much respect for him as she did, she likely would have tried to strangle him.  The halls of the ship were quiet as she trudged along, with all the crew in the mess eating their dinner. Every footstep echoed, almost ominously, shadows flickering across the walls like the prowling monsters from her father’s stories. During her first few months on the ship, the shadows had frightened her, no matter how well she disguised her fear. They were yet another thing she’d had to come to terms with.  When she found herself in front of the prince’s door, the silence had begun to put her on edge. Surely she would have heard some kind of grumbling coming from his chambers by now. She was never free of the sound of his complaints.  But, nothing.  “Zuko?” she called, knocking on his door. “I’ve brought you dinner. Iroh is worried you didn’t come to the mess hall.”  No answer. Her words floated in the air, unheard, swallowed by the thick, heavy silence. She knocked again, but still no answer.  She simply couldn’t return to the mess hall with his food. Iroh would have given her that look of his, the pleading eyes and downturned mouth of the old sap he truly was, and the guilt would’ve had her turning on her heel and walking straight back. No, even if Zuko didn’t eat the food, she would leave it with him. What he did with it quite frankly wasn’t her problem, and as long as she got the bowl in front of him, she believed her mission to be accomplished.  Begrudgingly, she pushed the door open.  The darkness caught her off guard. She could barely see into the room, graced only by the light flooding in from behind her, but it was evident that no lanterns were burning. The chill that seeped through her skin, along with the sheer absence of light, indicated that there was no fire, and there had not been for a while.  She lit a lantern as she stepped in, looking around the room. For a moment, she thought perhaps the prince had fallen asleep and was about to back out of the room, leaving the food on the low table by the door, but the mess of sheets atop his bed caught her attention.  Clothes were piled on top of his bed and, perhaps she wouldn’t have thought much of it had they been his sparring clothes from earlier in the day, but the glint of red, black, and gold armour had a sick feeling in her stomach. When she shone the lantern light around the room, the absence of two gleaming and sharp swords became abundantly clear.  She couldn’t tell Iroh. He’d get himself in a fit of worry, concerned about where exactly his nephew had scampered off to with two broadswords late in the evening without alerting anyone .  Her own curiosity led her to the underbelly of the ship, where the rhinos’ stables were kept, along with the smaller Fire Navy boats they would use for smaller expeditions.  Sure enough, when she reached the boats, one was missing.  Where could the prince have possibly gone at this hour without alerting anyone?  The question roiled in her mind. There was nothing of note nearby besides the Pohuai Stronghold that Zhao now commanded and, even still, it was miles inland, surrounded by a thicket of forests.  A thought came to fruition. She turned the pieces over in her head; the abandoned armour, the missing broadswords, the boat. Zhao was picking up his pace when it came to capturing the Avatar and, if rumours were to be believed, the boy had been in surrounding areas within the past few days.  She buried the makeshift conclusion in the back of her mind as she trudged back to the mess hall. The shadows followed her, reaching out their dark, spindly claws as she passed. Crew members passed her, bidding her a good night as they headed off to bed or resumed their night watch. Sounds in the mess began to dwindle.  Iroh was still sitting where he had before, a Pai Sho board set out before him now as he ate another bowl of Komodo chicken and steamed rice. He laughed with the soldiers who played alongside him.  He smiled when he saw the absence of a bowl in (y/n)’s hands. “Ah, you’re back! How is my nephew?”  “Sleeping,” she said. “I did push him more in our sparring session today. I left the food there for him to eat when he wakes up.”  Iroh, as she hoped, nodded appreciatively before returning to his game. She thanked the spirits for her father being who he was, teaching her to lie so well. It was an easy enough fib, slipping through her lips as easily as water, but Iroh was smarter than the many others she had lied to.  “I’m going to join the night watch tonight,” she continued. “It gives me some time to get some late-night training in. I’ll see you in the morning, Iroh.”  She thought that maybe that would have been her giveaway, but he only wished her a good night, entirely too distracted by Pai Sho to pay her any real attention now that he knew his nephew was alright.  The evening air was cool, raising goosebumps on her arms beneath her red sleeves. Waves lapped up against the sides of the ship’s hull, filling the air was the smell of salt and seaweed. The ship bobbed softly on the water, barely moving at all. When she looked up, she could see the endless amount of stars that filled the sky, so vast in numbers that they created their own stories. Courageous heroines, beautiful gods, loyal companions. She could have stood and stared at them forever, joining the tiny, sparkling dots up in her mind to create their distinctive shapes.  Some scholars from the Earth Kingdom referred to themselves as astronomers and prided themselves on knowing the names of every single one of those stars that glimmered above her. What a life it must be, to study the lights above and give them names. Had she been a star, she wondered what her name might have been.  The night wore on, the moon rising higher and higher in the sky but still no sign of Zuko. She didn’t like to think of how often she glanced over towards the mainland, straining her eyes to search for the shape of a Fire Navy boat gliding through the water. How there was the inkling of nausea in her stomach and throat as she considered all the things the prince may be doing.  None of the options sounded particularly good. Why else would he arm himself with broadswords and shuck off his armour?   No matter how often she tried not to, her eyes always seemed to drift over in the direction of Zhao’s stronghold.  – –  The sky was beginning to cast itself in an orange glow when (y/n) finally caught sight of a small, metal boat sailing towards the ship. With a strange feeling in her throat, she suggested the guards get some training on the deck, out of any spaces in which they might see the boat. They agreed happily, glad to do something other than stand around, and she hurried away down, down, down to the underbelly of the ship once more.  Water sloshed onto the ship’s ramp as Prince Zuko’s boat caught onto the pulley system and was pulled inside. With a metal groan, the ramp closed, shutting out the strong seawater scent and the cool breeze that floated off the water’s surface.  Zuko, dressed in his usual red-and-gold tunic hopped off the boat, something tucked underneath his arm. It looked strangely like clothing wrapped around curved weapons.  Had she not spent almost three years in close proximity with him, perhaps she wouldn’t have noticed the strain in his shoulders or the ever-so-faint limp in his left leg. When he neared, she could see the beginnings of a bruise forming just above his scarred eye.  “Zuko,” she said, “are you okay? Where have you been? I’ve covered all night for you. Spirits, if Iroh knew you weren’t on the ship -”  “I’m going to bed,” interrupted Zuko. “I do not want to be disturbed.”  With that, he brushed past her and disappeared into the ship’s hallways.  It wasn’t that she particularly wanted any kind of friendship with Zuko, but something about the way he so easily brushed her off irked her. She had put her life on the line for his mission to capture the Avatar more times than she could count. Even when she hadn’t wanted to, she had sat beside him and given him advice that may as well have damned her. In his eyes, she had been nothing but loyal to him, but she seemingly didn’t even deserve a simple explanation.  Her jaw clenched as she watched him leave, but his absence of an explanation, paired with his apparent injuries, gave her all the knowledge she really needed.  Somehow, last night, Zuko had gone to Zhao’s stronghold with intent to sabotage him. And, judging from his return, he had succeeded.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Mercenary"
  Iroh was an incredibly wise man. If there was ever a question (y/n) needed answering, or she needed some sage advice, he was always the first person she would go to - well, now that she was no longer in the company of her father.

However, it seemed oftentimes that he was far

too

wise.

Such as now. He sat cross-legged in front of the low table situated in what could only be called the living quarters, for it closely resembled the kind of room (y/n) would have sat in with her parents on days when her father was not required at the palace and she was not attending the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. They would eat light snacks, play board games and she would practise her music for her parents to hear.

This room was similar, albeit darker, with bits of tat that had taken Iroh’s fancy or reminders of their home in the Fire Nation.

Iroh, however, had replaced the easy tranquillity that often occupied such spaces with narrow-eyed mischief and a deep sense of knowing.

It was evident that he was aware something was up. (y/n) and Zuko had never been friends, had merely shared short moments of comradery, but the stony wall that had bracketed itself between them since the night of Zuko’s disappearance was clear to everyone.

There was something Zuko did not want her to know, something she was on the cusp of understanding, and he was keeping her at a further distance than usual. He sparred with the soldiers aboard the ship. He did not ask her opinions on even simple matters. Perhaps he thought pushing her aside would make her forget about the clothes-wrapped swords he had carried under his arm or the bruise that mottled the scarred skin above his eyes or the limp in his left leg. He was sorely mistaken - it only made her far more curious.

But Iroh had picked up on it with eagle-eyed attention. And, so, here they both sat before him, sipping steaming tea as he smiled at them.

He had not broached the subject of their worse-than-usual attitudes to one another. He merely sipped his tea and smiled in that strangely off-putting way that was both unlike him and

very

much like him. The warm glow from candles off to the side gave him an almost spiritual look.

It almost felt as though they were children, waiting to be told off by their teacher for misbehaving during class. The off-kilter feeling of not knowing when the reprimand would come, the worry that budded at the sight of a face that gave no clues to the inner workings of Iroh’s mind.

He would not reprimand them if he knew of Zuko’s disappearance, but she dreaded the thought of him telling some long-winded story or giving advice that would have their ears tinged pink with the shame of going behind his back.

She half-regretted covering for Zuko. It was entirely likely that Iroh had figured it out - he was certainly smart enough to - but it wasn’t the thought of him knowing that had her on the edge of her seat. It was the lump in her throat, wondering what he thought of her for it. Would he be grateful to see her looking out for his nephew? Irritated by her deception that allowed the prince to put himself in danger? Confusion at her covering for Zuko, the very boy she was working against?

Still, he did not bring up the topic.

The scent of floral, almost woody, oolong tea floated in the air around them as he spoke. “A moment of quiet is good for your mental well-being,” he said softly.

She might have agreed had that moment of quiet not been spent sitting beside somebody who so obviously did

not

want to be next to her - almost as much as she had not wanted to be beside him for years. She might have agreed had the ship not shaken violently, hot tea spilling over her legs and Zuko’s face. Iroh for a second just stared down at the table, where his tea dripped onto the floor.

Wordlessly, the three of them trudged their way up to the deck.

They had anchored closer to the coast the previous night, looking over conifer-covered hills that rolled out into the distance. There was a small dock just beside them, a dozen feet below. For easier access to land, the reasoning had been. Now, it became evidently clear that it was not just easier for them.

A large beast clambered onto the deck, snarling and lashing an abnormally long tongue at the crew who scampered away fearfully. It was a furry thing, as tall as two men, with a snout filled with gleaming sharp teeth. Its eyes were barely visible, unseeing.

There was a woman atop the beast’s back, clutching reins in a tight fist as she yelled, “Get back!” Dark, onyx hair swept across her face and over her shoulders, part tied up in a top knot at the crown of her head, akin to the kind those of the Fire Nation wore. Her clothes were as dark as her hair - a sleeveless vest that revealed a circular tattoo on her shoulder, gloves that reached her biceps. She clutched a rolled-up whip in her free hand.

“We’re looking for a stowaway,” she announced, lumbering forward on her beast.

Zuko strode forward, shoulders and chin raised in his infuriatingly prince-like way. “There are no stowaways on  my ship.”

The woman did not reply. With a loud grunt, her beast clamped its horrible teeth into the metal deck, tearing away a piece as if it were nothing. It tossed the sheet, forcing everybody to duck lest their heads be torn off.

It stuck its ugly head into the hole it had created, snuffling loudly. For a moment, everyone was silent, watching this monster with horror in their eyes and doubt in their minds. Surely

someone

would have known if there was a stowaway on the ship.

Apparently not. Olive-toned hands clutched at the edges of the hole, and a man tore himself out from it, stumbling across the deck. His clothes were startlingly green. An Earth Kingdom citizen.

The beast leapt after him, lashing out that long tongue and merely tapping the nape of the man’s neck. The purpose of whatever poison it possessed took effect immediately - the man’s limbs all but froze, rendering him paralysed, and he toppled to the deck. All he could do was tremble.

Zuko was looking between the man and the beast with veiled curiosity. All (y/n) could feel was nausea.

“He’s paralysed,” she murmured.

The woman grabbed the man by his collar, lifting him up as if he were nothing. Muscles flexed in her bare arms. A few members of the crew were staring. There was a look in her eyes as she glanced at (y/n), one that told her she had merely stated the obvious. It was a look that almost made her feel stupid.

“Only temporarily,” said the woman. “The toxins will wear off in about an hour, but by then he will be in jail and I’ll have my money.”

She strolled over to her beast, hoisting the man over its shoulders.

“But how did you find him on my ship?” Zuko asked.

“My shirshu can smell a rat a continent away,” the woman said, patting the beast’s side.

Iroh’s expression looked notably odd, like a moth looking at a flame. “Well, I’m impressed.”

The woman did not reply. She lashed her whip, striking the shirshu’s side, and it leapt off the side of the ship with a grumbling sound, landing on the dock below. It darted away with impressive speed for its size.

“

Very

impressed,” murmured Iroh.

Zuko scoffed, all but glowering at his uncle. His features softened slightly after a moment, considering something as he turned his gaze back in the direction the woman had ridden off in. (y/n) could only sigh.

“You want to go after her,” she said.

“Yes.” Zuko reached into his pocket, producing a slip of navy blue ribbon with a wooden pendant. Katara’s necklace. “Perhaps that shirshu can track the Avatar.”

– –

It had become a common feeling of (y/n)’s to not feel particularly positive about their escapades. This one, however, made her feel worse.

Staring up at the bar before them, alight with oddly green lighting and terribly noisy with the sound of drunk men and women getting into brawls. Even with her gleaming armour on, the fire beneath her skin, and the knife stuffed in her boot, she felt uneasy.

Even more so when somebody was thrown from a second-storey window.

Truthfully, she had tried thinking of many ways to run Zuko’s plan off-course. She couldn’t have him capturing the Avatar, after all, but the prince was dead set on his plan. And Iroh, who would usually back her up, was particularly fond of the idea of seeing the woman again.

“I hope we don’t regret this,” she grumbled as they stepped inside the bar.

It was packed to the brim with people, all bumping into each other’s shoulders and stumbling into one another. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks. The air reeked of alcohol.

Zuko shoved his way through the crowd, most of which had stopped to surround a central table that hosted two people: an extremely burly man, and the woman that they were looking for. The prince was uncaring as to who he pushed and shoved, and Iroh was left apologising for his nephew as he and (y/n) shouldered their way after him.

The woman sat with her right hand clasped in the burly man’s right. His arm was shaking with might, attempting to push hers down onto the table. She merely grinned tauntingly, finding joy in his struggle.

That much (y/n) could appreciate.

Zuko drew up beside the table, staring down at the woman. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, if it isn’t my new friends,” she drawled, that taunting smile still on her lips. (y/n) could feel her hackles rising. “Angry Boy, Uncle Lazy, and Miss Perceptive.”

The man groaned, trying even harder to push the woman’s hand down, to no avail. Iroh was laughing at his nickname.

With little to no effort, the woman slammed the burly man’s hand down on the table. The surrounding crowd erupted into cheers, and shimmering coins rained down on them. The woman began collecting them with an infuriatingly cocky grin. Yes, it was deserved, but it still irked (y/n).

“Your beast trashed my ship,” Zuko said with a scowl. “You have to pay me back.”

The woman gathered the coins in front of her on the table, a mountain of bronze and silver. “Well, I’d love to help you out, but I’m a little short on money.” Then, grinning at the surrounding crows, she yelled, “Drinks on me!”

The crowd burst into a roaring cheer once more, and (y/n) frowned. It was overwhelming; the noise, the stench. She was growing restless standing inside.

Zuko grabbed the woman’s wrist as she made to move. “Money isn’t what I had in mind.”

For a moment, the two glared at each other. Zuko’s knuckles were white as he gripped the woman’s wrist. Her skin was turning pink underneath his fingers.

Finally, she said, “Fine.”

The four of them made their way outside, the woman bundling all of her money into an absurdly large pouch that she tied to her shirshu when they reached the spot of grass she had curled up on. Zuko reached into his pocket, once more producing Katara’s necklace.

(y/n) wanted to swipe it from his hand, to run off with it and keep running until she found Katara so she could return it. It made her feel sick seeing him dangle it in front of his face.

“I need you to find someone,” he declared.

The woman leaned back against her beast’s side, crossing her arms. “What happened? Your

other

girlfriend run off on you?”

It was hard to fight back the angry flush that made its way onto (y/n)’s cheeks when the woman gave her a mockingly sympathetic glance. She would rather have both of her hands cut off than be called Zuko’s girlfriend, never mind one of them.

“It’s not the girl I’m after,” Zuko said. “It’s the bald monk she’s travelling with.”

“Whatever you say.”

“If you find them,” he continued, “I’ll consider the damage to my ship paid for.”

The woman scoffed with such fervour that, really, did not surprise (y/n). It was not an offer a mercenary would even consider.

“Forget it,” she said.

“Plus,” Iroh intercepted quickly, “we’ll pay your weight in gold.”

She hesitated, hands grasped on her shirshu’s saddle, before stalking over. Her eyes flitted over (y/n) and then Zuko before settling on Iroh.

"Make it

your

weight, and we’ve got a deal.”

Iroh laughed as if she’d told a hilarious joke. “You got it!”

“Get on,” the woman ordered as she slipped in front of her beast.

They all climbed onto the large saddle as she held the necklace before the shirshu’s nose. Its lips dripped with saliva, nose rising to the air as it sniffed out its target. The woman leapt onto the front of the saddle, a fact that made Iroh, who was sitting directly behind her, very happy.

With a crack of the reins, the beast began its hunt.

– –

They rode through the night.

Riding a shirshu was exceptionally different from riding a rhino. The saddle chafed beneath (y/n)’s legs, and she was bouncing from the speed the beast, apparently named Nyla, moved at. Where the rhinos trudged, Nyla leapt, and it was wildly uncomfortable. Even ostrich-horses in a panic were easier to ride.

Despite Nyla’s longer back, the four of them were still squished pretty close together. (y/n) had to keep brushing Zuko’s hair out of her face, and Iroh had a habit of leaning close to the woman, named June, when she was very clearly not impressed. A number of times, her elbow 'accidentally' jutted into his stomach.

(y/n) couldn’t help but be overly aware of how close she sat behind Zuko. She was close enough to see a mole on the back of his neck, to smell traces of fire that clung to the clothes he wore beneath his armour. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the way she’d had to grab the edge of his armour to keep her balanced. Her dignity would not cope.

June and Nyla took them on a thorough hunt. They passed an elderly woman and her cat, who had apparently been in numerous scuffles with the Fire Nation before despite being a feline. They rode through a town, cracking the trodden earth beneath clawed feet, and came into contact with a fortune teller who had her eye set on Iroh.

The air was humid, smelling of moss and dry soil and an undertone of salt. Trees towered over them, lining a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. (y/n)’s thighs were beginning to ache.

It was then that the shirshu’s nose twitched, pointing upwards slightly. June’s hand fisted on the reins as she said, “She’s close.”

She cracked her whip, and off leapt Nyla, taking them down the path at incredible speed. (y/n) reached for something to hold onto, unbalanced from the sudden jolt of movement, and found her hand closed around Zuko’s shoulder. He didn’t spare her a glance, but he twitched slightly under her grasp. She would have let go, mortified at the movement, but she was worried that if she did she’d tumble off the beast’s back.

Then, there, trudging further down the dirt path: two forms dressed in blue. Nyla raced forward, jumping over the top of the two people, before cornering them against the side of the steep path.

It had been a little while since any of them had seen the Avatar and his friends so closely in person. While the Avatar, Aang, was not with his friends, Sokka and Katara looked much the same. The only difference, now, was that they looked more terrified than they usually did. Even more so when Nyla’s snuffling snout pointed towards Katara.

“So this is the other girlfriend,” said June, staring down at Katara as if she were a piece of meat. “No wonder she left. She’s way too pretty for you.”

(y/n) tried not to bristle at the concealed insult. She was more than her looks, but, still, it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Zuko slid off Nyla’s back, striding towards Sokka and Katara. “Where is he? Where’s the Avatar?”

Sokka stood a bit straighter, angling himself in front of Katara. It didn’t matter that she was a bender and he was not; she was his little sister, and the look in his eyes told them that he’d go to extreme lengths to protect her.

“We split up,” he snapped. “He’s long gone.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Zuko glowered at them.

A slightly arrogant smirk slipped onto Sokka’s lips. “Pretty stupid. Run!”

He grabbed Katara’s hand and began dragging her away. They didn’t get far before Nyla’s absurdly long tongue lashed out, smacking against the backs of their necks and rendering their limbs useless. They crashed to the ground with grunts of pain, unmoving.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Zuko demanded.

Nyla’s nose twitched and she drew closer to Sokka, snuffling his bag. June watched carefully. “It’s picking up a different scent. Perhaps something the Avatar held.”

Sure enough, a rolled-up scroll fell from Sokka’s bag, and Nyla raised her head, sniffing the air. June tightened her grip as the beast began pacing, eager to go.

Zuko scowled as he grabbed Sokka and Katara one at a time, passing them up to (y/n) who draped them across Nyla’s back. She hoped they could see the apology in her eyes. Then, she offered Zuko her hand and pulled him up into the saddle.

They found the abbey the Avatar had been residing in almost immediately. With little effort, the shirshu burst through the tall wooden gates, circling the courtyard as she snuffled at the ground.

“What’s it doing?” Zuko asked. “It’s just going in a circle.”

Of course, nothing was ever easy. Nyla tilted her head up, focused on the scent, and as they all turned their gazes upwards, the figure of the Avatar descending upon them became very evident. Nyla balanced on her hind legs, reaching her tongue out to paralyse Aang, but he easily dodged out of the way. The shirshu lost her balance and sent them all tumbling painfully to the ground.

June recovered first, cracking her whip as she leapt back onto Nyla’s back. She charged towards Aang, but before she could get close, a flying shape covered in light fur barrelled into her side, knocking them off course. The sky-bison. Nyla and June crashed into the building.

As two nuns hurried out, trembling, and dragged Sokka and Katara out of harm’s way, Zuko drew nearer to Aang. His brows sat heavy over his gold eyes, forming that perpetual frown of his. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

(y/n) stood close, but this was a fight meant just for Zuko and Aang. Every arc of their arms and stretch of their legs was a preordained moment, one that she could not -

would

not - touch.

There was regretful pride as she watched them fight, noting how Zuko had seemed to take her previous advice on board. He was more calculative in this fight - not as much as would be required of him, but it was better. She felt particularly guilty about that.

They performed a sort of dance, expertly dodging the other’s attacks and sending one of their own in an elegant sort of way, the kind of way she had always imagined airbenders to fight. Aang was light on his feet, barely ever touching the ground. Zuko fought more like a soldier.

She was not entirely sure of who may get the upper hand when their blows came together. An explosion rocked the abbey, sending both boys flying in separate directions. (y/n) coughed on the pungent smoke, eternally glad that she had been standing a few feet away.

On the other side of the courtyard, June and Nyla were facing off with the sky-bison. Sokka and Katara were standing on shaky legs.

Up above, Zuko and Aang had already resumed their fight. They were balanced precariously on the peaks of the rooftops, slates sliding off with each strike.

“It looks like we’re of no use,” murmured Iroh, coming to stand beside her. “Fancy some perfume?”

He slipped a vial from his sleeve, holding it close enough to her face that she could smell traces of jasmine and plum blossom.

“Iroh!” she said. “You’re stealing their perfume?”

“Ssh,” he urged. He glanced over at the nuns, who were dragging out barrels of the stuff. “They’ll never notice.”

He was right in that. They wouldn’t, because they poured all of the perfume stored in the barrels into the courtyard, where the sky-bison now lay paralysed, Zuko lay soaked with water from the well, and June and Nyla stalked closer to Aang. Katara stood amid the pooling perfume, and (y/n) began to understand the plan that was in motion.

With gentle hands and swooping arms, she waterbent the perfume from the ground and, with all the softness of a cornered animal, sent it crashing down in between Aang and the shirshu.

Nyla began twitching her head around, unable to locate the scent she wanted in the midst of floral perfume. She was breathing heavily, muscles in her neck spasming slightly, and lashed her tongue out in her confusion, striking Zuko, who had only just begun to stand. June slipped from the beast’s back in an attempt to soothe her, perhaps, but she ended up with the same fate.

Fortunately for her, Iroh was there to the rescue. She did look ever so pleased.

Nyla, twitching and roaring, crashed through another load of barrels before tearing through the stone wall and darting off.

It didn’t take long for the Avatar and his friends to take their leave. Within minutes, they were no more than a dot in the sky.

(y/n) stared down at her paralysed travel companions - well, Iroh was not paralysed, but he seemed content with pretending - and sighed. “An hour you said this lasts?” she asked June.

The mercenary looked particularly displeased with their circumstances. “Yes,” she gritted out. She glared at Iroh from her peripheral vision.

“Fantastic.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Blue Clandestine"
  “Do you ever do anything but write letters for your parents?”

(y/n) didn’t look up from her parchment, carefully writing each letter. “I train. I play the erhu. I follow your every beck-and-call.”

She could feel the heat of Zuko’s stare from across the room. Perhaps he was simply jealous that she had somebody to write home to. Perhaps he was embarrassed by the things she may include, namely his failure to capture the Avatar. And, of course, that was most definitely included. However, it was more positive than he would have believed.

“You play the erhu? So why are you not on deck, playing with all those other imbeciles? It's music night.”

“Your uncle’s singing voice is a bit grating.”

There was a hint of humour in the air that was not one-sided, surprisingly. When she glanced at the prince out of the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn there was a sliver of a smile on his lips. Not entirely amused, no, but almost.

“I hear you used to play the tsungi horn,” she said, and in an attempt at a joke, she continued. “Maybe, had we not been on this chase for the Avatar, we could’ve made our own little band.”

“We wouldn’t be associated if not for this.”

A bold-faced lie, truly. She did not exactly like her circumstances, being in such close proximity all the time with someone such as him, and she would have liked to have not been in contact with them had they never gone on this mission. But they would always have been in each other’s lives.

In the court, there had long since been talk. Most members of the court were too old for children, or what children they did have were not highly ranked. When news of Ozai’s right hand, his Grand Advisor, bringing a daughter into the world came around, shortly after his son was born, it had given the court ideas.

No matter how much they disliked it, they would have been more closely associated than now. In fact, this mission ensured that (y/n) would never meet such a terrible fate cooked up in the minds of old, preening court officials.

But, still, she shrugged. “What stopped you from playing, anyway?”

Zuko’s lips formed a tight line, and his eyes were fixed on the characters she wrote. “Iroh was no longer there to teach me.”

Another lie. If rumours were true, the prince had been somewhat of a prodigy in his youth. He’d had no need for a teacher. Looking up from her parchment at him in the flickering candlelight, she could see the exact reason for it, twisting his skin and mottling it purple.

“Why did you stop playing the erhu?”

She had to admit that she was somewhat shocked by his attempt to continue their small talk, and part of her told her to make her answers shorter, more concise. Then the part that made the most sense told her that she needed the prince to trust her more than she needed to fulfil her desire of speaking to him as little as possible.

“I never really stopped,” she said, dipping her brush into the ink. “I’ve just not felt the desire to play. My father used to join in, too - he played the pipa. Being away from home, I don’t know. It feels wrong playing it without him.”

There was no reply to that, as was expected. Zuko’s skills did not reside within conversation. Another reason whispered into Ozai’s ear to justify her joining the search. She had picked up her father’s skills in diplomacy and deceit.

“Either way,” she continued, “I only write to them so often to keep them updated, and to see if there’s any news on their side. Did you know that there’s talk of implementing a stricter curriculum for warfare within schools to prepare the children for the military? Most new military entrants are fresh from the Academies.”

There was a glint of something In Zuko’s eyes, and if (y/n) had seen it correctly, then it couldn’t be anything but disgust. There was a little cheer of approval in her mind at the sight of it, before it was quelled by the reminder of why they sat on this ship.

It was then that the door to the living quarters-like room creaked open, revealing Iroh. His face was unusually stricken. (y/n) sat straight.

“For the last time,” grumbled Zuko, “I’m not playing the tsungi horn.”

Iroh swallowed. “No, it’s about our plans. There’s a bit of a problem.”

He shifted forward slightly, and footsteps echoed on the floor. A man standing head-and-shoulders above Iroh strode in, a smug smile peeling across his lips as his eyes swept the room. (y/n) found herself standing before her brain truly comprehended who had walked in.

“I’m taking your crew,” announced Admiral Zhao.

“What?” Zuko stood from where he had been stretched out, his face a mix of confusion and fury.

Zhao stepped forward, hands laced behind his back. “I’ve recruited them for a little expedition to the North Pole.”

“Uncle, is that true?”

Shame like (y/n) had never seen crossed Iroh’s features. “I’m afraid so. He’s taking everyone - even the cook!”

“Sorry you won’t be there to watch me capture the Avatar,” Zhao said, “But I can’t have you getting in my way again.”

Zuko charged forward, but (y/n) caught his arm before he could get close to the admiral. If she had to suffer consequences later, then fine, but Zuko was going to get them into a mess she wasn’t entirely sure they could clamber their way out of.

There was a horrible tension in the air as Zhao drew up to the far wall, studying the dual broadswords that hung there. Zuko had ordered them moved after a particularly harsh wave had sent them clattering off their display while he had been sleeping. Better they cut something up in the living quarters than his chambers.

But Zhao plucked a sword from the display with careful consideration. His knuckles were beginning to turn white on the hilt. Zuko was as tense as she had ever seen him beside her. She realised she was still holding his arm, shaking from tension and apprehension. She let go quickly.

“I didn’t know you were skilled with broadswords, Prince Zuko,” Zhao mused. He took a few swings with the sword, the metal hissing through the air.

“I’m not,” Zuko insisted. “They’re antiques. Just decorative.”

Zhao turned his eyes back to the swords. “Lady (y/n), General Iroh, have either of you heard of the Blue Spirit?”

Of course they had. Every dock they anchored at, every market they had wandered through within the past few days, had been aflame with talk of this new vigilante. A person dressed in black, their identity concealed by a blue spirit-like mask. There were rumours that they had broken into Zhao’s stronghold and freed the Avatar, whom Zhao had only just managed to capture.

“Just rumours,” she said. Her gut told her otherwise. “I don’t think he’s real.”

“He’s real, all right,” Zhao said, stepping closer, blade in hand. “He’s a criminal, and an enemy of the Fire Nation. But I have a feeling justice will catch up with him soon.”

He held out the sword for (y/n) to take, and she did. He watched her carefully, wanting to see if she would let up on any knowledge she may or may not have had. His eyes pointedly drifted to her eyebrow, and a slow smile crept onto his lips.

Zhao made his way to the door as he said, “General Iroh, the offer to join my mission still stands, and you are welcome, too, Lady (y/n), if you change your minds.”

Then, he slammed the door shut behind him.

– –

“Zuko will not be joining us.”

(y/n) couldn’t say she was surprised. With all of his crew having just left to go and work with Zhao, essentially stopping his hunt for the Avatar and ensuring he would never return to the Fire Nation, it was a given that his mood would be even worse than usual. She wouldn’t have wanted to go on a nighttime walk, either.

She drew her robes tighter around her body. There hadn’t been any need for armour, not really, but she missed the slight warmth it often offered her. The evening air bit straight through the fabric, which was notably unsuited to anywhere that wasn’t as hot as the Fire Nation.

The two of them made their way slowly up a curving path, following the contours of the low hills. The ocean and the ship were still in sight, almost swallowed up by the star-speckled night sky. The ship looked awfully small from a distance.

“You know, don’t you?” she murmured.

Iroh did not need her to explain what she meant. “Yes.”

It had become obvious as soon as Zhao took an interest in the broadswords. (y/n) had an inkling after seeing Zuko’s return to the ship days ago, followed by the rumours in harbour towns, but she shouldn’t have even doubted that Iroh would have known.

“He freed the Avatar,” she said. “I’d be grateful, but we both know he only did it for his own gain.”

“There is good in him,” Iroh said gently. He tucked his hands in the sleeves of his robes. “I have seen it.”

She didn’t tell him that she knew that, too. That in a horrible turn of events, she had been able to humanise him in a way that may become detrimental to her goal. She had begun to pity him. It was perhaps the worst thing to have happened to her plan. The boyish spark in his eyes; the disgust he barely veiled at the thought of children going to war; the fact that all he wanted to do was prove himself and make his father proud, they all collated to make her see him as more than just another person in the way of her mission.

They made him Zuko, rather than a prince.

“Zhao knows now, too.” She wrapped her robes around herself impossibly tighter. She couldn’t shake a chill. “What do you think he’ll do?”

Iroh was never granted time to answer.

An explosion rocked the very ground beneath their feet, so loud even from a distance that (y/n)’s ears began to ring. Birds squawked in terror, fleeing from their trees and soaring into the night sky, away from the danger. The path they trailed was cast in a bright orange hue.

When they turned, (y/n) swore she could hear Iroh’s heart shatter.

The ship was encased in bright orange flames that seemed to touch the very tip of the sky itself. As they watched in shock, the bridge toppled, crashing into the water surrounding the dock and sending a massive wave ashore. Pieces of the hull tore off in the heat, disappearing into the water.

“Zuko,” Iroh breathed, his voice trembling.

They were moving immediately. She had never seen Iroh run so fast. She had never seen tears in his eyes.

They reached the dock minutes later, Iroh heaving for breath as they stared at the debris-filled water. Hunks of red-hot metal, slowly cooling in the seawater, floated like uprooted islands. Fire clung to wood that drifted among, orange and angry and ugly.

Iroh choked on his breaths, repeating his nephew’s name over and over like some mantra. His desperate eyes scanned over the water’s surface, knuckles white as he fisted his hands over his chest. His shoulders were trembling.

Perhaps it was the display of such raw emotion that had her leaping into the water at the passing glimpse of red cloth. Perhaps it was the guilt of not going to Zuko herself to convince him to walk with them that drove her into the freezing sea, swimming between the flaming debris.

When she reached the cloth, it became obvious what it was connected to.

Zuko was completely submerged beneath the water, robes drifting aimlessly in the gentle current. (y/n) heaved him above the surface, weighted down by her drenched clothes as well as his, and it became abundantly clear that she had not thought any of this through entirely. Zuko was much heavier than she expected.

But she tried. For Iroh.

She dragged them both through the water, kicking her legs and arcing her arm, ever grateful for the soft waves that didn’t drag her under, too. A flaming piece of driftwood came far too close, almost catching the skin of her outstretched hand. It just missed.

Iroh’s hands looped under his nephew’s arms as soon as they were in reach, hauling him out of the water. (y/n) grabbed the edge of the dock and, with a hand from Iroh, pulled herself out, too. The adrenaline fought off the cold that seeped into her bones.

The prince’s face was bleeding from a long scar crossing from one cheek to another, straight over the bridge of his nose, and a few smaller cuts across his face. A bruise was forming around his scarless eye. Despite having been submerged in water for the minutes it took them to rush to the dock, his skin was burning.

Iroh held his nephew’s face in gentle hands that trembled with such ferocity that (y/n) wanted to place hers on top of his to steady them. He was muttering incoherently, and it became terribly clear to her that this was not the first time he had lost someone dear to him.

His own son, Lu Ten, had died years ago. And for Zuko, who was as good as a son to him, to be in such a state must have been torturous.

(y/n) leaned closer, putting an ear to his chest. As if the fate of some miracle, she could hear the faintest beating of his heart, slow and laboured, getting weaker by the second. There had to be water in his airway, and it needed to come out. She didn’t trust Iroh in the state he was in to get it out.

“Iroh, we need to sit him up,” she said. “Can you help me?”

And he did. With a struggle, they managed to manoeuvre him into a sitting position, leaning him forward slightly. She used the heel of her hand to hit his back before she fisted one of her hands, placing it on Zuko’s abdomen while using the other to steady him. With a grunt, she pressed her hand inwards and upwards. She kept going and going and going until eventually, thankfully, a sputtering noise came from Zuko’s mouth, and water came spilling out.

He coughed violently, leaning so close to the ground that his forehead was practically touching the dock. Iroh reached for him, holding him close and rubbing gentle circles across his back. When the coughs passed, all Zuko could do was slump against his uncle weakly, eyes drooping and distant. But alive.

For all the relief and gentleness that flooded Iroh’s eyes, (y/n) could see the rage behind them.

He uttered one word. “Zhao.”

– –

“I’m devastated to hear about Prince Zuko. Just devastated.”

It was easy enough for (y/n) to fake the sorrow, the ashamed guilt in her eyes, when she knew that Zhao was a terrible actor. His eyes did not match the bitter sympathy on his face. He poured tea into three cups, smiling at Iroh with a pitiful gaze. All of it fake. All of it terribly concealing the calculative, predatory gleam in the corners of his eyes.

Iroh, too, gave a wonderful performance. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lower lip trembling every now and then. A grieving uncle.

“The Fire Lord will not be pleased when he learns who was responsible,” Iroh said, his voice steely.

Had she not been watching so carefully, (y/n) might not have noticed the slight widening of Zhao’s eyes or the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You know who was behind the attack?”

A voice laced with worry. Almost entirely veiled, but not well enough. Not enough to hide it from her. Her father would’ve sniffed out the lie from miles away.

“Pirates,” (y/n) said, making sure her voice wavered slightly.

Her eyebrow did not twitch, for it wasn’t a lie, and she didn’t miss the flicker of relief in Zhao’s eyes. After Zuko had recovered slightly, enough for Iroh to spoon-feed him some soup and for his voice to work despite its hoarseness, he had told them of the animal he had seen before the explosion: an iguana parrot, just like the pirate captain had.

“We had a run-in with them a while back,” she went on. “They wanted revenge, I suppose.”

Zhao’s smile was almost completely hidden behind his cup. (y/n) could only see it because of the angle she sat at.

“So,” he said, “have you both reconsidered my offer?”

Iroh’s hand closed over (y/n)’s in a show of grief, but the faint squeeze told her that he knew of Zhao’s falsehoods just as well as she did.

“We accept,” he murmured as they dipped their heads. “It will be an honour for me to serve as your general.”

“And I as a soldier,” (y/n) agreed.

“To the Fire Nation!” Iroh declared, raising his cup.

Zhao’s smile was filled with venom. “To victory!”

– –

The halls of Zhao’s ships were dark, lit every few metres with fiery torches that flickered every time somebody brushed past. They were surprisingly empty, also. Everyone, Zhao included, seemed to think that their dozens of ships were impenetrable, that no danger lay within their metal hulls.

They were horribly wrong.

(y/n) slowed until she came to a stop side-by-side with one of the guards who had been walking in the direction she had been coming from. Her eyes darted in every direction, just to make sure nobody was around.

“Our plan is working perfectly,” she said quietly. “Zhao doesn’t suspect a thing.”

The guard removed his mask, helmet still covering his head, revealing an all-too-familiar scarred face and scowl. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Iroh and I weren’t about to let you stow away on a ship with no backup.” She tucked her hands in her sleeves, arms braced against her torso. “Zhao deserves what’s coming for him.”

“Thank you,” said Zuko, and the gentleness of his voice surprised her. “For this. And for saving my life.”

She didn’t do it for him, or so she tried to convince herself. She had saved him for Iroh. But, even still, her throat felt a little dry, unsure of how to respond to kindness from Zuko. Thankfully, before she could reply, a door opened up further down the hallway, around a corner. Zuko slipped his mask back on.

“Someone’s coming,” she said. “Stay hidden until we get to the North Pole and the Avatar will be yours. Good luck.”

There was a moment then when their eyes caught each other’s, and a chill ran down her spine. The Avatar would not be his, but he still did not know that. All she could see was a muted sort of gratitude in his eyes.

Then, wordlessly, they slipped down the hall in opposite directions.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Revival"
  (y/n) did not think that she had let go of her knives since boarding Zhao’s command ship.

Part of it was out of a natural instinct to be on the defensive, especially surrounded by soldiers who could turn on her at the drop of a hat should Zhao wish. Part was simply out of sorrow.

She did not often care for material things, but her other knives, the ones engraved by her mother, had been lost to the sea in their previous ship’s explosion. All she had now were the two strapped to her belt, and she would not let go of them. They - with their faded green hilts and slowly dulling blades - were more precious than her life. Memories of family she had not seen in years.

They would lie beneath her pillow at night, always within arm’s reach. Whenever she had to shuck them, it felt like a missing limb. A weight she could do nothing but miss.

She held them now, white-knuckled, as she looked up at the soldier beside her, strolling down the hallway. The Grand Admiral’s daughter must be protected, especially after the murder of the Fire Lord’s son, Zhao had insisted. Really, he wanted to keep a close eye on her, to make sure she didn’t betray him in any way. Had he only made sure of who he had stationed with her, perhaps she would have loathed the idea of having a bodyguard - she was more capable of protecting herself than most of the soldiers on board.

Unintentionally, Zhao had made her and Iroh’s deceit far easier.

“We will reach the North Pole within the day,” she murmured, watching the nearing end of the hallway with sharp attention. “Do you have a plan?”

“The makings of one,” said Zuko, slipping the mask from his helmet momentarily. His scars were beginning to heal slowly, the bruise around his eye turning an ugly shade of green.

She foolishly hoped that he would disclose the details of his plan, with the aim of finding a way to make them go awry, but he did not. He stared ahead, gold eyes narrowed and jaw set. For all the moping he would do, having to lower himself to the station of a mere soldier under Zhao’s command, it seemed as though the prince was, perhaps not

enjoying

his disguise, but enjoying the lack of princely duties. Sometimes she caught his eyes gleaming in a way they had not on their ship.

“And Zhao?”

(y/n) pursed her lips. “Iroh believes that Zhao will cause his own demise. He’s dead set on making history. Your uncle is convinced his insistence will kill him.”

And she could not say that she was upset. She did not like to think of death, of senseless killing and foolish ends, but she could survive thinking of Zhao’s. Should he die, his suspicion of her and her father’s betrayal - and her mother’s association - would die with him. To protect her family, she would kill the man herself should she have to.

Zuko nodded thoughtfully, hand braced on the sword strapped to his hip. It was not his usual kind, the dual broadsword, and she wondered how well he would fight with one sword. Would he be unbalanced? Missing the weight of a second? She perhaps thought too often of those swords, buried in the sand at the bottom of that far-off dock, alongside her lost knives.

Then she told herself to stop wondering. She squared her shoulders, clutching her knives tighter. Her armour felt uncomfortably heavy. Perhaps with the weight of what was to come.

Strangely enough, Zuko seemed to sense the shift in her demeanour, though she thought she’d masked it well enough. Apparently, guilt was not something she was adept at hiding. Or maybe it was a skill shared through family, Iroh and Zuko both, to know when she felt abashed.

“We will not fail,” he said. “You’ve given me a second chance at this. Zhao will not succeed.”

She nodded, her throat tight. Zhao’s failure was something she wanted more than anything, not only for the Avatar but also for the sake of the people of the Northern Water Tribe. That did not mean she wanted Zuko to succeed, either.

But she smiled gratefully nonetheless.

– –

The chill that encapsulated the North Pole was perhaps even worse than that of the South Pole. It was dry and bit through the thick underclothes (y/n) wore beneath her armour. Her cheeks and ears were flushed pink, raw from the freezing cold, and her fingers felt far too stiff to properly grip the weapons by her sides or clasp her hands behind her back. Her nose felt as though it might fall off.

It was a common experience for the soldiers, evidently. Many were trembling as they prepared for battle - not from fear, no. This was what Fire Nation soldiers were bred for; horrific, senseless violence in the name of the Fire Lord. If waterbenders did not kill them first, the cold would.

Even Zuko was shivering beside her, which made her feel a little better for being so cold. Back in the South Pole, he had seemed immune to the temperature. Now, he was no better than she was.

Zhao, on the other hand, seemed infuriatingly unbothered. He stood at the edge of the bridge’s balcony, watching the soldiers on deck preparing catapults, already loaded with missiles covered in oil, ready to be set alight. (y/n) felt a little sick at the sight of them.

Even more so when the grand, towering ice walls of the Northern Water Tribe came into view.

They were perhaps the largest thing she had seen for what must have been over a week. In the sunlight, they gleamed such a bright white that many of the soldiers had to cover their eyes to shield them from the glare. The symbol of the water tribes was carved in the centre of the wall, large and imposing.

It was nothing like the Southern Water Tribe. The south had been sparse in everything: villages, people,

life

. The North was bustling. Even from a distance, they could see the bustling figures of those on watch, see just how wide the great walls spanned to the east and west, swallowing the very horizon whole. Some kind of palace peeked over the top from a distance, glittering like crystal.

“The Northern Water Tribe,” Zhao mused. A perverse smile curled his lips, watching the initial attack ship sailing forward like a lone soldier. “What a success it will be when it falls.”

And the first flaming catapult was launched.

It soared through the air with some kind of cruel beauty, a bright, gorgeous orange in the cobalt blue sky and, for a moment, it was simply something to behold. To admire but not touch. Then it slammed into the engraved water tribe symbol, carving a jagged hole in the massive wall. At the site of impact, where the wall had shattered, ice and snow flew inwards at impossible speed, towards the city belonging to the Northern Water Tribe.

The screams were deafening even from miles away.

More and more catapults rained down on the icy city, crashing into canals and sending massive waves of water in every direction, or shattering ice and exploding snow. Waterbenders set up a good defence, if late. But the Fire Nation had already begun breaking through their longest standing opposition. Zhao would not stop now.

It didn’t take long for the small shape of the Avatar on the back of his trusted sky-bison to appear, soaring down towards the single ship miles ahead. It took even less time for the waterbenders to sail out and encase the ship in ice.

The loss of one ship did not bother Zhao, no, not when he had a hundred at his back.

Zhao retreated into the command room at the top of the bridge, followed shortly by (y/n) and Iroh, as well as a disguised Zuko who, given time, would slip away unnoticed.

Dozens upon dozens of ships began launching their missiles. They streaked through the air like comets flying too close to the surface, with the brutality of the Fire Nation itself. Ice captured some of them, quenching the flames and reducing damage. Most slipped past. Each was like a dagger in (y/n)’s skin. This was the very thing she was tasked with preventing.

The day dragged on, watching Zhao’s smile grow as the chaos ensued.

When the sky slowly began growing darker, Iroh’s knuckles, hidden beneath his robes, began to turn white. (y/n) could feel the rage beneath his skin, though she could not see it.

“It’s almost twilight, Admiral,” he said. “As your military consultant, I must advise you to halt your attack. The waterbenders draw their power from the moon, and it is nearly full tonight. You should wait and resume the attack at daybreak.”

Zhao barely spared Iroh a glance. “Oh, I’m well aware of the moon problem, and I am working on a solution. But, for now, daybreak it is.”

And so all of the ships anchored, ceasing their attacks.

The admiral left, likely to confer with some of his other officials regarding his solution for the moon, if such a thing could exist, leaving the control team, Iroh, (y/n), and Zuko, who left shortly after, slipping into the shadows. To prepare, he had murmured.

A sorrowful look filled Iroh’s eyes, then, as he watched his nephew dart into the hall before disappearing around the door. He tucked his hands in his sleeves, taking a steadying breath before settling his eyes on (y/n).

His smile was meant to be reassuring, but his worry seeped into it. “Your parents would be proud of you,” he said gently.

She didn’t believe him, not when she could see the destruction so clearly before them. The Northern Water Tribe’s wall looked as though a behemoth creature had come and sunk its teeth into the ice, tearing pieces away as it unlatched its jaw. She could see smoke rising from the city within, see the glimmering water as the people tried to remedy the damage. She had done nothing to save these people. What was there to be proud of?

“Your mother, especially,” he added after a moment. There was something in his eyes then, a glimmer of knowledge. It made (y/n)’s heart stop.

But, if Iroh truly did know the secrets held by her family, he had no clear intention of sharing them with anybody. It wasn’t in him to do it. She knew that. She just couldn’t help the panic that gripped her any time somebody tiptoed too close to the truth.

“We’d better check on Zuko,” she said, looking away. “Say our goodbyes.”

They found Zuko in one of the fishing boat storerooms, staring out of the open exit into the starry night sky. He had shucked his soldier’s disguise, now wearing a pale, fleecy tunic and trousers with thick boots. There was a sash of red fabric wrapped diagonally across his body, designed for holding things when his hands were full.

Iroh shut the door behind them. “If you are fishing for an octopus, my nephew, you need a tightly woven net or he will squeeze through the tiniest hole and escape.”

“I don’t need your wisdom right now, Uncle.” Zuko kept his back turned, but (y/n) could imagine the faint annoyance on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Iroh murmured. “I just nag you because… Well, ever since I lost my son…” His voice wavered so horribly that she had to take one of his hands in hers and give it a firm squeeze.

“Uncle,” Zuko said, his voice softening, “you don’t have to say it.”

Iroh’s face was filled with sorrow. “I think of you as my own.”

It was then that Zuko turned, eyes softer than (y/n) thought she had ever seen them. “I know, Uncle. We’ll meet again.”

He had not expected Iroh to race forward, enveloping him in an embrace, and though he did not necessarily return it, she could see that it was something he cherished. He looked so un-princelike that it made her heart swell with guilt.

Iroh only stepped back from the embrace when Zuko shifted slightly, trying to hold a neutral face. His worry and grief could not be hidden, though.

Zuko’s gaze turned to (y/n), and he dipped his head in recognition. “You’ve given me a second chance. I won’t fail.”

He’d told her that many times since they’d boarded Zhao’s ship, and every time it made her feel worse. She had not saved him so that he could keep hunting the Avatar. She had saved him to spare Iroh from more grief. But, even still, his gratitude made her feel a little warmer inside.

“Zhao will not prevail,” was all she said.

No, the admiral would not. But neither would Zuko, could she help it.

The prince nodded once more, eyes softening once more as he glanced over at his uncle before he clambered into his little boat and began lowering it.

“Remember your breath of fire,” Iroh instructed. “It could save your life out there.”

"I will.”

“And put your hood up! Keep your ears warm.”

“I’ll be fine!”

(y/n) squeezed Iroh’s hand as they watched the boat splash onto the water. Iroh’s breaths trembled as it got smaller and smaller.

“I would have gone with him, you know,” she told Iroh gently. “Not just to make sure he didn’t capture the Avatar. To make sure he could come back to you. But Zhao would get suspicious if I wasn’t on the ship, suddenly.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “Thank you. And thank you for saving him.”

Maybe that was what he meant when he said her parents would be proud - that she had saved somebody who she was actively working against, and was willing to again and again for the sake of someone she loved. Compassion had always been something her mother had ensured she would base many decisions on.

“I just hope I don’t regret it.”

Iroh’s hand squeezed hers. “You won’t.”

– –

The sun rose, casting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. When it did, the attack resumed.

Missiles flew in flaming arcs, crashing into the city before them. Their ships drew nearer and nearer until they anchored once more, this time beside thick ice flats that surrounded the great wall. What had to be at least a third of the soldiers made their way into the dozens of tundra tanks stashed in the bowels of the ship, and the roaring of their engines challenged that of the missiles

Waterbenders took out a good portion of the tundra tanks with powerful jets of water, but it wasn’t enough. The bigger tanks launched spearheaded missiles into the wall that latched onto the other side and pulled hard. Large chunks of the wall came crashing down, allowing soldiers on their rhinos to ride into the city.

As (y/n) watched from the bridge’s balcony, it was enough to make her nauseous.

“I don’t need to remind you,” Iroh said to Zhao, who stood between her and Iroh, “we have a time limit. If we don’t defeat the water tribe

before

the full moon rises, they will be undefeatable.”

Zhao tucked his hands behind his back, donning that cruel and arrogant smirk of his. “I assure you, I have everything under control. I intend to remove the moon as a factor.”

(y/n) almost choked on the cold air. “Remove the

moon

? How?”

Before she could get her answer, a voice called out from behind, “Admiral Choi!” as the doors to the balcony slammed open.

A boy dressed in extremely outdated Fire Nation soldier armour came crashing through, tearing off his even older helmet and revealing startlingly blue eyes and dark hair that looked as though he spent much of his time caring for it. It was a wonder he had made it up as far as the bridge without being caught.

“Prepare to meet your fate,” he said, grasping his spear tightly before charging towards Zhao.

He did not get a hit in. Zhao used his momentum against him, grasping the spear and throwing the boy overboard. He splashed somewhere below in the freezing water.

“As I was saying,” Zhao continued, placing his hands on the railing as if nothing had happened. “Years ago, I stumbled upon a great and powerful secret: the identity of the moon spirit’s mortal form.”

Iroh’s face had gone pale. “What?”

“I was a young lieutenant serving under General Xu in the Earth Kingdom.” Zhao closed his eyes as if reminiscing, and (y/n) and Iroh shared a distressed look. “I discovered a hidden library - underground, in fact. I tore through scroll after scroll. One of them contained a detailed illustration and the words ‘moon’ and ‘ocean’. I knew then that these spirits could be found… and

killed

, and that it was my destiny to do so.”

The words were enough to shake Iroh’s usual composure. He was scowling, and he looked an awful lot like Zuko.

“Zhao!” he snapped. “The spirits are not to be trifled with!”

“Yes, yes,” Zhao drawled, “I know you fear the spirits, Iroh. I have heard rumours about your journey into the spirit world. But the ocean and moon spirits gave up their immortality to become a part of our world. And now they will face the consequences.”

– –

It was night when Zhao made his way into the North Water Tribe’s city, leaving (y/n) and Iroh behind on the ship. He did not need them. He did not want them to disrupt his destiny.

His destiny of killing the moon.

He was rather foolish, really, if he believed that neither of them would do anything to stop him. Far too wrapped up in his narcissistic vision of preordained fate, Iroh grumbled. He had been in a terrible mood since Zhao’s announcement of his plans.

So, of course, when Zhao had made his way into the city, they were not far behind.

They had to resort to stealth, unwilling to fight the waterbenders and trying to remain unseen by Fire Nation soldiers. Iroh had the hood of his robes pulled up, keeping his ears warm just as he had instructed Zuko to do. (y/n) was not so lucky. Her armour provided little to no warmth now, the metal just retaining the freezing air that surrounded them. The Fire Nation did not cater clothes for such expeditions, so the long-sleeved tunic and trousers she wore beneath did not keep her warm one bit. She just wanted to know where Zuko had gotten fleecy clothes before he had left.

She clutched her knives tightly as they stalked their way through the darkening, icy streets. The sounds of battle echoed through the buildings, carrying on the wind as easily as music. Fire flashed in the darkness, ugly and violent.

On rhinos, Zhao and his group easily outpaced (y/n) and Iroh, but, after climbing atop one of the buildings, she was able to see where they had gone.

“There is -

was

- a little hatch on one of the bridges,” she told Iroh after climbing back down. “Zhao broke through it with his rhino. It’s up ahead, just a few more streets to go.”

Iroh nodded, face set with determination. “We won’t have much time.”

And he was right. Only minutes had passed, minutes of them snaking their way through the streets towards the jagged entrance Zhao had made, when it began.

Up above them, the light of the moon wavered, silver giving way to dark, blood-red light. It glowed down on the city, making the canals look as though they were filled with blood. Screams and cries rang out as the waterbenders began to realise that they could no longer waterbend. Without the moon, their powers were gone.

All notions of stealth were cast aside.

They were sprinting through the streets, narrowly dodging the terrified people of the water tribe and their Fire Nation pursuers. (y/n) latched onto Iroh’s hand when he fell behind, pulling him along with her, heart thundering.

Had it not been cast in red, the garden that hosted the moon and ocean spirits would have been beautiful. With lush green grass and a canopy of leaves, an opening that looked upon the beauty of the moon and the distant ocean, it was the most gorgeous place (y/n) had ever seen.

But there was Zhao in the centre, standing by a pool of water with a writhing bag in hand, backed by his soldiers.

They were not alone, however. Across the pool of water stood the Avatar and his friends, Katara and Sokka, as well as a girl dressed in lavish water tribe clothing, stark white hair styled beautifully. The sky-bison growled from behind them, and (y/n) could just spot a limp figure laid out over its back.

“Zuko,” she whispered to Iroh as they slipped across the wall at the edge of the clearing.

His eyes lit up at the sight of his nephew, still breathing though unconscious.

Zhao had his fist angled towards the wriggling bag, which presumably held the moon spirit, judging from the way the Avatar held his hands out in a peace-keeping way.

“It’s my destiny to destroy the moon and the water tribe,” said Zhao. Even from where they stood, she could feel the arrogance radiating off of him.

Aang kept his palms raised. “Destroying the moon won’t hurt just the water tribe, it will hurt

everyone

- including you. Without the moon, everything would fall out of balance. You have no idea what kind of chaos that would unleash on the world.”

Iroh squeezed (y/n)’s hand before stepping forward. “He’s right, Zhao.”

“General Iroh.” Zhao’s horrible eyes slid over to (y/n). “

And

Lady (y/n). Why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?”

“We are no traitors, Zhao.” Iroh pulled his hood down, shoulders raising with confidence. “The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. We all depend on the balance. Whatever you do to that spirit, I’ll unleash on you tenfold! Let it go,

now

!”

Iroh slid into an attack position, outstretched fingers held out in front of him. (y/n) trudged up beside him, falling into a similar stance. She would not leave him to fight alone.

But Zhao did let it go. The movement surprised everybody, watching as he opened the sack and tipped the moon spirit out. It was a beautiful koi fish, lacking the typical colours (y/n) had seen before, rather a beautiful white with a black mark on its head. It joined the other spirit, the ocean spirit, in the pool, circling each other. A breath of relief was shared amongst them.

Then, Zhao let out a yell of fury and swung his arm back before releasing a stream of red-hot flames at the pool.

Where the moon had turned all light red before, now it was as though its very existence was gone. All light slipped away, leaving the world in complete darkness save for his murderous fire.

Iroh leapt forward immediately, releasing a barrage of flames at Zhao. (y/n) joined moments later, battling off the soldiers with him. It took mere seconds between the two of them, leaving a circle of unconscious soldiers at their feet.

Zhao slinked out from under their grasp, though. The admiral was nowhere to be seen and, after looking around them and having a double-take, it became evidently clear that neither was Zuko. The sky-bison's saddle was empty.

But they had larger issues.

The two of them stared down into the once-resplendent pool as the ocean spirit circled the limp form of the moon spirit, its sadness emanating into them. Aang, Katara, Sokka, and the other water tribe girl came to stand beside them, eyes wide with shock and grief.

With shaky hands, (y/n) lifted the lifeless spirit from the water. Its scales were soft and cold, and she prayed and prayed to feel any kind of life from it, but the burn on its back was enough to ensure the finality of its death.

“There’s no hope now,” cried the water tribe girl. She leaned close to Sokka. “It’s over.”

A brilliant light took form in Aang’s eyes and the arrow tattoos across his body. “No,” he said, and his voice echoed with the sound of dozens of others. The Avatar State. It had to be. “It’s not over.”

He stepped into the pool, taking on an almost meditation-like stance. The ocean spirit circled his legs, glowing in the light coming off of him. The pool of water itself began to glow, too, almost too bright to really look at. Aang sunk into the water, and immediately after, the water surrounding them began to glow a bright, beautiful blue.

It gathered towards the opening of the clearing, the space that had looked out onto the moon and ocean, before rising and rising. The glowing water took on the form of a monstrous creature, with Aang floating in the centre of its chest. A version of the ocean spirit that looked as though it belonged in the stories told to children to make them behave.

The large spirit began making its way through the city, ridding it of all Fire Nation soldiers as it continued down.

(y/n) placed the moon spirit back into the cold water, fingers brushing over the burn.

“It’s too late,” Katara said over her shoulder. “It’s dead.”

They all knelt by the edge of the pool, looking down at the spirit. How cruel one had to be to kill something of such beauty, such wonder. It made her sick.

Iroh’s hand squeezed hers gently. But his attention was not on her - it was on the water tribe girl, wrapped in Sokka’s arms.

“You have been touched by the moon spirit,” he said, eyeing her hair. “Some of its life is in you.”

She looked up then, her blue eyes shining. They were the only form of colour around them besides the glowing water. “Yes,” she murmured. “You’re right. It gave me life. Maybe I can give it back.”

“No!” Sokka cried. He grasped her hand as she stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s my duty, Sokka.” The girl looked down. She did not want to face such an end, (y/n) could tell, but she knew she had to.

“I won’t let you,” he insisted. “Your father told me to protect you!”

The daughter of the chieftain, she realised. She felt even worse for the girl.

“I have to,” she said.

With a tug, she freed her hands from Sokka’s, placing them on the spirit that Iroh had just pulled from the water once more. Her hands were trembling. (y/n) felt the terrible need to hold the girl's hands in her own, just to show her she wasn't alone.

The spirit began to glow and, as it did, the colour seemed to seep from the girl’s eyes - Yue, as she would later know her.

Yue fell to the ground, skin pale. The colour had seeped from her eyes in seconds as if drained like blood.

“No!” Sokka caught her in his arms, holding her tighter than (y/n) had seen anyone hold another. His eyes looked glassy. “She's gone.”

He had moments to hold her, to grieve her physically, before her very form turned into nothing but air. (y/n)’s breath caught in her throat, and she held onto Iroh’s sleeve as though her life depended on it.

The moon spirit shone in his hands, bright white and silver, and he lowered it once more into the water, where it circled and circled, full of life. Light shone above the pool, swirling as it took on the form of a human - Yue dressed beautifully with her glimmering white hair flowing in a non-existent breeze.

She floated down until her glowing hands cupped his face. “Goodbye, Sokka. I will always be with you.”

Finally, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips before disappearing once more. A parting gift. A goodbye.

Up above, the silver full moon reappeared, casting light and colour upon the world once more. Iroh’s hand came to rest over where (y/n)’s held his sleeve. The sky once more was a beautiful blue, filled with stars. It was beautiful, and it was heartbreaking.

– –

The water was calm as the raft raced over it, the sail caught on the wind. (y/n) looked out ahead, across the endless ocean and jagged white icebergs that dotted their way. They wove between sunken Fire Navy ships that still steamed with their smoke. Helmets floated in the water. It was never-ending, and yet she found herself more willing for this journey than any she had been on before.

“I am surprised, Prince Zuko,” said Iroh as he hoisted the sail. “Surprised that you are not at this moment trying to capture the Avatar.”

With his back turned, Zuko did not see the half-relieved look on Iroh’s face. The prince had not seemed the same after they had found him hidden in the streets of the North Pole, out of the sight of waterbenders, half-lit by the new moon's glow. He had watched the ocean spirit drown Zhao, he had told them. He may have loathed the man, may have wished for his death as much as (y/n) had, but it was an entirely different matter seeing it.

All he said, though, was, “I’m tired.”

Iroh stepped carefully over to his nephew, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Then, you should rest. A man needs his rest.”

And, so he did. Zuko curled up on the raft, staring up at the sky above them until, eventually, he fell into a deep sleep.

(y/n) was not sure where they would end up. Whether it be an Earth Kingdom island or a deep, dark forest somewhere. She just knew that, eventually, the Fire Nation would be after them.

And she hoped that they did not know the truth.

Her

truth.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Azula Always Lies"
  “When you are using a fan as a weapon, you will only keep it open to blind or distract your opponent. What you really want to do is keep it closed and use the butt of it to hit pressure points. Like here -”

(y/n)’s mother pressed the pads of her fingers on (y/n)’s temple gently. Her hands were warm.

“- here -”

Her fingers slid to the soft dip behind her ear, pressing down slightly.

“- and here.”

She pressed her fingers between her eyebrows, laughing softly when (y/n) tried to look up at them, crossing her eyes.

“You can cause a lot of damage with a fan,” her mother continued. “With a blow to the correct area and the right amount of force, you can render limbs useless or even temporarily paralyse them. But you can also do

too

much damage if you hit the wrong places.”

She led (y/n) over to a sparring dummy that looked as though it were made of copper. Splotches of ink were dotted across the body, marking the different pressure points. Her mother went through each of them slowly, answering any questions she had about them, and demonstrated how (y/n) would hit them, taking great care to focus on opponents bigger than herself.

For years, (y/n) practised her technique, perfecting it on the grounds of her home, out of the peering eyes of Fire Nation nobility and court members and anybody who would look down on the weapon. Blades and fire were what they demanded in the Fire Nation. Not fans.

Her mother had overseen her training herself, watching with narrowed jade eyes and gently correcting her stance or her grip on the fan. it was essential that she know how to wield multiple weapons, her mother hand insisted, especially ones that many people did not assume to be a weapon at all. Sometimes, her father would watch, too, smiling widely as he held her mother’s hand. She would find herself grinning at the end, even if a session had not ended the way she would have liked, because she had made her parents proud.

Now, over a decade later, (y/n) stared up at the gorgeous fans that hung on the walls of the resort she, Zuko, and Iroh had somehow ended up at. She wondered if they had ever been used as weapons, or if they had simply remained as decoration, gathering dust.

She hated how everything here reminded her of home. The fans on the walls. The sweet cherry blossom scent that had so often clung to her mother. The food that reminded her of the dishes her father insisted they incorporate into the Fire Nation diet, because how could one advise on matters of the world if they did not understand the culture of other countries?

After Zhao’s siege of the Northern Water Tribe three weeks ago, it had become obvious that they could not return to the Fire Nation. Zuko did not have the Avatar in custody, and the few soldiers that had managed to escape had likely already passed on news regarding (y/n) and Iroh’s challenging of Zhao’s plan, their turning against him. And, while it did not necessarily mark them as traitors to the Fire Nation, their refusal to follow orders given by a higher ranking officer - Iroh’s rank as a former army General did not give him much power when part of the Navy - would definitely shirk opinions that way.

So, there they were, taking solace at a spa resort for a day or two before they would move on again. Iroh had been insistent that he at least get a massage to aid his ageing bones before they leave.

(y/n) loved the Earth Kingdom and all it had to offer, but being reminded of her family at every turn, especially her mother, left a bitter taste in her mouth. Unless they found some reason to leave the capital city to come and find her, it was likely she would not see them again.

Messenger hawks were hard to come by in the Earth Kingdom, so she relied on the single hawk that came to deliver any correspondence from her parents. Its visits were few and far between, journeying far and wide to find her as they kept on the move. But seeing her father’s handwriting, or even her mother’s, made it worth it.

“Why are you just staring at a bunch of fans?”

(y/n) swivelled around, panicked for a moment, before her mind settled. Just Zuko. She wasn’t as perceptive of her surroundings as she usually was, lately. Somehow, he’d snuck up on her.

He was wearing a large, round hat that she had purchased for him back in a coastal village to help shadow the scar on his face, along with the robes the resort had provided, tinged slightly pink to correlate with the blooming cherry blossoms. What she noticed the most, perhaps, was the brooding expression on his face, more sorrowful than angry, for once.

“They’re pretty, I suppose,” she said.

Zuko didn’t look convinced. “You’re looking at them in the way you do when you realise something can be used as a weapon. Or when you’ve caught someone out in a lie.”

Her head tilted, then, confused. She hadn’t realised she

had

a look when those things happened, and she found herself curious as to how Zuko had realised. How often had he watched her expression in moments such as those, learning the lines of her face and understanding what exactly they meant? And why did the revelation make her feel as though she had been stripped of a protective barrier?

But, for now, she brushed the thoughts aside. “What about you? What’s got you over here? Don’t you usually prefer Iroh’s company over mine?”

A sour look mixed in with his brooding as he sat down on the pavilion steps, looking out at the cherry blossom trees surrounding the resort. (y/n) sat beside him, a foot away, but close enough to see the knitting of his brows.

“It’s been three years since I was banished,” he said, his words clipped slightly. “Iroh tried to make me feel better by saying my father must care about me if he banished me.”

She grimaced. Iroh was perhaps not the best in situations such as that. She could understand where he was coming from - Ozai had not

killed

his son, but that set the bar for familial love horrifically low.

“These past three years, everything I have done has been to regain my honour,” he continued. “I want it back. I want to capture the Avatar. I want my father to not think I’m worthless.”

(y/n) wasn’t sure what to say. She tugged on the sleeves of her robe, grateful for the loose fabric in the warm breeze instead of the tight underclothes she would usually wear beneath her armour.

“This may be treasonous to say,” she said, “but if he can’t see your worth then, quite frankly,

he’s

not worth it.”

She hadn’t expected herself to find truth in the words. When saying them, it had simply been an act of placation, but by the time her mouth shut, she found herself believing them.

Had they not been hunting the Avatar, had Zuko not been driven by anger and misguided determination, then maybe she could imagine the two of them being friends. Iroh was positive that there was good in Zuko, and would probably go as far as leaping off a cliff to prove his nephew would jump after him to break his fall, and sometimes she saw it, too. A glimmer in his eyes. Disgust at mistreatment of his people. The ghost of a smile when he watched somebody play the tsungi horn. Enjoyment he believed he hid beneath annoyance as he watched his uncle play Pai Sho, with careful calculation behind his eyes, mapping out the moves.

She hated that she believed it. It made her job that much harder.

But the words had their intended effect. Zuko’s shoulders, which had been tense with frustration, eased slightly. He watched the cherry blossom petals drift softly to the ground, elbows propped up on his bent knees.

For a moment, dressed in the large hat and resort robes, (y/n) could imagine that he was not the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, or the Banished Prince, or the boy whose mission had caused her such discomfort over the past three years. No, she saw the boy who could’ve been; the boy who took after his mother. Even with his scar bared towards her, the mere sight of it a memory of what had taken place in the past, she did not see the son of Ozai. She saw the son of Ursa.

And that was perhaps the worst thing she could have seen in him.

– –

The sky was slowly beginning to turn dark when (y/n), Zuko, and Iroh returned to their temporary home, sun dipping just below the branches of the towering trees.

The cabin was nestled in a gathering of blossom trees and oaks, bright white as though the workers took great care in scrubbing it clean from any of the moss that tried to crawl up its sides. Fading sunlight streamed through the foliage high up above, mottling the exterior with golden light.

When they stepped inside, Iroh spread his hands out on the table just by the door, scattering dozens of shells across the surface with a proud grin.

“Oh, look at these magnificent shells,” he said. He held a dappled pink-and-white conch shell up, admiring it. “I will enjoy keeping these keepsakes for years to come.”

“We don’t need any more useless things,” Zuko insisted, tearing his hat off his head. “You forget, we have to carry everything ourselves now.”

“Hello, brother. Uncle. (y/n).”

The voice shocked them all. It had come from the corner of the room, where somebody sat, half-masked by shadow. When they leaned forward, (y/n)’s heart sank.

Princess Azula had the same cruel glint in her eyes as her father. With her arched brows and sloping nose, the prominence of her high cheekbones, she looked more like her mother, Ursa, than Zuko did, but the sadistic twist of her lips made her parentage extremely clear. Her hair, sleek and dark, was tied in a tight top-knot, boasting the flame-shaped hairpiece that displayed her nobility.

Instantly, Zuko’s hackles were up. “What are you doing here?”

“In

my

country,” Azula drawled, “we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions. Have you become uncivilised so spoon, Zuzu?”

She stood from her chair, stalking closer like a predator.

The rage on Zuko’s face was palpable. “Don’t call me that!”

(y/n) stepped forward slightly, plastering on a small, polite smile. Azula was two years younger, and though they had spent some time together at the Royal Fire Academy, they were nowhere near well acquainted. But she had a feeling that the place would be on fire if she didn’t step in.

“To what do we owe this honour?” she asked, giving Zuko a subtle nudge with her elbow. His glare flickered at her momentarily.

“Hmm, Zuko’s personality must be rubbing off on you,” Azula mused. “You’re so quick to get to the point. I’ve come with a message from home.” Her shining, scheming eyes slid back to Zuko. “Father’s changed his mind. Family is suddenly very important to him. He’s heard rumours of plans to overthrow him - treacherous plots. Family are the only ones you can really trust.”

Zuko stood in stunned silence, watching his sister with wide eyes. Iroh was tense behind her.

“Father regrets your banishment,” Azula continued, tearing her eyes from her brother’s in a strange show of guilt. “He wants you home.”

Silence. Zuko’s usual scowl had melted away, replaced by something that could only be described as pure shock.

Azula, on the other hand, had quickly returned to her usual haughty temperament. “Did you hear me? You should be happy, excited,

grateful

. I just gave you great news.”

As Zuko drifted in the direction of the window, mulling over Azula’s announcement, Iroh hurried forward.

“I’m sure your brother simply needs a moment -”

“Don’t interrupt, Uncle!” Azula’s scowl was so similar to Zuko’s, then, that had they stood next to each other - Zuko scarless - it likely would have been hard to tell them apart. She brushed over beside Zuko, a few feet away, the intensity of her scowl lessening. “I still haven’t heard my thank you. I’m not a messenger. I didn’t have to come all this way.”

But Zuko was still caught up on her earlier words. “Father regrets? He wants me back?”

“I can see you need time to take this in.” Azula folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll come to call on you tomorrow. Good evening.”

And then she was gone.

The second she slipped from the room, it was as though a massive, crushing weight had been lifted. (y/n) hadn’t realised how hard it had been to breathe until the princess was gone. Iroh’s hands were clenching and unclenching as he sat down at the table, his face moulded in deep thought.

(y/n) sat across from him as the sky grew dark. She was trying to think about Azula’s words, her announcement that Fire Lord Ozai wanted his son back in the Fire Nation despite three years of banishment, trying to figure out any loopholes or tricks, but it was hard to focus with Zuko going back and forth across the room, packing his things.

“We’re going home,” he said with the most joy she’d heard from him in years. “After three long years. It’s unbelievable.”

“It

is

unbelievable,” Iroh murmured. “I have never known my brother to regret anything.”

Zuko glanced over at his uncle, confused. “Did you listen to Azula? Father realised how important family is to him. He cares about me.”

Iroh stood, then, a flash of frustration across his face. “

I

care about you! I mean, if Ozai wants you back, well, I think it may not be for the reasons you imagine.”

“You don’t know how my father feels about me,” Zuko insisted. “You don’t know anything!”

“Zuko.” Iroh’s features softened. “I only meant that in our family, things are not always what they seem.”

The prince whirled on his uncle, enraged. “I think you are exactly what you seem: a lazy, mistrustful, shallow old man who’s always been jealous of his brother.” His fiery gaze turned on (y/n). “And you, what do

you

think?”

(y/n) folded her hands on the table in front of her, pursing her lips. “Azula used to always play tricks at the Royal Fire Academy. Did you know that? On the teachers, the older kids, the

younger

kids. She played a few on me. But she never got in trouble.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she’s known for tricking people,” she said slowly, biting her tongue, “and getting away with it. Take what she said with a pinch of salt.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed. “Do you realise that this means

you

get to go home, too? You’ll finally be able to stop writing stupid letters to your parents and

see

them again. Don’t you want that? Or are you more selfish than I realised?”

“Of course I do.” It was an effort now to keep her voice steady. “You just need to really think over what your sister has said. And know if you can trust her or not.”

She could taste his bitter fury on her tongue. “I knew it was a bad idea bringing you along.”

And then he stormed out of the hut, taking all of his fiery anger with him.

Iroh’s shoulders slumped as he watched his nephew leave, all his energy seeping into the floor. It was a terrible sight, seeing him so dejected. He rubbed his hands over his face, breathing a deep sigh.

“He will return with Azula regardless of if we go, too,” he said quietly. “I will return with him. I do not want him to be alone.” He removed his hands, eyes soft as he looked over at (y/n). “Do not feel like you must come. Return to Kyoshi Island and stay with your aunt. Explore the Earth Kingdom. Send a missive to your parents and I am sure they will come here.”

She wanted to accept. She wanted more than anything to pack her things and find Aiyosa, send a carefully written letter to her parents. Maybe they would leave the Fire Nation immediately upon seeing it. But, she knew it was not possible. Her parents loved her more than anything, but her father had a deeper purpose than just being her father. He could do more good from his seat beside the Fire Lord than the three of them together could do in the Earth Kingdom.

“No, Iroh,” she said eventually. “Zuko may trust Azula, but I don’t. I’m not going to let the Fire Nation twist him further.”

– –

It was morning before they saw Zuko again.

(y/n) and Iroh caught him as he was trudging down the - what felt like - thousands of steps that lead from the cliff-top resort to the docks. Still dressed in his pink resort robes, pack slung over his shoulder, he stared down at the Fire Navy ship anchored down below, an ugly streak of black and grey in the otherwise beautiful view.

“Don’t leave without us!” Iroh called, boots slapping against the stone steps. He had donned his long tunic and breastplate once more, looking more like the title he had shucked than he had in weeks.

There was an unfamiliar look in Zuko’s eyes - relief. An even more unfamiliar smile split his lips. “You’ve changed your minds.”

Iroh mirrored his smile. “Family sticks together, right?”

And, strangely enough, (y/n) found herself smiling, too. Perhaps it was something about the way that Iroh’s

family

seemed to include her.

“We’re finally going home,” Zuko said.

But, when he began his trek down the steps, (y/n) and Iroh shared a look. She had a bad feeling about this, as did Iroh. He had told her many times to trust her gut, and she was confident in what it was telling her, now. This felt like a trap.

The closer they got to the ship, the worse she felt. The red-armoured soldiers, standing to attention along the dock were statue-like, were unmoving as they strode past them. Azula herself stood at the very top of the ramp leading up to the ship, staring down at them as if they were no more than ants beneath her shoe.

(y/n)’s hands wrapped firmly around one of her knives, tucked up in the loose sleeves she had chosen to wear, partly because of the heat but also for this exact purpose - to conceal her weapon. She did not trust the Fire Nation, or Azula, one bit. The other knife hung from her belt, gleaming in the sunlight, but holding that one would give her suspicion away.

She could feel the soldiers’ eyes on them as they passed, staring through small slits in their off-putting, spiked helmets.

“Brother, Uncle, (y/n).” Azula spread her arms. “Welcome.”

The three of them bent at the hips, bowing out of respect. Iroh glanced sidelong at (y/n) as they rose.

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” the princess continued.

The ship’s captain, the only person other than Azula who was unmasked, stood to attention. “Are we ready to depart, Your Highness?”

Azula tucked her hands behind her back. “Set our course for home, Captain.”

“Home,” murmured Zuko.

There was a knot in (y/n)’s stomach as the order to raise the anchors came. They began following the captain up the ramp, and she watched every slat of metal pass beneath her feet. She half-expected the bolts to come loose and drop them into the sea. But they didn’t.

They were halfway up the ramp when the captain made his mistake.

“We’re taking the prisoners home,” he said, concluding the list of orders he had been giving. His face dropped instantaneously.

Zuko sucked in a harsh breath, stopping short. (y/n) and Iroh were right behind him. They had been right. Azula was not to be trusted, and they had proven Zuko wrong.

In any other circumstance, (y/n) may have felt pride for proving the prince wrong. But, now, seeing the pure devastation on his face, having been betrayed by his sister while also learning that his father really did not care for his return and only wanted him in chains, made the pride turn into bitter guilt.

Azula’s face morphed into fury quicker than thought.

She didn’t get a word out before Iroh spun, knocking the approaching soldiers off the ramp and into the sea. (y/n) drew her dagger, blocking an attack before slamming her foot into her opponent’s chest, knocking them into the water. Zuko, pushing a soldier aside, stormed further up the ramp.

“You lied to me!” he shouted.

The princess’s fury had turned into her usual infuriating arrogance. “Like I’ve never done that before.”

With that, she turned, striding across the deck as the two soldiers flanking her leapt forward, shooting fire from their fists.

Zuko dodged the attack easily, jumping onto the deck in pursuit of his sister.

(y/n) ducked beneath a burst of flames, launching forward and jabbing the butt of her knife into the pressure points she could reach, which were few and far between. The soldier stumbled, slightly off balance, and she swept her hand through the air, knocking him off the dock with a burst of bright flames.

Somewhere to her right, Iroh yelled, “Zuko, let’s go!”

But Zuko did not appear.

Another soldier leapt at (y/n), grabbing at her hair as they fell past. Pain flared in her scalp as she swept around, hitting the butt of the knife into their helmet. The metal absorbed most of the attack, but the soldier was at least a little dazed. With a grunt, she grabbed their arm and twisted it behind them, earning a shout of pain, before letting go and planting her foot on their back. They joined their comrades in the water momentarily.

When the soldiers were removed as an obstacle, (y/n) and Iroh shared a look before sprinting up the ramp, towards the sound of battle.

Zuko and Azula were not matched in skill. Though the prince would hate to admit it, his sister was the far better out of the two, and she gained the upper hand on him quickly, using his furious momentum against him.

He was lying dazed on the deck when they reached him. Blue sparks were shooting from Azula’s fingers as she swept her arm in an arc. Electricity followed in her wake. A morbid smile stretched her face.

But the lightning she so easily made, a skill rare among firebenders, never reached her brother. Instead, Iroh raced over, gripping her wrist with an iron-knuckled grasp, and fed the lightning through his own body. He stretched his arm out, and the blue electricity shot from his fingers, crashing into the cliff face.

Azula did not truly get a chance to comprehend her uncle’s actions before he grabbed her with his other hand and threw her from the ship. She landed in the water with a satisfying splash.

(y/n) grabbed Zuko, pulling him to his feet, and his hand rested on her arm to help him steady himself. It was uncomfortably warm.

Iroh ran over, checking his nephew over, fingers brushing over three new scars on his forehead. Then, with a reassuring nod, they raced down the ship’s ramp and off the docks.

They ran for what felt like hours, until their legs were burning and hearts racing. Even Iroh did not stop until they reached a small clearing, knelt beside a soft-flowing river. They heaved for breath, hands dug into the fresh grass.

“I think we’re safe here,” Iroh breathed.

(y/n) held a hand to her chest, gasping down the cool, humid air flowing from the river. It tasted like fresh soil and wet stones. Her knife clattered to the ground, reflecting the morning light.

Gentle fingers clasped around the hilt, and a bolt of panic tore up her spine as she fumbled for it. But it was only Zuko, holding it carefully as though it may shatter in his hands. Then, wordlessly, it rose above his head.

He fisted his long, dark ponytail in one hand and brought the knife beneath the leather strip tying it up. With a few purposeful cuts, he had severed the ebony hair from his head, leaving only a diamond patch of roughly cut hair in its wake.

Iroh took the blade after him, slicing off his grey top-knot regretfully.

When it was passed to (y/n), she looked at it only for a moment. At the small pieces of cut hair scattered across her gleaming blade. She would have to sharpen it again soon, she told herself. It was not made for cutting hair.

With a tremor in her chest, she took her hair in her hand, bunching it up near her shoulders, and began the arduous task of cutting it. It was significantly more than Zuko or Iroh had to cut, and far choppier. She swore at one point Zuko’s hand twitched upwards as if to take the knife from her and do it himself. But he didn’t, and soon her hand was covered in the severed pieces of her hair. The remnants, which barely brushed her shoulders, felt awfully light.

The hair was dropped into the river, soaking up the bright water as the bunches floated aimlessly down.

Dishonour, it meant.

She could only pray that her family did not suffer.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Despondent"
  The forest provided a peaceful space for meditating, (y/n) had found over the days. With the soft, sweet singing of the numerous species of birds, the gentle rustling of the breeze in the treetops, it was like a little sanctuary. She’d been feeling slightly warmer, lately, occasionally shaking the ever-present chills she’d had since their first visit to the South Pole.

It was a shame, then, that she rarely found a moment to meditate.

Between Iroh trying to eat every plant they came across, and Zuko’s constant grumbling about not being suited for a life fit for ‘Earth Kingdom peasants’, she had her hands full. It was like trying to herd tiger monkeys. Though she had a feeling she’d have a better chance with the animals than she did with these two.

Birds trilled in the trees as she sat, legs crossed, on the lush green grass of the clearing she had found while gathering firewood the previous night. With her eyes closed, mind free, she felt as though she could float on the clouds that drifted high above. She felt remarkably well-rested, despite sleeping on hard ground for nights on end and walking far and wide during the days.

The soft, slowly-warming breeze slipped through her hair, which had grown out a little since hacking half of it off a month ago. During the following night after cutting it, she had fallen victim to an unusual bout of vanity and had tried to even out the choppy ends in the dim moonlight. It didn’t amount to much, but the ends seemed to have evened out slightly in the past month.

As always, the peace was short-lived. Zuko was calling her name. Over and over again.

With a heavy sigh, she stood from her secluded spot, memorising the little details - the funny way the trees knotted, the colour of the flowers and the butterflies that perched upon the petals - before trudging through the thicket of trees that led back to their temporary campsite.

Their sleeping rolls were folded up, tucked to the edge of the campsite, as they had been when she’d left for some peace. The firepit that they had huddled around the previous night was cold, now, with the black ashes not holding even a single ember.

“What?” she asked as she stepped closer.

Zuko looked just about ready to tear his hair out, which would have been an interesting feat to watch, seeing as it had only grown not even an inch from his scalp. A muscle in his cheek twitched as it so often tended to when he was frustrated. Iroh had his back turned, looking slightly suspicious.

“We need help,” he grumbled. Zuko did not like getting help.

She frowned. “Why? I think you’re managing well enough on your own to find food. Do you need me to teach you how to fish? It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

“I can fish perfectly well,” Zuko snapped, though the tiny fish speared on an abnormally large rod contradicted his statement. His cheeks flushed a little when she glanced pointedly over at it. “We need help for Iroh.”

It was then that Iroh turned. At first, (y/n) thought he had crushed up berries and spread the juice across his face as if applying an absurd amount of makeup. Then the sight of his swollen skin took root, and the red turned into lumpy rashes. He was itching the whole time.

For a few moments, she was silent, simply unable to comprehend what had happened. Iroh smiled like a guilty child.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I made some tea,” he said, strangely happy.

“With a poisonous plant!” Zuko said. “And now he wants to cure himself with potentially poisonous berries.”

“And you think

I

can somehow help?” (y/n) dragged a hand over her face, all peace found while meditating entirely gone.

Zuko’s face was a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “You seem to know something about everything.”

She wanted to strangle him. “Not plants. Iroh. What did you make the tea from?”

Iroh bent in a lunging position, scratching his chest and the back of his leg at the same time. “I suppose it was the white jade bush rather than the white dragon bush. Once the rash reaches my throat, I will stop breathing. Could you tell me if these berries are the cure?”

Now she wanted to strangle Iroh. Instead, she slapped away the berries he shoved in her face. She was not an expert on plants by any means, but even children knew not to eat the white jade bush. It seemed as though swapping their Fire Nation clothes for the green garb of the Earth Kingdom had stripped him of his wisdom entirely.

“We need to

get

help,” she corrected Zuko.

“Where would we get help?” Iroh asked. “We’re enemies of the Earth Kingdom

and

fugitives from the Fire Nation.”

Zuko’s face softened, annoyance swapped out for something more thoughtful. “If the Earth Kingdom captures us, they’ll have us killed.”

Iroh rolled up his sleeves and itched his arms. “But if the Fire Nation discovers us, we’ll be turned over to Azula.”

The three of them shared a look. As bad as the Earth Kingdom sounded - particularly for Iroh - Azula was far, far worse. There was cruelty running through her veins. She thought back to their last encounter with the princess, how she had been hellbent on taking them back to the Fire Nation so she could enact some kind of punishment on them. How intent she had been on potentially killing her brother with the lightning she created. The worst part was that her murderous tendencies had not been surprising whatsoever. They would not be surprising, either, if she got her hands on them again.

(y/n) heaved yet another sigh. “Earth Kingdom it is.”

– –

“You guys must not be from around here. We know better than to touch the white jade.”

(y/n) gave Iroh a pointed glare as the girl who had spoken, who was around her age, applied some kind of paste to the bright, angry rashes across his body. His smile was slightly ashamed but more relieved at having something to soothe the rashes.

The girl herself was lovely, they had found. As soon as they had found their way to the nearest village to them, she had somehow spotted them from the infirmary, concerned about the state of Iroh’s rash. She wore a beautiful white and dusty pink hanbok that complimented her dark hair and green eyes. She had a kind smile and a soft voice that was perhaps wasted on liars such as the three of them.

“So where are you travelling from?” she asked them.

“Yes,” Zuko said stiffly. “We’re travellers.”

The girl only smiled at the strange response. She didn’t see (y/n) elbow him. “Do you have names?”

“Names? Of course we have names.”

(y/n) was going to go insane. “My name is Iva,” she said with a smile. Then, gesturing to Zuko, “This is Lee.”

“Yes, Lee.” Zuko looked like a frightened animal. “And that’s my uncle, um, Mushi.”.

Iroh gave Zuko a disgruntled look. “Yes, my nephew was named after his father, so we just call him Junior.”

“Iva, Mushi, and Junior, huh? My name is Song.”

Song turned to glance at (y/n) and Zuko, just narrowly missing Zuko making several rude gestures at his uncle. Her eyes sparkled with kindness that, truth be told, was unfamiliar to most from the Fire Nation.

“You three look like you could use a good meal,” she continued. She slapped Iroh’s hand when he tried to itch one of his rashes. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

“Sorry,” Zuko said, “but we need to be moving on.”

While (y/n) agreed with Zuko, she had to admit that the thought of a meal that had not been caught, likely by her, sounded wonderful. Judging from the gleam in Iroh’s eyes, he felt similarly. Their stomachs grumbled at the mere mention of food.

“That’s too bad,” Song said. “My mother always makes too much roast duck.”

Iroh grinned. “Where do you live exactly?”

She only laughed and insisted they wait until the end of her shift, when she could walk them to her home for dinner, despite Zuko’s several attempts to convince her they needed to leave. She spoke to them as she cleaned supplies and rerolled bandages, but it quickly became noticeable that (y/n) was the only one really intent on speaking to the girl. Iroh was busy trying not to itch himself or daydreaming about a hot meal. Zuko was sulking. In fact, she was rather enjoying talking to somebody her age who she didn’t have to take orders from.

“So where

are

you from?” Song asked as she led them to her home. Zuko and Iroh walked a few steps behind, silently.

The sky was slowly growing dark, the beautiful orange glow in the clouds giving way to a bluish silver. Moonlight streamed down, and there was a short moment where (y/n) felt something in her chest - melancholy.

“We’re refugees,” she said from beside the girl. “From the south-western islands.”

Song smiled at her, eyes flickering over her face for a second. “I was thinking you had the southern look about you - it’s the cheekbones. You’ve all got the same cheekbones. But I’m sorry about your circumstances.”

“Thank you.” (y/n) adjusted the hem of her mossy green tunic. She felt rather at home in it. “We’ve been travelling for quite some time now. The villages inland are gorgeous. So many trees and mountains.”

“I suppose you’re used to seeing the sea all the time,” Song mused. “I’ve always wanted to visit the islands. Perhaps if things were different, I could.”

There was warmth in (y/n)’s cheeks then, a guilt that she was unable to hold back. She became acutely aware of Zuko and Iroh behind her, the former half a step closer than he had been before. All comfort she had felt in her Earth Kingdom clothes mere seconds ago suddenly seeped away, replaced with an innate sense of wrongness, as though she were an imposter. She was, she thought. She was an imposter in so many ways, now, that she had lost count.

“Is this your house?”

Zuko’s voice cut through the momentary silence like a hot blade through butter. When she glanced back at him, his face partially shadowed by his round hat, he was already looking at her with something unfamiliar in his eyes - understanding, perhaps. She darted her eyes away.

It was in fact Song’s home. She led them inside, encouraging them all to remove their shoes, before leading them through the house to the dining room. It lacked a back wall, allowing them to stare out onto the darkening horizon as they knelt down beside a low table. Song disappeared through latticed doors after providing them with some tea to help her mother, who was humming from the kitchen.

To Zuko, such a small, simple setting was a culture shock. He looked around at the clutter on the walls, the simplistic lampshades and faded rugs as if seeing such things for the first time. He was used to luxury, to lavish rooms and gold filigree chandeliers. Despite his clothes, he looked sorely out of place.

(y/n), however, couldn’t help but smile.

Whenever her mother and father had brought her on their trips abroad, part of her father’s duty as Grand Advisor, they were housed in the most beautiful homes befitting of their station. When they visited her aunt Aiyosa, though, her home always resembled the likes of Song’s. Meaningful clutter and worn-down rugs that made it feel lived in. The perfection of the Fire Nation Royal Palace made it feel as though nobody stayed there, like it was nothing more than an ornament for the city.

Song returned shortly, propping the doors open for her mother as she breezed through, holding a platter with the roasted duck atop. She was a beautiful woman, face adorned with smile lines and life.

“My daughter tells me you’re refugees,” she said as she placed the platter down. She sat down softly. “We were once refugees ourselves.”

Song’s smile held a regretful sadness. “When I was a little girl, the Fire Nation raided our farming village. All the men were taken away. That was the last time I saw my father.”

“I haven’t seen my father in many years,” Zuko murmured. His voice shocked both (y/n) and Iroh. An attempt to connect, it seemed.

“Is he fighting in the war?”

Iroh abruptly stopped slurping his noodles, turning his gaze on his nephew. (y/n)’s grip on her chopsticks loosened.

"Yeah,” Zuko said. He was looking fixedly down at his food.

Their hosts’ eyes slid over to (y/n), and she tightened her grip on her chopsticks slightly. How to best say that her father worked for Zuko’s while secretly undermining him and the goal of the Fire Nation without revealing her family’s treachery and the fact that they were not Earth Kingdom refugees?

“Prisoner of war,” was what she came up with. As was becoming too common a habit of hers, she had spoken without necessarily thinking, but judging from Iroh’s expression, it perhaps was the answer that made the most sense.

She just hoped Zuko’s frown did not mean he was putting the pieces together.

– –

It was late in the evening before they took their leave.

“Thank you for the duck,” Iroh said with a smile. “It was excellent.”

Song’s mother smiled gently. “You’re welcome. It brings me joy to see someone eat my cooking with such gusto.”

Iroh gratefully took the wrapped-up leftovers from her outstretched hands and patted his belly. “Much practice.”

He and (y/n) bent at the hips, bowing slightly as Song and her mother did so, too. Zuko turned to walk off, but his uncle fixed him in place with a glare.

“Junior,” he said, almost mockingly. “Where are your manners? You need to thank these nice people.”

Albeit begrudgingly, Zuko turned and bowed. “Thank you.”

Surprisingly, it was Song who spoke after him. “I know you don’t think there’s any hope left in the world, but there

is

hope. The Avatar has returned.”

“I know.”

Then, Zuko was gone. Iroh made to follow after him, with (y/n) shortly behind, but she paused.

“Thank you,” she said to Song and her mother. “For both your food and your kindness. We will not forget this.”

She set her eyes on Song, a moment of warmth filling her chest. She’d never really had friends her age, and though only knowing her for the second half of a day, she felt that they could become friends given time. Given better circumstances.

“Your friend, Lee,” Song said, “I hope things change for him. I hope that he learns to have faith.”

“Take care,” (y/n) said gently. Then, she followed her companions.

As she passed through the high gate, she heard Iroh’s uttered, “What are you doing?”

When she drew up beside him, she saw Zuko clutching the reins of an ostrich-horse, presumably Song’s or her mother’s. It lowed quietly, watching them with soft, dark eyes. The sight of it alone made (y/n) feel homesick. Her father would have been scratching its muzzle, making its lips twitch with delight.

“These people just showed you great kindness,” Iroh chastised.

Zuko swung up on its back and rode up beside his uncle. “They’re about to show us a little more kindness. Well?”

He held out his hand expectantly, watching as (y/n) and Iroh shared a shameful look. Whether they liked it or not, Zuko would take the creature, with or without them.

The prince could see the guilt in her eyes as she took his hand, pulling herself up behind him on the ostrich-horse’s back, that much was evident from the way the tight line of his lips softened just so. She shifted on its back, far closer to the prince than she would have preferred, but she didn't have much of a choice. Any further back and Iroh would have no space.

As soon as Iroh had mounted, Zuko spurred the creature onwards.

(y/n) tried not to think too much on the journey about the glimpse of Song’s face she had seen as they’d left. Full of despondency. Full of sorrow.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Truce"
  The hawk came late in the night.

Curled up in a cave she, Iroh, and Zuko had found on their travels, (y/n) had not expected it to find her. But, still, there it sat, dark eyes wide with curiosity as it tilted its head. She would recognise this hawk in particular anywhere, and she smiled as she slowly sat up, smoothing down a ruffle in its feathers.

As a child when learning about utilising hawks as messengers, her father had gifted her a hawk of her own. Usually, hawks were already fully grown and trained before even being offered for purchase, but he had bought one with the purpose of training it herself. So the hawk would only follow directions from her and her family, he had told her.

She glanced over at Iroh’s and Zuko’s sleeping forms before grabbing her bedding roll and draping it over her arm as a makeshift glove, allowing the hawk - named Sabre - to perch on top. Quietly, she tiptoed out of the cave and settled down a few feet out of sight of the entrance, the damp moss and grass soaking through her clothes.

Sabre hopped off her arm, plucking at the ground for worms or other kinds of food as (y/n) unrolled the letter. Using her elbow to hold the bottom end of the curling paper, she summoned fire to her fingertips, casting light across the dark letters.

Her father’s handwriting. She recognised the careful swoop of the characters as easily as she recognised the skin on the back of her hand.

The words, though she knew they were due their course, hurt to read. She had been declared a traitor across the Fire Nation, and thus her parents would not be able to contact her as frequently as they had been. To preserve her life, they had to save their own, and that could not be done if they were caught writing to her. They were in little danger themselves - Ozai did not believe her father to be a traitor - but they could do more to keep her safe if they did not write so often.

It was likely, then, that they would contact her through a third party, her father wrote through their code. Their most trustworthy was Aiyosa, her mother’s sister, who was still living on Kyoshi Island. All correspondence would be sent to her, first, before she sent it to (y/n).

She knew it was for the best, but her contact with her family had already been minimal. Her throat closed up a little at the thought of being distanced from them even further.

The skin around her nails was picked raw by the time the sun rose and Zuko stepped out of the cave.

There was a muted sort of panic on his face as his gaze darted around the small clearing before landing on (y/n), tucked up against a tree. He was worried that she’d left to betray them, probably.

He eyed the letter in her hands. “Your father.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

She wiped the weeping blood on her dark green trousers. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

His gaze had drifted now to the red around her nails, the drying blood stain she had left on her knees. He did not know how often an occurrence the sight had been for Iroh over the years. To him, this was new.

“What we all expected, really,” she said. “I am a traitor to the Fire Nation, and therefore he does not see me as his daughter.”

The lie slipped from her lips easily. If Zuko were to read the letter, those would be the words he would see, not the hidden message within. He took a minute to process the words, eyes fixed on her bloody nail beds, his almost-permanent scowl giving way to something stranger: pity.

Understanding

. She did not like to be understood by him. Even over a lie.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered. His eyes darted away, to the slowly waking forest beyond. “I’m going to the village to get food.”

There was no outright invitation, but with the way his mouth hung slightly open and his words faded off, it was almost implied. Her miserable silence gave him his answer, and he trudged off in the direction of the neighbouring village alone.

Sabre had flown off long ago with her reply, and (y/n) found herself missing the hawk. Her sole reminder of home. She missed the feeling of her feathers beneath her fingers already. The weight of her perched on her arm. How long would it be until she saw her again? Until she saw her parents?

She spent the remainder of the morning caring for their ostrich-horse, desperate for the sense of home that it might give her.

Tied up to one of the trees beyond the entrance to their cave, she was in perfect view of Iroh, who had been watching her carefully, and not as subtly as he would like to think, for the better part of an hour now.

“Stop staring,” she called. “You’re making Bo Ban nervous.”

As if on cue, the ostrich-horse threw its head, skittering on antsy feet. (y/n) patted its neck gently, smoothing down the soft hair as it relaxed once more.

“Something troubles you.”

Very much like his nephew, it was more a statement than a question. When she turned to glance at Iroh, the lines creasing his forehead and eyes had deepened considerably. He was holding out a tin cup of steaming tea.

“Nothing is troubling me,” she insisted.

And yet she found herself sitting beside him, holding the hot cup to her chest. It smelled like freshly boiled mint.

The words came before her mind truly comprehended that she was speaking. She told him about the letter, about the sadness she felt at having even less contact with her parents than she’d had before. She knew that, really, she had not been disowned, but even reading the lie on paper had felt like a punch to the gut. How hard had her father struggled to write them?

Iroh was a good listener. He nodded his head as she spoke and poured more tea from the makeshift pot he had made into her cup. He stoked the fire as though neither of them could brighten it themselves. When she had finished her spiel, he took her hand in his own, placing his other gently on top.

For a short while, he didn’t speak. He simply held her hand in such a way that warmed her entire body, fighting off the ever-present chill she could hardly shake.

“Your parents are very intelligent people,” he said quietly. “And they love you fiercely. They will not let anything happen to you, not so long as they are alive.”

She tried to believe his words, truly, but she couldn’t help but pick out the issues. How could they help her from so far away? They could not stop Azula’s bloodthirst just as they could not tear Ozai’s ambitions from the rotten cavity of his chest.

Iroh could see her scepticism as clear as day. “Your parents would tear the very world apart for you. Where there is a will, there is a way.”

His hands squeezed hers just so, filling her with another surge of warmth. His eyes were soft, full of faith.

It was then that Zuko returned, hoisting baskets of food into the cave. He dropped them on the floor, noting the way Iroh’s eyes seemed to gleam. Just for a moment. There was a layer of sweat lightly coating his forehead, barely noticeable, but (y/n) frowned. Carrying the baskets back on a twenty-minute walk would not usually have such an effect on someone like Zuko.

“Where did you get these?” Iroh asked cautiously.

Zuko’s fingers were dusted with dirt as if having buried something. “Does it matter where I got them? It’s food.”

“Of course it matters,” Iroh said. “If you have stolen these -”

“Just be grateful,” Zuko snapped.

Gold eyes narrowed, he spun on his heel and stormed off into the forest, twigs snapping beneath his heavy footsteps. A few birds squawked in their trees and fluttered away.

Despite his grumblings, Iroh plucked a soft iced bun from one of the baskets and took a large bite. The look on his face indicated that all notion of theft had been forgotten.

But (y/n) would not forget.

She slipped her hand from Iroh’s and followed the prince into the thicket of trees, a place he had deemed perfect for his sulking over the past few days. He sat, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree, with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at a rabbit that hopped through the underbrush.

“Did you steal that food?”

Her voice shocked him from his silent tantrum, and he jumped slightly, muscles tensing as if ready to attack. Once he realised that it was only her, he relaxed, slumping against the tree once more. His gaze returned to that little rabbit.

“Does it really matter?”

Her mouth twisted downwards in a scowl she supposed resembled his. “Of course it does. Somebody could have been really relying on that food.”

“Yeah. Us.”

His eyes slipped over to her, taking in the furious clenching of her fists. “Zuko, it’s

wrong

. People have been suffering here for years!”

A shadowed look crossed his face. “Then I’m sure they’ll be used to it by now.”

She could only gape at him for a moment, unsure as to how anybody could think in such a vile way. “Do you ever stop to consider what other people are going through? Spirits, you are

so

selfish!”

“I am your

prince

,” he retorted. “You won’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh.

Oh

.” She scoffed and bowed mockingly. “My apologies. I should’ve known. Princes - even the banished ones - get whatever they want, don’t they? Everyone else is left to pick up the scraps. Get over yourself.”

It was a low blow, she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. She was sick of the way he acted entitled to things, or how he would disregard other people’s struggles. She was sick of how she could see him as something more than an obstacle to her ultimate goal, something more than a spoiled prince until he would turn and solidify every negative thing she had ever thought about him. It was driving her mad.

He was glaring at her now, standing slowly. His cheeks and ears were flushed pink with anger.

“Do not speak to me like that,” he said lowly. “You’d do well to remember your place.”

Her throat ached with fury. “My place? Excuse me,

my prince

, but you sleep on the same ground every night that I do. You eat the same scraps of food, wash in the same lake. There aren’t any places for us anymore. You’d do well to remember

that

.”

Zuko was breathing heavily, mulling over her words. Fire flickered from his fingertips sporadically.

Even the wild animals had stopped to allow this. The birds did not sing. The rabbits scurried into their burrows. The whole forest had grown silent, and she and Zuko were tiptoeing on the edge of it all, precariously balanced over a deep void of fury.

“There is no honour in stealing from those with nothing.”

And, then, she turned and, in a manner much like Zuko’s, she stormed off.

– –

The following day, Zuko was already gone by the time (y/n) woke up. To the village, Iroh had told her. There was the faintest glimpse of guilt in his eyes.

She passed the morning by having a long overdue wash in the nearby lake, scrubbing dirt from her scalp and underneath her nails. The water was cold, almost unbearably so, but she needed the shock. It felt as though her body was not functioning as quickly, now. Too much had happened within the span of a mere day.

Everything she’d said to Zuko had been truthful, and yet she found herself regretting it. But, why should she? He had said cruel things to her numerous times. Perhaps now it was her turn. It just felt wrong.

She sat by the lake for a little while after redressing, watching how the breeze rippled the reflective surface. Up above, the sky was bright, the clouds holding only the smallest threat of rain. It seemed to rain more at night, she’d found. If the ground became too wet, it would become harder to trek into the village.

It was when she returned to their campsite that it became clear that rain was not their biggest issue.

There stood Zuko, bag slung over his shoulder. There stood Iroh, eyes watery and face full of regret.

“What’s going on?” she asked, nearing them slowly.

Iroh turned his gaze away as Zuko spoke. “I don’t see any benefit from the three of us travelling together anymore. I need to find my own path.”

The words took a moment to settle in her mind, jumbling together before reorganising themselves. This couldn’t be right, could it? Iroh wouldn’t just let him leave, surely. She wasn’t keen on spending every minute of every day with him, but it had become familiar now. He couldn’t just be

leaving

.

It became clear to her, then, that it was because of her.

Guilt like she had not known for weeks overtook her as she looked over at Iroh once more. He was putting on a brave face, wanting to be understanding of his nephew’s decision, but she could see how much it pained him. And it was her fault. She had saved Zuko’s life for Iroh, and now she’d driven him away.

Zuko did not seem intent on hanging around. In their mutual bout of silence, he turned and made to leave. Before he could get far, though, she once again found herself speaking before thinking. Moving without meaning to.

“Wait!” she called.

She was at Bo Ban’s side in an instant, untying him from the low branch they kept him situated at. Zuko hesitated on his usual path to the village, watching carefully as she led the ostrich-horse over. He seemed surprised when she handed the reins over.

“If you’re going to put yourself in danger,” she said, “at least be able to get away from it quickly.”

The softness in her voice shocked both of them, especially after their last interaction the previous day. As if worried it was some cruel joke, Zuko slowly reached out. His fingers latched around the reins, inches above hers, and he relaxed, but barely.

She held Bo Ban in place as Zuko swung up on his back before looping the reins over the creature’s head. Zuko took them in stiff hands.

There was perhaps a murmured

thank you

, but it was stolen by the wind.

He did not urge Bo Ban on. Not for a few moments. First, he pulled his bag around before him and reached in, pulling out something long and thin. At first, she could not tell what it was. Not until he held it out for her to take.

A fan.

She did not reach up to take it until Zuko said, “I bought it.”

Her eyes flickered up to his face, looking for any sign of a lie. There was none. But there was something else, a glimmer of hope that she would accept it.

It wasn’t just a fan. It was a peace offering. A truce.

He didn’t look away as she took the fan from his hand, admiring the smooth wood and the green-and-gold painted embellishments. She flicked it open, studying the intricate painting on the paper. An old Earth Kingdom myth, she recalled. One her mother had told her when she was young. A small smile curled her lips.

Perhaps she uttered a thank you, but it was stolen by the wind.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Tu Zin"
  It was strange travelling without Zuko.

It was certainly quieter and less tense, but there was an element to the journeys with him that she missed. In particular, she missed having somebody to silently insult whenever she got frustrated. Iroh was too sweet.

As she sharpened her two knives by the side of the river she and Iroh had been following for days, she tried not to think too much about the things she was missing about travelling with the insufferable prince. She tried not to think about the infuriating way he was always scowling, or how there was always something to complain about.

Not thinking proved to be a much harder feat than she would’ve liked when the fan he had gifted her hung on her belt.

She often wondered if he had known the importance of such a thing when he had purchased it. Back before Azula had tried to take them back to the Fire Nation as her prisoners, he had found her staring at fans while in a bout of nostalgia. He’d made a passing comment about how she looked at them as though they could be weapons, which they in fact could. She wondered if he had somehow figured out her proficiency with the fan in combat, or if he had simply gotten it for her knowing she had an interest in them and hoped it would smooth things over between them.

That thought alone, the idea that he had done it because of their prior argument, made her feel a mixture of confusion and unease. It was something he had never done before, not for anybody she had seen, and it left her confused. Why would he do it for her?

“You’re thinking too much.”

(y/n) breathed a laugh. “You aren’t even looking in my direction.”

Iroh, with his back to her as he boiled some tea over their fire, only said, “I don’t need to look at you to know.”

He was right, of course. He often had been over the last few weeks.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

It was then that Iroh turned, cocking an eyebrow as he caught her gaze. There was a little smile playing on his lips. She pursed her lips, frowning at him, all too aware of how he glanced down at the fan on her belt.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re concerned about him.”

“I’m only concerned,” she said, “because

you’re

concerned. I’ve had to save his life once before. I’d rather not do it again.”

Really, it was no use pleading her case. Iroh had his mind set on a conclusion that suited him - that she’d had no obligation to save Zuko back when Admiral Zhao had attempted to have him killed. That she’d done it out of the goodness of her heart, in the name of saving the boy she’d been working so closely with over the years rather than doing it to save his uncle more grief.

He hummed his response, stirring his boiling pot of tea.

“You’d better drink some water,” she insisted. “All that tea can’t be good for you.”

Zuko would have called it flavoured water. Leaf juice. Something preposterous that would’ve had Iroh reeling from shock.

Her hand hesitated with the wet stone she was using to sharpen her knife.

“Tea is wonderful for the soul,” Iroh said. “You should drink

more

.”

She gestured her head in the direction of the cup of water that sat just to her side, cooling after she had boiled it. “I’m alright.”

There was a huffing sound as Iroh turned back to his tea, and it drew another laugh out of her. Sometimes, he was awfully childish. A wonderful travel companion, on the whole. She liked to laugh.

“Zuko will return in time,” Iroh said after a moment. His voice was quieter. “Your souls are entwined.”

He looked back over at her, then, with a faint glimmer in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher. After a second, he was carefully dipping his tin cup into the boiling tea, humming happily.

“What do you mean?” she asked, all notion of sharpening her knives long gone.

His answer was merely a smile.

– –

A few days had passed before the strange girl appeared.

They had taken to travelling further inland, with Iroh insisting that it would be the direction Zuko would head in. It became slightly easier to justify his thinking when fading ostrich-horse tracks became visible, alongside strange vehicle-like tracks. But, if their theories were correct, then the Avatar would need an earthbending master, meaning he’d be travelling more inland than before, so then would Zuko.

It was odd, then, that his earthbending master - as they would later discover - quite literally knocked them off their feet, miles away from the Avatar’s location.

The girl was no older than twelve, dressed in bright green flowing trousers and a pale tunic, both of which made evident her dirty, bare feet. Her dark hair was pinned up, with strands falling across her pale green eyes. A bag was slung over her shoulder, swinging precariously as if about to slip down her arm. She kept her hands out, feet planted firmly in a defensive stance. Ready to attack again. Steady as a stone.

She stood over them on a raised bed of earth, looking down at where they lay on the ground after having been thrown by the earth itself.

Though, the longer she stood, the clearer it became that she did not actually

see

them, per se, but rather followed their shuffling movements with some other kind of sense. With each shift, her feet turned just slightly as if following them. Curious.

“That really hurt my tailbone!” Iroh grumbled.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded. Her voice was rather whiny, reminding her of a certain Fire Nation prince, and held all the authority of the boy she had been travelling without.

“Who are

you

?” (y/n) countered, sitting up on the dusty path. Her hip was aching from taking the brunt of the fall.

“I asked first.”

“And you just attacked us.”

The girl glared in (y/n)’s general direction in a way that reminded her of a toddler having a tantrum. Quickly, however, she steeled her emotions to resemble an

adult

having a tantrum, despite being years off of being an adult.

“Who are you?” she repeated, fists clenched in front of her.

Iroh, with help from (y/n), stood and retrieved his pack. “Weary travellers,” he said, shirking the idea of learning each other’s names. “Would you care for some tea?”

(y/n) gave him a look - this girl had just

attacked

them, after all - before following his scrutinising gaze. Details she had not noticed before slowly came to fruition: the heavy bags beneath the girl’s eyes; the odd paleness of her face; the way her arms kept dipping in her defensive stance. She was evidently exhausted. More than.

The girl hesitated, cautious about accepting tea from strangers, but her exhaustion seemed to take precedence. The mound of earth she stood atop melted away until she stood on the flat path, at least a head shorter than (y/n). She seemed awfully younger when she wasn't towering over them.

Iroh smiled and began setting up a small fire to the side of the path, careful not to use his bending in front of an Earth Kingdom citizen, and propped his teapot on top of a hastily made stand. He sat cross-legged in front of it, shortly joined by (y/n).

It took a moment for the girl to fully decide what her course of action would be, but she eventually shuffled over and crouched low to the ground rather than sitting. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, keeping her aware of her surroundings.

The sight made (y/n) curious. How could somebody sense simply from feeling through the ground? It made slightly more sense - the girl was an earthbender, and a strong one at that - but it was something she had never heard of before. She wondered what her father would think. The questions he might’ve asked the girl. The curiosity that would've lit his face.

Iroh poured the freshly boiled tea into his cups, handing one to the girl.

“You seem a little too young to be travelling on your own,” he said, his voice soft.

“You seem a little too old to be travelling at all,” the girl retaliated, though all harsh edges had seeped from her voice. She took the cup from his hand.

Iroh laughed, cheeks flushing. “Perhaps I am. I am lucky to have a travel companion.”

The girl’s head tilted towards the ground. “I know what you’re thinking: I look like I can’t handle being by myself.”

“I don’t either of us were thinking that,” (y/n) said, sipping from her own cup of boiling tea. Mint, again, but she didn’t mind.

“I wasn’t allowed to pour my own cup of tea,” the girl grumbled.

“I poured your tea because I wanted to,” Iroh said, “and for no other reason.”

She shifted so that she was just slightly turned away from them, casting her face in a shadow that made it a little hard to see. “People see me and think I’m weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself by myself.”

Iroh’s smile retained, but there was a faint sheen over his eyes. “You sound like my nephew. Always thinking you need to do things on your own without anyone’s support. There is nothing wrong with letting people who love you help you. Not that

I

love you. Well, I just met you.”

The girl laughed softly, and (y/n) found herself liking the sound. Liking that she could see something except defensiveness and caution on her face. She twisted around again, facing them with her drooping eyes, but she had a small smile.

“So where’s your nephew?” she asked.

“We’ve been tracking him, actually,” Iroh said, heaving a breath.

“Is he lost?”

(y/n) took Iroh’s hand as he said, “Yes, a little bit. His life has recently changed, and he’s going through very difficult times. He’s trying to figure out who he is, and he went away.”

“So now you’re following him?”

“We know he doesn’t really want us around right now,” (y/n) said. She couldn’t help but think back to when he left, how she was certain that it was because of her. The fan he had given her suddenly felt heavier, as though imbued with the weight of her guilt. “But if he needs us, we’ll be there.”

She shouldn’t have believed the words as she spoke them, but she found that she did. It made her head hurt, swarmed with confusion. Her own brain couldn't even decide whether or not he was truly an enemy anymore.

“He’s very lucky,” said the girl. “Even if he doesn’t know it. Thank you.”

The girl stood, her smile growing slightly.

“My pleasure,” Iroh said, his smile returning. “Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights.”

“No, thank you for what you said. It helped me.”

“I’m glad.” Iroh’s hand squeezed (y/n)’s.

The girl slung her bag over her shoulder and made to leave, but paused, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh, and about your nephew… Maybe you should tell him that you need him, too.”

– –

Tu Zin was a small village west of the Xishaan Mountains, abandoned a decade or two before (y/n) and Iroh set foot in it, now.

The rickety houses loomed above them, absorbing the sounds of fighting in the centre of the village. As the breeze rocked through, the wooden foundations creaked and groaned. (y/n) did not want to stay longer than was required. She feared the tall buildings might collapse on top of them.

A trail of breadcrumbs had obviously not been sufficient enough for Zuko, who they had tracked to the village, seeing as many of the buildings were in the process of being swallowed by bright flames. He certainly had a flair for the dramatic. The smell of wood smoke filled the streets, clinging to their clothes as they neared the scene of the fight.

It seemed, unfortunately, that there were not three firebenders in the village. There were four. Azula was currently holding her own against the Avatar and his two friends, Katara and Sokka. Of all the people who could’ve been there, it

had

to be her. (y/n)'s heart felt like it had lodged in her throat.

Iroh sucked in a sudden breath and pointed forwards. A body lay on the street, moving slowly as if dazed, dressed in the same green garbs he had left them in.

Zuko was bleary-eyed when they reached him, trying to focus his gaze on something through his pain. His hair had grown a little more in their time apart, and (y/n) couldn't help but trace her eyes over his face, picking out the minute differences. The healed scar on his temple, the shadows beneath his cheekbones. He looked older. More careworn.

“Uncle,” he murmured, his glazed eyes catching theirs. “(y/n).”

“Get up,” Iroh instructed. His voice was urgent - Azula was only down the street, after all - but he still smiled when Zuko took his hand and pulled himself onto his feet.
  Zuko stumbled on his feet, slightly, rubbing the back of his head as he groaned, "How did you find me?"  "We followed a strange girl," (y/n) said. She didn't like that she found herself holding her hands out in case he stumbled again.
  As if on cue, the girl appeared from an alleyway and shifted the very ground beneath the princess's feet, knocking her off balance. Azula, though, did not let that faze her. She darted away, followed by the Avatar and his friends and the strange girl, careening down another alleyway. Their footfalls echoed through the empty village, and (y/n), Zuko, and Iroh followed the sound, slipping down a parallel alley.

It was Iroh who got the pleasure of catching Azula off guard, sending her stumbling on the street. She shuffled backwards, cornered against an old building by the Avatar and his friends, as well as the firebending trio. They all shifted into defensive stances, and (y/n) could feel the fire licking her fingertips, ready to be unleashed. She had not fought with fire in far too long. She had missed the feeling.

“Well, look at this,” Azula mused. “Enemies and traitors all working together. I’m done. I know when I’m beaten.” She raised her hands in surrender, face dark. “You got me. A princess surrenders with honour.”

(y/n) realised it too late, the look in Azula’s eyes: a mixture between a violent cornered animal, and a scheming princess. The way the princess’s eyes fixed on her, lethal as a tigerdillo. The fire came too quickly to comprehend.

The flames hit (y/n) across her chest and shoulder before she got the chance to move, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground. Her head slammed against the hard ground, and the breath was knocked out of her lungs. Pain unlike anything she had ever known encapsulated her, making her vision swell with darkness and her skin break out in a sweat. She couldn't tell if she was crying out in agony or not. Sounds were not registering in their entirety, replaced by a terrible ringing.

She barely registered the explosion that followed, even more heat shooting across her skin as her nose filled with smoke. Choked breaths filled her throat.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Her skin felt wrong. There were hands on her face; hands skirting around the central point of pain that filled her left shoulder and chest; hands lifting her head just slightly from the ground, pressing against the pain there. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted her parents.

The darkness came quickly, bringing with it a wonderful peace. There was no more pain.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Flow of Energy"
  “Why are you sending me away? I thought you loved me.”

(y/n)’s father looked down at her with watery eyes, trying his best to keep his composure, but she could see the way his hands shook just so. How he tried his hardest to steel himself for her.

Slowly, he knelt down, taking her hands in his. His hands were much larger, calloused from time and training, but so warm and familiar. She didn’t like to think that she wouldn’t be able to hold them for some unknown amount of time.

“You’re a very smart girl,” he told her, concealing the waver in his voice with a cough. He had never tried to hide his emotions from her, teaching her that emotions were no weakness, but he tried so, so hard now. “And your mother and I love you more than anything in this world. But, this is what’s best. You’ll be safer away from here.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, throat raw. “I’m always safe with you and Ma. Why can’t I stay?”

Jomuk Aoro was a formidable man to the rest of the Fire Nation, with his title deeming him the second most important man in the nation. With his broad shoulders, exceptional skills in firebending and sword fighting, and his vast amounts of knowledge on many topics, many regarded him as almost all-knowing, as invincible and indispensable. But, now, he seemed as small as a mouse.

“I always try to be honest with you, you know that?” He waited until she nodded before continuing. “There are people here that are close to finding out our family’s secret. Your

mother’s

secret. And, if they do find out, we couldn’t promise that you would be safe.”

“What?” It felt as though the breath had been sucked from her lungs. “I - I can’t leave. I have to protect Ma, with you. You’ve seen how well I fight. I’m ready!”

There was a heartbreaking smile on his lips as her father took her face in his hands. “You are wonderful in every way that I could imagine and more. You are my little spitfire. But those are the reasons you cannot stay.”

Streams of tears came rolling now, burning her cheeks, but her father brushed them away. “I don’t want to go.”

She was wrapped in her father’s arms so tightly, then, that she feared if he let go, she would break into a million little pieces and could never be put back together again. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent of warm homes and sandalwood, as she clutched at his robes. Though she tried, she couldn’t stop shaking.

"I have a mission for you,” he said quietly. “If you want to take it. It’s a big responsibility.”

Still, she did not want to leave, but she found herself nodding. If she were to go, she wanted a purpose. She wanted to make him proud.

“Prince Zuko has been sent on a hunt for the Avatar,” her father explained in a whisper, pulling back from the hug and placing his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were red. “If he is to find the Avatar, I need you to stop him from capturing him. This world can’t afford to wait even longer to be saved. Can you do that for me?”

It was a big ask - that much she knew even at thirteen. She wasn't sure how he expected her to prevent such a thing. But, even still, she stood a little straighter, pushing her shoulders back. She wiped her face free of any tears and nodded. For him, she could be brave.

“I’ll do it,” she promised. “As long as you protect Ma.”

They both knew that her mother was more than capable of protecting herself, but her father nodded, holding out a hand for her to grasp. She took it, and they shook in agreement. He pressed a soft kiss where their fingers interlocked. A promise.

“My little spitfire,” he murmured, brushing a hand over her hair. His hand rested at the back of her head, drawing their faces near until their foreheads touched. “We’ll meet again.”

– –

“(y/n),” a voice said. It sounded as though it was being filtered through water, but it was a voice she would recognise anywhere. It shook her awake.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinded by golden daylight. Above her was a rickety-looking ceiling, one she did not entirely trust to not collapse on top of her. Beneath it, Zuko, looking down at her with concern twisting his face rather than a scowl.

“You were unconscious,” he said quietly, careful not to speak too loud.

She was glad for it. Her head felt like it was being split open, and she feared that if he spoke too loud it would crack entirely.

It was a struggle as she tried to sit up. The skin around her chest and shoulder felt tight and raw, wrapped carefully with a bandage. If the horrible pain was anything to go by, she did not want to see the state of her skin beneath the bandages. She had never been particularly squeamish, but all notion of well-being would melt away whenever she looked at her own injuries.

“Azula did this to you,” Zuko continued. She was perhaps too aware of how his hands hovered nearby in case she fell. “It was a surprise attack.”

Her throat felt tender and tasted terribly like smoke when she said, “Somehow, that’s not so surprising. Where’s Iroh?”

“Over here.”

She blinked slowly, still trying to get used to the light, but eventually settled her gaze on Iroh, who was knelt beside a steaming teapot. He poured some of the liquid into a cup, passing it to Zuko, who then passed it to her.

The tea was slightly sweet but distinctively earthy. Not mint, like they had been drinking for a good while. Her throat already felt better for it.

“Red clover,” Iroh said. “Tasty, isn’t it? It helps with inflammation. I told you that you should drink more tea!”

He was more than happy to pour her some more.

“How do you feel?” Zuko asked, almost tentatively.

“Sore,” she said, trying not to move too much lest the bandages rub against the raw skin. Her left arm was shaky and weak from the damage done to the shoulder. “Very sore. What happened? After I got not-so-surprise attacked, I mean.”

Zuko sat back on his heels. His Earth Kingdom clothes looked crinkled from weeks of travel. With his rapidly growing dark hair and pale skin, the green suited him almost as much as red did.

“Azula escaped,” he said. It was then that a sliver of annoyance slipped onto his face and, though it had been nice to see anything else on his face, she liked the familiarity of the emotion. “She distracted us all when she - well, you know. I - We let the Avatar and his friends get away.”

“So, what now?” she asked. “Where do we go from here?”

Iroh’s easy expression shifted to something a little darker. “Azula must go down.”

She had never heard such certainty in his voice, and she wondered how much it pained him to say. Azula was as much his blood as Zuko was. There was a terrible cruelty in her, created and nurtured by a father of the same likeness, but she was still Iroh’s family. She was still Zuko’s little sister.

“I’m going to start more advanced training,” Zuko continued. “We just wanted to wait to make sure… Make sure that you’re alright.”

The care that had to come behind such a statement shocked her. She found herself staring at Zuko, then, half-confused, half-grateful. He had grown from the boy he was a few months ago. Back on their ship, he might not have even spared a moment for her if she were injured. Now, he was holding back on his training to make sure she was healing.

She sat a little straighter, biting back her pain. It had never stopped her before. “When do we start?”

– –

“Lightning is a pure expression of firebending - without aggression.”

Iroh spoke to (y/n) and Zuko from the other side of his makeshift teapot stand, hot steam rising from the spout and in front of his face. There was a grave look on his face, as though this was not something he had wished to teach and had no choice but to. She understood why: lightning was extremely dangerous.

“It is not fuelled by rage or emotion,” he continued, handing them each a cup of tea, “the way other firebending is. Some call lightning the ‘cold-blooded fire’. It is precise and deadly, like Azula. To perform the technique requires peace of mind.”

“I see,” said Zuko. “That’s why we’re drinking tea: to calm the mind.”

Iroh smiled, taking a long sip of his tea. “Yes, good point! I mean,

yes

. Now, come.”

He stood slowly, offering a hand for (y/n), which she accepted gratefully. She used her good arm to pull herself up, still not used to being on her feet. Though she was insistent on walking on her own, both of her companions hovered nearby, taking clear notice of her unsteady legs.

It was not something she needed to be embarrassed about, not really. She had saved Zuko from the brink of death once and now he was returning to favour, she just didn’t like to seem so weak.

She hadn’t felt so vulnerable since the day she had left the Fire Nation, emotions cracked open like a smashed teapot for everyone to see. Back then, she had barely been a teenager. Her whole life had been upheaved. This time, it was clear how close she’d been to

losing

that life. She hated the way the thought made her tremble, a tremble which was only hidden by the frailty of her body. Something she despised even more.

By the time they had reached the edge of the cliff Iroh had deemed worthy of training on, which was conveniently close to their shelter, she was struggling to hide how out of breath she was. Her arm and chest felt like they were on fire, alight with flames beyond her control. Every time she felt the scratchy rub of the bandages, she could see flashes of Azula’s blue fire in her peripheral vision, as if taken over by it once more.

She was sick of being scared of fire beyond her control.

“There is energy all around us,” Iroh explained. “The energy is both

yin

and

yang

- a positive energy and a negative energy. Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies.v This creates an imbalance - the energy wants to restore balance, and in the moment the positive and negative energy come crashing back together, you provide release and guidance, creating lightning.”

He gestured for (y/n) and Zuko to step back and shifted his weight into his feet evenly. His hands spread initially before he closed his fists, leaving two fingers pointing outwards, just as Azula always did. With a completely neutral face, he circled his arms.

Static energy filled the air, thick and heavy, seconds before the lightning came. It crackled from his extended fingers, casting his features in brilliant blue light. (y/n) could feel her hair growing static already. Iroh’s stance shifted, lunging in different directions, showing how the lightning followed his fingers before he struck his arm out, pointing the extended fingers towards a distant cliffside. The lightning shot from them, sparkling loudly, and crashed into the cliffside.

Zuko’s eyes were filled with what could only be described as hunger. “I’m ready to try it.”

“Remember,” said Iroh, “once you separate the energy, you do not command it. You are simply its humble guide. Breathe first.”

He did as asked. Zuko inhaled deeply before rooting himself firmly, taking on the same stance as Iroh had. His hands circled in the air as he breathed slowly, and when he struck his arm out -

An explosion. Not lightning, no. Plain old fire. It sent him tumbling backwards.

(y/n) offered her good hand and helped pull him back onto his feet. His clothes were smoking a little.

“Should I…?” She did feel a little bad for asking the question following Zuko’s failure, but there was a curiosity in Iroh’s gaze.

As far as she was aware, nobody outside the royal family had been able to summon lightning. She had never known it to be a skill of her father's. Part of her wanted to know if she could do it, too. It seemed that Iroh wanted to know as well.

“Do you think you’re healed enough to?” Zuko asked.

She had expected to hear some kind of indignant tone in his voice. It’s how he would’ve sounded mere months ago at the mere thought of somebody besting him in something, or at least having the potential to. But there was nothing but concern. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I think so.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she spread her feet shoulder-width apart. “We’ll see how I feel after this first try.”

It was an easy feat to reach a neutral mind with all the meditating she had done in the past. Her body felt lighter for it, allowing space for the lightning’s energy to pass through.

The sensation of sparks came first. It was as though her veins had been filled with electricity; as though lightning made her heart beat. The electricity felt as much a part of her as her fire, like a missing piece to the puzzle that made her up. It was exhilarating.

She felt the positive and negative energies flowing through her as she circled her arms in the air, fists clenched, pointer and middle fingers extended. They travelled from her pounding heart through her veins and arteries and capillaries, racing through her muscles and bones. The air crackled around her as the bright blue lightning flickered from her fingertips.

Her right arm pointed towards the cliff face Iroh had directed the lightning at, and her own lightning shot from her fingertips. The bolts fell short, a point she usually would have been irritated at, but the pure elation at having performed such a feat distracted from the fact altogether.

Iroh looked as pleased as she did and, despite his failure, Zuko looked at the point where the lightning had left her body with awe.

She had felt so powerful at that moment that the return of her pain was crippling. The ground seemed to rise up to meet her quicker than she could comprehend.

Arms looped beneath hers before she could hit the ground, lowering her slowly. She tried her best not to think too hard about the smell of warm fire clinging to clothes or exactly

who

had caught her when she hadn’t even realised she was falling.

“I think -” Her throat felt dry. Because of the lightning, surely. “I don’t think I’m going to try that again for a little while.”

Iroh nodded, watching her carefully. He was still evidently very happy at their revelation, but concern had deepened the lines of his face. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between her and the reason she hadn't ended up with a worsened concussion.

“I want to try again,” Zuko declared.

And so he did. Again and again and again. Each attempt produced the same result: an explosion that was most definitely

not

lightning. With each failure, Zuko grew more and more frustrated, his scowl deepening and his anger building.

(y/n) hated how a part of her had missed this anger.

“Why can’t I do it?” he grumbled. “Instead of lightning, it keeps exploding in my face! Like everything always does.”

She had to admit that she felt bad for him. That she felt guilty for being able to even successfully attempt the skill. What had happened to the (y/n) who would have been secretly smug about it, as she had been on their ship when sparring with him? But he was trying, spirits he was

really

trying, and it made her feel terrible. She hated it.

“I was afraid this might happen,” Iroh murmured. He had taken to sitting beside her, making sure she was feeling alright. “You will not be able to master lightning until you have dealt with the turmoil inside you.”

“

What

turmoil?” Zuko demanded. His tone indicated the presence of that very turmoil.

Iroh stood, eyes soft and understanding. “Zuko, you must let go of your feelings of shame if you want your anger to go away.”

“But I don’t feel any shame at all,” Zuko said. “I’m as proud as ever.”

"Prince Zuko, pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source.” Iroh stepped closer to his nephew. “True humility is the only antidote to shame.”

Zuko turned away. “Well, my life has been nothing

but

humbling lately.”

(y/n) wondered what had happened in their weeks apart to make him feel such a way. She wondered if he would ever tell her. If she would ever ask.

“I have another idea,” Iroh said. “I will teach you a firebending move that even Azula doesn’t know, because

I

made it up myself.”

When Zuko turned, then, (y/n) was struck by the look on his face; an almost boyish excitement. She supposed it was partly because of an inherent sibling rivalry, one she knew most, if not all, siblings shared. She wouldn’t know, but she had a feeling that the mere thought of knowing something that Azula

didn’t

was not only a major advantage for him, but also a point for him in a familial rivalry.

Like a teacher, Iroh had them both sit on the ground as he grabbed a thin branch, almost like a staff, to draw his little diagrams with. (y/n) felt a childish excitement herself, mirroring Zuko’s. She had enjoyed most of her lessons at the Royal Fire Academy, bar a few, and she loved it when Iroh shared his infinite amounts of wisdom. Combining the two felt nice. Familiar. Like being at home.

He began drawing the Fire Nation symbol in the dirt before them. “Fire is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want.

The stick moved, and he drew the Earth Kingdom symbol. “Earth is the element of substance. The people of the Earth Kingdom are diverse and strong. They are persistent and enduring.”

That, (y/n) could agree with.

Next was the Air Nomads’ symbol. “Air is the element of freedom. The air nomads detached themselves from worldly concerns and found peace and freedom. Also, they apparently had pretty good senses of humour!”

Iroh’s grin indicated that he wanted Zuko to laugh. His nephew did not, so he finally drew the symbol of the Water Tribes. “Water is the element of change. The people of the Water Tribe are capable of adapting to many things. They have a deep sense of community and love that holds them together through anything.”

Zuko’s voice was soft, lacking his previous frustration. It was curious. “Why are you telling us these things?”

“It is important to draw wisdom from different places,” Iroh said. “If we take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale. Understanding others, the other elements, and the other nations will help you become whole.”

(y/n) understood. It was something her father had encouraged all her life, and well before. His very position was rooted on such a belief. Her
family
was built on it. She understood this better than anything else.

“All this four elements talk is sounding like Avatar stuff,” Zuko said.

“It is the combination of the four elements in one person that makes the Avatar so powerful. But it can make

you

more powerful, too.” Iroh lightly prodded Zuko’s chest with his stick lovingly. “You see, the technique I am about to teach you is one I learned by studying the waterbenders.”

He had them stand and take on a more light-footed position than they had assumed before. Slowly, he took them through the movements required for the technique; the flowing arms and gentle shifting of weight that many waterbenders used for their more elegant techniques.

“Waterbenders deal with the flow of energy,” Iroh said. “A waterbender lets their defence become their offence, turning their opponent’s energy against them. I learned a way to do this with lightning.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. “You can teach us to redirect lightning?”

(y/n) thought back to months ago during the journey on their ship. How, during a storm, Iroh had redirected the lightning from the sky, saving the lives of many on the metal ship. Such a skill was incredible. To learn it made her almost tremble with excitement. If only her father could see her now.

“If you let the energy in your own body flow,” Iroh said, “the lightning will follow it.” He held his arms upwards, two fingers extended once again, and dragged one down the length of the other before pointing it at his stomach. “You must create a pathway from your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, then down into your stomach. The stomach is the source of energy in your body. It is called the Sea of

Chi

. Only in my case, it is more like a vast ocean!”

He laughed, but it did not draw the same reaction from Zuko. His nephew was far too focused on the task at hand.

Iroh took his stance again, one hand still pointed at his stomach. “From the stomach, you direct it up again and out the other arm.” His arm moved from in front of his stomach so that it pointed in the opposite direction to his other arm. “The stomach detour is critical. You must not let the lightning pass through your heart, or the damage could be deadly. You may wish to try a physical motion to get a feel for the pathway’s flow, like this.”

He slowly took the two of them through the movements for the skill, watching them both very carefully to ensure they fully understood. (y/n) could not enact it in its entirety with the state of her shoulder, so he thankfully let her off by practising with a lower redirection arm.

“Now,” he said, “are you focusing your energy? Can you feel your own

chi

flowing in, down, up, and out?”

She could, and it was incredible. It felt like her body had awakened, somehow, as though springtime were taking its course in her body and alighting it with her

chi

. Judging from the look on Zuko’s face, he felt much the same.

They practised the stance as the sun began its descent in the sky, walking through it very slowly. It was not a skill to be rushed. One wrong move in a real-life situation and the effects could be fatal.

“Excellent,” Iroh murmured. “You’ve both got it.”

Zuko grinned. It was strange seeing such pride -

deserved

pride - on his face. “Great. I’m ready to try it with real lightning.”

(y/n) most certainly was not, that much they all knew, but Iroh did not look at all persuaded by his nephew’s confidence.

“What?” he said. “Are you crazy? Lightning is very dangerous.”

“I thought that was the point,” Zuko insisted. “You teaching us how to protect ourselves from it.”

Iroh looked terribly concerned. “Yes, but I’m not going to shoot lightning at you!”

(y/n) pursed her lips. “For the record, I won’t either.”

“If you’re lucky,” Iroh continued, “you will never have to use this technique at all.”

Zuko’s scowl made its inevitable return. “Well,” he said as thunder rolled in the distance, “if you won’t help me, I’ll find my own lightning.”

Iroh, though he looked like he wanted to, did not stop Zuko as he strode over to their shelter, swung onto sweet Bo Ban’s back and took off, riding towards the sound of thunder. A trail of dust and sand was left in his wake. He did not look back.

He did not return for the rest of the night. Not as a storm flooded the sky, drawing over their temporary, rickety shelter. Not as Iroh paced and paced relentlessly.

"Reckless nephew of mine," he uttered, watching the darkening sky with worried eyes. "Reckless."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Reflex"
  “How are you feeling?”

“About as well as I did five minutes ago.”

“The bandages aren’t too tight, are they? We can stop so you can change them if you need to. We’re due making camp, anyway.”

(y/n) felt like she was going to tear her hair out. She appreciated Zuko’s concern, truly she did, but it was becoming frustrating now. It felt as though he was asking the same questions every two minutes and, really, it was driving her insane. She almost missed the Zuko who didn’t care. Almost.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Let’s stop.”

Zuko tugged on Bo Ban’s reins, pulling the ostrich-horse to a stop. Iroh slid off Bo Ban’s back first, hovering close as (y/n) swung off herself. As Zuko dismounted, she reached into the pack strapped to the creature’s side, pulling out fresh bandages. She did have to admit that the current ones were chafing a little bit. Her skin had started to blister over the last few days after Azula’s attack, and she had a feeling some of them had popped. That would make for a fun sight.

They had stopped in the middle of a short, narrow canyon, lined with flourishing bushes and flowering cacti. Trees lined the pathways on either side of the canyon, blooming in thick forests, though the plant life was slowly growing sparser. They were nearing the Si Wong Desert.

“I’ll be over there,” she told them, pointing to a gathering of bushes off to the side.

It took her longer than she would have liked to replace the bandages. After peeling off the old one, she found herself sitting on the ground for a few minutes, letting her skin breathe. Though the air was warm and dry, there was an underlying layer of cool within it and it felt incredible on her shoulder.

A few days ago on their journey, they’d stopped off in a small village, and she’d used some of her dwindling money to buy a small jar of honey. She remembered her mother telling her it was good for burns.

Now, she smoothed some of the sticky honey on the raw skin, fingers learning the way her skin had begun to twist to accommodate the wound. She wondered if Zuko had ever done anything like this for his burn.

She hadn’t meant to glance back at him. But, still, her eyes found him, pacing beside Bo Ban as Iroh twittered about spirits-knew-what. She caught glimpses of the burn as he twisted around with each completion of his short tracks in each direction. Did the burn still hurt? Would hers hurt forever, too? A muscle in his cheek, within the scar, twitched as if aware of her gaze.

She turned away as soon as Zuko caught her eyes through the bushes.

The bandage was what caused the most struggle. It was hard trying to wrap it with only one good arm, looping it loosely around her shoulder and across her chest. She tied it off and pulled the sleeve of her tunic back over the bandage, trying her best not to irritate the skin beneath.

Iroh was about to build a fire for his tea when she emerged from the bushes, and he smiled brightly at her. All teeth and cheeks, and she found a little smile curving her lips. The old man’s happiness was contagious.

She was about to ask if they were sure about making camp right there in the middle of the canyon - they were exposed on almost every side -  when Bo Ban grew nervous. He shifted on his feet, making a worried hooting sound. (y/n) patted his neck, trying to soothe him, but he was restless. He threw his head, the whites of his eyes bright with fear.

Iroh groaned. “What now?”

There was a distant rumbling that slowly grew louder and louder, nearer and nearer. Zuko fell into a defensive stance, and (y/n) gripped Bo Ban’s reins, worried he would spook and dart off.

When the rumbling reached its peak, five rhinos leapt down from the pathways lining the forest above the canyon, cracking the ground beneath their feet. They snorted viciously, puffing rancid breath in their faces.

The riders were perhaps worse: five burly men, all dressed rather differently. One had gold hoops in his ears, nose, and looped around the dangling hair of his moustache and beard. Another had a thick, dark beard and even thicker eyebrows, a spear clutched in his hands. An archer sat on one of the quieter rhinos, deadly in his silence. Another of the men had decided that wearing a shirt was too restrictive, apparently, and bared his chest as he swung his long, dark braid over his shoulder. The final was dressed head-to-toe in armour, with his entire face covered.

Iroh stepped forward, a placating smile on his face as he placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Colonel Mongke, what a pleasant surprise!”

The man with all the gold hoops narrowed his eyes. “If you’re surprised we’re here, then the Dragon of the West has lost a few steps.”

He clashed his metal vambraces together, golden sparks crackling from the contact, hands clenched in preparation to blast flames. The man with the spear hefted his weapon as the archer knocked a fire-tipped arrow. The half-naked man swung a nasty-looking mace-ended chain.

“You

know

these guys?” Zuko asked.

“Sure,” said Iroh. “Colonel Mongke and the Rough Rhinos are legendary. Each one is a different kind of weapon specialist. They are also a very capable singing group.”

Colonel Mongke clenched his fists and pointed them at the three of them. “We’re not here to give a concert! We’re here to apprehend fugitives.”

“Would you like some tea first?” Iroh asked. “I’d

love

some. How about you, Kachi? I make you as a jasmine man. Am I right?”

Bushy Eyebrows -

Kachi

- did not reply.

“Enough stalling,” Colonel Mongke snarled. “Round them up!”

Braid Man struck first. He directed his chain at Iroh’s back, but Iroh was too quick. He spun around, kicking the end of the weapon away. The chain wrapped around the legs of one of the rhinos.

Fire rained down on them, and they dodged and rolled with speed they had trained for years to acquire. Iroh slammed his hand down on the rump of the rhino whose legs had been wrapped in the chain, and it leapt away, dragging Braid Man with him.

Bushy Eyebrows bore down on (y/n). She leapt out of the way of his vicious rhino, using her momentum to leap up on the beast’s back. He spun his spear expertly, jabbing it at her, and she only just dodged it, slowed by her injury.

But her mind worked faster than her body. From her belt, she drew the fan Zuko had gifted her. She flipped it open, sweeping it in front of his face. He blinked rapidly, eyes watery and temporarily unfocused from the quick breeze that assaulted them. While he was blinded, she flipped the fan closed again, jabbing the end of it into his temple. His eyes fluttered shut and he slipped off his beast’s back.

The archer launched a volley of arrows at her, glaring as his companion thumped on the ground. She leapt out of their way just as a blade of fire cut through the shafts, stopping them short. Zuko, standing a few feet away, launched another dart of fire, this time towards the archer. It cut through the wood of the bow, snapping the string and rendering the archer useless.

Iroh was battling with Colonel Mongke, redirecting his volley of fire. Zuko darted over, leaping onto the rhino’s back and knocking Mongke off of its back.

(y/n) hurried over to Bo Ban, swinging up onto the ostrich-horse’s back.

The final adversary, Armoured Man, bore down on Iroh. (y/n) urged Bo Ban forward, leaning down as he ran, and grasped Iroh’s hand, pulling him onto Bo Ban’s back. Armoured Man bounded after them on his rhino.

Bo Ban ran well under pressure. He darted forward, and as they passed Mongke’s rhino, Zuko leapt onto his back, grasping his uncle’s shoulders. Armoured Man launched a bomb over their heads, and it crashed into the ground before them, exploding in a cloud of flame and thick smoke.

Fear filled (y/n)’s heart for a mere moment at the thought of being burned again. No more.

They split the fire as they charged through it, crossing through the smoke at rapid speed.

“It’s nice to see old friends,” Iroh mused.

Zuko scoffed. “Too bad you don’t have any old friends that don’t want to attack you.”

“Hmm… Old friends that don’t want to attack me?”

(y/n) was urged to keep Bo Ban riding forward, taking them into the Si Wong Desert. The ground grew harder, the sun impossibly hotter. She slowed Bo Ban down, taking her fan out again to get some cool air under his feathers. He was already being worked too hard taking the three of them on his back, she didn’t want him overheating, too.

Iroh directed them towards a small village with houses made of sandstone.

The Misty Palms Oasis

, read the sign at the gates. Instead of doors, each building had curtains framing the entryways so as to allow some cooler air through. Very few people were outside when they tied Bo Ban in some shade, instead being very, very smart and staying inside where it was cooler.

(y/n), Zuko and Iroh soon joined them, drenched in sweat.

There was a small tavern near where they tied Bo Ban, and Iroh led them in. (y/n) hoped that he did not intend on just

drinking

there.

“No one here is going to help us,” Zuko grumbled as he slipped his hat on. “These people just look like filthy wanderers.”

(y/n) adjusted a headscarf she’d acquired on their way in. “So do we.”

Iroh’s eyes lit up as he looked over her shoulder. “This is interesting. I think I’ve found our friend.”

She and Zuko turned to follow his gaze, finding a man sitting alone at a Pai Sho table. He took a delicate sip of his drink.

“You brought us here to gamble on Pai Sho?” demanded Zuko.

“I don’t think this is a gamble.”

Iroh trudged his way over to the table, and (y/n) and Zuko had no choice but to follow, though they shared a rather confused look. Iroh often did not make things simple.

“May I have this game?” he asked as they neared.

The man sitting at the table was perhaps as old as Iroh, though his skin was darker and more aged due to exposure to harsher sun. His hands were tucked in the loose sleeves of his robes.

His smile was gentle. “The guest has the first move.”

Iroh sat and immediately placed down his lotus tile.

“I see you favour the White Lotus Gambit,” said the man. “Not many still cling to the ancient ways.”

Iroh’s smile mirrored the man’s. “Those who do can always find a friend.”

“Then let us play.”

The two began, placing down each of their tiles at a speed that hurt (y/n)’s head. Every time she had played Pai Sho, she’d had to think long and hard about where to place her tiles. Iroh and the man were breezing through it. Zuko drew a chair to watch intently.

She remembered, once, when Iroh mentioned that Zuko had enjoyed playing Pai Sho as a child. Did he understand the way their moves were being played? Or was he as confused as she was? A crease formed between his brows as he watched, the corner of his mouth twitching.

When the final tile was placed, the pieces resembled the shape of a lotus flower. The man’s smile grew slightly. “Welcome, brother. The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets.”

Zuko glanced at (y/n), frowning, before saying, “What are you old gasbags talking about?”

“I always tried to tell you that Pai Sho is more than just a game,” Iroh said.

He looked as though he would say more, but footsteps stormed over in their direction as a gruff voice shouted, “It’s over!”

They looked over their shoulders, finding yet another burly man storming over towards them. It was an Earth Kingdom man, this time, though he favoured outfits like Braid Man from the Rough Rhinos, with his muscular chest and arms bared for all to see. His long, dark hair was awfully silky. Perhaps, if he was not looking at them like he wanted to

eat

them, she would have asked him what he used to get his hair like that.

There was a second man just behind him, this one dressed more like a scholar. His dark hair was tied up in a tight bun. He looked as though he had seen a ghost, far too nervous to do anything but stare, wide-eyed.

“You three fugitives are coming with me,” the first man declared.

The Pai Sho man hurried in front of them. “I knew it! You three are wanted criminals with a

giant

bounty on your heads!”

Zuko scowled at his uncle as the three of them rushed to stand. “I thought you said he would help!”

“He is,” Iroh said. “Just watch.”

"You think you’re going to capture them and collect

all

that

gold

?” Pai Sho man asked loudly.

Too

loudly.

The other patrons of the tavern suddenly perked up in attention. All eyes were over in their direction now. (y/n)’s heart pounded. She’d taken on many enemies at once, before, but she wasn’t sure the three of them could take on a tavern’s worth. Her hands itched to hold her daggers or the fan.

Many of the patrons stood, surrounding the two men who had stormed over.

The frailer of the two trembled. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t…”

As a fight broke out, with the two men revealing themselves as earthbenders, the Pai Sho man led the three of them out of the tavern. Through the windows, (y/n) could see rocks being hurled at the patrons or the patrons themselves leaping to tackle the two men.

The sky had grown dark outside, and there were millions upon millions of stars dotted around. Many of the small houses were dim, with people having gone to sleep or not being home. The noise from the tavern seemed to echo.

They were led to a house on the outskirts of the village. It didn’t seem like much from the outside, but the inside was filled with plants, plants, and more plants. Some were potted regularly, some in hanging baskets. Sweet, floral scents seemed to swirl around them as soon as they’d set foot inside.

“It is an honour to welcome such a high-ranking member of the Order of the White Lotus,” said Pai Sho man. He bowed his head in respect. “Being a Grandmaster, you must know so many secrets.”

Zuko was still scowling. “Now that you’ve played Pai Sho, are you going to do some flower arranging? Or is someone in this club going to offer some

real

help?”

They were led further into the house until they reached a thick wooden door. There was a slot carved halfway up.

Iroh was smiling happily. “You must forgive my nephew. He is not an initiate and has little appreciation for the cryptic arts.”

The man only smiled. He knocked twice on the door, and a slat moved, revealing a gap in the carved slot. A man’s face appeared, with only enough space to see his eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Who knocks at the guarded gate?”

“One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries,” said Iroh.

The door opened, and Iroh and the man stepped inside. Before (y/n) or Zuko could follow, it slammed shut. Iroh’s face became visible through the slat.

“I’m afraid it’s members only,” he said. “Wait out here.”

Then the slat slipped shut.

Zuko crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, evidently unhappy with the circumstances. He definitely didn’t like not being fully informed about things.

(y/n) played with the leaves of one of the plants. She had to admit that she was not overly fond of the silence, of the thick uncomfortable questions that hung in the air. What was going on? What did it mean, that Iroh was a

Grandmaster

?

How

was he a Grandmaster? She supposed they were questions that would soon be answered, she just didn’t like the silence that came with wondering.

“Eventful day,” she uttered, desperate to fill the quiet.

Zuko made a sound that was a mix between a scoff and a laugh. It was a sound she was familiar with, one she found that she had missed in their time apart. She didn’t like that she’d missed it.

“I particularly liked almost getting impaled by a spear on top of a rhino,” she added. “Really got the adrenaline going.”

She felt Zuko’s eyes on her, then, even though she wasn’t looking. They burned against her skin, two pinpricks on her cheek that watched carefully. Somehow, it didn’t make her uncomfortable.

“You used the fan as a weapon.”

A statement. Full of wonder and confusion.

“You did say once that I looked at fans like they were a weapon.”

When she looked at Zuko, he was shaking his head. “You didn’t use that fan as if you’d never fought with one before. You’ve been

trained

for that. When? How?”

Her throat felt a little dry. They were tiptoeing on precarious ground, now, following the edge of a cliff that she did not want to topple down. She thought of her mother’s hands, guiding each practised blow when she had first begun her training. The pride in those jade eyes when she learned to fight by herself. Eyes and hands and a heart she could not risk losing.

“My father’s position allows him to draw on other cultures,” she said. “He informs your father of different things that the different nations do, to discuss with him how they can further the Fire Nation. It was his thinking that I could learn the different fighting styles, as well as the cultures. Educational reasons. Curiosity, really.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, not really. Her father himself loved learning the martial arts of the other nations, favouring the style of the Air Nomads to the extent that he incorporated their movements into her firebending training. But she was careful not to mention her mother’s involvement, her insistence on using the fan. If her father’s words before she had left all those years ago were true, it was not something she could risk slipping; the meaning it held within their family.

Zuko was quiet for a moment. “You fought well with it. You must have had a good master.”

She wondered if he caught the sadness in her smile. “I did. Thank you, by the way. For the fan. I never got a chance to thank you for it.”

He looked away, and it might have been a trick of the light, but she was sure his ears flushed pink. Perhaps he had been hoping she wouldn’t have the chance to thank him, seeing his reaction. It was unlike him, to not want acknowledgement for something he had done.

“Thank you for saving me back there, too,” she continued. “The arrows.”

“You would’ve dodged them,” Zuko said. He still wasn’t looking at her. “It was just a reflex.”

Reflex to stop them. Reflex to save her. Was it as much a reflex as using her fans was?

Her face felt warm. “Thank you, anyway.”

They didn’t speak again until Iroh emerged from the heavy door, but she didn’t mind this time. This time, it was a more comfortable silence. One she found herself not necessarily

enjoying

, but more than tolerating. It was a little nice.

The sun slowly rose outside, golden light filtering through the gaps in the front door. The gold matched Zuko’s eyes.

When Iroh did appear, he was still smiling. “Everything is taken care of,” he told them as Pai Sho man came to stand beside him. “We’re heading to Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko looked ready to tear his hair out. “

Ba Sing Se

? Why would we go to the Earth Kingdom capital?”

“The city is filled with refugees,” said Pai Sho man. “No one will notice three more.”

“We can hide in plain sight there,” Iroh added. “And it’s the safest place in the world from the Fire Nation.

I

couldn't even break through to the city.”

A man hurried through the front door. “I have the passports for our guests, but there are two men out on the street looking for them.”

They peered through the slat in the front door. The two men from the tavern, the burly one and the nervous one, stormed through the streets, holding

wanted

posters with their faces on. Zuko uttered something under his breath about them not picking a particularly good image of him.

“We have a way to get you out,” said Pai Sho man. “I hope you don’t mind enclosed spaces.”

(y/n) did not. Or, she

hadn’t.

Being shut in a large plant pot with a fake plant over her head did not make her overly fond of shutting herself in a tight space again.

The man who brought the passports was dealt the unlucky fate of transporting the three heavy pots out of town on nothing but a rolling platform. She was glad it was him and not her, though.

He did not stop until they were out of the village. One by one, he plucked the fake plants out of the top of the pots and helped them out of their hiding spots. With trembling arms, he handed them their fake passports.

“Good luck,” he told them. Then he was gone.

(y/n) stared down at the passport in her hand, then into the distance. Ba Sing Se meant hiding their identities even more than they had been. Ba Sing Se meant danger at every turn.

Ba Sing Se meant peace, really. They could hide there. She could contact her parents, let them know she was safe. They wouldn’t have to keep moving. She could heal without fear of crawling out of a bush, wound exposed, every time danger came along.

She found herself smiling, despite her worry.

To Ba Sing Se.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Freedom Fighters"
  It was a long, arduous process boarding the refugee ferry.

They’d arrived at Full Moon Bay Ferry Station in good time, despite having had to leave Bo Ban back at Misty Palms Oasis - much to (y/n)’s dismay - only to find what had to have been thousands of refugees waiting for the same outcome as them. For over a week, they slept on the hard ground, gradually moving further and further into the station as more people were permitted onto the boats. They ate the last of their food, then had to resort to the rotting rations provided by the stone-faced staff. When they finally reached the ticket stand, it felt rather underwhelming.

(y/n) did not like to disrespect her elders - unless they were particularly grating - but the ticketmaster was an old

bat

. She sat for a solid five minutes, scanning her eyes over their passports and questioning them -

(y/n)

- relentlessly. From what she’d seen, the ticketmaster treated others similarly, but not so drastically.

There was a prejudice against those from the southernmost parts of the Earth Kingdom, a passerby told them after their tickets were approved. (y/n) had the southern look.

Ba Sing Se was slowly opening its gates to host refugees, with so many villages being taken over or destroyed by the Fire Nation, but there was a northern bias. The northerners clicked their tongues at southerners, pushed in front of them in queues. The South was lost, they claimed. They did not need a place in Ba Sing Se.

It enraged (y/n) to see, but she couldn’t show her anger. Anger would give Zuko the incentive to start putting puzzle pieces together. She couldn’t afford for him to do that, even if they were outlaws.

Securing a spot on their ferry was perhaps the hardest part. Only a certain number of people were allowed on each boat and, for a terrifying moment, (y/n) was almost separated from Zuko and Iroh and placed on the next ferry until somebody who had already boarded got too cocky, telling their friend how they had faked documents. They were swiftly removed, and (y/n) was pushed onboard.

“They really don’t seem to like you,” uttered Zuko. He stayed close to her side, lest something like that happen again. She couldn’t tell if she liked the comforting feeling his proximity gave her or not. “Everyone here seems to think you’re a southerner.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I have evidently been cursed with amazing cheekbones.”

It was the cheekbones, that was what Song had told her weeks ago. The comment made Zuko huff out a laugh, but Iroh only eyed her warily. He had once let on that he knew more than she would’ve liked him to. She could only wonder what it made him think now.

A few more hours passed before the ferry set sail. Hours spent bobbing on the water, waiting in anticipation to move forward. Hours spent nibbling at half-rotten food and stale bread, dipped in soup that was somehow flavourless yet also disgusting. Hours spent listening to screaming infants and groaning elderly, and picking at the skin around nail beds and -

“Who would’ve thought,” Iroh said, interrupting (y/n)’s thoughts, “that after all these years, I would return to the site of my greatest failure as a tourist?”

He laughed in a way that tried to encourage her and Zuko to laugh, too, but there was a glint in his eyes -

knowing

. Her fingers stung from the weight of his gaze, and she pressed her hands onto the ship’s railing. The scent of blood was fresh. She wiped the weeping wounds on the underside of her tunic before returning her hands to the railing.

The boat lurched forward, and the ferry took to the sea.

Zuko scowled. The familiarity of it was soothing. “Look around. We’re not tourists. We’re refugees.” He took a sip of their horrible soup but spat it straight back out. “Ugh! I’m sick of eating rotten food, sleeping in the dirt. I’m tired of living like this.”

She was half-tempted to tell him that it was because of

his

father, the very man he so eagerly tried to please just months ago, that they were in this situation.

But a voice stopped her. “Aren’t we all?”

It was a smooth voice, dripped in honey and charm. When (y/n) turned, she found that it perfectly matched the boy from whom it came.

He was the same age as she and Zuko, though about a head taller than she was, with dark, shaggy hair and piercing hazel eyes. His warm ochre skin almost glowed in the setting sunlight. He leaned against one of the posts holding up a makeshift ceiling, arms crossed over a bright red jumper, as he chewed a stalk of wheat. Completely at ease, completely at odds with what (y/n) felt.

“My name’s Jet,” he announced as he stepped forward. A charismatic smile curved his lips as he gestured behind him. “And these are my Freedom Fighters, Smellerbee and Longshot.”

Two more people stepped forward: a young girl with short, brown hair and two red streaks painted on each cheek, and a tall, slender boy. They nodded in acknowledgement but left the speaking to Jet.

“Hello,” Zuko muttered. He kept his back to the trio.

(y/n) turned around as Jet took another step forward, watching him carefully. One could never be too wary, especially not when someone had two hooked swords strapped to their back. Her hands instinctively curled around the hilt of the dagger hanging from her belt. The other grew cold against her skin, tucked inside her boot, and the weight of her fan kept her steady, rooted.

“Here’s the deal,” Jet said. “I hear the captain’s eating like a king while all of us refugees have to feed off his scraps. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“What sort of king is he eating like?” Iroh asked.

Jet’s frown somehow managed to also look charming. “The fat, happy kind. You want to help us liberate some food?”

(y/n) looked over at Zuko, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation, but he glared down at his soup. After a moment, he picked up the bowl and threw it into the ocean before turning to face Jet.

“I’m in,” he declared.

Sharing a look with Iroh over Zuko’s shoulder, (y/n) pursed her lips. “Me too.”

– –

Night came quickly when planning to “liberate” food.

Darkness slipped over the ship like a blanket, moonlight casting a pale silver column on the deck. As refugees settled themselves below decks or wrapped themselves in threadbare blankets above, the group snuck across the creaking boards, careful to stay out of any light or the view of the patrolling guards.

Smellerbee and Longshot were prepared for such a mission, dressed head-to-toe in black. Longshot parted from the group, taking his place a ways down the deck, ready to help them make their escape. He was always silent, they had discovered, but had chosen not to speak as opposed to not being able to. Jet and Smellerbee had learned to understand what he was saying simply through facial expressions and body language. Somehow, they knew that the slightest raise of his left brow and a twitch in his nose meant good luck.

Jet led them up the stairs towards the kitchen, which was placed in a much nicer area of the ship than most of the poor, sick refugees stuffed in the underbelly of the ferry. Once a guard passed by, he ushered them up the steps. Smellerbee took her post off to the side, keeping watch for any other guards or the captain.

The curved blade of one of Jet’s swords jammed into the kitchen’s locked door, prying it open. He gave the room a once-over before slipping inside, followed by Zuko and (y/n).

He had been right. The captain was eating like a king.

Half a dozen cooked chicken carcasses hung from the ceiling, filling the room with a heavenly smell of meat and spices. Bowls of sticky rice lay waiting beside more bowls, filled with boiled lobster-crab and roasted duck and all sorts of vegetables. There were mixing bowls filled with spiced lettuce leaves, lotus root, thinly sliced strips of carrot, and hard-boiled eggs that had been crumbled over the top. Judging from the smell, they were platypus-bear eggs. Expensive platypus-bear eggs.

This ship was captained by a horrifically greedy man. If he were in the room, (y/n) would've tried to wring his neck.

Jet sliced down the chickens, catching them in a navy cloth sack that he slung over his shoulder. Zuko flipped the bowls of sticky rice over the assorted foods in the bowls beside them, stacking them on top of one another before tying them together. (y/n) swept the salad into a larger bowl that had a bamboo-like cover attached over the top and slipped it into her bag, along with two more. They stuffed as many empty bowls and plates as they could fit into their bags.

Out of spite, she swept a bottle of what smelled like lychees and looked also rather expensive.

There was a pleased smile on Jet’s lips just as Smellerbee called out, “Guards coming!”

The three of them swept out of the room. Upon seeing them from his position, Longshot knocked an arrow and, with what they had been told was a never-failing aim, loosed it. It lodged itself in the wood of the railing that lined the upper deck, with a rope connected to the sturdy shaft. One by one, they zipped the bags of food down the rope before going themselves, nimbly landing on deck.

(y/n) didn’t want to admit it, but she loved the thrill stealing the food had given her. It made her heart thump with adrenaline, perhaps from the realisation that they could’ve been caught but

hadn’t

been. Perhaps it was because she knew they were doing good.

She and Jet handed out portioned meals to all of those awake at such a late hour, and yet

still

had enough for their group. The greed of the captain was sickening.

“You’re a natural at this,” he told her. “You’ve got the makings of a freedom fighter.”

He meant it as a compliment - she did not take it as one. In no way did she agree with what the Fire Nation did and she wanted nothing more than to encourage those oppressed to fight for their liberty, but she’d heard of what the freedom fighters did. They destroyed dams that flooded Fire Nation-occupied villages, even when Earth Kingdom citizens still resided there. They created bombs using blasting jelly, exploding Fire Nation bases in the middle of Earth  Kingdom cities. Casualties were beginning to pile up. There was no way she could support the loss of innocent lives.

She handed a small girl a bowl of sticky rice, delighting in the way her tired eyes lit up. “I just want to help people.”

The conversation did not continue, because she did not let it. She knew what he would be thinking; that she could help people by helping their cause. But she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t feel like arguing tonight.

The final portion of the food was set amid their group, and it felt a little like a picnic. Iroh sitting on a blanket, smiling in the firelight. Smellerbee and Longshot thwacking each other’s hands trying to get the crunchiest bits of chicken. Zuko beside her, passing her his bowl of sticky rice and vegetables when he saw her looking for a portion. Sweet lychee juice that tasted like home.

It didn’t compare to the picnics she’d had with her parents as a child, but almost.

“So, Smellerbee,” Iroh said. “That’s an unusual name for a young man.”

Smellerbee scowled, dropping her piece of chicken back into the bowl. “Maybe it’s because I’m not a man. I’m a

girl

.”

“Oh, now I see!” Iroh said, but it was too late. Smellerbee stormed off. “It’s a beautiful name for a lovely girl!”

Longshot followed after her. They kept their distance from the group, but it seemed that Smellerbee benefitted from Longshot’s presence. He didn’t utter a single word, and yet her confidence swelled back up. She muttered some things to him, a small smile returning as she deciphered the clues on his face. The two stayed where they were, rather than returning for a little while.

“From what I heard,” Jet said, drawing their attention from the duo, “people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se. I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.”

Iroh smiled. “It is a magnificent sight.”

“So you’ve been there before?”

“Once,” said Iroh. His demeanour shifted into something more subdued. His time in Ba Sing Se constituted to a very dark part of his life. “When I was a different man.”

Jet smiled empathetically. “I’ve done some things in my past that I’m not proud of. But that’s why I’m going to Ba Sing Se; for a new beginning. A second chance.”

“That’s very noble of you.” Iroh’s eyes slid over to his nephew, though Zuko did not notice. “I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

When (y/n) glanced over at Zuko - at the rapidly growing hair and the green Earth Kingdom clothes; the absence of scowl lines between his brows and the bowl that rested on her lap, bearing no reminder of his touch - she could only purse her lips.

She believed, too.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Lower Ring"
  “So… Mister Lee, Mister Mushi, and Miss

Iva

.” The ticketmaster scowled in (y/n)’s direction. Her mossy green eyes scrutinised every detail of her face, and she could feel her cheeks burning. “Where exactly are you

from

, Miss Iva?”

(y/n) could feel her throat closing up with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Saishi,” she forced out, trying not to sound rude. “Same as my companions. It’s south of -”

“

I

know where it is,” the ticketmaster snapped. Her wrinkles seemed to deepen the longer she scowled as if becoming set in stone. “Do

you

?”

Before she could snap back at the mere thought of her faking a passport because she looked like a southerner - of course, she

had

faked a passport, but the ticketmaster didn’t need to know that - Iroh placed a gentle hand on her wrist and smiled charmingly at their horrendous witch of a ticketmaster. How somebody like her could be hired in a place like a monorail station at the front and centre of customer service was beyond any form of knowledge that existed.

“May I just say,” he began, leaning up against the desk, “you’re like a flower in bloom. Your beauty’s intoxicating.”

The ticketmaster blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mm, you’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself, handsome.”

She winked at him and made a horrifying purring sound. (y/n) and Zuko shared a look of mutual disgust.

“Welcome to Ba Sing Se,” the ticketmaster said, stamping their tickets. Her lovestruck smile faded as (y/n) passed.

“I’m going to forget I saw that,” Zuko grumbled as they walked away.

(y/n) agreed, but she managed a small smile in Iroh’s direction. “Thank you.”

If she’d known ahead of time that travelling in Ba Sing Se would have been such a hassle for her in particular, she might not have bothered. She would have cut her hair again and found some kind of disguise so that she could live with her aunt on Kyoshi Island. Spirits, she even would have taken the desert over this.

She didn’t miss the scowls from the northerners as they passed where she sat, waiting for their train to arrive. The muttered insults. They made her heart burn with a hatred she had never felt for the Earth Kingdom before.

All she’d ever been able to feel for it before was love; adoration. She had studied the culture thoroughly, had visited the towns and villages and eaten their food. She had danced with other children when she was young and had rolled around in the mud with them.

Now, it seemed they thought they were too good for the mud. They’d rather she fell in it.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked. Apparently, she hadn’t hid her expression well enough.

“Fine,” she muttered.

Her lie was as easy to pick apart as a ripe mandarin. She could feel Zuko’s gaze on her as she pointedly stared ahead, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. Not the passing bodies, not the dust and leaves that floated in the faint breeze. She feared that if she focused on anything, she’d combust with rage.

It was a rage not just felt towards the prejudiced northerners. She felt sick with the realisation that she was angry with her

parents

. They had spoon-fed her beliefs about the Earth Kingdom, that they were all kind people simply mistreated and abused by the Fire Nation. They would not be so cruel to their own - or whom they assumed to be their own.

When one spat at her feet, it was a conscious effort not to move.

She had never felt such fury for her parents. Everything they had told her, she believed wholeheartedly. Maybe that made her naive. Maybe she was just a girl who thought her parents would never lie to her.

Zuko made to move, to demand something of the culprit, but she grasped his wrist almost numbly. Her rage was solidifying, losing its horrible, jagged edges.

He looked at her incredulously, struck with the disbelief that she wouldn’t do anything about it. But she couldn’t. He could afford to feel that rage, but she could not. It risked everything.

“They treat most of us southerners like that,” a voice said.

(y/n) looked to her left, where somebody had slid next to her on the padded bench. Shaggy hair and hazel eyes caught her attention first, followed by an empathetic smile that had an infuriating undertone of ever-present smugness.

“Hello, Jet,” she murmured.

He leaned back against the column their bench ran across, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to take it, you know? I’m fairly certain you could handle your own against them.”

She was acutely aware of Zuko beside her, eyeing Jet from his periphery. His crossed arms pressed tightly against his chest, his elbow just nudging (y/n)’s arm. Whether it was purposeful or not, letting her know he was there, she appreciated it.

“I’m not going to start a fight over it,” she said.

“They start fights against us all the time,” he argued. “It’s no different.”

She hated that there was an

us

. That he not only gave Zuko a platform to get his foot on, to realise things about her that he should never come close to knowing, but that he also thought of the two of them as one and the same. Never did she want to be associated with cruelty, especially against innocents. It was all she ever had been associated with any time she wore her Fire Nation armour or tied up a topknot. The very blood that ran through her veins associated her with that cruelty, that violence. She did not want such a comparison to the Freedom Fighters.

“It’s very different.”

Jet looked like he wanted to go on, but Iroh jolting forward caught their attention. For a moment, she worried he was going to be sick, but then she saw the look in his eyes.

Then she saw the cart.

“Get your hot tea here!” called the man pushing the cart. A few teapots sat steaming on the top, surrounded by different herbal blends and cups. “Hottest tea in Ba Sing Se!”

Iroh’s hand shot up in the air with such speed she feared his wrist would snap. The man hobbled over gleefully, more than happy to pour the jasmine tea Iroh had requested. There was a discount for refugees, they were told. Iroh got the tea for half the price he should’ve.

The tea, apparently, wasn’t even worth the halved price. He spat it straight back out, coughing and spluttering.

“Coldest tea in Ba Sing Se is more like it!” he grumbled. “What a disgrace.”

Jet leaned forward slightly beside (y/n), eyes sliding from her to Zuko. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Zuko’s gaze found (y/n)’s, almost asking her if he should go. She just wanted to get rid of Jet, so she nodded. She needed time to simmer, and Zuko being right beside her did not give her the space she needed.

Heaving a sigh, Zuko followed Jet a few feet away.

Iroh glared down at his tea, but his eyes softened when he looked at (y/n). “

Are

you okay?” he implored. “Be truthful.”

She gritted her teeth. “No.”

“Will you tell me why?”

He knew exactly why, but he wanted to know deeper into the reason. He wanted her to tell him about how deep the insults thrown at her ran; how each passing glare made her skin feel inherently wrong, as though she were somehow more than even an imposter; how she

did

relate to Jet; how she was so full of anger and hurt that she wanted Iroh and Zuko to continue on without her, to leave her to wallow in the hatred she was receiving.

Worse, she was beginning to realise that part of her wanted Zuko to know the truth - the truth of why each barb stung so badly. Part of it was simply for ease. She wouldn’t need to hide things that were irrevocably important to her as a person. Part of it was because she just

wanted

to.

She hated it. She hated it more than perhaps the insults from the northerners.

When she glanced over at him, half a dozen feet away speaking with Jet, she traced the lines of his face that she had learned at some point to recognise in the dark. The sleek bridge of his nose and the royal set of his eyebrows. The indignant clench of his jaw and the way his hair spiked up, too short to do anything but stand.

Jet said something that must have confused and irritated Zuko because his brows twitched downwards and his mouth curled. She knew that expression better, perhaps, than she now knew her own parents.

Zuko’s head turned when Jet kept speaking, and his eyes found hers, startlingly gold in the torchlight of the station. They held one another’s gazes for mere moments before Zuko turned back to Jet and shook his head. Jet said something more, the way his mouth twisted insinuating he was trying to convince Zuko to do something, but Zuko scowled in that endearing way of his and stormed back over to (y/n) and Iroh.

There was a sudden warmth towards (y/n)’s left, and when she glanced over, she almost thought nothing of Iroh’s steaming cup of tea.

Then it dawned on her.

Steaming

.

Her gaze slipped back over to Jet, who had not moved since speaking to Zuko. He was also looking at the cup, brows lowered as he glared in their direction. He had not noticed (y/n)’s watchful gaze, but she noticed the way his features settled into something more neutral. This was not the moment he would react.

She dreaded the moment he would.

“What are you doing, firebending your tea?” Zuko demanded, his voice dropped low to a whisper. He knocked the cup from his uncle’s hands. “For a wise old man, that was a pretty stupid move.”

Iroh’s face fell. “I know you’re not supposed to cry over spilt tea, but it’s just so sad…”

Their train arrived shortly, manned by earthbenders who pushed it along the tracks. There was a bit of a bustle to get on, but the three of them managed to secure a trio of seats beside one of the windows. (y/n) squeezed herself closest to the end of the row, farther away from the other people. Zuko slipped down beside her.

“What did Jet want?” she asked as the train lurched forward.

Zuko looked out of the window, but his eyes briefly caught hers first. “He wanted me to join his Freedom Fighters.”

“And you said no?”

She knew he had, and she supposed she thought she knew the reason. He was still of the Fire Nation, born and bred to oppress. The Freedom Fighters aimed to take out those in the Fire Nation, oppressing them the way they did others and even killing them. Zuko was loyal to his people to the bone. He would never support such a cause.

But the look in his eyes indicated something more. Something he wasn’t going to share.

“I said no,” he simply clarified.

(y/n) watched as they finally passed through the end of the station, the beautiful sunset blooming before them across hills and fields. Ploughed fields and pastures filled with livestock passed far below them, alight like emeralds. Trees swayed in the breeze. The sprawling city of Ba Sing Se slowly became visible, white houses and markets glowing in the fading sunlight. It was beautiful.

No matter how hard she could try, though, it would never make for a peaceful life for her.

“He asked me, too,” she murmured. “Back on the ferry.”

Zuko’s gaze burned against her cheek. She couldn’t look. “And you said no?”

“I said no.”

– –

The Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se was stricken with poverty.

By the end of their first day in Ba Sing Se, it became evidently clear how little it cared for the refugees.

The streets stunk of rotting food and overpopulation, and walking against the current of the crowd was essentially a death sentence. Iroh almost got caught in the crowd, swept away by the pottering footsteps, until he managed to slither off to the side. They had to take the long way back to their tiny, designated apartment.

The flat itself was in better condition than the rest of what they had seen of the Lower Ring, but (y/n) was acutely aware of the cloying smell of mildew and damp near her bedroll.

To its credit, however, the Lower Ring had plenty of jobs to offer. With all of the market stalls, everybody was practically begging for staff to keep up with the sheer amount of customers. Food was sold cheap, meaning it was terrifically more popular than the cafes and restaurants set up by Middle Ring citizens who had bought cheap Lower Ring buildings for the sake of quick business.

With some convincing, Iroh managed to grab the three of them jobs at a small tea shop.

It was a flimsy-looking building, made of rickety wood that (y/n) was not convinced wasn’t rotting in places, but it perfectly reflected the man who ran it. He looked equally as flimsy, as though a single breath from the wrong angle could teeter him off balance. He gave them slightly stained aprons to wear and insisted that (y/n) tie her hair back. Hygienic reasons, he said.

There was not much in the way of hygiene in the Lower Ring.

“You certainly look like official tea servers,” said Pao, the owner. “How do you feel?”

“Ridiculous,” Zuko grumbled.

Iroh was struggling to tie his behind his back. “Uh, does this possibly come in a larger size?”

Pao smiled simply. “I have extra string in the back. Have some tea while you wait.”

He poured the three of them cups of steaming tea that, remarkably, smelled almost like nothing. Pao disappeared into the back of the shop just as they sipped the drinks. Iroh spat it back out immediately.

“This - This is nothing more than hot leaf juice!” he stammered.

“Uncle,” said Zuko, “that’s what

all

tea is.”

Iroh looked like his nephew had declared war on him. “How could a member of my own family say something so horrible?” He swept the teapot off the table and stormed over to the window. “We’ll have to make some major changes around here.”

Then, he threw the rest of the tea out of the window. He certainly had a knack for the dramatic, much like his nephew.

The remainder of the day was spent training. Pao showed them the ropes: pouring the tea, serving the tea, greeting the customers. All as if they had no common sense and had no idea how tea worked. Supposedly, many believed refugees had no brains.

Their walk back to their measly flat was silent. Zuko had been vocal all day about how much he didn’t want to work at a tea shop, but it seemed he was too tired to complain. As soon as they stepped inside, he threw himself on his bedroll and groaned.

“Would you like some tea?” Iroh asked.

Zuko groaned again. “We’ve been working in a tea shop all day. I’m sick of tea.”

"Sick of tea?” Iroh sounded scandalised. “That’s like being sick of breathing!”

(y/n) buried her face into her pillow to reduce the horrible smell of mould. “I’ll have some tea, please. Just not anything with ginger. I’m sick of the smell.”

There was a moment where all she could hear was the faint clattering of Iroh looking for something before he asked, “Have either of you seen our spark rocks to heat up the water?”

“In the drawer?” (y/n) suggested. Her voice was muffled.

Iroh’s footsteps passed her after a moment, and he disappeared through their front door. Seconds later he had returned.

“I borrowed our neighbour’s,” he said. “Such kind people.”

Over the next few days, business began to grow at the Pao Family Tea House. Iroh made significant changes to the tea, altering the measurements of certain ingredients and brewing them for longer, as well as introducing some new flavour combinations that (y/n) never would have even considered.

Within minutes of opening, every chair was filled once word had spread about the increased quality. The prices were low, allowing those even worse off than the rest to afford even one cup of tea. Warmth seeping into the bones made a difference. Iroh also knew of tea blends that made you feel a little more full - they had relied on it for a little while when travelling.

(y/n) thought she would dread working so closely with people, terrified that their identities would somehow be discovered, but she found herself liking it. More often than not, the customers were pleasant. She learned the regulars’ names, and they learned hers. What little money they had, they would use to tip her for her service.

She supposed it was her father’s blood. He worked incredibly with people, even ones he was actively trying to work against. He could converse with strangers as though they had been friends for years. (y/n) had never known how he had done it.

She was still angry at her parents - furious, really, at the way they had allowed her to believe in some perfect dream of the Earth Kingdom - but found herself glad to have a part of her father so prevalent in herself. It made living there a little more bearable.

Zuko, on the other hand, did not seem to enjoy the job so much. She couldn’t blame him, really. With every tea he served, he received stares in return - stares at his scar, which twitched when under such scrutiny. But nobody was judging the scar, no, they were sympathising.

The poor refugee boy

, they would mutter to their companions. Look how t

he Fire Nation has hurt him.

She had found that Zuko did not appreciate that sympathy. It made him feel weak. It made him feel vulnerable.

It made him realise how truly horrific it was what his father had done to him.

Iroh smiled as he poured tea for a patron. “Red tea,” he told them. “It helps with your heart health - you’ll live a long, happy life!”

“This is the best tea in the city,” the man said after draining his cup.

“The secret ingredient,” said Iroh, “is love.”

Zuko scoffed from beside (y/n), placing a few cups on his tray. She swore she could hear him mumble,

Hot leaf juice

, as he lifted the teapot.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang. All eyes fell on the doorway, where a familiar figure sauntered in.

Jet was glaring as he stepped inside, chewing on a stalk of wheat. “I’m tired of waiting,” he announced. He jabbed a finger in (y/n), Zuko, and Iroh’s direction. “Those three are firebenders!”

In mere seconds, he drew his hooked swords, brandishing the blades in the middle of the shop. Patrons stumbled backwards to avoid the gleaming, sharp metal. (y/n)’s heart lurched as she shared a look with Zuko, who had drawn closer to her side. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists.

“I saw the old man heating his tea,” Jet said. The anger she had seen on his face at the monorail station flooded back tenfold.

A few of the patrons huffed a laugh. “He works in a tea shop.”

“They’re firebenders, I’m telling you!”

The patron who spoke, a man possibly in his late twenties, scowled. “Drop your swords, boy. Nice and easy.”

Jet clashed his swords together, ignoring the man entirely. The metal blades hummed. “You’ll have to defend yourselves. Then everyone will know.”

Did he think firebenders only fought with fire? The thought almost made (y/n) laugh.

Almost

. She was too busy worrying about the civilians. Freedom Fighters had a knack for destroying things, including lives.

“Go ahead,” Jet goaded. “Show them what you can do.”

It was Zuko who stepped forward. As he passed one of the patrons, he slipped their broadswords from their sheath.

“You want a show? I’ll give you a show.”

He pulled the broadswords apart, wielding them dual. It was strange seeing the weapons in his hands - she had not seen him fight with broadswords in far too long.

Zuko made the first move. Using his foot, he dragged one of the smaller tables towards him before kicking it at Jet, who sliced through the wood with his gleaming swords. He leapt at Zuko, who nimbly parried away. Zuko leapt up onto a table before jumping back down, arcing his blades towards Jet.

They carried on in their agile dance, dodging and parrying and attacking. Jet was a skilled fighter, more skilled than most, because the fight lasted much longer than any others she’d seen Zuko fight in.

Their attacks led them out of the tea shop doors, and though Pao tried his hardest to keep his customers’ attention, many were far too preoccupied with watching the battle. (y/n) found herself too preoccupied, too.

She watched the way Zuko’s attacks landed, sparking against Jet’s swords, how each placement of his foot was careful and calculated. He fought with the intelligence of a master and, in comparison, Jet looked like he was flailing. He wanted Zuko to use his fire, so he was resorting to more desperate attacks. He was overextended on his left side. He hesitated when going forward on his right knee. All weaknesses she was sure Zuko had picked up.

“Please, son, you’re confused!” Iroh pleaded. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

But they kept on. Jet pushed them further and further down the street, where more civilians gathered to watch. He just barely managed to dodge a sweeping attack from Zuko.

“See that?” he called. “The Fire Nation is trying to silence me! It’ll never happen.”

The crowd began to part as a couple of men neared, dressed in elaborate green-and-gold robes. Their faces were stern, hard as stone, and their hands were tucked in the sleeves of their robes. Just looking at them made (y/n) feel uneasy.

Law enforcement of some kind, she figured.

“Drop your weapons!” the first man ordered.

Zuko, to his credit, did and stepped back. Jet, on the other hand, kept his weapons in hand, glaring at them.

“Arrest them!” he ordered. “They’re firebenders.”

“He’s confused,” (y/n) said. Her throat felt dry. “We’re just refugees.”

At the ferry station and the monorail, things had not seemed to be on her side. But, now, having the ‘southern look’ worked to her advantage. She held Iroh’s arm, plastering on a wide-eyed look she had learned when trying to plead her father for something as a child. A look, he had told her, that made her look the spitting image of her mother.

Pao stepped forward. “This young man wrecked my tea shop and assaulted my employees!”

“It’s true, sir,” said one of the patrons. “We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city.”

Iroh placed a hand on his chest. “Oh, that’s very sweet.”

The two men stepped forward. The shadows on their faces seemed to give them an otherworldly look. “Come with us, son,” said the second man.

Jet tried to swipe at them with his blades, but one of the men caught the sword in his hand. It clanked loudly, metal against stone. The men were wearing strangely fashioned gloves made of rock. They wrenched the blades from Jet’s hands, apprehending him quickly. Rock formed around his wrists, locking them in place.

Earthbending law enforcement.

“You don’t understand!” Jet shouted. “They’re Fire Nation! You have to believe me.”

His voice faded as he was dragged away until they could hear him no more.

(y/n) felt an inkling of guilt. Jet was right. They

were

Fire Nation. They

were

firebenders. But she was half-glad he was being taken away. She had a feeling not only the three of them would be safer without him around.

When it came to the Freedom Fighters, everybody was fair game.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Primrose"
  The Lower Ring was becoming familiar, but it would never be anything more for (y/n).

She stared out of the windows of the apartment she shared with her companions, watching the bustling crowds below with a detachment in her chest. Iroh was settling in perfectly, and even Zuko seemed to be doing better than she was, but it was as though the city itself didn’t agree with her.

The people were all like-minded; refugees looking for a new place to call home and, yet, she could not have felt more unlike them. (y/n) wondered how many of these people she had forced out of their homes during Zuko’s hunt for the Avatar when she’d had to pick which towns to place on the chopping block. How many were from Kyoshi, Zenoru, or Win Yu? How many homes had been burned to the ground because she had chosen their town over another?

She didn’t know if Zuko felt the guilt that she did, but she knew for certain that he didn’t feel the rejection. Had she really hoped to feel accepted by Ba Sing Se, especially after their experiences at the ferry and train stations? She felt stupid.

Since arriving, she’d had word from her parents, though this scroll had not been delivered by her hawk, much to her chagrin. She would have liked to have seen Sabre amongst all the hardship she felt. She would’ve liked to feel some semblance of home in a city that seemed determined to shun her.

It was merely to keep her up-to-date with the current happenings of the Fire Nation, detailing the hunt Azula had now set for the Avatar with her two friends, Mai and Ty Lee. She was told to stay safe, wherever she was. She was asked to let them know where she was so her father’s contacts could reach her and keep her safe.

Her father must have written the message quickly, nervously, because the shape of some of his vowels looked a little wobbly, unlike how he usually wrote them. She understood entirely - they were playing a dangerous game simply communicating. He could not afford for Fire Lord Ozai to know that they were still in contact, that her father had not disowned her, just as she could not allow Zuko to know. Zuko may have been betrayed by his family, but there was still the high possibility that he would turn on her should he know the truth.

As she watched the people pass, she found that she did not want him to turn on her. She liked having him by her side.

It was a horrible realisation, she had decided. They may not have been chasing the Avatar anymore, but her concealed betrayal would wound him, just as his loyalty to the Fire Nation would wound her. She had grown far too used to him to want to shirk him now, despite his scowls and grumbles.

“(y/n)!” Iroh’s voice called, drawing her attention from the window. “Will you try this tea for me? I must have a second opinion. Zuko won’t taste it.”

Zuko scoffed. “I’m

sick

of tea, Uncle.”

She managed a smile as she turned, sunlight from the window warm on her back. The tea tasted as wonderful as it smelled, fruity and warm and sweet. It tasted like the biscuits her mother would make for her birthday, filled with the lychees she would purchase from Earth Kingdom markets on their diplomatic missions.

“This is your best yet,” she told him.

“I’m going to suggest to Pao we start selling this, too,” Iroh said. “Lychees are very good for you. The people here need the best they can get.”

He packed away his bits and bobs before giving them a grin and disappearing out of the front door, instructing them to have a good day off. Apparently, he loved their job at the tea shop so much that he never wanted a day off for himself, which (y/n) was sure couldn’t have been legal from a business perspective, but Pao was more than happy to not have to pay extra staff to come in. There had been one day earlier in the week that Iroh had insisted he be off. (y/n) had seen the portrait of his son sticking out of his bag when he'd left the apartment. He had come back home unusually quiet.

(y/n) and Zuko’s days off didn’t usually line up, so it was strange sitting alone with him in the apartment. Not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it felt as though there was so much to be said that it filled the very air around them, compressing them.

What

was

uncomfortable was her urge to tell him the truth of things. When had they developed such camaraderie that she wanted to spill her guts to him?

“I need to go out to the market today,” she said, leaning back against the countertop. There was a warm spot where Iroh had set his teapot. “You’re welcome to come along if you want. I’m just going to be getting boring stuff, though.”

Zuko, who had been sitting on his bedroll the entire time, was quiet for a moment when he looked up at her. “You

want

to go out in those crowds? Willingly?”

“Unless you want to starve. Someone’s got to go.”

Really, she just wanted out of the apartment. On top of the oppressive air, she just wanted out because of the cloying stench of mildew and mould. It was going to drive her mad if she had to smell it for another hour. Her day off should not be spent under such terrible scents.

She half expected Zuko to decline the offer, but he followed her out the door.

It was understandable why Zuko was so shocked that she wanted to walk the streets of the Lower Ring. As soon as they reached the exit of their complex, they were just about swept away by the crowds, torn from their feet. (y/n) reached over a hobbling man’s shoulders and grabbed Zuko’s sleeve, tugging him over in her direction.

The marketplace was even worse. Although prices of food were steadily increasing, it was still relatively cheap and, therefore, extremely popular amongst the newer refugees who had no money as well as the residents who had been there much longer and also had no money. (y/n) was careful to keep a tight grip on her money, lest somebody steal it. Up ahead, she saw a few dirty-cheeked children slipping their hands in pockets and purses before scrabbling away with their winnings.

“We won’t be long,” she said to Zuko over the noise. “We just need to get some basics.”

His eyes kept dancing between the bustling crowd and the place where her hand gripped his sleeve with pink cheeks as though he couldn’t believe she had done such a thing. She was overcome with sudden embarrassment, knowing that in most circumstances it was something Zuko would never allow, and then she was annoyed at being embarrassed by such a thing. She was an Aoro. She would do as she liked. When had they ever

truly

listened to royalty?

She dragged him over to the first vegetable stall they could find that wasn’t overflowing with people. Upon inspecting the abundant supply of bok choy, cabbage, choy sum, and all sorts, she found that the reason for the lack of customers was that many of the vegetables had rotted. The vendor told her that they were half the original price.

They did not return to that stall.

“How do they live like this?” Zuko grumbled. “It’s disgusting.”

The anger (y/n) felt then sparked like a match in the cavity of her chest. “They have no choice. The Fire Nation has driven them to this. People will do anything when they’re hungry and desperate.”

Such was proven when, up ahead, two men got into a fistfight over a loaf of bread. They started off trying to tear it out of the other’s hands, throwing punches and kicking like children, before one managed to wrench it from the hands of the other. He held the bread in two hands and brought it down on his opponent’s head. Seemingly, the bread was stale enough to daze the man while the other ran off.

Zuko was tense as they continued on. He saw how mothers, cradling crying babies to their chests, nimbly swept food from stalls as they passed and how nobody would reprimand them for it. He saw the old and the young at odds with each other, trying to claim who needed what more. He saw the sick dragging themselves through the streets, desperate for medicine that, while cheap and likely from the black market, was still too expensive.

It was him that dragged (y/n) into an alleyway, rather than the other way around.

He was glaring out at the crowd, and his chest was heaving. His fists clenched as (y/n) removed her hand from his sleeve, cramping from staying in the same position for too long.

“This isn’t what the Fire Nation does,” he insisted. He sounded breathless. “This is because the Earth Kingdom is weak.”

(y/n) gritted her teeth, but she had to keep her cool. “These people are here

because

of the Fire Nation. I know you believe we’re doing good, but there are flaws in everything. When you burn their homes down, where do you think they go?”

She hated that there was a

we

when it came to the Fire Nation. If she could, she would have torn herself from the very association. She did not want any part in their goal of ruling the world, and yet she had. No matter how hard she tried, it was not something she could escape. Some of these people - these mothers, fathers; those on their deathbeds; the squealing babies and pickpocketing children - were there because of her.

A muscle in Zuko’s jaw twitched as he watched the bustle. His breathing was hard and heavy,

angry

. Was he really angry at the people who had no part in their circumstances?

“Look,” she said. “I need you to pull yourself together. I just came out to get some food so I can cook for us, right? I can see the exact stalls I need from here. If you can manage ten minutes, we’ll get back to the apartment and then you can be angry, but you

can’t

be angry here.”

It didn’t seem as though he had heard her, like she was talking to a brick wall. She looked around, trying to think of anything that would get his attention off of his anger, because his anger could very well be their doom, but nothing.

Dust from the crumbling buildings around them landed in his hair, making it look as though he had used some strange concoction to lighten the strands. She didn't like the thought of standing between buildings that could topple on top of them.

Before she could second-guess herself, she reached up and ruffled the dust from his hair, sending a cloud of it down in front of their faces. Zuko jerked at the touch, shocked by it, and swung his gaze around, looking for some kind of attacker. He soon realised it was only her, her hand covered in the dust. They coughed when the dust reached their noses.

“Good,” she said. “I have your attention.”

His breathing had slowed and the anger had slipped from his face, replaced only by wide-eyed shock. He was staring at her hand as though it had formed a mouth and cursed at him.

“We’ll be here ten minutes,” she reiterated. “Then, when we go home you can be angry. You can be angry at the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation or me. Spirits, you could be mad at whatever you like, but

not here

. If you’re angry here, it’ll make you a target. People will think you’re easy bait. Of all people, we don’t need

you

being easy bait. Got it?”

Never did she think she would be ordering a prince around, but she found herself rather liking it. She liked it more when Zuko nodded in agreement.

“You seem to know a lot about how thieves work in Ba SIng Se,” he noted. She couldn’t tell if he was insinuating that she worked as one or not.

She shook her head. “I know people.”

Perhaps she had not known the cruelty that lay behind some of those in the Earth Kingdom before, but now she knew that some of the feelings expressed by Fire Nation citizens were reflected here, too. She knew what desperate people did. She knew that it was easy to take from somebody distracted with fury. She’d seen people locked up for the actions caused by instances such as this.

“Stay close to me,” she said. She remembered, once, when she and her father had been forced to travel through a rougher area of the Fire Nation years and years ago. More than anything, she remembered his words. “Whatever pocket your money is in, do

not

touch it to check the money’s still there. People will know exactly what you have to lose and where to get it.”

She wasn’t sure how much Zuko had known about her before, but he had not expected her to have such knowledge.

Once more, she took a firm grip of Zuko’s sleeve or, at least, had meant to. Her fingers latched around the skin of his wrist, and she could have sworn she felt sparks in her fingertips. The move had already been made, and it was too late now to let go and grab his sleeve instead. Her cheeks were burning.

Zuko didn’t jerk away from her touch this time. No, somehow, he let her drag him along to the stands she had spotted. His skin was awfully warm. Her fingers were cold.

Vendors chatted as she picked out the items she needed, trying to upsell other things and failing, rather miserably. When they realised that she would not be buying anything more than exactly what she needed, they weren’t as interested in her anymore. Upon realising she would not be convinced, they moved on to pester Zuko, who huffed and puffed and rolled his eyes like an indignant teenager. She supposed he was.

One vendor, however, was relentless.

He was younger than the rest of the vendors, closer in age to she and Zuko, likely covering the stand for an older family member or coworker, but he spoke as though he had ran it for years. His stall was filled with all sorts: vegetables and fruit; blooming flowers that smelled incredible; coils of ribbon and folded pieces of fabric that (y/n) could not decipher the true quality of. When she plucked a lotus root bulb from his stand, his green eyes lit up, trying to draw her attention to other items for sale.

“No, it’s alright,” she told him as he tried to convince her to buy a selection of other root vegetables for the price of two cabbages. The price, funnily enough, was no different. He was just banking on her not being able to count. “Thank you, but I

really

don’t need any taro root. Or radishes. Or any of those things, really.”

The vendor slapped on his best toothy smile and gestured over to the far end of the stall, where an older woman sat, meticulously arranging the display of flowers. He slipped a flower from the woman’s hand, earning a noise of disdain, and held it out in front of her. Its petals were ruffled and delicate, such a bright white that it almost hurt her eyes in the midst of so many colours that filled the market.

“White carnation,” the vendor said. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl. Look, you can have this flower for free! As long as you purchase some of our delicious apples.”

He tried to slip the green stalk over her ear, but she pulled her head back and plucked the flower from his grasp. She set it on top of his display before fishing out her money and placing it in his hand. She could have sworn she heard Zuko snort. The sound alone shocked her, but she didn't look.

“No, thank you,” she said, hardening her voice slightly. Some people were just far too pushy. “I prefer primroses, anyways.”

Then, she shoved her purchases into her woven bag, grabbed Zuko once more and stormed off.

They returned to their apartment in simmering silence.

– –

The Tea Shop was busy beyond knowledge.

(y/n) felt rushed off her feet, taking orders and relaying them back to Iroh, who was making the tea, and Zuko, who was serving it. Pao, somehow, had managed to squeeze more seating inside, so not only were there a dozen new customers, but there was also barely any room to walk. It didn’t look like any of them would be getting a break today.

Well, except for Pao, of course. He was always in the back, doing ‘paperwork’. Sleeping was the correct terminology.

“Another red tea for the regulars in the corner, please. Oh, and could we get five more of the new lychee and rose teas for that end table, as well. Thanks, Iroh.”

She smoothed down the wrinkles in her apron, steadying her breathing - some of the new customers were

not

as personable as the regulars - and felt a lump in her apron pocket.

Frowning, she reached inside. She always tried to keep her apron clean, pocket empty, except for the in-between periods where she stuffed a cloth inside in her rush to clean up, but now was not one of those times. Iroh gave her a sideways glance, boasting a glimmer in his eyes that meant he knew something she didn't.

She latched her fingers around something flimsy, trying to guess what it was before she even pulled it from her pocket. It didn’t matter. Nothing she had guessed matched up to the delicate off-white petals and their yellow centres and their jagged-ended stalks that indicated they had been picked rather than cut.

Six primroses.

Her breath caught in her throat and it felt as though her heart had skipped a few beats.

Primroses

. She looked up, eyes searching for the answer to the question she couldn’t ask.

Zuko was passing out a few cups of steaming tea, but it was as though his subconscious could feel her gaze. He looked up, gold eyes finding hers in an instant. They darted down, looking at the flowers she clutched in her hand, before finding her eyes again. There was a moment where neither of them moved, and it felt like the world around them had ceased to move, as well. It was just (y/n), Zuko, and the primroses. After a few seconds, he tore his eyes away again, the tips of his ears pink as he finished handing out teacups.

She could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. She could have sworn she felt the makings of one on hers.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Hunger"
  “Those three look expensive.”

(y/n) gestured over to the other side of the room. Zuko’s gaze followed, landing on the three men sitting towards the entrance of the tea shop. One was wearing bright white-and-green robes that were so pristine it became evident that he was not a resident of the Lower Ring, whereas the other two, while still dressed resplendently, were likely his servants. The first man’s fingers glittered with gemstone rings.

“Middle or Upper?” Zuko asked, stacking dirty cups on a tray to move to the side.

“Oh, Upper, no doubt,” (y/n) said. “Have you seen how clean their clothes are? You only wear white if you’ve got enough money to pay someone to clean white clothes for you.”

Zuko huffed a laugh but didn’t say anything. Both of them knew that policy well, though they’d rarely worn white back in the Fire Nation. One particular instance when they had worn the shade, well, it was never an event that anyone really wanted to remember. Funerals brought the mood down exponentially.

Her eyes automatically drifted to Iroh, who she hoped would not need to wear white again for a very long time.

It was Iroh who served the three men, which was probably for the best. Zuko did not have the best customer service. (y/n) had what felt like a million dishes to attend to. Iroh was much more well-oriented with the flavours of tea they served - he had created them, after all - and had the benefit of being a smiley older man on his side.

“So

you’re

the genius behind this incredible brew!”

The men began to stand as Iroh shuffled away. The one in the middle, who was probably a member of nobility or something similar, was smiling as if he had just won himself a large sum of money.

“The whole city is buzzing about you,” he said. “I hope Pao pays you well.”

“Good tea is its own reward,” Iroh said happily.

Zuko scoffed next to (y/n), but it didn’t stop them from listening intently. Zuko was practically leaning over the tray he was now stacking with filled teacups to listen.

The man smiled, showing off pearly white teeth. “But it doesn’t have to be the

only

reward. How would you like to have your own tea shop?”

Iroh’s eyes lit up in a way (y/n) had rarely seen. “My own tea shop? This is a dream come true!”

Of course, because it involved the popularity of his business - or the threat of it being taken away - Pao dashed forward, coming to stand beside Iroh.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. He positioned himself in front of Iroh. “Are you trying to poach my tea maker?”

“Sorry, Pao,” said the man, “but that’s business for you, am I right?”

Pao’s face had paled considerably. He looked more wan than ever. “Mushi, if you stay, I’ll make you assistant manager. Wait!

Senior

assistant manager.”

The man took a delicate sip of his tea as though enjoying watching Pao scramble. “I’ll provide you with a new apartment in the Upper Ring. The tea shop is yours to do whatever you want, complete creative freedom.”

“I even get to name the shop?” asked Iroh.

“Of course!”

Pao tried to place himself, now, in front of the man to draw Iroh’s attention. “Uh, senior

executive

assistant manager?”

Iroh merely handed his teapot to Pao and bowed his head towards the man. The deal was made.

“Zuko, (y/n),” he called, twisting to look at them. “Did you hear? This man wants to give us our own tea shop in the Upper Ring of the city!”

“That’s right, you two,” said the man. “Your lives are about to change for the better.”

Despite the news, Zuko was frowning beside (y/n). He set down the teacups in his hand. “I’ll try to contain my joy.”

Then, he pressed past the customers and exited the shop. (y/n) watched him go, confused by his unenthusiasm. All she felt for Iroh was elation.

“Congratulations, Mushi,” she told him.

She understood the look in his eyes then - he wanted her to check on Zuko. Part of her wondered if he knew that she was already going to. She squeezed his hand as she passed.

Of course, when it came to Zuko, nothing was ever very simple. By the time she shut the door of the tea shop behind her, all she could see of him was his legs peeking over the edge of a roof as he scaled to the top of a building. With a huff of annoyance, she followed behind.

As a child, she had loved to climb trees, but after living in the Lower Ring for a few weeks now, her body had become unaccustomed to climbing. It took her longer than she would have liked to reach the top of the slated roof.

“Zuko?” she called as she pulled herself up. “Spirits, what are you

doing

up here? Iroh’s dreams have just come true, and you just shot off and - What are you looking at?”

He stood at the far end of the beam lining the peak of the roof, a piece of paper curled up in his hand as he stared out over the city. (y/n) shuffled her way over, trying to trust her balance while being extremely cautious about the structural integrity of the roof.

When she came to stand just behind him, Zuko angled himself so they now stood next to each other. He handed her the piece of paper wordlessly.

She wondered what could be so important that it warranted climbing on top of somebody’s roof, but she understood when she opened it.

Her heart sank.

An image of the Avatar’s sky-bison, named Appa, took up most of the page. It was followed up with details - when he had gone missing,

where

he had gone missing and the vital information that Appa was somewhere in Ba Sing Se.

She saw more pages drifting in the breeze, too high to have just been thrown in the air. They would have needed to be dropped from a height.

It could only mean one thing, and when she turned to look at Zuko, she saw an expression she had not seen on his face for months:

hunger

.

– –

“So, I was thinking about names for my new tea shop,” Iroh said.

He was in the middle of eagerly packing his things into the luggage trunk the man from the tea shop, Quon, had graciously given him. Two more sat on the other side of the room for (y/n) and Zuko.

“How about the Jasmine Dragon?” he asked, folding a tunic. “It’s dramatic, poetic, and has a nice ring to it.”

Zuko did not give him an answer, instead showing him the poster. “The Avatar’s here in Ba Sing Se and he’s lost his bison.”

Iroh took the poster. His wonderful smile disappeared. “We have a chance for a new life here. If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” (y/n) muttered.

“Good things that are happening for

you

,” Zuko said. “Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?”

It was strange, the profound hurt that (y/n) felt in her chest then. She herself didn’t have an attachment to serving tea, but perhaps it was the implications that came with his statement. She thought of the six primroses, long since wilted and gone. She thought of the strange happiness that she always felt when she thought of them. Now, though, seeing the anger on Zuko’s face, the hunger, the feeling soured. And she didn’t know why.

She didn’t miss the flicker of guilt in his eyes when he glanced at her. Perhaps that clued her in on her missing

why

.

“There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity,” Iroh said. “I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why.”

Zuko turned away from them, and (y/n) hated not being able to see what was going on in his eyes. It was one of the only ways she could discern what he felt.

“I want my destiny.”

“What that means is up to you,” Iroh said.

Zuko did not reply but rather stormed away to simmer on his bed. It made things quite awkward, seeing as they stayed in a one-room apartment, but Iroh began happily chirping away again, spouting out ideas of what to name his tea shop.

(y/n) couldn’t focus on anything but the back of Zuko’s head.

She wasn’t sold on their life now, but she had found herself not wanting much more. She had been enjoying Zuko’s and Iroh’s company. The familiarity of working in the tea shop made her feel better about things, with having a schedule for her days.

Most of all, and most embarrassingly, she had been beginning to enjoy spending time with Zuko.

And he wasn’t satisfied with any of it.

It made her wonder about the primroses. She, stupidly, had thought they had meant something. She hadn’t been sure exactly what, other than that she had somebody she could rely on to listen to her. He had given her a fan. He had given her primroses. He had given her a friendship when she had never truly had one before. He had given her strange feelings she couldn’t make out, which made her furious.

What was she supposed to do with that?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that she felt terribly foolish for believing that maybe, just maybe, he could have given up on his so-called destiny to a tyrant father.

She was wrong about him. But he was wrong about her, too.

– –

It was well past midnight when Zuko snuck out of their apartment. (y/n) had grown accustomed to the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards weeks ago, growing so used to the sound that it became no more than a passing distraction most days. But not tonight. Tonight, it was his mistake.

(y/n) watched him disappear down the street through the window before turning to Iroh. His eyes were trained on the door.

“Stay here,” she told him as she walked to the door. “He’s going to listen to me one way or another.”

She didn’t know if it were cruel to leave Iroh behind, to not let him follow after his nephew, but she would be able to stay on Zuko’s trail easier if she were on her own.

And, if for some reason things didn’t go well, at least Iroh would still be safe.

“I’m so worried about him,” Iroh murmured. “I had hoped he had given up this foolish dream.”

Her hand rested on the doorknob and she glanced over her shoulder. “So had I.”

Zuko was easy to track. After years spent on a ship with him, followed by months travelling on land, she had come to know his habits better than most, the way he left insignificant things behind him to mark his way back. The faint footprints in the dusty streets, too recent to have been from the happenings of the day, too spaced out to be anything but a running stride.

She passed a member of law enforcement, the Dai Li, shaking himself off on a perpendicular street, evidently having just been involved in a scuffle of some sort. A shoddy recreation of a very familiar blue mask lay on the floor near his feet.

He did not see her as she darted past the street, following the footsteps. Before long, she decided to clamber up onto the rooftops. A higher vantage point would work better for her, even if she was going to accidentally wake some people up with her footsteps.

Finally, after ten minutes of running, she caught sight of her target. Zuko ran through the streets, slipping around corners at high speed. It was impossible to miss the blue mask that covered his face, one she had not heard anything of or seen for months.

Zuko drew up to the Lower Ring’s outer wall, feeling across the wall until he found a door of some kind. He wrenched it open and slipped through, closing it behind him. (y/n) waited a few minutes before following.

When first arriving in Ba Sing Se, (y/n) had admired the landscape from their train. It was an entirely different thing running through it at night.

The Agrarian Zone was beautiful during the day, with its rolling fields and flourishing trees, but now it was a graveyard of shadows. They stretched out, reaching the dark claws at her as she ran, following the faint imprints of Zuko’s feet with nothing but the moonlight to show the way.

Where on

earth

could he be going?

She kept her footfalls light, staying in the cover of the shadows. She’d rather find out where Zuko was going before he spotted her.

Her two and a half years on the ship had been spent essentially spying on him and his actions for her father, so why did it feel so wrong now?

After a few minutes of running, which left her a little breathless after not being so forwardly active in a while, she came up in front of a large body of water. A lake with water so dark beneath the night sky that it almost looked like an endless abyss. It was so still that it was off-putting.

Zuko’s foottracks led off to the right, where she found a manhole cover made of heavy stone. She clutched the edges, dragging it open just enough to slip inside, feet finding the rungs of a ladder. Soundlessly, she climbed down, keeping her breathing as quiet as possible. She had no idea what was below her.

Her feet touched the floor, and as she turned, a wide tunnel opened up before her with a curved ceiling and walls. An eerie bluish-green light filled the tunnel, sourced by small fires lining the bottom edges of the walls. Dozens and dozens of other tunnels branched off the sides, and the tunnel she currently stood in seemed to carry on forever.

For a moment, she felt a burst of panic. She had no way to find Zuko, and she had no idea of what horrible things could be waiting in such a place for her. There was no telling what kind of place this was - a prison? A lab of some kind? She wondered if people had been locked up down here.

But fire was drawn to firebenders. An idea sprung to her mind, and she fixed her eyes on the small blue flames lining the walls. A few tunnels up on the left, the flames burned brighter and slightly larger.

Her chase resumed.

She passed nobody as she slithered her way through the tunnels, which should’ve given her some relief, but all she felt was dread. What

happened in

this place? Where was everybody?

Her answer came when she had to duck around a corner, out of sight of two passing men. They spoke in hushed tones, hands hidden in their robes. Members of the Dai Li, she realised. Why were they

here

?

Doors lined the walls of the tunnel every ten feet, made of thick stone with cold metal handles. She touched none of them. She turned corners and passed through more tunnels until she found the end of her search. The fires burned large and steady by one particular door.

It took her a moment to gather the courage to slide it open.

The door was louder than she would have liked, but there was nothing she could do about it. She stepped inside.

It was a large room, massive, really. With a towering ceiling and a wide perimeter, it made sense that this was a room that had been chosen to hold the Avatar’s sky-bison. He had been chained to the ground and moaned unhappily. The poor thing looked like it had been through the wringer, with matted fur that looked burned in parts. His large brown eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily.

Standing before him was a figure dressed in black, a blue mask covering his face and dual broadswords clutched in his hands.

He turned rapidly, blades hissing through the air before stopping short.

“(y/n)?”

Had she not known before whose face was beneath the mask, she definitely would have known then from the sound of his voice alone.

“The Blue Spirit, huh?” she said. “I wonder who could be behind that mask.”

Heaving a sigh, the mask was torn off, revealing Zuko’s face. His hair hung down over his brow. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” (y/n) said. She moved closer, desperate to get her back further away from the door. “What do you plan to do now that you’ve found the Avatar’s bison? Keep it locked up in the new apartment? I can ask Iroh to brew some tea for him.”

Zuko was watching her carefully. “First, I have to get it out of here.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. How stupid could he be? What did he expect to get out of this, out of a half-thought-out plan? Yes, the Avatar would come for his sky-bison at the droop of a hat, but there was no way Zuko would be able to capture him, not in Ba Sing Se. Not without revealing his firebending, and that would mean a death sentence not only for him but for Iroh. For (y/n). For the life they had started to culminate.

“And then what?” Her voice was sharper than it had been in a while. It caught Zuko off guard. “You don’t think these things through! Remember when I had to cover for you the

last

time you were the Blue Spirit? And, yes, I know exactly what it was you did that night - it doesn’t take a genius. If it weren’t for the Avatar, Zhao would’ve killed you that night. Do you ever take into account the risks of anything you do?”

“I figure these things out as I go!” Zuko said.

She threw her hands up in the air. “No, you don’t. And you still haven’t. What do you think would happen if you somehow did manage to get the bison out? Do you really think it would be an easy feat to capture the Avatar? Are you so willing to put your uncle’s life at risk?

My

life? Because, let me tell you, neither I nor Iroh would do such a stupid thing if it meant endangering you.”

Zuko looked away from her. “I know my own destiny.”

There were things she knew she shouldn’t say, and she was only just able to hold them back. Her anger felt like a bonfire in her chest.

“Is it really your own destiny?” she asked. “Or is it a destiny someone else has forced on you?”

“Stop it, (y/n). I have to do this.”

Her throat felt raw. “Zuko, I’m

begging

you. Think about the things we’ve done here. Think about the questions you

should

be asking; who are you? What do

you

want? Not the Fire Nation or your father or anybody else. Think about what you’re risking by doing this.”

There was a moment of silence before Zuko yelled out, throwing down his swords and mask.

She thought about the primroses he had hidden in her pocket. She thought about the fan he had gotten for her as a move for a truce. This Zuko that she had been travelling with over the last few months was almost an entirely different person from the indignant prince she had been forced to obey on their ship. She found that she didn’t want to lose this new Zuko. She couldn’t afford to.

“My parents were told when I was born that I wouldn’t survive,” she told him.

Zuko’s head turned, his eyes finding hers quickly. “What?”

“The medics told them that my bones were too weak and my organs not ready to fully function,” she continued. “That, although it would hurt them, it was my destiny to die. They tell lots of grieving parents that, you know? It’s supposed to make them feel better, knowing our lives are preordained. But I didn’t die. That wasn’t my destiny.”

“What are you trying to say?” His eyes hadn’t left hers.

“That your destiny isn’t set in stone,” she said. “Only you have the power to write it. Not anyone else. Not your father. Not the Avatar. Only you.”

His hands clenched by his sides, and she knew that beneath his gloves his knuckles would be white. His eyes darted down to the floor, from his swords to his mask and finally to the chains around the sky-bison’s feet.

“Please, Zuko,” she said. Maybe, some other time, she would have hated the way her voice wavered. Now, thinking of the primroses, of the fan hanging on her belt, she didn’t mind.

At the waver, he looked at her again. His gaze searched her face, desperate to find some kind of lie in her words. But he found nothing. No quirk of her brow, no twisted words. She meant everything she had said. Every thought she’d had. His fingers unclenched for just a moment.

He took a deep breath. “Will you help me with these chains?”

Her heart jumped into her throat, but it was from relief. The fact he had

asked

her to help made her realise the decision he had made; the decision he could not vocalise to her in any other way.

A smile curved her lips. She didn’t mind it.

– –

“Do you remember the way out?”

Zuko slipped his swords into the sheath on his back. He looked a little sheepish. “No.”

“So you’ve just proven my point,” she said. “You didn’t think this through. You didn’t even leave yourself a trail this time.”

“Wait.

This time

? How many times have you followed me?”

She didn’t answer that question. “The Dai Li are down here. I’m not sure what they’re doing, but it’s safer if we stay out of their way.”

"We could always follow the bison,” he said, but his tone indicated he hadn’t moved on from his question. They glanced at the opening in the ceiling above them that they had wrenched open with a stiff lever on the wall. “I could give you a leg up.”

“I’d rather take my chances with the tunnels.”

Retracing their steps in the tunnels resulted in being a much harder task than they had previously anticipated. Something was going on.

It was as if the place had come to life. Dozens upon dozens of Dai Li agents darted through the passageways, hands covered in their stone gloves, faces shadowed by their hats and the eerie firelight. They spoke amongst themselves as they ran, about fights and messed-up plans.

(y/n) pressed her hand to Zuko’s chest, stopping him from rounding a corner. She made him back up against the wall as she peered around the end of the tunnel, watching as a group of at least twenty men jogged past.

She tried not to think about how she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her hand or the warmth that radiated off of him. She had been even colder since reaching Ba Sing Se.

“Clear?” Zuko asked. His voice sounded strained.

Was he out of breath? They hadn’t been running for that long.

“Clear,” she confirmed.

They got lost a few times and had to backtrack. They passed rooms with slightly open doors, where groups of women stood chanting before a single agent, the women’s eyes dilated and unfocused. (y/n)’s throat grew dry.

What were the Dai Li

doing

?

Eventually, they found the long tunnel that led to the tall ladder. Zuko urged (y/n) up first, watching down the tunnel for any signs of danger. When she was up high enough, he began to climb, too.

She pushed the cover open, arms straining, before climbing out. The sun had risen during their time spent in the tunnels, but its position in the sky indicated that it was only morning. A thin mist hung over the river. (y/n) reached into the hatch and grabbed Zuko’s hands, hauling him out.

“You did the right thing,” she assured him.

Wordlessly, he reached behind him and brought out the mask of the Blue Spirit. (y/n) had never really seen it up close, had only ever heard it described, so it was strange to see it now. The face of such a big rumour all those months ago seemed so small in Zuko’s hands now.

Zuko stepped forward and dropped the mask into the lake. It sank down, down, down until they could no longer see it.

She reached up, placing a hand on his arm. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Metamorphosis"
  Iroh was elated to see Zuko back in the apartment, no sky-bison in tow.

The bags underneath his eyes indicated he had spent the night fretting about his nephew, but it strangely made (y/n) feel a little better about it. Would have been driven solely by worry if she had brought him along? How differently would things have gone?

"You did the right thing,” Iroh murmured, wrapping his arms around Zuko.

When Zuko stepped back from the hug, making to move towards his bedroll, he swayed on his feet. “I don’t feel right.”

He took another step forward, but his knees buckled beneath him. He crashed into one of the tables lining the wall, smashing a vase as he toppled to the ground. His head hit the floor. He didn’t move again.

“Zuko!”

(y/n) was moving before her mind could comprehend it, and when her brain finally caught up, she was kneeling beside him. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It came back clammy.

Iroh was there in an instant, and together they managed to move Zuko to his bedroll. (y/n) gave Iroh a chance to slip the tight, thick jumper Zuko had been wearing off while she soaked a cloth in a bowl of cold water. When she turned around, Iroh had tucked Zuko beneath his sheets.

She returned to his side once more, wringing out the cloth and carefully moving his hair back from his forehead, dabbing the cool cloth of the clammy skin.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Iroh. “Will he be okay?”

Part of her expected him to comment on the worry she felt for his nephew, but no such words left his lips. This must have been dire.

“Fever,” he said simply, as though he couldn’t bring himself to say more just yet. “What happened when you found him? Tell me everything.”

And so she did. She told him of the struggle it had been to convince him not to kidnap the Avatar’s sky-bison. She told him of their joint effort to free the sky-bison, how they had watched him go silently. She told him of the Blue Spirit’s mask, now at the bottom of that lake.

Iroh sighed, repeating the words in his mind as he explored the possibilities behind the fever. In the meantime, he had her fetch a bucket of fresh drinking water and a ladle. Zuko would not be able to do much for himself in this state.

After about an hour, Zuko stirred, his eyes creeping open. With a croaky voice, he started to ask what was going on, but as (y/n) dabbed the cloth over his head, his words fell short.

“You’re burning up,” she murmured. “This will help cool you down.”

“You have an intense fever,” Iroh clarified. He watched Zuko carefully, the lines on his face deepening with worry.

“So thirsty,” Zuko managed.

He tried to sit up, but (y/n) pressed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back down while Iroh filled the ladle with water. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat, hot to the touch, and his heartbeat thrummed beneath, faster than it should’ve been.

"Stay under the blankets and sweat this out,” Iroh instructed as he helped Zuko drink.

Zuko all but tore the ladle from his uncle’s hands, swallowing the water so quickly it was a wonder that he didn’t choke. Once he had drained it, he grabbed the bucket of water and downed it, spilling it as he drank. When that was gone, he turned to lay on his side, coughing.

(y/n) pulled the blankets up to his neck despite the temperature of his skin, feeling terrible for even doing such a thing. But there was nothing they could do. He had to fight it off by himself.

“I need to buy some herbs,” Iroh said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. He didn’t want to leave Zuko. “Will you watch over him?”

“Of course.” She didn’t even need a second to think about it.

Iroh gathered his things, procuring a list of medicinal herbs he could use for tea, before slipping out of the door, albeit hesitantly. (y/n) would have offered to go, but she had a feeling she would have picked out the wrong herbs in her worry.

Crossing her legs, she got comfortable. She believed that much of her day would be spent by Zuko’s side.

She dabbed the sweat from his forehead, brushing his hair back once more. She couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable having sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead, but it wouldn't lay flat any other way. It kept springing back.

He shifted, frowning in his restless sleep as though having a nightmare. It was entirely possible; (y/n)’s fever dreams as a child still haunted her now.

As she tended to him, she tried to keep the worry at bay. But how could she? She had only just admitted to herself that she didn’t want to lose this Zuko who had come to be over the last few months, and now, here he lay, horrifically ill. It was a conscious effort to keep her hands steady.

His eyes shot open at one point, wild and searching. He could hardly breathe. His body was twitching as though reacting to violence. The cloth dropped from her hand as she leaned over him. Her body moved of its own accord, hands taking a gentle hold of his face.

“You’re okay,” she said softly. “It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Though unfocused, his gaze found hers, and his breathing began to slow. Then, he slipped back into his dreams.

For a while, she stayed like that, with her hands on his face. Despite the fever, it was nice to feel his pulse beneath his skin, to know his heart was still beating. It gave her some modicum of comfort. She could feel the rough, almost leathery skin of his scar beneath her fingertips, and the realisation made her jolt away. He wouldn't like her touching his scar. That was a boundary she didn't want to cross.

Iroh returned shortly after, missing another nightmare-induced awakening, however, Zuko remained awake after this one. Well, she supposed

awake

was not quite right. He drifted in and out of consciousness, not fully awake yet not entirely asleep either. He only really truly woke up when Iroh had finished brewing his medicinal tea.

"You should know that this is not a natural sickness,” he told Zuko gently, “but that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying tea.”

(y/n) helped Zuko sit, keeping a hand on his back in case he fell backwards, while Iroh helped him drink the tea.

“What’s happening?” Zuko asked. His voice was shaky.

Apparently, on his walk to the market, Iroh had decided on the reason.  “Your critical decision, what you did beneath that lake, was in such conflict with your image of yourself that you are now at war within your own mind and body.”

Zuko’s heart rate picked up beneath her palm. “What does that mean?”

He started coughing. (y/n) helped him lie on his side, bringing the blanket over his shoulders once more.

“You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew,” said Iroh. His eyes looked a little glassy. “It will not be a pleasant experience. But when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be.”

– –

It was by no means an easy feat to move apartment with a sick companion, but somehow, (y/n) and Iroh managed it. Quon offered them some help, which they accepted gratefully.

Their new apartment in the Upper Ring rivalled the beauty of the Fire Nation nobilities’ homes. With beautiful draped curtains and a stunning view of the entire city, with its hardwood floor that was not rotting and the pristine white walls, with the intricate paintings that hung on the walls and the golden engravings on the dado rails, it was gorgeous.

She couldn’t help but feel guilty as she looked out on the city, though. She couldn’t find their old apartment from such a distance, but the knowledge it was there, mirrored by hundreds of thousands more, made her feel terribly guilty. They’d been lucky enough to get out of the Lower Ring. Not many could say the same.

Though she hadn’t minded their circumstances over the last few months, she was eternally grateful to have a bedroom to herself. It felt safe and it felt like hers. She didn’t need to hide in the corner when checking on her still-healing burn or find her way to the complex’s shared bathroom to change her clothes. Now, she could simply do it all in the privacy of her own room. It was incredible.

Zuko began to heal, though it was a long and painful process, from the looks of it. Many times, she had fallen asleep while sitting up, keeping an eye on him, only to be awoken by him screaming as he was torn from a nightmare. She wasn’t sure if he would remember the moments when she talked him down, brushing his hair from his face. She wasn’t sure if he would remember the times he, in his half-asleep dazes, would reach for her hand. If he’d remember her letting him hold it.

Part of her hoped he wouldn’t. Part of her hoped he would.

Iroh wanted to keep a constant eye on his nephew, but (y/n) insisted that she was more than capable. She wanted him to have some sort of distraction, something to lift his mood, and so she convinced him to make a start on getting his new tea shop ready to open. Zuko would want to see it when he was well enough.

And it worked. Iroh came home most days, face splattered with paint, fingers covered in ink after coming up with mock menus, smelling like the most gorgeous blends of tea. It lifted his spirits almost as much as seeing Zuko’s health progress did.

(y/n) had not expected the day Zuko would be back on his feet to come so soon, or so suddenly.

She had woken up on the floor of his room, her hand damp from holding the wet cloth for so long, but she found that the cloth was not in her hand, rather back in the bowl. Somebody had taken it from her, just as they had draped a blanket over her shoulders. It smelled like warm embers and something musky.

Zuko’s blanket, she realised. Had she taken it off of him during the night?

She slipped it from her shoulders and moved to lay it over him, only to find that he was not in bed.

Panic flared in her chest as she looked around. He wasn’t in the room at all.

Clambering to her feet, she threw the blanket back on his bed and hurried out of his room. She wasn’t sure what she thought might have happened - her mind was still in a daze from just waking up - but she had not expected him to be sitting at their dining table, happily eating a bowl of jook prepared by Iroh. Fully dressed, hair falling across his brow. Not a drop of sweat to be seen.

Stupidly, she felt rather shoddy in comparison. She smoothed her hair down and straightened her clothes as he looked over at her.

The smile that curved his lips was like nothing she had ever seen before.

He did not smile with his teeth like Iroh did, but it was just as encapsulating. His eyes were bright, conveying some positivity that seemed so at odds with how he usually felt.

It was as though she had been rooted to the ground by the very sight of it, unable to move. The sheer obscurity of it, mixed with the confusing blend of emotions she felt upon seeing him smile at her, made it impossible to even try.

“You’re awake!” Iroh said happily from the counter. He was pouring some tea. “It seems my nephew is feeling much better.”

(y/n) hadn’t stopped looking at Zuko. What was this strange humming feeling she felt in her chest? The way her heart leapt? Was this nausea in her throat, or something else?

“You’re… feeling better?” She knew she sounded stupid - he was sitting in front of her, looking fully healed - but her mind could hardly comprehend it.

“I am,” said Zuko. The tone of his voice even sounded more upbeat. “Things are looking up. We’ve got a new apartment, new furniture. Uncle’s tea shop has its grand opening today.”

Iroh’s smile was soft, but it was full of elation. Not only had Zuko healed, but the metamorphosis he had claimed his nephew would go through had evidently happened. He was almost like a new person entirely. His smile warmed (y/n) right down to her toes.

– –

The Jasmine Dragon was more beautiful than (y/n) could have ever imagined. Quon had really allowed Iroh to spare no expense in its creation.

With its tall walls and glowing chandeliers; the elaborate rugs displaying golden dragons; the polished tables with their vases of beautiful flowers, it was by far the most stunning place she had seen in Ba Sing Se. From the very moment they opened the doors, customers began to flood in.

Iroh’s smile never left his lips. He served his wonderful tea blends and greeted customers, striking up conversations with them and leaving them smiling, too. Zuko, surprisingly, did the same. (y/n) could hardly believe what she saw. Neither could her heart.

It kept doing this strange thing when she watched him, a feeling as though it were full of butterflies that made it skip a beat whenever he smiled or laughed. She wasn’t sure what to call it; she had never felt such a thing before. She just knew she liked it.

The three of them stood together when all of the customers were served. She smoothed down her dress, which she had not originally expected to like wearing, but it was light and flowy and easy to move around in. With its beautiful shade of sage green and its elaborate gold trim, she felt rather nice in it. At home. She had a belt that allowed her to clip her fan to her hip, easy to access in case of any emergencies. For legal purposes, and to say out of the eye of the Dai Li, she’d had to leave her knives in the apartment.

Zuko and Iroh wore a similar colour palette as she did, though they wore tunics instead of the dress. The green complimented Zuko’s dark hair and pale skin, and the gold matched his eyes. It became awfully hard to not look at him.

What was wrong with her?

Iroh set down a teapot and grinned. “Who thought when we came to this city as refugees, that I’d end up owning my own tea shop? Follow your passions, Zuko, and life will reward you.”

(y/n) did not miss the sideways glance Zuko gave her. Her cheeks felt warm.

Was she suddenly becoming ill? Was his fever somehow transmissible?

“Congratulations, Uncle,” Zuko said.

“I’m very thankful,” Iroh said.

Zuko’s smile, though it did not look like Iroh’s, was just as contagious. “You deserve it. The Jasmine Dragon will be the best tea shop in the city.”

Iroh’s gaze slipped to his nephew. “No, I’m thankful because you decided to share this special day with me. It means more than you know. And you, too, (y/n). Thank you for being here.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. Of all people, Iroh deserved this kind of happiness the most. She was just glad he had finally been able to gain the kind of life he so rightfully was owed.

“Now, let’s make these people some tea,” Zuko said.

He smiled at (y/n), then, and once more, those butterflies made her heart leap. “Let’s make some tea,” she agreed.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Written Destiny"
  Never in a million years had (y/n) ever expected to set foot inside the Earth Kingdom Palace.

She had visited many places of importance over the years whilst on diplomatic missions with her father, but the palace in Ba Sing Se had always been off the cards. She’d never thought anything of it, other than perhaps the Earth King was a private man and did not want to meet with his oppressors.

Now, though, she wished her father were here. He would’ve loved the palace, with its tall sandstone walls and the bright emblems of the Earth Kingdom. Its grand entrance and elaborate ornaments. He would’ve stood next to her, fussing over her hair as he told her about the architecture. Her mother would have laughed and urged his hands away. (y/n) had liked being fussed over.

“Many times, I imagined myself here,” Iroh said, gazing up at the palace in awe, “at the threshold of the palace. But I always thought I would be here as a conqueror. Instead, we are the Earth King’s personal guests, here to serve him tea. Destiny is a funny thing.”

After receiving the missive the previous night from the Earth King, Iroh had essentially been bouncing off of the walls of The Jasmine Dragon in pure elation. Not only had he opened his own tea shop, but on the very same day, he had been invited to personally serve tea for the Earth King. He had chatted away all night, preventing them from getting any sleep, but (y/n) and Zuko had not minded. They were happy to see Iroh’s excitement.

The three were led to an elegant two-storey conservatory that looked over the beautiful gardens. The upper floor, where the sitting room was, had been painted the same terracotta shade as most of the exterior of the palace itself. Emerald green banners hung from the walls, displaying the Earth Kingdom symbol. A low table sat in the centre of the room with four teacups atop it. (y/n), Iroh and Zuko sat on the floor in front of it.

As they waited, Iroh unpacked his teapot, which had been brewing during the journey to the palace. Delicately, he poured the steaming lychee and rose tea into the cups. The smell was heavenly.

They were kept waiting. And waiting. And

waiting

.

“What’s taking so long?” Zuko asked from beside her.

(y/n) pursed her lips. “Maybe the Earth King overslept.”

Footsteps sounded, light but in abundance, and it became evidently clear that the Earth King had

not

slept in.

At least a dozen members of the Dai Li filtered into the room, faces shadowed by their hats, hands hidden in their robes but no doubt encased in stone. Their presence made (y/n) glad to have been able to convince the guards to let her keep her fan on her in place of her knives. They swept around the table, forming a circle around them.

Closing them in.

Zuko was rigid next to her. “Something’s not right.”

A final person entered the room, at first obscured by the agents surrounding the trio. They were wearing the clothes of an Earth Kingdom soldier, minus the armour.

But they would recognise the voice anywhere.

“It’s tea time,” said Azula.

Zuko was on his feet immediately. (y/n) wasn’t far behind, wrapping her hand around her closed fan.

“Have you met the Dai Li?” Azula asked. “They’re earthbenders, but they have a killer instinct that’s

so

firebender. I just love it.”

Iroh reached for his teacup and stood. “Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname, the

Dragon of the West

?”

“I’m not interested in a lengthy anecdote, Uncle,” Azula droned.

“It’s more of a demonstration, really.”

Iroh took a long sip of his tea, and Zuko grabbed (y/n)’s wrist, pulling her out of the way. Seconds later, Iroh opened his mouth and flames came spilling out, akin to a dragon breathing fire. He spun around, directing the flames at each member of the Dai Li.

The flames burst a hole in the far wall, allowing the three of them to leap through into a servants’ corridor. Iroh breathed some more fire to repel their pursuers for a moment before they sprinted down the hall.

But the Dai Li were fast. They followed behind, splitting their stone gloves into shards of rock as sharp as knives. The shards shot towards the three of them, but they rounded a corner before they could be hit. Somewhere behind them, Azula was taunting them.

Iroh, being the most experienced with bending lightning, drew on the energy in the air and directed a glowing bolt towards the wall ahead of them. A dead end, well, until he blasted a hole through it and leapt out. He crashed into the topiary below.

But Zuko stopped short, and (y/n) teetered on the edge.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, regaining her balance. “Come on! They’re right behind us.”

“I’m tired of running,” he told her. “It’s time I faced Azula, but you have to go.”

Her heart stopped. “What? Zuko, no! Come on, don’t be stupid.”

Zuko glanced back, where an onslaught of Dai Li agents slowly approached. They were toying with them. Then, he looked back at (y/n), his eyes soft. He offered her one of those new smiles that made her legs feel like jelly.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. His hands came to rest on her arms, squeezing her softly. “Don’t beat me up for this, later.”

“What? What do you -”

Then, he shoved her down into the topiary.

She crashed into the expertly trimmed bushes, twigs snagging her clothes. She had barely managed to get her bearings when she looked up at the hole in the second storey. Zuko stood there for a moment, looking down at her apologetically, before turning and darting down the hall. She saw smoke filter out. She heard the sound of fighting.

When Iroh pulled her to her feet, all sounds had subsided.

Zuko was gone.

– –

There was one person they knew could help them. One person (y/n) could bargain with: the Avatar.

She had inadvertently saved his life, as well as his friends, on countless occasions. He knew she was on his side, that she wanted him to restore balance as much as he wanted to. He was the only person they could rely on.

On their way to find him, they encountered a Dai Li agent insistent on defeating them and bringing them to Azula. (y/n) made quick work of him with the butt of her fan. Iroh tied him up using a headband he had recently taken to wearing and torn strips from the dress (y/n) was wearing. He would come in very handy, they agreed.

It was just their luck that the Avatar and his friends had a temporary home in the Upper Ring, also. She and Iroh hurried their way through the winding streets, dragging their Dai Li hostage behind them, straight past confused-looking citizens, until they reached the pristine building.

Breathless and full of panic, (y/n) knocked on the door and hoped they’d found the right house.

The door swung open, revealing the strange girl she and Iroh had met all those months ago, right before they found Zuko in Tu Zin. She looked no different than she had then, except for the fact that there were no concerning eyebags beneath her eyes and no signs of exhaustion.

“Glad to see you’re okay!” she said as she opened the door. Well, she wouldn’t have

seen

them, per se, but they had come to terms with how she saw the world a while ago.

The Avatar, Aang, and his friend Sokka seemed relatively at peace with (y/n)’s sudden arrival, if a bit confused. It was when they set their eyes on Iroh that they seemed to freak out. She noted the absence of the other girl, Katara.

“We need your help,” she told them.

Aang’s eyes were as wide as mangos. “You guys know each other?”

The girl smiled. “I met them in the woods once and knocked them down. Then they gave me tea and some very good advice.”

“May we come in?” Iroh asked.

The girl nodded and stepped aside. Sokka and Aang shuffled away from Iroh warily, their eyes coming to (y/n). They trusted her enough to know he wouldn’t do anything.

“Princess Azula is here in Ba Sing Se,” she told them.

“She must have Katara,” Aang said.

“She has captured my nephew, as well,” Iroh said.

Aang frowned, wrinkling the blue arrow on his forehead. Spirits, how long had it been since (y/n) had even seen that blue arrow? “Then we’ll work together to fight Azula, and save Katara and Zuko.”

“Whoa, there,” Sokka interrupted. “You lost me at ‘Zuko’.”

“I know how you must feel about my nephew,” Iroh said. He looked away, ashamed. “But believe me when I tell you there is good inside him.”

“Good inside him isn’t enough!” Sokka said. “Why don’t you come back when it’s outside him, too, okay?”

“Katara’s in trouble,” Aang reminded him. “All of Ba Sing Se is in trouble. Working together is our best chance, and we

know

(y/n) has helped us before. Isn’t it fair that we help her?”

She gave him a grateful smile. He was a good kid.

"We brought someone who might be able to help us,” she said, leading them back to the door.

Whoever the group had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t a Dai Li agent. The girl stomped her foot into the ground, and walls of rock enclosed the agent, making him stand but unable to move. (y/n) pulled the gag out of his mouth.

The agent wasted no time in speaking, which gave them less work to do. “Azula and Long Feng are plotting a coup. They’re going to overthrow the Earth King.”

Sokka hefted his Water Tribe club. “My sister! Where are they keeping Katara?”

“In the crystal catacombs of Old Ba Sing Se,” said the agent. “Deep beneath the palace.”

They wasted no time. Immediately, they were heading back in the direction of the palace. The five of them clambered on Aang’s sky-bison’s back, and they were up in the air instantaneously. In the few minutes it took for them to reach the palace, they finally learned the girl’s name - Toph - just as she learned theirs. It was strange that they had not known until that moment.

Appa’s six feet touched down on the palace grounds, and Toph launched herself to the ground. With her bare feet, she was able to search for tunnels and passageways beneath the ground using her earthbending. It was incredible to see.

"Well, what do you know?” she said. “There

is

an ancient city down there, but it’s deep.”

She stood straight, shifting her weight into her feet. With a series of quick, steady movements, she opened up the ground in front of her as easily as one would crack an egg. The beginnings of a tunnel broke open at her feet.

“We should split up,” Sokka said. “Aang, you go with (y/n) and Iroh to look for Katara and the angry jerk, no offence.”

Iroh shrugged. It had been true, after all. “None taken.”

“And I’ll go with Toph,” he continued, “to warn the Earth King about Azula’s coup.”

It was an agreement. With short goodbyes, they split off into their groups.

(y/n) encased her hand with flames as they stepped into the tunnel, lighting their path as Aang used his earthbending to extend the passageway.

“So,” Aang said, glancing at Iroh, “Toph thinks you give pretty good advice and great tea.”

Iroh smiled. “The key to both is proper ageing. What’s on your mind?”

Aang paused to extend the tunnel. “Well, I met with this guru who was supposed to help me master the Avatar State and control this great power. But to do it, I had to let go of someone I love, and I just couldn’t.”

“Protection and power are overrated,” Iroh said. “I think you were very wise to choose happiness and love.”

“What happens if we can’t save everyone and beat Azula? Without the Avatar State, what if I’m not powerful enough?”

“I don’t know the answer,” Iroh said. “Sometimes life is like this dark tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving, you will come to a better place.”

As he said the last words, Aang split open the tunnel before them, revealing a cavern of beautiful glowing green crystals.

It was an impossibly tall cavern and with the light of the crystals, it was almost as bright as the daylight they had left behind. A waterfall flowed at the far end, filling various canals with clear, blue water that shimmered beneath hundreds of stalactites. The walls were sloped and glittered brightly, filled with even more crystals.

There were no doors visible, indicating prison cells, but even an earthbender with only months of experience such as Aang could feel the cells below.

He led them down to the floor of the cavern, picking out where each cell was, but he did not have the expertise that Toph did. He couldn’t feel if there were people in them, so they had to resort to the old-fashioned ways: breaking into all of them.

And, of course, it was the last cell they broke into that held who they were looking for.

Aang shattered the passageway that led down to the cell in an explosion of rocks and crystals. With her heart in her throat, (y/n) rushed in behind him.

And there he was, standing beside Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. He looked unharmed, only shocked by the sudden explosion, and the relief (y/n) felt was almost suffocating.

She wasn’t sure when she had started to feel so relieved to know Zuko was alive, whether it was months or days ago. She just knew she had never felt so thankful in her life.

Her legs were moving before she knew it, and she wrapped her arms around Zuko’s neck. The action didn’t just shock him. She wasn’t sure when the last time she had hugged anybody was, but she had most certainly never hugged him.

The reason why had never been a question for years. He had been an arrogant, selfish Prince who would’ve probably punished her for even touching him, but sometime in the last few months, that had all changed. He had become so much more than that. He was no longer a prince in her eyes, but rather just

Zuko

. And she didn’t mind hugging Zuko.

He smelled like warm embers and musk. He was a few inches taller than her so she was on her toes. After a few moments of shock, his arms wound around her. After another few moments, Iroh’s arms were around both of them, pressing her even closer to Zuko. She found that she also didn’t mind that. She could feel his heartbeat as clearly as she could feel her own.

The hug lasted no more than thirty seconds, but it had (y/n)’s heart pounding.

The relief didn’t last long.

“I don’t understand,” Zuko said, looking between them. “What are you guys doing with the Avatar?”

Aang frowned. “Saving you, that’s what.”

Zuko lurched forward, the anger on his face at complete odds with the pleasant version of himself he had been over the last two days, but Iroh caught him.

“Zuko, it’s time we talked,” he said. His voice had a slight edge to it - this was not up for discussion. It softened when he turned to Aang and Katara. “Go help your other friends. We’ll catch up with you.”

Aang nodded his head in gratitude. Then the two of them were gone.

“Why?” was all Zuko said.

“You are not the man you used to be, Zuko,” Iroh said. “You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been. And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny. It’s time for you to choose. It’s time for you to choose good.”

All of a sudden, a deep rumble shook the ground. The sound of shattering crystals echoed in the cavern, and as they looked, a path of crystals was growing larger and coming in the direction of Iroh and (y/n).

Within moments, the two of them were caught between suddenly enlarged crystals, unable to move. (y/n) tried to kick and break them, but they were terribly strong. She was useless against them. Only Zuko was left free, and he fell into a defensive stance, fists clenched.

Dai Li agents appeared through the hole carved out by Aang, followed by Azula. She slid easily down into the cavern. Her eyes twinkled with glee. She had wanted them to come looking for Zuko.

“I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle, and of course

you

, dear (y/n), but Zuko, Prince Zuko, you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a traitor, are you?”

It was as though (y/n)’s heart seemed to cease beating.

“Release them immediately,” Zuko demanded.

“It’s not too late for you, Zuko,” Azula said. “You can still redeem yourself.”

“The kind of redemption she offers is not for you,” Iroh cried.

“Why don’t you let him decide, Uncle?” Azula’s eyes softened as she looked at her brother. “I need you, Zuko. I’ve plotted every move of this day; this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honour back. You will have father’s love. You will have everything you want.”

Zuko was silent for a moment. (y/n) couldn’t breathe. He couldn't still want his father's love after everything, surely.

“What did you mean, when you said you expected (y/n)’s treachery?”

The words felt like knives in her nerves. Her eyes widened of their own accord and panic flared in her chest, unlike anything she had ever known.

Azula’s head tilted. “Oh, so she hasn’t told you?”

Zuko looked like a statue. Was he even breathing? “Told me what?”

The princess barked out a laugh. “Have you truly never wondered

why

she joined you on your hunt for the Avatar? Why her father was so insistent she came along? Don’t tell me you believed that she was only there to report your findings back to our fathers!”

“Zuko -” (y/n) started, but Azula cut her off with a sharp glare.

“Traitors don’t get to talk,” she snapped. She turned her attention back to Zuko, her voice softening as if she were talking to a child. “Haven’t you begun to wonder why she looks more like an Earth Kingdom citizen than a Fire Nation one? Why she knows the world’s cultures so well? I can answer those in one fell swoop for you, brother.”

(y/n) wanted,

needed

, Zuko to look at her. “Zuko, please -”

“Quiet!” Azulla’s voice echoed in the cavern. “I’m trying to do good by dear Zuzu, (y/n), so if you can’t keep your mouth shut, I will have my Dai Li agents shut it for you.”

Behind her, the agents shuffled, showing their stone gloves. The crystals seemed to tighten around her.

“We’ve all heard the stories,” Azula said. “Jomuk Aoro fell in love with a peasant girl from a Fire Nation colony while on his first diplomatic mission for our grandfather. It’s been the biggest love story for the last two decades. I know, bleh! But, Zuko, her mother isn't from a

colony

. No, because then,

why

would her family be

so

interested in the Avatar? It’s because Tova Shayin was a Kyoshi Warrior. She dedicated her life to an Avatar, and thus dedicated her daughter’s to the next.”

Zuko’s face was pale. He wouldn’t look at her. She needed him to look at her. He would understand if he would just

look

.

“She was on your ship to

sabotage

you, brother,” Azula continued. “She never wanted to help you. All of those conveniently timed stops and detours? You have

her

to thank for that.”

“That -” Zuko’s voice was weak. “It’s not true.” He turned, finally, and looked at (y/n) imploringly. “Tell me it’s not true.”

She couldn’t. For all of the skill she had in deceit, she found that she couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore. But it felt like a blade to the heart to see the devastation on his face. She could see him putting the pieces together; her skill with the fan as a weapon; all of the comments from northern Earth Kingdom citizens, their prejudices against her. After months of her tiptoeing around the subject, weeks of wondering if it was a good idea to tell him, the choice had been torn from her entirely.

“How did you know?” was all she could ask.

Azula smiled in a predatory way, reaching into a pocket in her tunic. She pulled something out and tossed it towards (y/n). A crystal shot up, catching whatever it was on the pointed end, right in front of (y/n)’s face.

A necklace with a moss agate gemstone. She couldn’t breathe.

“We have been intercepting your messages for months,” the princess announced. “Only recently was it that we started writing in place of your father.”

She stammered. “But - the code -”

Azula laughed. “The code! It took a little longer than we would have liked to crack, but once we did, oh, how obvious it was! Did you really think we would never get it? As for your mother, well,

my

father had been on the cusp of discovering her identity years ago. Kyoshi Warriors pride themselves on their skills, but hiding their true identities is not one of those.”

She didn’t have the strength to reply. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the necklace. The distinctive blotches of red marking the gemstone that had not been there when she sent it away.

"What did you do?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“Oh, well, your parents were punished, of course.” Azula turned to Zuko once more. He hadn’t stopped staring at (y/n). For all of her hoping that he would just look at her, now she couldn’t bear his gaze. “Don’t worry, Zuzu. They don’t have any influence over her now. Father had them killed, just as he will do with her. Traitors have no place in the Fire Nation, especially not those with tainted blood.”

Azula stalked closer and closer until she was standing right in front of (y/n). “Your father fought well to protect your mother. He killed a few of our soldiers, you know? Father made him watch as he killed Tova. Then, he had a slow death.

That’s

what traitors get.”

The tears came uncontrollably. Her body shook with her sobs.

She had once wished that, should her parents’ plan be discovered, she not be there to witness their deaths, for it would be too painful. It seemed as though her selfish wish had come true. And it killed her.

The grief tore her apart like hands pulling at her limbs, ripping flesh from bone. She couldn’t control it. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t reach the necklace to cradle to her chest; one last piece of her mother.

Three years ago, she said goodbye. She had not known that it would mean forever.

“You are free to choose, Zuko,” Azula said, ignoring the blubbering mess (y/n) had become. With a wave of her hand, the two Dai Li agents disappeared into the larger cavern. She followed shortly behind.

“Zuko,” Iroh started, but his words fell short when his nephew glared at him.

“Did you know?”

Iroh’s features melted into terrible guilt. “I -”

“You did.” The betrayal that overtook Zuko’s face was almost as heartbreaking as the grief that encapsulated her whole body. “You knew. And you let her do it.”

He shook with anger, looking between her and Iroh with a mixture of disbelief and raw fury.

She wanted to explain herself; explain it all. How she had been sent off for her own protection. How she had been nothing more than a child tasked with something she swore to never share. How she hadn’t meant to get close to him. She hadn’t meant for her betrayal to cut him so deep. She had never wanted to get close to him at all, but he had made it impossible.

She thought of the primroses, and she cried harder.

“Please, nephew,” Iroh begged. “Look into your heart. Think about what

you

want!”

But Zuko

had

thought. He glared at (y/n) with a rage she had only ever seen him use on others, a rage that wounded her so deeply that she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see past the tears.

He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t her.

He followed Azula.

– –

“(y/n),

please

. I need you to get up. I need you to move.”

She didn’t know when Iroh had managed to break through their crystal cages. She didn’t know when she had reached out for the necklace and held it to her chest with unyielding fingers. Her mind was nothing more than a flurry of grief and agony that she could not think or see through. Her forehead pressed against the ground as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. All she knew now was pain.

Iroh’s hands were on her face, trying to bring her gaze to meet his, but she could see nothing more than horrible images. Her mother dying right in front of her father, her father’s slow death. She saw her own death acutely. An Agni Kai, perhaps, against Fire Lord Ozai, where he burned the skin from her bones. Would he even grant her that, now that they knew the truth? Would a girl with half of her blood from the Earth Kingdom ever be granted the death of a firebender?

“I understand your pain,” Iroh said. His voice was desperate yet soft. “Believe me, I understand it. That’s why I know you’re strong enough to persevere. They knew what they were getting into as soon as your father decided to marry your mother. They knew it as soon as they began their plans to protect the Avatar. You cannot let their deaths mean nothing.”

The sobs were painful now. Her parents were

dead

.

“It can’t mean nothing.”

It can’t mean nothing

.

She thought of the sound of her mother’s laugh. The feeling of her father’s arms wrapped around her. She thought of the jade eyes she would never see again, and the feeling of her father’s hair as she braided it. The safety she felt when they were near. The strength they gave her. The skills they trained her in.

Her heart filled with raw, cold fury. She clutched the necklace so tightly in her palm that the string bit her skin.

She looked up, her eyes meeting Iroh’s through the cloudy haze of her tears. “It won’t.”

For a moment, she believed it was too late to do anything. She saw the hordes of Dai Li agents flooding the wider cavern space. She saw the lightning that shot through the air, ricocheting through the Avatar’s body, high up in the air, eyes and tattoos glowing. She almost lost the last sliver of hope she feared she would ever have as she watched him fall, swept up in a wave by Katara.

But Iroh’s hand wrapped around hers. And, together, they fought.

The fire that shot from her hand was like nothing she had seen before, bright white and beautiful. Not as hot as Azula’s blue flames, but close. It cut between Azula and Zuko, who presented a united front, and where Katara held the lifeless body of Aang in front of the roaring waterfall.

She and Iroh leapt out onto the cavern floor, taking up a defensive stance in front of Katara and Aang. (y/n) looked only at Azula, but she could feel the heat of Zuko’s eyes on her cheek. If she looked at him, it would only be worse for her. Her fury was the only thing holding her intact.

“Get out of here!” Iroh shouted to Katara. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can!”

(y/n) and Iroh fought as one. Iroh’s attacks were strong, filled with power, but hers were filled with rage. They burned bright, blinding some of the Dai Li agents and sending them stumbling into one another. The few that came in for close combat met the wrath of a grieving daughter.

She had been taught to fight without fury. It led to mistakes and an easy defeat. Fire could not rely solely on rage, or it would burn out. But she had never felt more powerful. Her mother’s necklace was cold against the skin of her neck, but it fueled her.

They only stopped when Katara had managed to escape with Aang. Dai Li agents lay sprawled on the ground around them, dazed or burned or bruised.

Immediately, the remaining Dai Li agents contained them in crystal once more, rooting them firmly to the ground, ensuring that this time they could not escape.

Iroh’s disappointment in Zuko was palpable, so strong it felt as though (y/n) could reach out and hold it, had her arms not been trapped.

But her betrayal was bitter. It coated her tongue and slipped down her throat, twisting her guts. She had never meant for things to end like this. If only Zuko had let her keep hating him.

She looked at him then. His eyes were already on her, filled with his anger and betrayal and a grief akin to the kind she felt.

Her grief was that of a daughter, a child. His grief was that of someone who had loved and lost.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Silent Solidarity"
  “Our culture is very important to us. You must never forget that this is a part of you, as much as being a part of the Fire Nation.”

(y/n) watched herself move in the mirror, clad in her mother’s old green kimono, padded body armour, and a metal headdress. The clothes were far too big, and she had to roll the sleeves up to even see her hands. Her mother had painted her face the way all Kyoshi Warriors did, to reflect that of the Avatar Kyoshi. The dramatic red around her eyes made her feel like the Avatar herself, even though she was a few feet shorter.

“No one part of you is more important than the other,” her mother continued, tying the last piece of body armour around her back. “You are just as much Fire Nation as you are Earth Kingdom. You are just as much my daughter as you are your father’s. One does not outweigh the other. How does this feel?”

She flipped her fan open, but her sleeve fell down and prevented her from performing any manoeuvres. Not that she needed to, really. Her mother just wanted to connect her to her bloodline.

“Powerful,” she said.

Tova Shayin smiled, her jade green eyes sparkling. “You look it. You look just like Auntie Yosi when she was your age, you know. You’re as strong as she is, too.”

(y/n) grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. “Really? What was she like?”

Her aunt had always been a paragon of strength in her mind, just as her mother had been, so to be compared to her was the greatest honour she could think of. She felt stronger just at the thought. She felt like she could take on the world.

“She was mischievous, just like you!” Her mother pinched her cheeks and laughed when she giggled. “She fought with grace. It was like she breezed through the moves. I looked up to her, even when she told me scary stories at night. I always knew she would protect me.”

“I’ll protect you, Ma!” She tried to perform a few of the newer moves she had recently learned with her fan, but the length of the dress made her stumble.

Her mother smiled once more. “Oh, I know you will. My little warrior, huh? That’s why I want to give you these.”

(y/n) itched at the paint on her face, trying to hide the white paint that came back on her fingernails as her mother made her way to the opposite side of the bedroom. She pulled open one of the drawers of the hulking dresser and lifted away the bottom of it, or what was

supposed

to be the bottom of it. Beneath, there was another layer with which she had stashed some bits and pieces.

When her mother turned around again, she held out two knives for (y/n) to look at. They were beautiful, gleaming silver in the firelight, with brown leather hilts embroidered with emerald green thread. The blades themselves were engraved with what looked like her mother’s handwriting.

“My mother, your grandmother, made these for me when I was a child,” she said. She flipped the blades over to the sides that did not look to be engraved, but upon closer inspection, she could see the Shayin family crest at the very bottom of the blade. It was one of the only “written” things she had seen from her grandmother. “Auntie Yosi has two of her own. When we turned fifteen, when we had finished our schooling, we engraved the same phrases on them so that we would always remember each other.”

She held out the first blade.

Hope lights the way.

Then, the second.

Love guides the soul

.

“I want you to have them,” her mother said. “That way, you’ll always have a part of me with you.”

(y/n) frowned and looked up at her mother. “What? Ma, you’ll always be with me.”

Tova crouched down and took (y/n)’s hands, pressing the hilts of the blades into her palms. “There will come a day when I’m not going to be beside you, when you can’t turn to me. I pray that the day does not come soon, but I want you to be ready. I want you to be able to look at these knives and see yourself in them, and see how strong you are. You are my daughter. You have the strength of a Kyoshi Warrior and the courage of a firebender. Never forget who you are.”

– –

Time passed strangely in the Boiling Rock.

Each day had the same schedule: wake up at the loud breakfast bell and watch the doors of the cells click open simultaneously; head to breakfast; work for hours upon hours; head to lunch, with time allotted in the communal area outside; work again until hands cramped and fingers turned red; have dinner; more work; and finally, each prisoner was locked up in their cell for the night.

Despite the strict routine, (y/n)’s days passed by in dull hazes, sounds and feelings muted by her overwhelming grief. It made her slower to react, slower to answer. Her limbs felt like they dragged behind her, weighted down by guilt and sorrow and pain.

The prisoners held in the Boiling Rock were the worst of the worst. Traitors and murderers, conspiracists and assassins, split up only by the occasional prisoner of war. There were firebenders and those from the Fire Nation. There were plenty from the Earth Kingdom, with their bright green eyes unfocused and drooping from exhaustion. The Boiling Rock took the life out of all of those imprisoned there.

Perhaps it was best she had been thrown there. The ache of manual labour on a stomach too empty to properly function made it hard to focus on much. It made it easy to forget.

Some of the prisoners still had their spirits. They fought, they argued back to the guards, they attempted escapes that would never be successful. (y/n) had come with no spirit left inside of her. She was no more than a shell of her previous self.

The girl from Ba Sing Se had died alongside her parents.

She thought about them every night in the darkness of her cell. She thought of her mother’s skin being burned. Her father watching. She thought of her own death,

begged

for it. It would have been better than this fate that had been thrust upon her by Ozai’s children.

For a while, she hadn’t believed their deaths. Couldn’t. Azula was known for her lies, why wouldn’t she lie about this? During her journey to the prison, spent stuffed in a cell at the very bottom of a Fire Navy ship, she had convinced herself they couldn't be dead. They just couldn't be. But she heard the guards. She heard the rumours amongst prisoners.

Her imprisonment had been the centre of the guards’ attention for weeks. The daughter of the (formerly) great Jomuk Aoro, squeezed in a cell like no more than a criminal from a warring kingdom. They mocked her parents’ deaths. Mocked her fate. They saw her no longer as the child of the Grand Advisor, but the daughter of Earth Kingdom scum. They spat at the mention of her mother, a woman once held in high regard.

Sometimes, in the dark of the night when she thought she saw her mother kneeling by her side, just as she had done when she was a child waking up from a nightmare, she wondered how people hadn’t noticed sooner. The bright jade green of her eyes. The way her voice lulled when she said her

a

’s and

o

’s. The broad set of her shoulders, and her strong, calloused hands that had never held a Fire Nation weapon.

Ignorant people made for cruel ones, too.

It made her wonder if her parents had graves, the way the people spoke about them. Had they been given that, even?

That was what broke her the most, she thought. The realisation that should she ever be released from this terrible prison, she may never find their final resting place. She would never be able to pay homage to them.

She had cried all of her tears long ago. Now, all that was left was a horrible emptiness and bloody nail beds.

They stung, now, from being exposed to the blistering heat of the communal area outside. Steam seemed to linger everywhere they looked, rising from the boiling lake that surrounded the prison, sitting in the centre of a once-active volcano. The lake that made it impossible to escape.

Maybe once, she might’ve tried her luck. Now, she had no drive, no motivation, to do anything but wither away.

Some of the other prisoners bustled past her, shoving each other in a playful way that bordered on being aggressive. They gave her strange looks from their periphery, as all prisoners did to each other. There was a very fine line between camaraderie and cruelty in this prison, and each one of them teetered on the precipice.

“You’re on cleaning duty with me after lunch,” said a voice from beside her.

(y/n) turned. Beside her sat a girl she wouldn’t call a friend, but neither an enemy. They had been scheduled together on a few tasks since (y/n)’s first day in the prison, and she had been nice to her. Something about her face was familiar. The green eyes of an Earth Kingdom prisoner, the bobbed dark hair, the strong stance she always kept.

Suki did not smile at her, she never did when they were made to clean, but her presence was much preferred over the rest of the prisoners. They were close in age, which made it a little easier to talk to her.

“Where this time?” (y/n) asked. “Not the kitchens again, surely?”

Suki pulled a face, propping her elbows on her knees. “Worse. We’re emptying the barrels.”

The barrels. Spirits, the barrels were the only thing that made (y/n) feel more than grief these days - revulsion. Pure, unadulterated

disgust

.

Waste from the kitchens was thrown in the barrels - food that was already growing mouldy when served to prisoners, though these portions had been so far

beyond

mould that the stench clung to clothes for weeks. Human excrements, taken from each of the cells by the unluckiest of prisoners, were dumped on top of the rotting food. Many times, the unfortunate people tasked with disposing of the barrels' contents could only add to the contents before hoisting them away.

What had they done to deserve that job?

She looked up at the Prison Warden, standing tall and proud on his balcony way up above, watching all of them like an eagle did mice. To be the warden of the inescapable prison was a great honour. Nobody had ever slipped from his iron grip. He intended on keeping it that way.

(y/n) dragged her palms over her face. “I hope you didn’t eat anything.”

“Not that there’s anything to throw up,” Suki said with a scoff. “There was so much mould in my lovely bowl of sludge that I couldn’t eat a bite of it.”

It was purposeful, the decision to serve rotting food. It was part of the Warden’s plan to stop any escapes. None of the prisoners were ever full, and so their hunger made them weak. Even the strongest of them, the burly firebenders and cunning Earth Kingdom prisoners, were too weak most days to even attempt such a thing. All of their strength was used on the manual labour which also played a part in weakening them. With enough food, the labour should have made them stronger.

But they were all becoming skeletal versions of themselves.

Some of the prisoners who had been there the longest were withering away, with sallow skin and fragile bones. Once, they had been warriors. Now, they had lost their fight.

The firebenders seemed as though they had the worst of it. Some faced punishments that they would not speak of, something that stripped them of their bending for extended periods of time. They would come back blue-lipped and shivering while their non-bending prison mates had simply been locked in solitary confinement.

They never uttered a word about the punishment, but everybody knew the name. The cooler. It brought even the most confident of the prisoners at least a small inkling of fear.

(y/n) did not want to end up there. She didn’t know exactly what happened in the cooler, but she didn’t want to find out. She wasn’t sure her body could cope with anything more.

And, so, she and Suki pushed the barrels along on their thudding wheels, cloths covering their noses and mouths. The fabric did little to help against the stench, the lids on top of the barrels even less so. (y/n)’s arms strained as they pushed the hulking things, and she tried not to think too hard about the contents. Suki seemed as though she had retained some of her strength, even after being there a month earlier than (y/n).

They didn’t speak. Despite the horrible smell and the way it made people gag just after one faint whiff, they weren’t allowed to. The Warden did not like them to speak as they worked, claiming that silence made them work better. It didn’t. He just liked to be in control. He didn’t want them plotting.

(y/n) wasn’t even sure what they would speak about as they went back and forth, taking one barrel after the next. They had nothing in common except their imprisonment. Well, maybe they did. They never spoke about it.

There were no friends in the Boiling Rock, no. There was a hierarchy, and those near the bottom stuck close. It was harder to bring down those in groups.

So (y/n) and Suki stayed close. Not often talking, but together in a kind of silent solidarity. There was something deeper than a hastily made allegiance, though. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to understand.

She could feel it during meals, when Suki spun her useless cutlery around in a mindless sort of way, like a weapon but without the brutality. She saw it in her deep-rooted stances, the way she kept her weight in her feet. She saw it in her easy movements, how she moved with graceful fluidity and purpose.

It reminded her of someone. Someone whose name she could not bear to speak through her horrible grief.

It came to her in the dead of night, when she lay on her rock-hard bed, fighting off the sweat that came with living on an island filled to the brim with steam. When she could hear her father’s soft voice telling her a story and could see her mother’s beautiful face, smiling down at her as she stroked her hair.

Suki, she realised with full confidence, was a Kyoshi Warrior.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Cooler"
  “You’re working too slowly. Pick up the pace!”

(y/n) forced back a scowl, but scrubbed the clothes faster, harder. The raw skin around her nails stung in the hot water, filled with crushed plants that gave the clothes a slightly nicer scent. Anything was nicer than the lingering stench of sweat and labour.

Days had been passing slowly, but she was sure it had been at least a month since the beginning of her imprisonment. She had now reached the stage the other prisoners called “The Hangry Stage”. Food was in such short supply for them that, now, it not only made her weak, but it made her easily irritable. Every passing look and comment made her blood boil.

The grief she felt for her parents, the misery that made it hard to move her limbs and filled her mind, had made her passive. Now, it had become sharpened, gleaming like a newly polished blade, ready to strike. She had moved on from “The Disorientation”.

She wrung out the hot water from the tunic and passed it over to a man twice her height to string it up to dry. Then, her hands were immediately back in, red and raw from the heat.

Even for a firebender, the water was almost unbearable. That was how the Warden liked it. The less they could use their hands, the better.

“Still not fast enough!” barked the guard that loomed over her shoulder. Spittle landed on her shoulder. “Look at how much you’ve got left! Pick. Up. Your.

Pace

.”

It was moments like this where she felt little pieces of her old self; the flickers of fury reminded her of the girl she had lost back in Ba Sing Se, who had spoken out against the boy who had believed in a false destiny. She had been chasing after that girl, desperate to have some piece of herself back.

Having herself back would mean having parts of her parents. Her mother’s strength and her compassion. Her father’s confidence and his joy. Having those remnants of her parents meant that, perhaps, she wouldn’t feel so alone. She didn’t like to think of the other parts that would come flooding in. The girl who had clutched six slowly-wilting primroses to her chest. The girl who had betrayed and been betrayed in turn.

When the guard fisted a hand in her hair and forced her to look at him, that once-lost girl appeared for just a moment. Her fury, in all its glory. Her strength, that flooded her bones and ignited the fire in her veins. The pain in her scalp as he pulled tightly on the knotting strands, wrenching strands free, was almost like a kind of magic, bringing back to life something she thought was dead.

Her hands found his face before she could comprehend what she was doing. Her thumbs pressed into his eyes, eliciting a screech as his hand ripped out from her hair. In his daze, she pressed his face downwards, submerging it beneath the water for no more than five seconds.

It was something she would never have done before, but this place was driving her mad. Mad with grief. Mad with pain. Mad with rage.

The guard came back up gasping for air rather dramatically, yowling at the feeling of the delicate skin on his face being burned by the water. The other prisoners in the laundry room watched the altercation with wide eyes. Those bolder were smiling. Those who had been there longer than they cared to admit looked nothing but empathetic. Towards

her

.

Two more guards appeared at her sides in an instant, taking a bruising hold of her arms and wrenching her hands behind her back. They did not deign to tell her where she was going as they turned their back on their wailing companion.

She knew. She knew simply from the looks on the veteran prisoners’ faces.

The cooler was not what she expected. It was a simple door in one of the higher-up corridors of the prison, with a wheel in place of the handle. One of the guards wrenched the wheel around and, with a horrible squealing, the door opened.

Freezing air filtered out, bringing with it a cloud of mist. It caressed their feet, and (y/n) could feel the icy chill through her measly clothes. Her heart almost stopped.

“Have fun spending the day here,” snarled one of the guards. She had a beak-like nose that looked rather at odds with the rest of her face.

Then, they shoved her inside and slammed the door shut, locking it.

The cold seeped into her skin immediately. It felt like horrible clawed fingers wrapping around her limbs, so tight that it hurt. Her hands and feet were already growing numb.

Worst of all, she could feel nothing inside of her. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to the feeling of the energy flowing inside her - the energy that fueled her firebending. Now, it was as though it had been torn from her, leaving an empty, jagged pathway through which nothing but ice flowed through. The absence made her feel sick.

She staggered against the door, slamming her fists against it. “What is this place? Let me out!”

There was no reply. Not even the sound of feet scuffling or weapons bumping against walls. There was nobody there.

Her heart pounded furiously as she crashed her bodyweight into the door, trying desperately to open it. She knew it was useless. She had heard the click of the lock. But, spirits, she couldn’t stay in here. She couldn’t. Her fire was gone. She couldn’t breathe. She’d never been without her fire before.

Clouds of mist floated before her, puffs of panicked breaths that left her lips. They looked so much like the steam that, for a moment, she thought she felt the warmth of the Boiling Rock seeping through the door, but it hadn’t. She couldn’t stop trembling.

She was going to go insane, she realised, locked up in a place where she couldn’t feel even a flicker of her fire. She understood the fear in the veteran prisoners’ eyes whenever the mention of punishment was brought up. She understood their complacency when others fought back.

Her back slammed into the back of the cooler, the metal so cold through her thin prison uniform that she cried out. The skin of her arms was covered in gooseflesh, the hairs standing completely straight, and she swore she could already see her fingers turning blue.

The first hour was the hardest. After being in blistering heat for weeks straight, the cold was an entirely new sensation. It was an extremely different kind of cold than what she’d experienced before in the North and South Poles. Those chills had felt natural, and part of her had accepted them. This was anything but natural. This was torture.

The next hour was spent dry heaving, her body sick with the cold. Her whole body shook, from strain and the freezing temperature, as she crouched, holding her knees to her chest. There was no warmth to pass around her body. Her breaths became more shallow.

After that came the confusion, the delirium. For a short while, she couldn’t remember where she was. The frost creeping up the walls of the cooler turned into the icy city inhabited by the Northern Water Tribe. She saw the towering palace in the frost, lit up but empty. Then, she saw the flames crashing into the beautiful castle, smashing it to pieces. She saw faces, belonging to the defending citizens, faces of the fallen invaders.

She saw a face she could not bear to even think of.

Gold eyes hovered before hers, one surrounded by a twisting, pink scar. She wanted to watch the way those eyes softened when smiling uncharacteristically. She wanted to feel the heat that always seemed to radiate off the owner. She wanted to trace her fingers along the jagged edges of the scar.

She wanted to tear his heart out, just as he had when he had turned his back on her, choosing a family over murderers over her treacherous mind and even more treacherous heart, the heart that even still beat for him. She wanted to scream at him, to hurl fire at him that would not even reach her fingertips.

She did scream, but he was not there to hear it.

– –

The cooler stripped her of her firebending for a week. The hypothermia made her even more useless than she already was.

Suki sat beside her as they picked at their rotten food, watching the way her hands wouldn’t stay steady. She wasn’t a firebender; the worst she had experienced was solitary confinement after a fellow prisoner had ratted out a small plant farm they had created in order to better feed their inmates a few weeks before (y/n) had even arrived. From what she heard, nobody was allowed to sleep in solitary confinement, forced to stay awake for extended amounts of time by a contingent of guards who inflicted pain on them in their tiny, tiny room. Suki still had the scars from some of their jabs.

No matter how horrific solitary confinement was - and, spirits, was it horrific - everybody knew that the unspoken punishment for firebenders was worse. (y/n) knew that now, firsthand.

Every time she thought of the cooler, it felt as though her heart ceased to beat. Her throat grew impossibly dry, her hands trembled, and all thoughts of food soured, roiling her stomach.

The guards relished in this. They threatened her with it, laughing at the fear that flickered in her eyes. Laughing at the way she flinched.

Suki scowled as two guards passed, mocking her. “I hate that they can treat us like this.”

(y/n) watched the sludge drip from her spoon and back into the bowl. Eight days had passed since the cooler, and though her fire had returned, it seemed as though the girl from Ba Sing Se had disappeared for good.

Half of her mourned that girl, begging for her to come back. How would she survive in this place without her? The other half revelled in the loss. Maybe she wouldn’t end up back in the cooler if she was gone. Maybe she would be able to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, just like she had been doing.

“You shouldn’t have to take this,” Suki continued. “You’re stronger than this. Than them.”

“You hardly know me.”

“Everybody here knows

of

you.” There was a sharpness in Suki’s tone that made her a little nervous of the blunt spoon in her hand. “Your name is almost as famous as the Fire Lord’s.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “So you know the things I’ve had to do.”

The images of burning villages flared before her eyes, almost as debilitating as her grief and the aftereffects of the cooler. She saw the village on Kyoshi Island as it burned and burned.

“I know that it wasn’t you who called the shots,” Suki said. (y/n) couldn’t look in her eyes. “The prince burned down my village, and you were there at his side, but I know what I saw in you.”

“And what was that?”

“The rage of a Kyoshi Warrior.” Suki’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If you’d had your way, I

know

my village would still be standing. We've all heard the rumours: your mother was a Kyoshi Warrior, and now I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. You’re like me. You’re stronger than this.”

(y/n) shook her head, dropping her spoon. “No, I’m not. I have no reason to be stronger. My parents are dead, and the last of my family may be, too. The one person left that I could trust is locked up in the Fire Nation somewhere.”

And the boy she had considered a friend, the boy she knew better than the ghosts of her family, the boy she had grown to care for far more than she should’ve, was gone, replaced by a self-righteous prince she had thought she’d finally been free of. She had nobody left.

Suki’s forest green eyes narrowed on her. “We have each other. A Kyoshi Warrior never turns her back on her sister. You will have me until we bust our way out of this hellhole, and you’ll have me after that.”

It was strange, the sense of safety she felt at the words. Somehow, she could believe Suki. She didn’t know if that made her naive or gullible, but what choice did she have? She had nobody else to fall back on. Nobody else she could rely on.

Suki called her a Kyoshi Warrior, and hearing it made the words settle in her bones. She felt the invisible weight of her mother’s
kimono
, the slowly drying paint on her face, the weight of a fan in her palm. It felt familiar. It felt right.

But her strength had ebbed away. All the small parts of it that had returned eight days ago had left her once more. She was no more a Kyoshi Warrior than anybody in the Fire Nation. The name might’ve felt right, but she was still an imposter.

The loud bell rang, signalling the end of dinner. (y/n) had barely touched her sludge.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Suki assured her. “You’re not alone.”

Yes, she was. Suki could give her all of the confidence in the world, but it didn’t change the facts. Everybody she had learned to care for was either dead or lost to her. She had never felt more alone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Spark"
  Conspiring to escape, that was what the guards told her she had done to deserve being thrown in the cooler for the fifth time that month.

She cried out as they dragged her along the corridors, digging her heels into the ground and clawing and scratching at them. Anywhere her nails could find purchase, she gripped and tore, but the guards pressed their fingers into the fleshy parts of her biceps, sending pain flaring through her arms and pausing her attacks.

“I didn’t

do

anything!” she shrieked, using all of her diminishing strength to stop their journey, but the guards overpowered her.

The cooler’s door came into view, and panic overtook every fibre of her being. She couldn’t go back in there. She

couldn’t

.

She couldn’t breathe. Spirits, it felt like all of the air had been sucked straight from her lungs and her limbs filled with lead. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t bear to feel her fire slip away. She couldn’t bear the hallucinations.

She couldn’t see his face again.

The guards wrenched the door open, all the while holding her arms back at such an angle that she couldn’t try to fight back. It felt as though they were going to snap her bones, peel her skin from the bone.

As soon as the door opened, she was screaming.

They shoved her inside the cooler without a word, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it instantly. Her hands slammed against the immovable metal, begging, pleading to be let out. She couldn’t do this. Her breath fogged before her. Her fingers grew so unbearably cold that she wanted them to drop off. Her tears became nothing more than ice as soon as they reached her cheeks.

“Let me out!” she screamed, but even if there was somebody there who could hear her, they would never let her out.

In any other circumstances, perhaps she would’ve grown used to the cooler by now, but this was something that made anybody incapable of adapting. Each time, the cold struck her harder than the last, like a newly sharpened blade to the gut. Each time, her mind and body became weaker.

It was a wonder she hadn’t died yet.

She pounded her fists against the door for what could have been hours. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was the time stretched on forever in the cooler, and with each minute, her very soul seeped out of her body. With every jerking motion of her body, some part of her touched the freezing walls of the cooler, filling her body with such cold that her heart lulled. She was going to be sick.

When the confusion set in, the delirium was almost welcome.

Icy shores spread out before her, morphing from the frost that filled the cooler, twisting and turning and making her feel nauseous. She flew over the South Pole on the wings of a gull, watching the world pass from an aerial view. The south melded into the oceanside Kyoshi Island, burning bright beneath her, which melded into bustling forests and stretching deserts and overpopulated cities.

She found herself in The Jasmine Dragon, which was unusually empty. The windows had been smashed. The beautiful rugs torn. Flowers that once decorated the tables were strewn across the floor, and when she bent to pluck one from the floor, she found that they were coated in ice, cold to the touch.

Primroses, memorialised forever in cruel, suffocating ice.

She felt the familiar warmth behind her even before she turned. Saw the beautiful gold eyes she had come to know so well. Her hand reached up to touch the scar around his eye, to brush her fingertips so gently over the twisting skin, but a burning grip locked around her wrist. So cold it felt hot. So unlike him.

“

Traitor

,” he hissed. “

You’ll face a fate worse than your parents

.”

Her parents’ faces flashed before her, burned and bloody and unrecognisable.

No, no, no, she couldn’t bear it. She wanted his hand to burst into flames then and there, to stop all of this at once. She needed that more than she needed the air she breathed. She couldn’t keep going on.

She was foolish for believing in him, in his ability to write a destiny for himself. She was foolish to believe that the primroses could mean anything. When it came down to it, he would always have turned his back on her. He would have always sided with his murderous father and manipulative sister. He was no different from them. He had sentenced her to a slow death.

And what did she have to offer him except a life of falsehoods? That was all she knew. She had lied to protect her mother throughout her entire life. She had lied to protect herself back on that ship. She had lied to save the Avatar.

It should’ve been obvious. The daughter of the nation’s greatest perjurer, condemned to a life of lies. A life that would leave her lonely and desperate. A life in which she could look at the primroses, admire them from a distance, but could only watch as they wilted.

“

I hope you rot

,” he told her, baring his teeth. “

Just like your parents are doing now

.”

She couldn’t tell if he was there in front of her or not. He looked so real, his grip

felt

so real. Never did she think those words could ever leave his lips. She had seen his cruelty, but never so sharp. Never pointed at her, the tip digging into her heart and twisting, twisting, twisting. Where was the boy whose smile made her knees weak, once upon a time? Would she ever find him beneath this monstrous mask?

“Zuko,” she choked out as his grip grew tighter. “

Please

.”

She cried out when his grip became unbearable, eyes squeezing shut, and when she opened them, she found that it was her own hand clamped around her wrist, held so tight that her knuckles had become white. An angry red mark formed in place of her hand.

The Jasmine Dragon had faded away. She was on her own.

– –

“A new contingent of guards are starting shifts this week,” Suki said.

(y/n) didn’t even have the strength to scowl. She felt perpetually cold, even days after being pulled out of the cooler. “They’ll be Academy graduates,” she muttered. Even her voice was losing its strength. “The ones with grades too bad to get into the army but cruel enough to still be useful.”

Suki kicked the dust on the courtyard floor. “So we’ve been getting the dumbest of the lot, and we still can’t escape?”

No, they couldn’t, because the

Warden

was smart. The Warden knew exactly how to make them weak and submissive. The ones who hadn’t complied by now would in time. (y/n) had already begun.

Her fingers trembled as she brushed her hair from her eyes. They always seemed to do that now. It was as though the cold had made a permanent home inside her, and even when her fire returned and the steam of the prison clogged her pores, it still took days to feel warmer. There were still days until she would have her bending back. The days would pass filled with agony, as though the power had been torn from her and left a bloody mess.

She wondered if her fire would ever be the same again. If it would hold the same power that it once had, that graceful flame she had inherited from her father. She couldn’t imagine so; the white flames she had wielded in Ba Sing Se were not likely to ever return, and if the cold would linger for the rest of her life, she could only believe that her fire would be a shadow of what it once was.

The deepest connection she’d had with her father, the power they had both held, the fire he had trained her to wield, was severed.

“He’s nervous, you know.”

She looked at Suki and frowned. “Who? The Warden?”

Suki nodded. “He’s got a prisoner with a high title. Wouldn’t that make you nervous? He wants to please that rat Ozai.”

(y/n) looked up at the Warden, at his sagging features and greasy hair, and thought that maybe,

maybe

, she saw the anxiousness in the tapping of his fingers on the railing up above. It wasn’t true, though. She knew that. His high-titled prisoner had already been broken down. She had no fight left in her. Ozai would be pleased. His cruel children would be happy.

“More prisoners coming too, if the rumours are right,” Suki went on. “An invasion force that apparently attacked the Fire Nation Capital when the solar eclipse happened.”

She had not known about any solar eclipse, but it occurred to her that much could happen while she was in the cooler and she would never know. It would’ve made no difference; with how often they’d been shoving her in the cooler as of late, she wouldn’t have had her firebending anyways.

“There was an invasion?” she asked instead.

Suki nodded. “One of the more recent prisoners - you see that spindly man over there? No, the one with about three strands of hair on his head. Him. He’s been going around telling people about how he was a spy for the forces, Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom combined. Got caught though, obviously. The Fire Nation already knew about the invasion. Even when they got him to talk, he only told them what they already knew. And, to top all of that off, he claims that the Avatar is alive.”

That stopped her short. The Avatar,

alive

? She had watched as Azula’s lightning ripped through him, watched as he fell limp to the ground, swept up in Katara’s trembling arms. There was no way he had survived.

No

way.

“Just rumours,” she insisted. “And more prisoners just means even less food. As if we eat it anyway.”

“Don’t you feel it?” Suki asked. “We’re Kyoshi Warriors, we have a connection to one of his past lives. I can feel it in me that he’s alive. I know it.”

Once, (y/n) had had the confidence Suki always seemed to possess. Once, she’d had unwavering hope in the Avatar, in herself. Now, she had nothing. Without the possibility of seeing her parents again, all hope seemed to ebb away, and any connection she’d had to the Avatar - Aang or Kyoshi - had died with them.

“His friends,” she murmured. “Do you think they’re alive?”

She thought of Toph and her strength, her endearingly arrogant grin. She thought of Katara and her compassion, her well-placed rage. She thought of Sokka and his intelligence, his wily smile. Katara had escaped with Aang in her arms, presumably where she found Sokka and Toph, but there was no telling. They could’ve been as dead as the Avatar and she’d never have known.

Suki’s eyes grew distant for a moment. Glassy. “I hope so. When they put me in here… I waited for Sokka to come and save me, but that’s stupid. We can save ourselves. I just hope they’re okay, wherever they are.”

Another thing she hadn’t known - the history Sokka and Suki shared. She drew her mind back to the prince’s invasion of Kyoshi Island in search of the Avatar, the Kyoshi Warrior who had launched herself at him only to be knocked away. It was Sokka who had leapt to her aid. Perhaps

that

girl was Suki. She had never taken the time to think.

“We’re not getting out any time soon,” (y/n) told her, drawing her arms close to her body. She was freezing. “Not with the new prisoners arriving. Higher security. They’ll be watching us even closer.”

“They won’t be watching you,” Suki said. “Not with the state you’re in.”

(y/n) scoffed. “Exactly. I can’t

do

anything. Even if I had my bending back in time, it won’t be anywhere near the standard it was before. I’ll be lucky to make a spark.”

Suki pursed her lips as she thought, but before she could vocalise any of her ideas, the loud bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. The prisoners began to congregate, filtering off to their separate duties. Suki was in the kitchens. (y/n) had the barrels.

Before she could leave, Suki grasped her arm in a grip light enough that it didn’t make her flinch. She knew anything more than the brush of fingers sent her into panic mode.

“Maybe,” she said softly, “a spark is all we need.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Prince"
  The new contingent of guards were more uptight than the scholars back in the Earth Kingdom.

Guards were instructed to wear their helmets at all times, should issues or scuffles arise, but most shirked the helmets whenever they could. The new ones never seemed to take them off. (y/n) wouldn’t be surprised if she found out that they slept with the things on.

They stood by their posts as though there was a stick in place of their spine. They saluted every higher-ranking guard that so much as looked their way.

They threw (y/n) in the cooler without so much as a question when their superiors demanded it.

This wasn’t about framing her for things she hadn’t done, anymore. They didn’t care to come up with excuses for why they threw her in there. It was simply to teach her a lesson, to watch her tremble. Perhaps cruelty and bad grades were not the only thing that had people end up guarding the Boiling Rock. Apparently, they were sadists, too.

Suki was always there the days after. After her first time in the cooler, it seemed as though their silent solidarity had become something more, closer to the sisterhood shared by Kyoshi Warriors but not quite. Suki still referred to her as such - a sister, a Warrior - even when she didn’t feel like one, but she was always there.

She picked up the slack for her when she fell behind on their daily labours, so long as they were stationed together. She fished out the mould from her bowl of sludge and offered it to (y/n) to eat, but she could also tell when the mere sight of food made her want to be sick. Suki was learning her habits, her tells, and she knew when the after-effects of the cooler were hitting her the worst.

Weeks would stretch on where she would not even have a glimmer of her bending. They threw her in the cooler so often, now, that she had begun to think she’d never been able to bend in the first place. That it had all been some figment of her imagination.

She couldn’t remember how the flames felt.

More and more firebending prisoners became subject to the cooler, but not so often as her. Some tested their luck, pushing the boundaries between complacency and punishment. That only made the Warden tighten their rules. Everything seemed fit for punishment.

The guards began playing a game with them, accusing them of things they had not done before launching a flurry of flames at them. The prisoner would have no choice but to redirect the fire to save their skin. Firebending was prohibited, even in self-defence. They were stuffed in the cooler.

All warmth had completely seeped out of (y/n)’s skin, and many nights she woke up gasping for air, so cold that she would be terrified, thinking she’d find the frost-covered walls of the cooler circling her. The lingering memories she saw, the ones so lifelike that she could not tell falsehood from reality, became more frequent. She could faintly smell her mother’s favourite jasmine and lily soap. She could feel the callouses on her father’s palms. She could feel the rough skin of a scar in so much detail that how could it

not

be real? How come she couldn’t sink her fingers into the skin and draw blood and inflict pain? How come she couldn’t brush her fingertips over the skin around a golden eye, memorising every crease?

She made herself sick with confusion. Her body hardly functioned.

The Warden grew great pleasure from seeing her in such a state. He never deigned to speak with her, the greatest of all traitors, but rather watched her from afar with a terrible gleam in his eyes. The worse condition she was in, the more the Fire Lord would be pleased, in his mind. She of all people deserved to suffer.

And she began to believe it, too.

She had been building herself a life halfway across the world while her parents were being slaughtered for trying to save the world from a tyrant. She had been right at the side of the boy whose father murdered her parents, accepting a fan and primroses and pink-cheeked smiles from him while their skin slowly rotted.

If anyone deserved pain, it was her.

That did not stop her from trying to stay out of the cooler.

The darkness of her cell felt like a blanket over her head, so close that she feared she might suffocate. She lay on her side, legs curled to her chest as she watched the wavering light beneath the door.

A shadow passed. It came back and remained.

Her door slid open.

The guard stepped quietly into her room, and as she sat, she saw another standing outside. Her heart dropped. Clutching her blanket, desperate for warmth, she scrambled backwards on her bed, pushing herself as far into the corner as she could.

“I haven’t done anything,” she promised. Already, her voice was shaking. “Don’t put me back there. Please. Tell the Warden I’ll do whatever he wants. Just don’t put me back in there.”

The guard stepped forward, and she couldn’t breathe. She could already feel the cold, terrible and cruel and asphyxiating.

Metal clattered to the floor. A helmet rolled beside her bed. When she looked up, her vision swam. Another hallucination, she told herself. It was hard to tell when things were real anymore - Suki had started to tell her when things were and weren’t - but he

looked

so real. His hair was longer. He was a little taller, leaner. The scar around his eyes twitched beneath her gaze as it always had, the way it never seemed to do when she was delirious in the cooler.

“(y/n),” he said breathlessly.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t real. She scrunched her eyes shut, rubbing them furiously. When she opened them again, he was still there. Closer. She could see the scar on his nose from so long ago, from the day she had saved him from the water after Zhao had tried to kill him. The visions always seemed to forget that scar.

“You’re not real,” she said, though she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. “You’re not…”

Her heart couldn’t take it. She watched him near, pulse so quick she feared that her heart might fail. How long had it been, now, since she’d seen him in Ba Sing Se? When he had learned of her betrayal, and had betrayed her in turn? How long had it been since he had watched as she was dragged onto a Fire Navy ship, hands bound in relentless stone?

“I’m real,” he told her softly. His voice even sounded the same as it had during those last days of peace. “It’s Zuko.”

He reached out to touch her, to assure her, but her body reacted quicker than her mind did. She kicked out, scrambling across the other side of her cell. He stumbled backwards, rubbing the spot on his hip where her food had made contact. Surprisingly, he didn’t look upset by it. Only confused.

“Why are you here?” she demanded. She didn’t sound even half as confident as she had tried. She sounded on the verge of tears. She was. “Are you here to make sure I’m still suffering? Are you that cruel?”

Prince Zuko watched her with wide eyes. “No.

No

, I’m here to rescue you, (y/n). I didn't even know you were alive until today, but I realised weeks ago that I was wrong about everything. You were right, and I -”

“Rescue me?” For the first time in months, something other than exhaustion seeped into her voice.

Fury

. “Your father is the one who had me put here!”

He flinched and looked away, ashamed. “I know that now. I thought - I was stupid. I was

so

stupid. I hated you, but believe me when I tell you that I didn't know you had been sent here. I thought you were - I thought you were dead. I still haven't come to terms with that.”

“I've been here for months, and it's never been a secret. It's all anyone had been able to talk about, if rumours are true.” Her hands were trembling from the incessant cold she felt and the newfound fury. The welcomed rage she had been so empty without. “Do you know what they do to prisoners here? I would’ve rather been killed than be sent here.”

The words shocked him, but the rage didn’t. He had seen her anger before. “I know. And I’m sorry -”

Her body all but convulsed from the cold and the emotions that were now far too strong for her body to handle. “

Sorry

? Get out. Get

out

!”

The guard by the slightly open door peeked his blue eyes in and uttered a warning to the prince. No guards there had blue eyes. Who

was

this?

Moments later, there was the sound of feet nearing. No.

No

. Two guards filtered in, barely sparing a glance at the boy before her. When asked what was going on, he didn’t say anything. He could only watch the blubbering mess she had become, straining against the unbearable grips of the guards as they grabbed her arms.

"This one is trouble, newbie,” one of the guards told him. “Set a record high for the number of times in the cooler. She’s not had her bending for weeks. Steer clear of her.”

They did not recognise him. Many from the Fire Nation had not known what his scar looked like. The revelation shocked him, too.

"The cooler?” he asked. There was a sharp edge to his voice.

The other guard grinned wickedly. “Come along. We’ll show you.”

She fought, truly, she did. She clawed and kicked as she was dragged up, up, up to the corridors boasting the coolers. One of the guards slapped her across the face when she drew blood from his cheek. He would be the example shown to new guards about why they had to wear their helmets all the time. Her cheek stung,

burned

, and she was sure she could taste blood in her mouth.

There wasn’t enough time to tell. She was inside the cooler before she could truly comprehend it.

She saw his face just before the door was locked, pale and furious. She tried not to accept his rage, to be

glad

that he was appalled at how she was being treated, but he was the reason she was in there. She would never forgive him.

The tears froze, as they always did. The panicked breaths rose up before her in a mist. The delirium kicked in, dragging her away from her freezing body to a world in which her parents were still alive and danced on top of the frosty plains. Her arms curled around her bent knees, trying to preserve any warmth, though she had none. Her hair tumbled by her face, knotted from fighting.

Hours passed slowly and rapidly all at once. She dry heaved and shivered and screamed until her throat was raw. There was no feeling in her hands or feet. The world around her seemed to warp, twisting and bending until she felt utterly off balance. Maybe she stumbled, maybe she fell until she was sitting rather than crouching, but she couldn’t tell. Her mind had become as numb as her extremities.

She was released the next evening. As always, the exposure to such heat after the freezing cold, though her body refused to feel it, made her nose bleed. She couldn’t even wipe the blood away; the guards held her arms too tightly.

They threw her into her cell, and she crumpled on her bed, nothing more than a heaving, shivering mess. She wrapped herself in her threadbare blanket and allowed herself to cry hot tears. They burned her skin so terribly, but she needed something other than the cold.

Memories came back to her in flurries as she convulsed in her bed. Her skin remembered the warm touch of the boy who had chosen murderers over a traitor. She had always felt cold before, but never this badly. She wondered if he were to press a hand to hers, now, would it warm her the way his touch once had?

She remembered his smile during their last two days together. She remembered him pushing her away to keep her safe.

Most of all, she remembered him turning his back on her. She remembered he and his sister standing tall over her, watching her fruitless struggle against stone shackles as horrible tears stained her cheeks.

By morning, she had no tears left.

– –

The wet cloth was cold on (y/n)’s skin, and she jerked away from the feel of it. Suki watched her with sympathetic eyes, holding the rag in a loose grip. It was covered in the dried blood that stained the skin beneath her nose.

“I’m sorry you were put in there again,” she said quietly. “It’s going to stop.”

(y/n) clenched her jaw and held the bench she sat on so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She needed to get the blood washed off, and Suki had offered to help. If she’d tried to do it herself, it would never have gotten done. Water was too similar to ice.

“It’s going to go on forever,” she murmured. Her voice was still recovering from her screams. “It won’t stop.”

Suki’s gaze hardened. “Yes. It will, because we’re getting out of here. And we have help.”

Somebody passed in front of them, the guard from last night. The one with the blue eyes. (y/n) looked to Suki, panic lodging in her throat, but the guard flipped the visor on his helmet up, revealing a face she had not seen in months.

“Sokka?”

He gave her a wily smile, the kind Suki had told her during their chores one day she loved, but it felt a little forced. He had been there last night when the prince had entered her cell. When she had been dragged to the cooler. He had seen her reduced to nothing more than a shrieking mess.

Thinking about the prince seemed to attract his attention. All of a sudden, he was sitting across from her at their table, dressed in a prisoner’s uniform with a bowl of mouldy sludge in front of him. Her heartbeat picked up.

“I see him,” Suki whispered. “He’s with us; he came here with Sokka. While you were, you know, the guards found out he was an imposter. He’s as much a prisoner as we are now.”

(y/n) swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t bear to even look at him. The weight of his betrayal was like an anvil on her shoulders, pressing her into the ground. How dare he sit in front of her after his father had killed her parents? How

dare

he show face when he sided with the murderer, when he had stood by and let his father declare an execution before he had changed his mind?

She wanted to leap forward and put her hands to his throat and squeeze. She wanted to kick and scream and hit until he understood even a sliver of her pain.

There was no strength in her, though. The cooler had made sure of that.

He was watching her carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Suki wiped the last of the blood from (y/n)’s face and gave him a scathing look. He never received an answer.

Sokka clasped his hands behind his back and stood straight, making it look like he was actually doing some guarding rather than chatting with prisoners. When he spoke, it was from the side of his mouth. It looked ridiculous. He’d have been better speaking normally.

“I think I have an escape plan,” he said. “I checked out the coolers. The whole point of them is to keep firebenders contained, right?”

Eyes drifted to (y/n), and she tried her hardest to stay calm but, still she nodded. Whatever specks of hope she may have had buried beneath the cold disappeared instantly. If he was going in the direction she thought he was, it was clear that she would never escape.

“So they’re completely insulated and sealed to keep the cold in,” he continued. “Well, to keep the cold in, it also has to keep the heat out.”

“Just get to the point, Sokka,” Suki said. She could see (y/n) getting antsy.

“It’s a perfect boat for getting through the boiling water,” Sokka explained.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t focus on anything but the way her vision seemed to warp at the thought of going back in a cooler, even if it wasn’t for a punishment. She couldn’t ever set foot in one again. She didn’t think she’d be able to cope.

“The cooler as a boat?” the prince said. “Are you sure?”

Sokka smiled, but there was a little bit of guilt behind it. “I’m telling you, it’ll work. I walked around the perimeter; there’s a blind spot between two guard towers. It’s the perfect launching point. I already tested it out, too. We’ll roll the cooler into the water and just float with the current. It’ll take us straight across. As long as we don’t make a sound, no one will notice. And bing, bang, boom, we’re home free.”

Suki dipped her head as she spoke to (y/n), bringing her hand close to hers. “I’ll be right there with you, okay? You’ll be fine. It won’t be like every other time.” She lifted her gaze back to Sokka. “How are you going to get the cooler out?”

“Yeah,” said a booming voice, “how

are

you going to get the cooler out?”

They jumped simultaneously as a hulking figure appeared next to them. (y/n) recognised him as one of the prisoners who always pushed the boundaries, one that had been an indirect cause to the tightening rules. Chit Sang. He was easily twice her height and weight, with biceps as large as her head. If he’d had the brains, he could’ve easily broken out of the Boiling Rock.

“What?” Sokka went pale. “We didn’t - we didn’t say that!”

The prince frowned at Chit Sang. “Yeah, you heard wrong.”

“I heard you hatching an escape plan, and I want in.”

“There’s nothing to get in on,” said the prince. She didn’t miss the way he angled himself forward, drawing Chit Sang’s attention away from the others. Away from her.

“Yeah,” Sokka agreed, “the only thing we’re hatching is… an egg?”

Suki groaned and put her head in her hands.

Chit Sang didn’t seem phased. “Okay, well, I come with you or the Warden hears about this egg, too.”

“I guess we have no choice,” Suki said.

“Okay, you’re in,” Sokka conceded. “Now, first, we need someone to unbolt the cooler from the inside.”

(y/n) could feel the ice on her fingers already. “I can’t - I’m not going back in there.”

“And you won’t have to,” said the prince. He took a spanner from Sokka’s hand, though she wasn’t sure how they’d acquired it in the first place. “I’ll go.”

She wondered if he knew how different it was seeing somebody affected by the cooler and experiencing it yourself. A small part of her wanted to tear that spanner from his hands and demand he not even set foot inside of the thing. Then the more rational part interrupted. He was the reason she had been in it so often. He should experience that pain at least once.

“I can get you inside,” Chit Sang said. His smile was cruel.

And, so, their plan began.

The prince picked up his tray of food and walked in the opposite direction from Chit Sang. They circled around the room, not looking at one another, not looking over at (y/n), Suki, and Sokka. When they neared, they did not look, and they crashed into each other. Food splattered everywhere.

“What, are you stupid?” Chit Sang demanded. “Watch where you’re going!”

Then, he grabbed the prince’s arms and flung him around.

“Watch who you’re shoving,” the prince sneered.

“I think you mean

whom

I’m shoving.”

A crowd of inmates gathered around the two, watching as the fight escalated. Their cheers for a fight were deafening. Despite herself, (y/n) found herself standing, peering over the heads of others to watch the altercation, no matter how fake it was. In it, she saw a glimmer of the boy from Ba Sing Se, fighting with gleaming broadswords against somebody who had threatened their lives there. She saw his elegant manoeuvres pitted against Chit Sang’s brunt force.

Sokka flipped his visor down and pushed through the crowd. “I need backup over here!”

The guards, for a while, did not seem intent on doing anything but spectating, seeing who they thought would win between the two. When the prince shot a bolt of flame from his fist, they were suddenly put into action.

A group shoved through the crowd. “No firebending. Into the cooler!”

They grabbed the prince’s arms in bruising grips and hauled him away.

– –

“I can’t do it.”

Suki’s eyes were soft, and (y/n) was surprised at how she had never become frustrated with her. She had been nothing but kind, taking her panic and fear and hollowness in stride. Now, she held her fingers softly, keeping a feel for her racing pulse.

“Yes, you can,” Suki told her. “I’ll be right next to you, remember? We’re going to get you out of here for good.”

They glanced at the prison up above, towering over them down at the lake’s edge. The sky was dark, almost pitch black, dotted with stars. Once, the stars would have given her hope. She had longed to learn their names, had wondered what her own would be should she have been one. Now, she simply wished that she couldn’t see them. They were too far out of reach.

Sokka had managed to sneak the two of them, as well as Chit Sang, out of their cells, though it took Chit Sang significantly longer to reach the rendezvous point by the river. He told them nothing, but (y/n) swore she could hear shuffling feet.

Despite the sweltering heat by the boiling lake, (y/n) shivered. By all means, the hypothermia likely should’ve killed her by now, but it seemed as if some higher being had decided she had to stay alive. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful.

A strange sound echoed above them, and Sokka and Prince Zuko came into view, slowing down the speed with which their detached cooler rolled down the slope towards the lake. The three of them scampered up, helping roll it down.

“You took your time,” Chit Sang grumbled. As he spoke, two people came to stand at the lake’s edge. “This here’s my girl and my best buddy. They’re coming, too.”

The people in question waved. (y/n) found herself scowling, and the expression surprised her. She hadn’t had anything but a passive look on her for days now, except for when the guards came to drag her away.

“Fine,” Sokka said, though he was glaring. “Everybody in the cooler. Let’s go.”

They steadied the cooler on the lake’s edge, turning it so that it was ready to be pushed into the water. Chit Sang’s girlfriend and best friend hopped inside while Sokka crouched down, moving a large rock to reveal a hole that held what looked like his Water Tribe clothes.

“Are you sure you want to go?” the prince asked him. “You’re the one who said you wanted to redeem yourself. Redeem your honour. Rescuing your dad is your chance.”

Suki's eyes widened. “Your dad?”

Sokka had never looked so guilty. “If I had just cut my losses at the invasion, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe sometimes it’s just better to call it quits before you fail.”

“No, it’s not,” the prince said. “Look, Sokka, you’re going to fail a lot before things work out.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Even though you’ll  probably fail over and over and over again -”

“Seriously,

not

helping.”

“- you have to try every time. You can’t quit because you’re afraid you might fail.”

Chit Sang scoffed. “Hey, if you two are done cuddling, can we get a move on?”

Sokka shook his head. “No, I’m staying. You guys go. You’ve been here long enough.”

(y/n)’s heart lodged itself in her throat as she glanced back at the cooler in the water. It wasn’t connected to anything. It would be significantly better than the ones in the prison, ones she would likely keep being locked up in over and over.

But Sokka had tried to help her escape. He had put his life and identity on the line in order to try and get her and Suki out of there. When she looked back at him, she felt the faintest glimmer of the girl from Ba Sing Se inside of her. The one who wouldn’t have left anyone to fight on their own.

Suki saw this decision in her eyes, and there was a sliver of gratitude in her own. She would have gone with (y/n), but she wanted to stay with Sokka.

Suki took his hand. “We’re not leaving without you, Sokka.”

“I’m staying, too,” said the prince.

“Not me,” Chit Sang said. “I’m out.”

He gave the cooler a firm push and, as it dipped into the water, leapt inside. They disappeared into the thick steam.

“We gave up our only chance of escaping,” Sokka said. “I hope we haven’t just made a huge mistake.”

They began their trek back to the prison, climbing up the steep slopes that led down to the lake and tiptoeing along thin ridges along the prisoner walls. The thrill of it all would have once made her feel alive.

Now, she only dreaded being shoved back inside the cooler.

Their return carried on in almost complete silence, broken only by Sokka informing them of when it was clear to keep moving.

When the loud bell sounded, pounded by a mallet in a certain way, it became clear that they had made the right decision. Chit Sang and his friends had been spotted. They watched from a distance as guards flooded the courtyard and parapets, hooking a grappling line onto the floating cooler to drag it back in.

Sokka, however, pointed upwards. “Look, the gondola is coming in.”

(y/n) remembered being brought in on that gondola, feeling nothing but her crushing grief and dread as the prison came into view from high up on those screeching wires. Watching it now made her feel even more detached from the outside world than she already was; these people knew far more about the happenings in the world than she did. They would be fresh-faced and would fight the Warden at every turn.

“If my dad’s not there,” Sokka murmured, “we risked everything for nothing.”

Suki placed a hand on his shoulder. “We had to.”

They watched from a distance as the prisoners were unloaded one by one. They watched Sokka’s hopes deflate as the shadows inside the gondola began to lessen.

“That can’t be it,” he said quietly.

A small commotion arose on the platform. A guard shouted at somebody still inside the gondola, threatening to pull them out if they didn’t cooperate. Moments later, a broad-shouldered man stepped out, his skin the same shade as Sokka’s, his eyes just as bright of a blue.

“Dad.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Warrior's Spirit"
  After the recent escape attempt, all prisoners were forced into lockdown, shut in their cells for an indefinite amount of time.

The quiet made it too easy to think, too easy to become stuck in thoughts and memories that (y/n) had tried her best to steer clear of. She curled up on her meagre bed, shivering beneath her blanket, as she tried to shove the memories as far away from her as she could.

Memories of her parents were welcome but filled with pain. She remembered the creases that formed beside their eyes when they smiled. She remembered the lines she would trace on her father’s palm, how each had a different meaning. She remembered the way her mother’s hair curled at the ends when it was wet. Those memories hurt the most to push aside, the simple details that she would never see again, but she couldn’t spend her time locked up spiralling in memories of people who no longer breathed.

She tried her hardest not to think of gold eyes and a pink scar, of the scent of warm embers and musk. Of a soft smile and a steady heartbeat beneath her fingers.

She wanted to slam her head against the wall.

It was hard to believe that he was here, just a few cells down from her. Hard to wrap her mind around the fact that he was real and not some figment of her imagination, a loose shard from a splintering mind. The thought of him in the same vicinity as her made flickers of something spark inside her chest, a mixture of emotions that she had not cared to name for months, now. She hated him. She wanted him to suffer just as much as she had. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and cry until she felt okay again. She wanted to push him into the boiling lake.

Prince Zuko was the reason she was here. He was the reason that she was rotting away in a prison cell, a shell of her former self, instead of finding her parents in some world beyond, being reborn as somebody else. His father was a murderous tyrant, and he had chosen that over a treachery that had ended as soon as they became enemies of the Fire Nation together.

If the girl from Ba Sing Se were here, she might have found a way to forgive him.

She didn’t want that girl. She wanted the one who had spent years on a ship with a bratty prince whose name she had cursed every chance she had gotten. She wanted the girl who would have had the strength to fight back.

Ozai had not killed her, not like he had intended, but he had achieved something worse.

It was strange, to live but feel as though she was dead. She felt more like a spirit drifting in the living world, able to interact but only from a distance, able to watch but not feel.

And, for that, forgiveness seemed like an entirely foreign concept that she could no longer understand.

Hours drifted by like lapping waves; coming in fast but leaving slow. Guards passed her door, and with each silhouette she lost the ability to breathe, to function. They left her alone. There were bigger matters at hand.

She counted down the minutes until they would barge into her cell and throw her into the cooler. They would be interrogating Chit Sang and his friends, just now, and he had no loyalty to the rest of the group. To be free of punishment, he could easily give up their names, and they’d be done for. He would be free, and she would be stuffed in the cooler beside the boy she couldn’t bear to name any longer.

When her door opened, she was already pressed as far away from it as she could be, but she relaxed slightly when the visor was flipped and Sokka’s face became clear. He approached slowly, so as to not frighten her.

“I’ve spoken to my dad,” he told her. “We’ve come up with a plan.”

(y/n) shuffled on her bed and made a small gesture towards the end. Sokka sat right at the edge. She knew who he was, knew that he was not here to take her to the cooler, but she appreciated it. The mere sight of a guard uniform made her chest feel tight. He seemed to know that. The helmet was placed on the floor, squeezed beneath her bed.

“We’re going to get out using the gondola.”

She frowned, tucking her hands beneath her legs for some modicum of warmth. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re all locked up in cells. And, even if we weren’t, there are guards everywhere. There’s no way we’d be able to get to it.”

“We’ve figured that bit out, too,” Sokka said. His shoulders were raised, full of confidence. He looked a lot like his father, not in his face but in his presence. The air that surrounded him. “We’re going to start a riot in the courtyard, and then that’ll give us plenty of time to get on the gondola and leave.”

She thought about that for a moment, turning the thought over in her mind. For a brief second, she felt a spark of hope in her chest. She could imagine stepping foot in that gondola and lifting into the air, watching the shape of the prison becoming smaller. She imagined leaving the Boiling Rock behind and finding her way in the world again.

Before she could stop it, the pessimism that had coated her tongue for months came flooding in.

Chewing her lip, she said, “The lines would just get cut. There’s a higher chance we’ll end up in the lake than out of here.”

Sokka grinned. “We’re going to take a hostage.”

Oh. He seemed awfully chipper about such a thing.

“We’re going to take the Warden with us.”

– –

An hour later, despite the lockdown, all of the cell doors opened. Confused, all the prisoners filtered out of their cells and made their way to the courtyard.

Suki found (y/n) almost immediately and lightly took her hand, guiding her to the far end of the courtyard. It was already bustling with noise. Prisoners gathered in groups, as they would on any other day, and even the guards didn’t stop them, although they looked rather perturbed up on the balconies. They weren’t sure what was happening, either, but none of them wanted to defy the Warden.

They found Sokka and his father quickly, standing apart from the crowd. Sokka had long since removed his helmet and was smoothing his tied-back hair down as soon as he spotted Suki.

“This is it,” he told them. “We have to start a riot.”

“Okay,” said Suki, “but how do we do that?”

Sokka’s father, Hakoda, smirked and clapped his son's shoulder. “I’ll show you.”

He trudged over to a group near them, consisting of a few prisoners, but it was the one standing in the middle he had his eye on. The prisoner was a head and shoulders taller than Hakoda, with a shaved head and more scars crisscrossing his body than (y/n) cared to count.

When Hakoda shoved him, they all expected the prisoner to lash out. To whip around and lunge for Hakoda in some brutal reciprocation.

Instead, he turned and looked rather sad. “Hey! What did you do that for? That hurt my feelings.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Hakoda asked. His jaw was slack with shock.

The prisoner shrugged. “Uh, well, normally I would be, but I’ve been learning to control my anger.”

“This isn’t working,” Sokka grumbled.

A large hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re lucky I didn’t rat you out.”

Chit Sang. There was a silent, shared groan between (y/n), Sokka and Suki. Maybe he didn't reveal their involvement in his attempted escape, but that didn't mean they were grateful enough to tolerate his presence further.

“My generosity comes with a price,” Chit Sang said. “I know you’re planning another escape attempt, and I want in.”

“Actually,” Sokka said, “we’re trying to escape right now, but we need a riot. You wouldn’t happen to know how to start one, would you?”

Chit Sang smiled. It looked wrong on his face. “A prison riot? Please.”

He walked off, grabbing a poor prisoner by his collar and dragging him along. Then, Chit Sang hefted the prisoner above his head, threw him up, and loudly yelled, “Riot!”

And, to his credit, it worked. Immediately,  prisoners began fighting. Fire shot in every direction. Prisoners leapt on one another’s backs, elbows locked around throats and hands pulling at hair. Dust clouds rose up from the sudden action. It was complete chaos.

Their group shuffled to the side of the courtyard, out of the way of the riot. After a few moments, Prince Zuko appeared. (y/n) wasn’t sure where he had been, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know, judging from the pink tips of his ears and the glimmer of regret in his eyes. There was a lot about him now that she didn’t want to know any more.

“Good, we’re all here,” Sokka said. “Now, all we need to do is grab the Warden and get to the gondolas.”

“And how do we do that?” the prince asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Of course, this ensued an argument. No escape attempt was complete without one. The prince was mad at Sokka for not thinking the plan through thoroughly enough. Sokka was mad because the prince had told him that not everything needed to be thought through. Neither of them knew where to go from there.

But Suki knew. Suki squeezed (y/n)’s hand so gently it was entirely likely that she

hadn’t

, and made sure she at least had her attention.

The Kyoshi Warriors were a sisterhood that worked seamlessly. They rarely had to communicate plans - they simply

knew

. And, now, (y/n) felt that. She felt it in the strength Suki’s gaze filled her with, igniting a piece of her very soul. She felt it in the squeeze of her hand and the tilt of her body. Suki made her feel like her mother’s kimono had belonged on her all of those years ago. That she could be part of something.

“You got enough in you for a leg up?”

She did, it turned out. They moved to the side, away from the arguing boys beside them. (y/n) crouched slightly, hands cupped, as Suki took a few steps backwards. Then, she sprinted forward, her foot landing on (y/n)’s hands.

For a moment, (y/n) worried that her arms would give out. That her inaction in the last few months and the weakness the cooler had given her would make it end horribly. But Suki gave her strength.

When Suki’s foot came into contact with her hands, she pushed upwards, and Suki leapt up into the air. She landed with one foot on somebody’s shoulder, and then she was moving, jumping from the shoulder of one prisoner to the head of another with such ease it was almost as though she were trained specifically for that feat.

“This is kind of important to think through!” The prince’s voice was shrill with frustration.

Sokka was bright red. "You told me -"

Chit Sang huffed a laugh. “I think your girlfriend’s taking care of it.”

And she was. Suki scaled the walls of the prison as easily as walking on flat ground. She made it look entirely effortless.

(y/n) turned to the others, and felt a swell of something inside her. Not energy, not entirely, at least, and certainly not confidence, but perhaps a glimmer of hope.

“We need to meet her up there,” she told the group. “Come on, this way!”

Running made her weaker. All of the physical strength had been torn from her in the cooler, the last of it being used to propel Suki onto the heads of the prisoners, but she couldn’t falter now. Not when she was this close to leaving this hellhole. Now that she had the chance, she didn’t want to spend another minute there. Her feet kept moving.

She led them through the courtyard, picking their way through dazed, sprawling bodies and fighting prisoners. Up, up, up the metal stairs that led to some of the cells. Guards lay unconscious or groaning when they reached the balcony.

When they finally reached Suki, she already had the Warden tied up and useless. They all panted, out of breath from running, but Suki hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“We’ve got the Warden,” she told them as if they couldn’t see the painful grip she held him in. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

“That’s some girl,” Hakoda uttered.

Sokka, though bright red and panting, grinned like a lovestruck boy. “Tell me about it.”

The group hurried to the gondola platform, with the Warden dangling over Chit Sang’s shoulders. The guards there launched volleys of fire at them, all of which were easily deflected by the prince.

(y/n) couldn’t help but feel a stroke of jealousy. Perhaps he hadn’t been in the cooler nearly as long as she always was, but the fact that his firebending had returned so quickly, and so powerfully, enraged her. He manipulated the flames easily, far more easily than she had ever seen him do it, and sent it back at the guards. There was a dull ache in her chest as she watched him; a phantom pain, as though her bloodstream and organs and body missed her bending as much as her mind did.

“Back off,” he shouted. He had put on his prince’s voice. “We’ve got the Warden.”

The guards moved to the sides of the walkway, allowing them to pass. (y/n)’s heart felt like it was going to stop as they cautiously made their way past under the scrutinising, worried gazes of the guards.

They filtered into the gondola, with only the prince staying behind. Once they were on it, he pushed the lever and it lurched, slowly beginning to move up the pulley. The prince kicked the lever once, twice, three times, breaking the handle, before taking a running leap at the gondola. Sokka grabbed his arm and, with a groan, pulled him inside.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

The prince watched the guards below carefully, redirecting any fire that came too close. “I’m making it so they can’t stop us.”

“Way to think ahead,” Sokka commended.

Hakoda hesitated, standing by the window. “Wait, who’s that?”

They all gathered at the rear window and looked down at the platform below. Two women - girls, really - stood there, dressed extremely unlike the prison guards. One in pinkish-red clothes that aided in easy mobility, long hair swaying in a tight braid, and the other in red, black and gold armour. A flame-shaped headpiece was situated in her topknot.

(y/n)’s heart did stop this time.

“That’s a problem,” the prince said. “It’s my sister and her friend.”

She couldn’t breathe. Princess Azula summoned her roaring blue flames in an instant and used them to propel herself into the air, catching the gondola lines with some kind of contraption that allowed her to whiz up after them. Simultaneously, Ty Lee leapt onto the wires and sprinted across them as easily as walking. Not once did she lose her balance.

(y/n) had not seen Azula since she had been told she was being sent to the Boiling Rock by the Fire Lord, curled up in a cell somewhere in the Fire Nation. When she looked at the princess’s face, all she could see was the deaths of her parents, something Azula herself had not even witnessed. She could only see her gloating gaze as she looked down on her in that cramped cell, proud that she would not face an easy end. She could only see the prince’s back, turned on her as he followed the princess.

She had not felt true fury since the prince had allowed himself into her cell, since she had shoved that guard’s face in the boiling water and ended up in the cooler for the first time.

Now, it was born anew. She felt it coursing through her veins, turning the strained pain in her muscles and bones into something sharp that drove her.

“This is a rematch I’ve been waiting for,” Suki growled.

(y/n) agreed.

She made to pull herself up onto the gondola’s roof alongside Suki, Sokka, and the prince, but a strong hand stopped her.

Hakoda looked down at her with soft eyes, a kind of gaze she felt she was slowly beginning to hate. Perhaps that was just because of the fury that was piece by piece beginning to return to her the further she found herself from the prison. Perhaps the only person she could bear to receive such a look from was Suki, who was the only one who could even truly understand her emotions.

“This isn’t your fight,” he told her gently.

Not

her fight? Out of all of them, she and Suki perhaps had the strongest arguments as to why this

was

. Azula had laughed when she found out about the cancellation of the execution, that she was to end up at the Boiling Rock. Azula had taunted her, mocked her parents’ deaths, and had threatened her on numerous occasions when bringing her back to the Fire Nation. She had found incredible joy in causing her pain. Azula had killed every modicum of happiness and spirit she’d had left in her for months. Azula had taken the boy she had cared for and twisted his trauma until its jagged edges tore at (y/n) instead.

“You’re not ready,” he continued. “Your body isn't strong enough.”

There were footsteps above them. The sound of roaring flames.

“Let me go up there,” she said. Demanded. Spirits, it felt good to

demand

something. How long had she been whispering and begging and pleading?

Hakoda looked down at her sympathetically, and she was struck by how much of her father she saw in him. Not in appearance - no, they couldn’t have been more different - but in the way a crease formed between his brows and the corners of his lips curled downwards. He didn’t see her for the things she had become: a traitor; a prisoner; a girl who was filling up with so much fury that she feared she might implode. He saw her as a child. A lost daughter.

“You’re not ready,” he repeated.

She knew he was right. There was still no sign of her firebending. Her muscles felt as though they were burning from simply running. She was out of shape, out of practice. There was a better chance of Azula throwing her into the boiling lake below than her even getting a hit in.

But she didn’t want to just stand by. She could hear the fight above them. She could feel Azula’s presence as acutely as one felt the heat of a flame. She wanted to snuff it out.

She didn’t get the chance.

The Warden broke free of his binds and flung the upper half of his body out of the gondola window as he shouted, “Cut the line!”

Chit Sang wrapped his massive arms around the Warden, dragging him backwards. But the order was already being executed.

The gondola shuddered to a stop, tilting precariously on the wire as guards far, far below started sawing at it. Another gondola started making its way down the parallel wire, filled with more and more guards.

They watched as Azula and Ty Lee leapt off their gondola onto the next, smart enough to not stay on a doomed one.

Suki, Sokka, and the prince swept back in through the windows.

“I hope this thing floats,” Chit Sang grumbled.

All they could do was watch as the guards tried and tried to cut the line. (y/n) could hardly breathe as she watched.

It was stupid of her to actually hope to be free of this place. She could see the rest of her life so clearly in front of her, now, spent wasting away in the cooler. Perhaps there wouldn’t be much of a life left. She wasn’t sure her body could handle the cold and the visions for much longer.

But then the guards were stopped. One stumbled backwards, arms pinned to the walls with sharp, gleaming knives. The second followed shortly after.

A figure appeared, dressed in blood-red robes and trousers, black hair gleaming. She fought effortlessly, moving like the wind as she threw a multitude of knives at the guards, pinning them to walls. She dodged their flames easily, sliding across the floor and spinning around each. She made quick work of each of them before sending the gondola back on its way. There was something about her face - the narrow, angled features - that (y/n) thought she recognised, but just couldn't quite place.

“Who is

that

?” Sokka asked.

“It’s Mai,” Prince Zuko breathed.

She remembered her now - a daughter of two Fire Nation nobles. They had attended the Royal Fire Academy for Girls together, though Mai was a year below (y/n). She had always seemed horribly dreary, rarely ever smiling or talking even when she enjoyed something. She was friends with Azula and Ty Lee, and had followed the princess around like a perfect - if not bored - little lapdog.

A spark of

something

ignited in (y/n)’s chest as she watched his face, the way his eyes followed Mai. She wondered when that look had started appearing. She wondered why it bothered her so much.

The gondola lurched to a stop as they reached the upper platform, high above the prison. They hurried out, leaving the Warden tied up inside. She accidentally dug her foot into the dip between his ribs and hip, earning a whining groan.

“Sorry, Warden,” Hakoda said. He wasn’t sorry one bit. “Your record is officially broken.”

They sprinted up the sides of the volcano’s crater, panting as they ran. The air was bitter. She could taste salt on her lips from the surrounding sea.

“Well, we made it out,” Suki said. “Now what?”

The prince paused, glancing back at the prison. “My sister was on that island.”

“Yeah,” said Sokka, “and she’s probably right behind us, so let’s not stop.”

“What I mean is she must’ve come here somehow,” he explained. He ran farther up the crater’s side. “There! That’s our way out of here.”

They followed him up and looked out over the side. (y/n) felt a sudden wave of vertigo and grasped Suki’s sleeve, watching the gentle waves far below. She wasn’t used to being up so high. She feared she might be sick or that she might tumble right down the sides of the volcano. That would be a cruel way to go; finally beyond the confines of prison, only to die by falling from a height.

But, down below, following the snaking path down the volcano's side, hovered a mighty airship. With a golden dragon’s head at the front of the dark balloon, it was a sight to see, strapped down to the docks. It was massive, easily able to fit as many soldiers as a Fire Navy ship. (y/n) had never seen anything like it.

Her heart had finally resumed its beating, and as she looked down at the airship, the ghost of a smile crept onto her lips for the first time in months. She had escaped.

She was free.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"The Western Air Temple"
  As it turned out, (y/n) hated travelling by air.

The airship made her feel nauseous, and with each too-strong breeze that had the gondola shaking, she found herself clutching a bucket to her chest, sweating and shaking. Even though she wanted to, she couldn’t bear to look out of the window and watch the passing scenery in fear of throwing up.

She stashed herself away in the engine rooms where it was perpetually hot and there were no windows in sight. Though the heat did not truly permeate her skin, didn’t fight off her incessant chill, it gave the pretence of being warm. It didn’t feel like her cell and, more importantly, it didn’t feel like the cooler.

Never again would she set foot in anything like it again.

She hadn’t told anyone about where she was going, she had simply ended up in the hottest room she could find, so she was shocked to hear footsteps nearing.

Her body automatically went into panic mode, hairs raising and muscles tensing. She knew she was safe, but she was so used to being like this, curled up in a corner when the guards would come to take her away. It was her body’s go-to reaction. She was more flight than fight now.

A shaggy head of black hair came into view. A twisting pink scar. Gold eyes she swore she never wanted to see again.

“You’re here,” the prince said breathlessly, almost as if he thought she had never even set foot on the airship. “How are you feeling?”

She bit her tongue and turned her gaze away. She didn’t want to talk to him. Ever.

It was cruel of him to come here, she thought. After he had turned his back on her and she had been forced to rot in the Boiling Rock, after his betrayal had subjected her to a life that had made her into the quivering, weak mess she was now, it was absurd that he thought he could speak to her as though none of it had happened.

Her body was weak, almost too weak to host all the rage she felt. Rage fueled by grief. Rage fueled by betrayal. Rage fueled by a feeling she had once known, back in Ba Sing Se, but no longer had a name for.

There was a sigh as if he had expected this reaction from her, but he shuffled over and sat down a few feet away. Giving her enough space to herself.

“I know it’s not enough,” he said, “but I

am

sorry. I want to find some way to make this up to you. How can I make it up to you?”

Bring my parents back

, she thought.

Give me the past four months of my life back.

She wanted to leap at him, to claw at his skin and burn the shape of her fingers across his throat and make him

hurt

. She wanted him to hurt so badly that it hurt

her

.

His family had taken everything from her. His father had taken her parents, the two people who meant more to her than words could even describe. His father had taken Iroh away, and she didn’t even know if he was still alive. The lot of them had taken her freedom, her strength, her

mind

from her. She was no longer able to function normally. Even the slightest cold breeze on her skin took her back to the cooler, made her feel as though she was going mad. She saw her parents in everything, so often she was close to clawing her eyes out.

When the tears came, she turned further away and bit her tongue harder. The metallic taste of blood coated her mouth.

“I should never -” His voice sounded shaky. “You were right to do what you did. I realise that now. I’m on the Avatar’s side, I want to restore balance, and I know that that’s what you were helping to do. I was stupid back then. I thought that your aim and our feelings were mutually exclusive.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that tore out of her, humourless and watery with tears. “

Our

feelings? If you had felt anything for me, you would’ve fought for me the moment your father called for my head.”

He was silent for a moment. “I did -” He hesitated. “My family has caused you a horrible amount of pain, and I can’t take that away. But I want to stop anything like that from happening again. I want to help you. I want us to be

us

again.”

Her heart swelled with such fury she was afraid it would shatter in her chest. Part of her hoped it would. She could press the shards into his throat and his heart and draw blood.

“

Us

?” She scoffed and whirled on him. “There will never

be

an us again. Whatever it was that we had back in Ba Sing Se, it’s gone. I have nothing left inside of me anymore. I’m never going to be the same again.

Ever

. Because of

you

. Because of your father and your sister.”

A piece of her enjoyed the pain on his face, just as it had wanted him to go into the cooler to truly discover what she went through for months on end. It revelled in his hurt, just as it had when, in states of delirium, she had torn at his face moments after feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her gentle fingertips.

But she also knew that she had betrayed him. That she had allowed him to grow close to her, close enough to worry about her, only to find out that their relationship - whether it was a friendship or something else that she could not name - was fostered on a lie. That she had been lying to him for years.

This was not a lie, though. She would never be the same again.

As she stood, as she walked away, she tried not to think about the lie she

had

said. The lie that tore at the smallest part of her, tucked away in the back of her mind. The lie that hurt the girl from Ba Sing Se.

– –

“So, Aang is alive?”

Sokka nodded, watching as the airship descended into the deep canyon that hid the Western Air Temple. “Back in the North Pole, the waterbending master gave Katara a vial of water from the spirit oasis. She used it to heal him. For a while, we were worried it hadn’t worked. With all of the healing sessions, it didn’t seem like he was getting better. But he did.”

He looked proud as he spoke, proud of Katara. As he should have been - it was an extraordinary feat, (y/n) thought, to bring the Avatar back from the dead. Hope had been lost when she had watched the lightning kill him. While imprisoned, she had tried not to think of the repercussions of the action. She supposed, now, that they had not been as consequential as she had thought.

“I never got to thank you,” he continued. “For coming to us when you did, back in Ba Sing Se. I don’t think we would’ve found her without you.”

She tried not to think about Ba Sing Se, about what had occurred after seeking the Avatar’s help. She could feel Prince Zuko’s presence just a few feet away, watching the canyon walls rise around them. She could feel him turn his eyes to her.

It took a moment for it to occur to her that the two of them had been here before, years ago when they were different people. His scar was still fresh, still healing. Her mind was in a fragile state, so far from her parents. He had been sure they would find something of the Avatar there, hidden in the upside-down temples and their sprawling interiors. Iroh had worried for the prince’s health. (y/n) had wished her parents were there with her.

She supposed things hadn’t changed all that much. The time in between, they had become drastically different people, but now, they were much the same once more. Two people on opposite sides of a coin, one healing from more wounds inflicted by his family, one yet again in a fragile state, even further from her parents.

The Western Air Temple was beautiful three years ago. It was beautiful now, even in the dark.

The airship landed on the large platform that formed the floor of the temple grounds, shaking as it settled. The door hatch opened, and Sokka and the prince filtered out first.

There they were, the Avatar and his friends. Aang stood at the front, staff in hand, beside Katara, dressed in her blue water tribe clothes. And there was Toph, hands on her hips as she felt her companions unload from the airship. After mere months, they already looked older.

“What are you doing in this thing?” Katara asked. Her voice echoed across the stone walls. “What happened to the war balloon?”

“It kind of got destroyed,” the prince said.

Aang grinned. “Sounds like a crazy fishing trip.”

“Did you at least get some good meat?” Toph asked.

“I did,” said Sokka. “The best meat of all - the meat of friendship and fatherhood.”

It perhaps wasn’t the way (y/n) would have announced their arrival, but she figured it was very in character for Sokka. Hakoda was the first out of the airship, followed by Suki, who stayed close to (y/n)’s side. Her legs were a bit unsteady from the sickness of flying.

Chit Sang came out behind them. “I’m new. What’s up, everybody?”

“Dad,” Katara breathed.

She was running at him quicker than anybody could comprehend, wrapping her arms around his torso. He held her so tightly it was as though he thought she would slip away if he let go.

(y/n) had to look away.

“How are you here?” Katara asked. “What’s going on? Where did you go?”

“We kind of went to a Fire Nation prison,” Sokka said.

Toph frowned. “Seriously, you guys didn’t find any meat?” But, surprisingly, despite her unhappiness, she smiled in (y/n)’s direction. “Fancy seeing you here.”

(y/n) didn’t like the weight of the others’ stares. They were almost as compressing as the tiny space inside the cooler, and she could feel her heartbeat picking up at the thought. Her hands felt clammy. The breeze made her tremble.

“It’s been a long journey,” Suki said. “I think the two of us would like to sleep, if that’s alright.”

There was a resounding

yes

since everyone had been woken up
, and they were led to the sleeping area, which was just a few feet away from where they stood. A circle of sleeping rolls was spread out, but they were moved hastily to make room for more.

It should have comforted her to be surrounded by more people. There was a higher chance of her staying safe that way, but the thought of being so close to people after months of almost complete solidarity, except for Suki, made her terrified.

While everyone fell asleep, she pulled her sleeping roll off to the side, keeping her back to one of the tall columns that helped support the rocky ceiling. It wasn’t necessarily cold, but the nighttime breeze rose gooseflesh on her arms and made panic flare in her chest.

She tried desperately to summon even a flicker of her fire, to draw on the energy deep within herself, but she found nothing. Felt nothing. The cooler’s effects still had a horrible grip on her. Her hands shook as she tried to brave the cold, as she wrapped herself so, so tightly in her blanket. The pieces of wood in front of her, measly straggling branches she had found littered about the place, sat there, completely dry. Not a flame in sight.

Counting didn’t help her ease her panic. Naming places she knew and things she could smell only stressed her out; most of the places had been burned or destroyed or held terrible memories.

All of a sudden, bright orange flames flared in front of her, warm and blinding. For a moment, there was a flicker of hope in her chest. Had she done that?

Upon turning her gaze, she saw a slightly raised figure over in the circle of bedrolls. Not sitting, not laying down. Hand extended in the direction of her pile of wood.

The prince didn’t say anything as he lay himself back down and went to sleep.

– –

The Avatar’s group consisted of more than just the friends (y/n) had met. During the night, she had watched others trickle outside; a small group of people around the same age as the rest of them. In time, she supposed she would learn their names. She was so exhausted she feared that she would forget her own.

She slept fitfully, waking at random intervals during the night, chest tight with terror. When she realised that a fire still burned before her, that there was so much open space in place of tight cell walls, she was able to relax a little. Not enough to sleep through the night, no, but enough to at least rest her eyes.

Sunlight slowly filtered through the columns of the Western Air Temple, glowing gold and bright and beautiful. Back at the Boiling Rock, all light had been dulled by the perpetual cloud of steam. She couldn’t remember it being so beautiful.

On shaky legs, she found herself nearing the edge of the grounds, staring out at the deep canyon and the bright blue sky above.

It had been so long since she’d been able to freely look at the sky without being in the middle of backbreaking manual labour or trying to keep her head down, out of the way of the guards and other prisoners.

The relief hit her like a punch to the chest. Relief of finally being free of that place. Of never having to set foot in a cooler again or feel the burning grips of guards hauling her away. She was safe here.

Or, so she thought.

The bomb seemed to appear from nowhere, launched from below in the foggy clouds that clung to the canyon beneath the floor of the temple grounds. Aang, half asleep, only just had enough time to wave his staff and deflect it away with a gust of air. It exploded a few feet away.

More followed immediately after, some finding purchase on the old stone bridges and walls. The temple grounds trembled. There were too many bombs for Aang to deflect himself. The rest of them could only watch as half a dozen massive airships rose from the clouds below, boasting their dragon figureheads. With a blast of wind from Aang, protective metal doors shut around their sleeping area, closing them off from the bombs.

The blasts echoed around them, and with the impact of each, the ceiling grew weaker.

(y/n) watched as debris began falling to the floor and, moments later, was torn from the ground. She landed with a hard thump and, for a terrible moment, feared she had been hit by some of the debris, but the only pain was from landing so hard on the rock floor.

There were arms around her. A gentle warmth she would’ve known anywhere.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, tearing herself from the prince’s arms. Her heart thundered, terrified by contact she had not been prepared for.

He gave her an incredulous look. “Keeping rocks from crushing you.”

She stumbled to her feet, grasping one of the stone columns as he muttered something about getting a

thank you

. It infuriated her, made her skin burn with anger at his entitlement, but there were bigger issues. She hastily sucked air back into her lungs.

Towards the back of the area, Toph and one of the other boys from the group, an earthbender named Haru, opened up a tunnel in the back wall.

“Come on,” Toph said, “we can get out through here.”

The group filtered into the mouth of the tunnel, watching the falling debris. Aang was pulling on Appa’s reins, trying to guide the sky-bison to the tunnel, but he wouldn’t cooperate.

The only other person not inside the tunnel was Prince Zuko.

“What are you doing?” Aang demanded.

“Go ahead,” the prince told them. “I’ll hold them off. I think this is a family visit.”

“Zuko, no!”

Sokka and Katara raced forward, grabbing a hold of Aang and Appa. “Come on,” Sokka told him. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

As the metal protective walls broke down, the prince leapt over the tearing metal and disappeared into the clouds of smoke. Katara and Sokka tried their best to help drag Appa into the tunnel.

“I can’t get him to go in there,” Aang cried. “Appa hates tunnels.”

Katara groaned as she tugged the reins. “Aang, there’s no way we can fly out of here.”

“We’ll have to find a way,” Aang said.

“We need to split up,” Sokka said. He turned to the rest of them. “Take the tunnel and get to the stolen airship.”

“No!” Katara said. “The Fire Nation can't separate our family again.”

Hakoda gave her a gentle, fatherly smile. “It’ll be okay. It’s not forever.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly before pushing her in the direction of Appa. Sokka grasped Suki’s hand tightly. Suki took (y/n)’s. Alongside Toph and Aang, they leapt onto Appa’s back while the others - Hakoda, Chit Sang, Haru, and the others who had found refuge with the Avatar - sprinted down the tunnel.

“I can clear that wall away and we can fly out through there,” Toph told them, pointing to the side of the tunnel.

Suki pursed her lips. “Um, there’s an awful lot of fire in that general direction.”

“We’ll get through,” Aang said. He sounded more confident than the rest of them felt. “Let’s go.”

Appa was more than happy to break out of the tunnel. He propelled himself through the stone wall just as Toph broke it apart, spinning out of the way of the fire that tore their way, launched by firebenders standing on catwalks attached to the airships. Down below on the tops of the airships, the prince launched his own volleys of fire at another figure, effortlessly releasing streams of blue fire.

Azula

.

An explosion rocked below, caused by the impact of their flames colliding, and Aang steered Appa through the fiery missiles towards the prince’s falling figure. It was Katara who grasped his arm and pulled him into the saddle.

But Azula kept falling.

"She’s not going to make it,” the prince said. Perhaps there was a hint of guilt in his voice.

This was Azula. Of course, she would. With a blast of blue flames from her feet, she propelled herself to the canyon wall, digging the blade of a knife into the rock and skidding down until she lost momentum. She hung on the wall, watching them fly away.

“Of course, she did,” the prince grumbled.

They flew for hours until they found a clearing on a cliff face, surrounded by jagged rocks. The moon had begun to rise over the horizon by the time they had finished setting up their tents. A fire burned bright in the middle of their campsite, cooking their rations. The air was cold, and (y/n) sat so close to the fire she was worried her eyebrow hairs might have gotten seared off.

“Wow, camping,” Aang said. He sounded awfully happy, despite the events that had occurred mere hours ago. “It really seems like old times again, doesn’t it?”

“If you really want it to feel like old times,” said the prince, “I could, uh… Chase you around awhile and try to capture you.”

The group laughed. (y/n) and Katara were perhaps the only two who didn’t. She tried not to even look in his direction. Katara scoffed and caught her eye as if to say, Can you believe this?

Their time chasing the Avatar had brought them to where they had faced their end in Ba Sing Se. Her loyalty to her parents, to Aang, had been the very thing that had thrown her into the Boiling Rock. The fact that he could even

joke

about it enraged her.

She liked feeling the fury.

“To Zuko,” Sokka said. “Who knew after all those times he tried to snuff us out, today he’d be our hero.”

And the group actually toasted him. They did it, they let him smile, as if he and his family hadn’t caused so much suffering to not only them, but to the world.

“I’m touched,” he said. “I don’t deserve this.”

"Yeah,” (y/n) muttered. “No kidding.”

She placed her cup of tea on the grass and stormed off.

How could they just forgive him? After all he had done, after

everything

, how could they welcome him with open arms and call him their hero? What had he done whilst she was locked up in the worst prison in the world? Been pampered like a prince? Turned his back on his tyrannical father about three years too late?

She wasn’t sure where she was going. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

She found herself sitting at the cliff’s edge, watching the water crash into the rock walls, slowly eroding away. It was freezing, so horribly cold that for a terrible moment, she was afraid that she had never escaped the Boiling Rock at all. She was still wearing her prisoner’s uniform, after all.

Something warm enveloped her shoulders, coated in a scent so familiar it made her chest hurt.

Warm embers and musk.

She wanted to throw the blanket off immediately, but it was the only thing that filled her with any semblance of warmth. Despite herself, despite her anger, she wrapped it tighter around herself.

“What do you want?”

The prince sat down on the rocks beside her, once again giving her a few feet of space. He placed something wrapped in cloth on his legs. “I’ve got something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

He set whatever it was in the space between them, and it was as though he knew her curiosity would win her over. He probably did. She was truly her father’s daughter.

It was long and thin, whatever it was. Carefully, she peeled the cloth away, revealing smooth wood, painted with green-and-gold swirling designs. When she held it in her hand, she was struck by its familiarity. She flicked it open.

The fan he had given her all those months ago. His truce when they had argued.

“I’ve had it since… well, you know,” he said. “I wanted to go back to the apartment and get your knives. I know they meant a lot to you, but there hadn’t been any time. I’m sorry I couldn’t get them for you.”

She wanted to throw the fan off the cliffside. She didn’t want anything that had been touched by him, anything that reminded her of the boy she had once known. Why had he kept it? Why had he wanted to find her knives, if he had believed her to be sentenced to death just like her parents?

The art of using the fan as a weapon connected her to her mother, and without her knives, that connection was so terribly close to being severed. It could be days, still, before her fire returned. She wanted some way of protecting herself. Perhaps she and Suki could spar, and she could build up the strength and stamina she had lost.

With trembling fingers, she placed it down by her side, but she didn’t let go. She could feel her chest constricting. She could feel the withered memory of primroses, hear the voice of the boy from Ba Sing Se. She wanted to be sick. To cry.

“What happened to Iroh?” she managed to ask. Her throat felt raw with emotion. “Is he… Is he okay, at least?”

The prince’s head dipped, ears tinged pink with shame. “My father had him imprisoned in the citadel in the capital. When the invasion came during the solar eclipse, he managed to escape. I don’t know where he’s gone.”

Her heart felt a little lighter, knowing that. Knowing that Iroh was out of the clutches of the Fire Nation, out there in the world. He could defend himself. She would find him again, she knew it.

“Are you warm enough?” His voice was gentle. She couldn’t tell if it made her angry or nauseous. “I can make a -”

“I’m fine,” she said, clipping the words.

She didn’t want to be near him. Being near him meant facing everything that had happened. It meant knowing that the boy she had cared for was possibly returning, when all she could bear to see was the boy who had turned his back on her.

How could she ever think of the boy from Ba Sing Se again, when he had caused her such pain? No, he had not been at fault for her parents’ deaths, and perhaps he had truly thought she was dead. But he had inadvertently made her lose her mind. The boy she had grown to care for wouldn't have done that. He would have fought for her.

Part of her wanted the boy from her delirious visions back. The one who would lash out at her and bare his teeth. That boy made it so much easier to paint him a villain. That boy never tried to regain her trust.

“I know you hate me,” he said. “Believe me, I would, too. But I will do anything to make this right.”

She didn’t want him to make it right. It was so far beyond being wrong that maybe it could never

be

right. But maybe there was something he could do for her before she decided to cut her losses.

“I want to find my aunt.”

He looked over at her then, surprised by the sound of her voice. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to offer something up.

But he nodded. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Heritage"
  The morning air was crisp and cold, biting at exposed skin. Slowly, piece by piece, (y/n) could feel warmth returning to her bones, merely from the distance between her and the Boiling Rock, but the chill still cut through her. Another day or so could pass before her bending returned. She intended on not wasting a moment after it was back.

Prince Zuko was waiting for her by Appa’s side by the time the sun rose, watching the sky closely, as though something might shoot from it and attack. She recognised the tension in his shoulders, had grown used to it over the years. She didn’t like that it was something she could remember so offhandedly.

When he saw her approaching, he straightened and offered her a small smile. It wasn’t returned.

The others came to wish them luck. Sokka clapped the prince on the shoulder and told him not to get Appa killed. Katara gave (y/n) a black jumper of hers to keep her warm at the higher altitudes. Aang smiled in that pleasant way of his, but something in his eyes felt wrong. They flickered with apprehension that was reciprocated in Toph’s stiff stature.

“Kyoshi Island isn’t the same as the last time you saw it,” Suki told her gently. She knew that Suki would have liked to return to her home, but this wasn’t something she wanted to intrude on, even though she knew how (y/n) felt about it all simply from looking at her. Her sharp gaze kept darting towards the prince. “It’ll still be in the process of getting rebuilt. The people will be on edge, and although basically anyone

anywhere

will know about you, neither of you will be trusted. Stay out of the town as much as you can.”

She then passed her a pack with food and canisters of water, scrounged up from what the group could spare.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I hope you find your aunt. She was a strong woman.”

As she climbed up into Appa’s saddle, she caught a glimpse of the warning glare Suki sent at the prince. The nod he gave in return. After a moment, he climbed up after her.

Appa took to the skies almost immediately, propelling them forward with a beat of his massive tail. The cool morning air rushed past (y/n)’s ears and nipped at her cheeks. Clouds passed so closely that she could stretch her fingers out and feel them. She was rather disappointed that they didn’t feel as soft as they looked - it just felt like wet air.

“They’re not like what you’d think,” said the prince. “The clouds, I mean.”

She drew her hand back and shifted in the saddle. “I suppose.”

He was watching her carefully, lips pursed and eyes flickering over her face as if he was trying to make sure she was really in front of him. If he had been telling the truth, maybe it was a shock to his system, seeing her sitting on the other side of Appa’s back. He had thought her dead until two days ago.

Maybe all of this was as shocking for him as it was for her. He thought she had been killed. She thought he had been complicit in her imprisonment.

He was not entirely at fault, that much she knew. She had betrayed him. She had let him give her the fan and hide primroses in her pocket, all while knowing that whatever it was that they had between them was founded on a lie.

She just didn’t think he would have sat idly by while under the impression that she was to be executed.

There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to demand that he answer truthfully, but the words became stuck in her throat. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe knowing would make everything so much more complicated.

As they flew, she imagined him like the clouds. She had expected one thing and found another. Once, everything had been black-and-white for her. All she had seen in him was a spoiled prince who saw value in nothing but honour, but for almost a year now, that had changed so drastically that it gave her vertigo. She didn’t know who he was anymore.

She found herself thinking of his life during the last four months, wondering where he had been while she had been withering away. Had he been haunted by her, just as she had been haunted by him? Had he seen her face every night before he fell asleep, begging and screaming and cursing at him?

Her chest felt tight when she tried to push her thoughts past trivial things. The kindness he had possessed when giving her the fan, when he had surprised her with the primroses, when he had smiled at her in the way that turned her legs to jelly; had he shared it with anybody else?

It was stupid. She was furious with him, and yet the question picked at her from the very back of her mind.

Her thoughts fell to their escape, to the look he’d had on his face when he watched Mai defend them from the lower gondola platform.

She pinched the skin of her arm tightly, nails digging enough to form a blood blister. This wasn’t the time for such stupid thoughts. He had done much worse than make moony-eyes at somebody.

“How long will it take to get to Kyoshi Island?” she asked, trying to draw her mind away. “I don’t know how fast Appa flies.”

But he would, because the Avatar and his friends had accepted him over a week ago. They had brushed past the things he had done in their desperation for a firebending teacher. They had believed the things he had said, just as she once had.

“We’ll be there by nightfall,” he told her. He was still watching her as though she was a cornered animal about to pounce. “Do you think Aiyosa will still be there?”

She couldn’t afford to think anything else. The thought of finding her aunt was the only thing keeping her in the saddle with him. It was one of the few things keeping her sane.

“Unless you ratted her out to your father,” she said sharply, “then there’s a good chance. She’s a Kyoshi Warrior. It’s her home. There’s probably no place safer for her.”

The prince flinched at her words. “I didn’t - My father doesn’t know, not from me at least. He knows that she was one of your father’s contacts, and that she and your mother were both Kyoshi Warriors, but she was smart. She never left a record of where she was. Even if he went looking for her, I’m not sure he would find her.”

That much was true. Aiyosa had always been good at hiding, even in plain sight.

A family trait, (y/n) supposed.

“What…” He paused, trying to figure out the right words. “What are you going to do if she’s not there?”

She watched the clouds pass by, felt them brush against her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

– –

Kyoshi Island at night was remarkably different than it was during the day.

Suki had been right - it was still under reconstruction, but the houses still remained very much the same as they always had been. In the sunlight, it would’ve been beautiful - surrounded by lush, green grass and glowing golden in the light - but now the wooden skeletons made hulking, monstrous shadows in the light of the moon. The statue of Avatar Kyoshi loomed imposingly in the town centre, sharp shadows contouring her face to the point that she looked like a demon from Aiyosa’s scary stories.

The connection she felt to the statue was a tangible thing, now. With her mother’s identity revealed, with her

own

, her ties with the Avatar’s past life became stronger. It almost felt like a thread linked between herself and the statue, connecting her irrevocably to Kyoshi, and it made her feel a little warmer inside.

They landed on a cliff’s edge, overlooking the dark waters surrounding the island. Somewhere in those depths lurked the Unagi, circling the island protectively. Not to guard the island, necessarily, but this was its territory. (y/n) did not want another run-in with it.

Aiyosa’s home had been nestled a little ways out of the town, tucked away in the underbrush and trees at the very edges of the forest. As a child, (y/n) had loved climbing those trees and crawling in the underbrush, lifting stones to find reptiles and insects making their homes. The house, and the forest by extension, had been a source of wonder and excitement every time they had visited.

Walking along the path that led to the cottage, she couldn’t fight off the melancholic nostalgia that seeped into her bones. Years ago, she had clutched her father’s fingers, dragging him along this very path. Years ago, her mother had lifted her onto her shoulders, allowing her to feel as tall and powerful as the mighty Kyoshi.

Now, she walked alongside the Traitor Prince, whose eyes darted around as he tried to gauge their surroundings. That in itself felt like a betrayal.

No firelight flickered in the windows. The flowers on the sill were overgrown with weeds. The shutters on the windows, which (y/n) had scratched patterns on with a knife as a young child, hung limply, half-torn from the frame by wind.

She could

feel

the prince’s thoughts. She knew what he wanted to say, that the place looked abandoned, that it was entirely likely that Aiyosa wasn’t even there, but he voiced none of his thoughts. That much she appreciated.

The door creaked when she pushed it open, squealing on old hinges. They used to do that years ago, so her aunt could hear when somebody had come into her home unannounced, but never so loudly.

Inside, the house was colder than it had been outside. (y/n) was glad for the jumper lent to her by Katara. She wrapped her arms around herself, preserving as much warmth as she could.

She could walk through this house blindfolded, but, still, she gestured for the prince to light the lanterns that hung on the walls. Golden light illuminated the living space and kitchen. There was a rug on the floor, once bright with colour but now dull from being trodden on over and over again. Flowers wilted in vases on low tables and countertops. Old ash sat placidly in the fireplace. When she brushed her fingers through them, they were ice cold.

“Aiyosa?” she called, dusting the ash onto her red trouser leg. “Yosi?”

No reply. A cool freeze flittered through the room. The prince wiped a finger along the countertops, frowning at his fingertip, covered in a layer of dust.

“She’s not here,” he told her. “She hasn’t been for a while.”

She refused to believe that. Aiyosa wouldn’t have just left. This was her home, and she had declared long, long ago that she would never leave it. Not when a place was made for her in the Fire Nation, where she and Tova could have protected each other. Not even when Kyoshi Island kept isolating itself from the outside world and all she wanted to do was connect with other people.

Maybe she would have left if she had found out about (y/n)’s imprisonment. Perhaps, she had travelled to save her, but the logic wouldn’t make sense in her head. Even if she had only left a day ago to save her, the house would not already be in such disrepair. If she had left sooner, she would have already made it to the Boiling Rock.

It made her wonder: had word of her imprisonment spread far, if at all? The prince himself had not known, and as far as she knew, he and Sokka had not gone to the Boiling Rock with the purpose of finding her, not at first, at least.

Aiyosa was in hiding.

(y/n) was out of the house quicker than the prince had time to comprehend. She had already made it halfway around to the back by the time he caught up to her.

“Where are we going?” he asked as she strode deeper into the forest. She didn’t even have to ask him to call fire into his palm, lighting their way.

She pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way. It thumped him hard on the chest. “My aunt and I played a lot of hide-and-seek when I visited. There are a million places she could hide on the island and not be found. She has to be in one of them.”

The first was at the foot of a hulking tree with roots as thick as her forearm, a twenty-minute walk from the outskirts of the forest. All of the trees were tall, but this one in particular loomed over them, so tall that the prince almost bent backwards trying to find the tip in the sky. While he searched, (y/n) neared the tree, fingers brushing over the faint grooves in the bark. At first glance, they looked natural; carved out by an animal’s claws, but she knew better. She could feel the phantom weight of Aiyosa’s hunting knife in her hand. She could see her eight-year-old hands straining to scratch those marks, marks that formed vague characters if one squinted and looked very closely.

Suddenly, the prince was beside her. “Are those your initials?”

She nodded slightly. “Be careful. It’s hard to see, but there’s a steep drop just on the other side.”

Carefully, she dropped down, feet sinking into the thick underbrush and moss. The prince landed nimbly beside her, alighting his hand again.

The firelight revealed a hollow between some of the tree’s roots, a small gap but big enough to squeeze through. Inside, it was pitch black. Anything could have been inside, but she didn’t feel afraid at the thought. Every moment she spent outside of that prison that had made her a shell of her former self made her feel less afraid.

It was a cramped space inside, smaller than she remembered, but she supposed she had grown in the eight years since she had last been inside the hollow. The dirt walls were tightly packed, laced with thick, twisting roots. The floor was comprised of more dirt and tightly woven strips of wood in places where the ground was damper. There was enough space for two people to lie down, but not much more than that. It was tall enough for them to stand, slightly hunched.

The hollow wasn’t the most conspicuous place to hide if somebody was approaching from below the tree, but most didn’t. Aiyosa might have camped out here for a short while if she had needed to.

It was clear, though, that she hadn’t. Not recently, at least. It was completely empty.

The prince’s shoulder bumped into hers, and she found herself curling away from the touch. Any unexpected contact made her jumpy.

He looked apologetic. The fire in his palm at least made her feel a little warmer. “Where to next?”

She pursed her lips and thought. They couldn’t possibly search every single place (y/n) knew of - it would take days, and they didn’t have that time to spare - but it was hard to narrow it down.

Hope lights the way.  Love guides the soul

.

And her soul knew.

– –

“Are you sure the Unagi isn’t going to appear and

eat

us?”

(y/n) picked her way down the rocky path, feet sinking when she stood on the small patches of sand rather than stone. “Probably not. The few times I’ve come to the cove, it’s never appeared. I didn’t even really believe that it was real until last year.”

The prince was tense as he followed her. Obviously, he remembered the last time they were here as vividly as she did. She wondered if the flames had scared him for those weeks afterwards as they had done for her. She wondered if he ever thought about becoming that boy again; the one who burned villages for not giving him what he wanted.

It made her mouth taste sour, thinking about it. As far as she cared, he was that boy and he would

remain

that boy until he proved otherwise. Just because he had suddenly sided with the Avatar, just because he had helped her escape a prison that he had inadvertently caused her to spend months inside,

just because

he was helping her look for her aunt didn’t mean that the boy who burned and burned was gone.

Once, she had believed he was. She thought she had watched him disappear, replaced by somebody new. She had been wrong, and she had suffered for it.

She didn’t intend to be wrong again.

The air tasted like salt and bitter seaweed. It nipped at her skin, so piercingly cold that it made her shake from a long-standing terror. It filled her with panic; panic that she had never escaped the cooler and its terrible claws. Her heart seized in her chest, and she stumbled slightly as she walked. Her fear was embarrassing, so much so that she could feel her cheeks growing hot.

Part of her was glad for it, though. She could feel the prince’s eyes on the back of her head, taking in her panic and her dull terror. He needed to see this, even if she didn’t want him to. He needed to see what turning his back on her had done.

He hoped finding her aunt would get her to forgive him. She wasn’t sure she could.

“Is that it, there?” he asked, pointing to a dark cave nestled in the looming cliff face.

“No,” she said. “Too obvious. It’s further on.”

The closer they got to the dark water, the more the cold bit at her. She had always been cold, but she’d always had her bending as a backup source of warmth. Now, she could only feel the ghost of it, returning far too slowly. She only had to last another day or so. She could do that. She had to.

The prince kept close to her, though she wasn’t sure if it was so they could both see where they were going or because he could see her shivering.

She hated the proximity. She wanted him as far away as possible.

She wanted him right beside her.

Cursing every spirit, cursing whatever higher being had created them, she packed the thoughts away into a faraway place in her mind. He was not a priority right now, and neither were her incessantly contradicting feelings. Aiyosa was. Her

family

was.

They continued on until (y/n) motioned for him to stop, staring up at the jagged cliff face. The lapping waves only just reached their feet. She remembered playing in the water the few times she and her aunt had ventured down here.

With the Unagi lurking, this was the perfect hiding place. The Fire Nation were now acutely aware of its existence, after the run-in almost a year ago, and they’d never dare coming so close to its territory now.

Aiyosa was smart.

“There’s nothing here,” the prince muttered.

She had to admit that, yes, it did look like he was right, but she knew he wasn’t. She trudged over to the cliff, feet skidding on the smoother stones, empty shells crunching beneath her feet. The scent of the sea was cloying, now.

“My great-grandmother was an earthbender,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she was telling the prince or reminding herself of her ancestry. For so long, she’d had to deny her heritage to keep herself safe. Now, everybody knew. Now, she could fully accept every part of her. “She led the evacuations for Kyoshi Island during the start of the war, back when everybody thought the Fire Nation would invade the Earth Kingdom rather than kill the Air Nomads. Kyoshi Island was prime for the taking, so she and the few earthbenders here made pockets in the cliff sides to hide the civilians. If you know how to find them, you can still get inside.”

He watched as she pressed her hands firmly to the rocky wall, fingers tracing over the grooves and erosions. With all the strength she could muster, she pushed.

Stone gave way. Like a door, it groaned and swung backwards, scratching against the stone floor. She stepped inside, uncaring to the darkness.

Firelight filled the room carved into the cliff, catching the layers of sedimentary rock that made the cliff itself. It illuminated the small pieces of clutter left inside, clutter that was supposed to be collected at a later date but forgotten. A small doll carved out of wood. A blanket, damp and probably gathering mould. A pair of small shoes, taken off to go play in the water and never put back on again.

There was a small amount of hastily made pieces of furniture, made back when the evacuees had stayed in the caves like this. They had never bothered making anything new. Flat rock worked perfectly well as tables.

The prince picked up the decrepit doll.

“That’s Tira,” (y/n) told him. “Yosi made her for my fifth birthday.”

“How’d you come up with the name?”

“Put some letters together.”

He laughed, then. No more than an amused huff of breath, but the mere sound took her back to a place she didn’t want to think of anymore. It hurt too much.

“So, there are more of these?” he asked, looking around the room.

She nodded, tapping one of the walls with her nail. “At least twenty more. They’re all connected through smaller tunnels, but Yosi and I only stuck to this one. This one was Mimi’s. Mimi made this one for the Shayins.”

She had only heard stories of her great-grandmother, her Mimi, but she had always known that her spirit was present in all of the Shayins. Their compassion, their loyalty. The few times she had seen her grandmother before her death, she had seen it so beautifully in her. In the eyes that all the Shayins shared.

Aiyosa was not here, and if she was not here, the last place on Kyoshi Island that the Fire Nation would look for her, then she was not on the island at all.

“Look for anything she might have left behind,” she said. “She wouldn’t leave without giving some sort of idea where she went.”

The prince’s eyes were soft, sad. “I don’t - Have you considered the other possibilities?”

She knew exactly what he meant. He was asking if she had considered that Aiyosa was dead, slaughtered like her parents. He was asking if she had considered that she was the only Shayin left, as if being the only Aoro wasn’t hard enough.

The fact he even had to

ask

infuriated her. Of course, she had thought about it. Almost their entire journey had consisted of her picking the skin around her nails, terrified that she would find only a grave or the remains of her only family. She had wondered what she would do if Aiyosa was dead and had turned over every single possibility in her mind a thousand times in her terror.

“She’s alive,” she insisted, because she had to be. She would not accept a world where Yosi was not in it.

“I just mean, it’s better to prepare yourself for the worst.”

Rage coated her tongue, filled her bloodstream, as she whirled on him. It was delicious, hot and fiery and everything she had needed in place of her empty passiveness. She glared at him with such anger that it made her feel so impossibly alive. Every heartbeat echoed in her ears. She could feel her body fueling with her anger.

“I’ve prepared myself for it for months,” she snapped. “As soon as your sister told me about my parents, it was one of the only things I could think about. You don’t understand. You have no idea what it’s like to have your family killed, to not know if the one person left is dead, too. No, your family is alive. They’ve just chosen not to be there with you.”

It was a low blow. Spirits, it was

so

low. She could see the moment the words registered, the very second he understood what she had said, but she meant it.

His father had tossed him aside the moment he realised that the prince wasn’t what he wanted. Azula had used him as nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard to achieve her goals, to bring her enemies to their knees. His own mother had walked away, disappeared in the dead of the night, with no explanation. Iroh had turned away, ashamed by his nephew’s betrayal.

His isolation was because of his family’s intricate cruelty. A cruelty they had turned on her family, and so her isolation was permanent.

He was trying his hardest not to glare at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She scoffed. “Oh, don’t I? Who was there for

years

while you harped on about regaining your father’s love? Who was there when Azula fooled you into thinking they wanted you back? Who was there when

you

realised they didn’t want you? I’ve seen it all with my own eyes. I’ve seen the decisions they’ve made. You had two people left, two people who loved you for

you

, not for some stupid manipulative reasons, and you turned your back on them. You turned your back on

me

.”

He had turned away from her, holding that doll in his hand tightly. His knuckles were white. His body was stiff with anger.

“

I

chose you, Zuko. I chose you and it got my parents killed. Aiyosa is all I have left.”

The doll clattered to the floor. He stormed out of the cave.

She needed to throw something. She needed to hit and scratch and scream. How

dare

he have the audacity to be mad at her? How dare he, when it was his actions that had led them to this very moment?

His

need for honour.

His

decision to choose murderers over a traitor. She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and dig her nails into that twisting scar until she drew blood.

Part of her felt guilty, but it was squashed by the part that consumed the fury she was feeling, was fueled by it.

His family had been the end of hers. His family had been the end of (y/n), of him, of every good thing that ever was. They took and took and took until their hearts were content. They didn’t care who they had hurt. He needed to face that. He needed to face it all, and he had walked out.

The first time he had turned his back on her, it had been because of her actions, her treachery. This time, it was because of his shame.

Go lick your wounds

, she thought furiously.

Take a swim, for all I care.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. The pain made her focus.

Aiyosa. That was why she was here. Not to argue with him.

She scoured the room, looking for any kind of message or sign that her aunt had been there, anything that could give her some idea as to where she had gone, but with every minute that passed unsuccessfully, she began to lose hope. There were too many places to search. She could already see the sky growing slowly brighter outside the entrance.

Tipping her old shoes upside down, more out of pure desperation than anything else, she almost gave up hope.

Then she heard something small clatter against the floor.

It was small and round, black with something engraved in white on the surface. Gently she picked it up, turning it over in her fingers.

A Pai Sho tile, she realised. A Lotus Tile, no less. She had never seen Yosi play Pai Sho; she hadn’t even known it was something that interested her aunt. But the tile was here, and it had been hidden in her child-sized boots, out of sight.

Iroh had once said that the Lotus Tile was thought to be insignificant unless played correctly. He had played against a man using the White Lotus Gambit, an ancient style. He had been welcomed into the White Lotus, something (y/n) still did not know of. He had been called a Grandmaster.

Her heart leapt. This was no coincidence. Aiyosa did not work in coincidences, only in logic.

Wherever Iroh was, she had a good feeling Yosi was there, too.

Her fingers trembled as she clutched the tile, not from fear, no, but from relief. She was rushing out of the cave before she knew it, grinning as she stepped out into the slowly ending night.

“She’s alive!” she said. “We can find her. She’s with - Zuko?”

The prince was nowhere to be seen. Across the stretch of beach and rocks, she couldn’t see him anywhere. Had he left without her?

No, she could faintly see Appa’s shadow as he rested on the cliff above.

Her eyes drifted over to the water, dark and eerie and hosting more monsters than she would have liked to know.

And, a few feet out, a
 pair of broadswords floating aimlessly, separated.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"A Hero"
  The water was cold, so terribly cold, but it was a sensation that (y/n)’s body could hardly register as her head became submerged. It was too dark to see much, but a stream of moonlight filtered through the waves, offering a dim column of light to see with. The silver light bounced off of something gold: a buckle on a sword sheath.

She swam farther, deeper, pushing her limbs to move as fast as they could despite her terror, despite the icy claws of terrible memories. Zuko was sinking too fast. He wasn’t moving.

Her lungs were burning. She hadn’t taken a big enough breath before diving in after him. She needed to reach him quickly.

Dark shapes loomed, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest, but when they passed through the column of light, she relaxed slightly. Elephant Koi, she realised. It was okay. They were harmless. Forty feet long, but harmless.

She swam past them, limbs aching, but she was gaining on Zuko’s descending form. She could vaguely make out the details of his face now - the scar surrounding his eye, the incessant downward curl of his lips even when he was unconscious. It was hard not to panic, to not worry that she wouldn’t reach him in time, but panic would only make this harder. She had to stay calm.

How did this happen? What had pulled him under? Why had his swords been at the water’s surface?

What had he been fighting?

Her fingers closed around the fabric of his tunic, knuckles white as she pulled him to her side. His hair floated around his face, almost like a dark halo, and it tickled her neck. His limbs weren’t cooperating, hanging aimlessly in the water. He was too heavy. She was too weak.

She kicked her legs with all of her might, propelling them up a few feet, but they were still too far from the surface. There was no way she would be able to get both of them up there before losing her breath. Her lungs burned.

The water around her seemed to ripple, filled with bubbles and a strange heat that didn’t fit with the icy temperature.

When she looked down, she understood.

At first, it was hard to see in the darkness of the water, but the luminous green eyes were nightmare fuel, watching her unblinkingly. Bright white teeth were bared, razor-sharp and each the length of her forearm. Its serpentine body undulated beneath them, almost hypnotising in its smooth movements.

The Unagi’s mouth opened, ready to swallow them whole.

(y/n)’s heart was lodged in her throat as she kicked and kicked and kicked. The Unagi shrieked soundlessly, the vibrations in the water throwing her off course.

She and the prince spiralled in the water, crashing into the side of an elephant koi. It jolted in surprise, round eyes terrified when it noticed the beast below. (y/n) only just caught a tight grip on its dorsal fin before it raced off.

It moved at such a speed so suddenly that she forced back a cry of pain so as to not swallow a mouthful of water. Her shoulder burned with agony. Her fingers threatened to slip off the fin, her arm now too weak to hold it while supporting the prince’s weight, but she couldn’t afford to let go. Not with the Unagi right behind them.

The beast moved with alarming speed, and she knew it could move faster than the koi. It was toying with them. It was too intelligent to just let them go. The wicked glint in its eyes was startlingly human.

Just as it felt like her lungs would give out, the elephant koi broke the surface, and she gasped for air. The wind hit her face painfully as the fish darted through the water. Seaspray filled her mouth, almost choking her.

Water crashed everywhere as the Unagi’s head tore out of the water. It shrieked so loudly that (y/n) wanted her eardrums to burst, just to rid her of the piercing noise. She gripped the prince tighter and scrunched her face as if it would ease the pain.

The elephant koi took a sharp turn to avoid the Unagi, but (y/n) was too weak to hold on. They were sent flying across the surface of the water.

Her back crashed against the rocks on the shore, clothes and skin tearing. Sand stuck to her skin. It got in her eyes, her nose, her mouth. The prince’s weight drove her farther onto the rocks.

Gasping in pain, she shoved his limp form off her body and watched the Unagi in the water. It was still chasing the elephant koi. Perhaps it thought they still clung to its fin. When it caught the fish in its mouth, teeth sinking into scales, it sank back into the water to devour. Red bloomed in the rippling waves.

Desperately, (y/n) dragged the prince away from the water, hidden by taller outcrops of stone that would hopefully shield them should the Unagi appear again.

He was barely breathing. His lips were blue. She was struck with a memory, so horribly similar to now, when they had been in a similar position. When Iroh had been beside himself with grief, thinking his nephew was dead. When she had saved his life for Iroh.

Iroh was not here now. She had no reason to save him. A few more minutes, and he would be gone. The weight of his betrayal might lessen. She would never have to see his face again and grieve the things that could have been. She could be rid of the boy who had torn her heart out of her chest. She could fully grieve the boy from Ba Sing Se without being faced with his terrible successor.

Her head hovered over his, listening to his breathing for a few seconds. Laboured, shallow. A miracle that he was even breathing. Her fingers fumbled for his wrist, feeling for his pulse, seeing how quickly the blood rushed back to his fingers when she squeezed them.

He was hanging on, but barely.

With a cry of pain, her shoulder in agony, she turned him onto his side and then managed to pull him up so that he was sitting in front of her, leaning forward. His head dangled. She wrapped her bad arm around him, still strong enough to support, while she hit his back with the heel of her hand.

“Come on,” she begged. She was shivering so badly that she could barely help him. “Zuko, come

on

. Please.”

She was about to give up hope. She was too weak to help him. She could feel warm blood oozing down her back. Her arm barely worked, her shoulder sprained and aching.

Zuko coughed, spluttering. Water came pouring out of his mouth. He kept coughing for at least a minute, leaning so far forward that the only thing keeping him up was (y/n)’s bad arm. She almost cried from relief.

Their luck didn’t last.

They were far from the water, and yet it was rushing up by their legs. (y/n) propped Zuko against the rock that hid them and peered over it, trembling.

The Unagi had burst out from the water, sending water crashing in every direction as it flailed its head around in search of its prey. In the fading moonlight, before the blue-and-pink sky, it was a creature of myth, beautiful and monstrous all at once. She wanted to admire it. She wanted to scream and cower.

She ducked under the outcrop when its gaze snapped over in her direction. She prayed to any being that would listen that it hadn’t seen her.

They needed to get out of here,

now

.

Bringing two fingers to her lips, she whistled loudly and hoped that it didn’t draw the Unagi’s attention. She could hear splashing. Hopefully, it was chasing after more elephant koi.

Moments later, a hulking, fluffy shape landed in front of her, shuffling awkwardly on the rocks and sand. Appa’s eyes conveyed his worry with the Unagi, the terror. She didn’t want to keep him here any longer than she had to.

With her dwindling strength, she hooked her arms under Zuko’s and hefted him up, Appa knelt down, making it a little easier for her to deposit the prince in the saddle.

Zuko stirred, eyes half-lidded. “What -?”

Don’t be a hero

, she tried to tell herself.

Get out while you still can

.

But, glancing over the outcrop, she realised that there was no way for Appa to fly that didn’t put him in danger. Any direction, the Unagi would spot him and either clamp down with his teeth, moving at impossible speed, or would shoot water from its mouth with such power that it would knock them out of the sky.

She had to give them the best chance she could.

Zuko was barely conscious, but she pressed the lotus tile into his cold hands. “Aiyosa is with Iroh, I know it. Find Iroh. Find my aunt and tell her I love her. That I’m sorry.”

He seemed to realise what she was saying a moment too late. He scrambled weakly to grab at her, reached for her hands and missed. Her feet had already touched the ground. She had already set Appa in motion.

Appa flapped his tail, sending a gust of wind in each direction, as she climbed up on top of the outcrop.

At some point, Zuko’s broadswords had washed onto the shore. She grabbed them, fitting them together so they formed one single sword, ignored the pain all over her body and the fatigue in her muscles, and hefted them, catching the last of the moonlight on the blades.

The Unagi’s luminous eyes settled on her. Fear coursed through her veins, paralysing and suffocating. She was going to die. She was completely and utterly terrified.

She was tired of being scared.

Something new flooded her veins and powered her body. It replaced the fear, tore the cold from her bones, gave her the energy she had so sorely lacked for months.

Fire streamed from her hands, coating the swords in one hand and her other arm. It was beautiful and bright, weaker than it used to be, but it filled her with strength. It gave her everything she had been missing for so long now. Hope.

Power

.

The Unagi came crashing towards her. Water flooded the beach. Adrenaline filled her body.

As its ugly head reared at her, she leapt off the rock, using her good hand to latch onto one of the barbels dancing around its face. Maybe, had the adrenaline not been powering her, she might have worried that her hand would miss such a flimsy thing, but she felt confident in herself for the first time in months.

It screeched as she wrapped her hand around the barbel, swinging its head to try and send her flying, but she held on tight, feet planted firmly on its head.

She glanced up. Appa was nowhere to be seen. Good, they’d gotten away.

With a yell, she pulled on the barbel, hand coated in a burning fire, forcing the Unagi to turn. In its rage, it did not realise how close it had gotten to the cliffs of Kyoshi Island. It crashed into the rock, dazed and weak. She didn’t want to kill it, no, but she didn’t want it to kill her. Dazing it would be enough.

The Unagi slumped, its long, serpentine body falling and falling and falling, creating tidal waves as it crashed into the water. (y/n) barely had time to suck in a deep breath before she was submerged again.

As soon as her body hit the water, all of the pain returned tenfold.

The fatigue seeped back into her bones, too tired to drag herself back to the surface. The agony returned in her shoulder, debilitating and terrible, the way a sprain always felt at first. Blood clouded around her, leaking from the torn wounds in her back, stung by the saltwater.

For a while, her lungs managed to hold out. They burned and burned, but her mouth stayed clamped shut and her nose didn’t inhale any of the water.

Then her body began to convulse, straining from the lack of air. Her limbs jerked wildly, clawing and trying to drag her up despite their weakness. Her mouth forced itself open and breathed in.

Water filled her mouth, her lungs. She was choking. Everything burned. Black clouded her vision.

But there he was, a faint, familiar face above her. A boy she had once known, whose eyes could be kind and whose smile made her feel warm. A boy who she had believed in, and had believed in her in turn.

As the world faded away, he grabbed her. His touch made everything disappear.

– –

Waking up was painful.

Water spilt from her mouth as she coughed violently, throat aching and raw, every fibre of her being in acute pain. There was a warm, gentle hand on her back, fingers splayed between her bleeding wounds. The other held her mop of sopping wet hair from her face. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. She couldn’t stop shaking.

When the coughing had passed, she slumped forwards, pressing her forehead to something leathery, something warm. A cool breeze nipped at her cheeks, made her sodden clothes feel colder. Her body trembled with well-practiced terror.

“

You’re okay

,” a distant voice was saying. Her ears felt clogged with water. “

You’re okay.

”

After a few minutes, she gathered the strength to sit up, using her good hand to brush the wet hair from her face. Her eyesight was blurry for a moment, but when it focused, all she could see was a never-ending expanse of blue, dark fading to light, filled with clouds of pink and orange.

Had she died? Had her skirmish with the Unagi killed her?

“Drink this,” the voice told her. A hand reached around her body and passed her a canister of water.

She drank liberally, trying to soothe her raw throat. Water dripped down her chin. When she had emptied the canister, she cast her gaze over her shoulder to the person behind her.

Ebony hair. Gold eyes. A twisted scar.

“Zuko?” she managed. Her voice was croaky. “What…?”

He gave her a smile that seemed rather forced. “You saved my life. I thought it was fitting to save yours.”

“Am I dead?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Unless I’m dead, too. But we should really treat your wounds. If they get infected then, uh, yeah, I suppose you’ll be dead.”

His voice contained none of his princely manner. He had always sounded so confident, so sure of what he was saying. Now, he sounded like a seventeen-year-old who didn’t know what to do.

She reached her arm around her back, feeling at her back. The scars stung when her fingers brushed them, coming back wet with slowly drying blood. Katara’s jumper, and her prisoner’s uniform, was completely wrecked, so torn that it was a wonder it was still attached to her at all. She had no other clothes.

“We have more back at camp,” Zuko told her when he saw her picking at the hems. “Stolen Fire Nation clothes. You can take your pick.”

She was itching to get out of her prisoner’s uniform.

As Appa flew on, she shuffled across the saddle to their packs. Katara had stuffed some cloth that passed for bandages in, just in case they had any issues that needed temporary solutions until she could heal them.

Zuko watched as she rolled up her sleeve and tried to wrap the bandage tightly around her shoulder, failing miserably. After a moment, he slowly neared, making sure she had seen him move so he didn’t frighten her.

“Here,” he said gently, taking the bandage from her.

She didn’t know how to feel as he wrapped the bandage. His face was entirely too close to hers, eyes trained only on the neat lines he made with the edges of the bandage. He was so close that she could see the faint scar on his nose, the mole just behind his ear. So close she could hear every breath. She wanted to shove him away. She wanted him closer. She felt sick.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” His breath was warm on her arm.

She wasn’t sure if she replied. Perhaps she made a strange sound in response. He didn’t react in any way. Once he’d finished wrapping the bandage, he sat and made a makeshift sling out of another strip of cloth so that she wouldn’t move her arm and make it worse.

“We need to clean your back,” he said. His voice sounded strained. He wouldn’t look at her. “Can I…?”

Her throat felt tight. Having him wrap one bandage had been the most contact from somebody other than Suki and the guards at the Boiling Rock that she’d had in months. Her skin already felt like it was on fire, and with all of her conflicting emotions, she wasn’t sure how to feel.

But the blood needed to be cleaned. There was probably sand and grit and pebbles in the cuts, too. She couldn’t risk an infection.

Wordlessly, she turned around and pulled their other canister of water from her pack. She doused another bandage in half of the water and handed it to him, rolling up the back of her shirt.

When she glanced back at him after a moment of nothing, she saw the pink tinge on his ears. The shame and guilt in his eyes. His hesitation to move.

The cold cloth touched her skin, and she recoiled, partly from pain. Partly from habit. The cooler still had its ugly, icy claws wrapped around her, even hundreds of miles away.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

He touched a finger to her skin, first, letting her know that the contact was coming, then began again. It stung so terribly, even worse when he had to carefully pick debris from the wounds. She bit her knuckle until she drew blood.

His touch was gentle. “Thank you for saving me.”

She didn’t say anything at first. It had been a mindless act, something her body had driven her to do rather than her mind.

“Just reflex,” she told him. He breathed a laugh.

A temporary camaraderie, she thought. She could cope with that. She didn’t have the energy to be furious with him right now. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Maybe cry for a little while, too.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice raw and quiet. "How did you end up in the water?"

His touch hesitated, and a terrible part of her missed it. "I was angry. I thought maybe the cold would do some good, shock some sense into me. I went out too far. The Unagi must've heard me. One minute, I was looking at the sky and, the next, it had a hold of me. I tried to fight it off but, well, you saw how well that turned out."
  She didn't say anything. How hadn't she heard that? She must have been so wrapped up in her fury, in her determination to find any clue that Aiyosa might have left. The lotus tile, returned to her, burned a hole in her palm. 
  “I’m sorry, by the way,” he said. “About what happened in the cave. You were right, I just - it’s touchy, you know? But you were right. You’re always right.”

A sigh tore out of her lips. “I was cruel. There are a lot of emotions going on, right now. Now that I’m out of that hellhole, I’m finally feeling things again. Most of the time, it’s too much. I feel like my head’s about to explode.”

She wouldn’t apologise, but she would acknowledge that she had gone too far. The grief and the rage and the misery were threatening to tear her apart no matter what she did. She had meant every word she had said but she could have worded it a little softer. It had almost gotten him killed. If she hadn't found the lotus tile, would he have been dead by now? She didn't want to think about it. It made her feelings too difficult.

“I hope you know,” he said softly, so softly that it made everything worse, “that I wish I chose you."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Towards Absolution"
  Things were tense at camp.

Days had passed since (y/n)’s trip to Kyoshi Island, days spent trying to build her strength and stamina back up. Days spent avoiding the prince.

He was acutely aware of what she was doing. She could see it in the downward tilt of his brows on the few occasions he had managed to catch her eyes, wondering why she wasn’t speaking to him. She could see it in the way he pursed his lips as soon as he saw her turning away when he neared.

It was hard to face him after what had happened. Shame choked her at night when she lay in her tent, back pressed against Suki’s, and she would have to leave so she didn’t wake her friend with her shaking and uneven breathing.

She had saved the son of her parents’ murderer. She had saved the boy who had turned his back on her callously, who had left her in the hands of his cruel family. She had let him sit so close to her and bandage and clean her wounds. She had wanted him closer, even when she had felt his breath on her arm, despite hating him for months, despite seeing his face in her worst nightmares and hallucinations.

It seemed as though she was destined to be no more than a traitor.

The reprieve was that he often didn’t have the chance to try and speak to her. Katara had decided to take on the role of ripping into him, and she was well within her rights to do so.

The prince had betrayed her, too, though in a smaller sense. She had thought they had come to some sort of understanding when imprisoned in the crystal caverns beneath Ba Sing Se. She had found herself believing that he could change, only for him to become the same prince she had always seen him as. He had been an accomplice to Azula’s crime of killing the Avatar, whom Katara was incredibly close to. Just looking at the two made (y/n) aware in moments of the kind of bond the two shared, and Katara had thought it severed.

(y/n) understood the pain of believing such a bond to be lost. While her connection with the prince was built atop lies and cruelty, it had manifested into something softer, something she had once grown fond of. It had been ripped from her by Azula, too.

Most importantly, the Fire Nation had killed Katara’s and Sokka’s mother, and it wasn’t something she could forgive. Sokka seemed to have come to terms with the loss of their mother, and while he still grieved, it had been accepted. Katara was fueled with rage. She wanted justice and, for now, taking her anger out on the prince was the best option she had.

“You’re the only one who gets it,” Katara grumbled, two days after (y/n)’s expedition, while using her waterbending to heal the last of her scars. “The others have just accepted him with open arms, but he betrayed us. He betrayed

you,

and you’ve always supported us. How is it fair if we just readily accept him when he’s hurt so many people?”

It was a conscious effort for (y/n) to relax her face enough to speak. She had been sitting with her features scrunched, fists dug into the dirt. The water was icy cold against her skin. She could hardly breathe.

She couldn’t tell Katara about all of the conflicting feelings. Though she knew Katara was trustworthy, a part of her mind was still in the same survival mode that it had been during the last year, when she’d had to keep pieces of her hidden. Either way, Katara may launch into a tirade at

her

for even being confused about her feelings.

To Katara, everything to do with the prince was strictly black and white. He was either bad or he was good. He was either trustworthy or he wasn’t.

(y/n) didn’t have that privilege. After everything they had been through together, it only made things harder. She had seen the good in him, had held it in her hands as carefully as water, and had watched it spill and crash to the ground. She had seen his father’s cruelty reborn through him in his quest for honour; she had seen his incessant need to be loved and respected by family who did not want him, and how he was so desperate that he had turned his back on the only two who had accepted him. She had felt its horrible absence in those months spent imprisoned, months when he thought she had been killed. But, again, she had seen the good. When he had helped her escape. When he had taken her to find her aunt.

“He’s very complicated,” she decided. “That’s for sure.”

Katara all but scoffed. “That’s an understatement. Spirits, I can’t even stand being in the same

vicinity

as him.”

It couldn’t be helped, really, the way her eyes drifted over to him, sitting by the campfire. He was eating his breakfast, smiling at things Aang and Sokka were debating about, as though they had been friends for years. It made her feel ill.

As if feeling her gaze, his eyes darted up from his food to meet hers. She always forgot how startlingly gold they were, how they looked like bright, burning flames. He held her gaze, trying to convey silent questions that maybe, once, she would have understood.

Now, she didn’t understand him at all.

– –

“You’re avoiding me.”

(y/n) hoped that, maybe, if she pretended she hadn’t heard a thing that maybe he would go away. Maybe he would

let

her avoid him. But he’d seen the tension in her shoulders, too accustomed to rough, bruising grips dragging her to the cooler to even pretend that her body wasn’t aware of someone behind her. She didn’t like people being behind her.

Prince Zuko slipped past her until he stood in front of her, blocking the tree she had been practising her firebending on. If she had retained her strength, it may have been a bold move, but he knew just as well as everyone else that she was still rebuilding her skills and strength. He could see the weak, faint charred marks on the bark. Firebending was perhaps the most familiar thing she knew, and every move came without even a thought, but her body grew tired too quickly, still. She needed more practice.

What could she say to him, though?

No, I’m not

, when it was in fact a blatant lie that even her father, a master of deception, couldn’t have pulled off.

Yes, and what about it,

which required more anger than her body could sustain at the moment.

Maybe

you’re

avoiding

me

,

which was so absurd that

maybe

it would confuse him long enough for her to dart off and squeeze herself between Suki and Katara who would keep her from having to speak.

Spirits, even the thought of the last one made her sick. She had never before shirked away from a conversation. Why should she, now? Because of some stupid feelings she needed to push to the side?

He had left her to the will of his father. That should have convinced her enough.

“I think Sokka needed you,” she said instead. “He was asking after you.”

The prince’s shoulders slumped slightly. “We need to talk.

Please

can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she insisted. “What, do you just want to go over every problem I have with you

again

?”

“I thought -” He scrambled for words, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know. I guess I thought what happened at Kyoshi Island had helped us get a step closer to making amends.”

The worst thing was that it

had

. Saving his life in such a fashion that it reminded her of the people they had been; him saving

her

life and caring for her wounds so tenderly had made everything far too complicated, because she could

see

the good in him just as clearly as she had seen the bad.

But she wasn’t ready for forgiveness, or even a semblance of it.

“You left me for dead,” she said. “You were going to let your father kill me like he killed my parents. We can’t just make amends after that.”

He threw his hands in the air in such a familiar way that it felt like a strike to the gut. He looked like the boy she had once known. “I didn’t stand by. I

fought

for you. I thought I hated you, but I fought for your life. And now that makes me feel even

more

terrible because I’ve seen where you ended up. Because of

me

.”

The words stopped her short. For a moment, she felt unable to breathe, as if he had wrapped his hand around the very air she breathed and pulled it away.

She tried to rationalise. He could very well be lying to gain her favour - because, yes, knowing he hadn’t sat idly by while she was being primed for the killing gave her a spark of hope, despite the destination it had ended her up in - but he had never been good at telling lies. He and Iroh had always left that to her.

He could’ve been embellishing it. Perhaps he didn’t fight, didn’t beg and plead and demand his father, but rather found a strategic advantage in keeping her alive.

That didn’t explain him telling her before that he thought she had been dead.

Could it be true that he had fought for her and believed he had failed? That he was the reason she stood, alive and breathing, rather than burned and rotting like her parents? Even when her betrayal had been as fresh as a new wound, as painful as a knife twisting the flesh?

“Please,” he begged. “Can we just

talk

? There’s so much we need to flesh out.”

Despite herself, she wanted to say yes. She wanted to sit beside him and listen to what things had been like for him in the past few months. Hear about how she had hurt him and yet,

and yet

, he had ended up right back at her side, trying to win

her

favour back rather than the other way around.

Her mind was still in a fragile state. She was still grieving her parents and Aiyosa’s absence and Iroh’s disappearance. She was still waking up terrified from nightmares where she found herself stuffed in the cooler, clawing at the walls until her fingers were bleeding and frostbitten. There were fleeting moments when she felt at peace; the moments spent twirling her fan in her fingers or summoning a flame to her fingertips, before the weight of what she had gone through within the last few months began crushing her once more.

She wasn’t ready to talk.

“Make amends with Katara,” she told him. “Maybe then we can talk.”

And so his impossible mission began.

The prince spent his days trying to figure out what made Katara tick; the specific details of her problem with him. He spoke to Sokka and Aang, getting second and third opinions from the two people who knew her best. He asked Toph how soon after seeing him in the area Katara grew enraged - the verdict was when he was within ten feet of her. He asked Suki, another person so brutally hurt by his actions, what he could do to try and change things.

For a while, it made absolutely no difference.

His first strategy was to give Katara space, which simply meant that they did not interact at all. In their conversations, Katara told (y/n) how glad for it she was, although his mere presence still irritated her. The response to his first attempt was taken begrudgingly, but he did not give up.

The second strategy consisted of carefully planned accidents. They had to go gather firewood together. Sokka wanted a big cloud of steam for some unknown and suspicious reason, and having the two of them create one was far more useful than just throwing water on a campfire because they could sustain it. This, also, didn’t work. Katara would storm off, grumbling about how the prince couldn’t do anything right and how they should never have allowed him to stay with them.

Each failed attempt gave (y/n) time to gather her wits, to try and prepare herself for a conversation she wasn’t entirely ready for.

It had been a bluff, telling him to make amends with Katara. They both knew it. There was a very slim chance that Katara would do anything of the sort, and yet he was trying so,

so

hard. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.

The third strategy had not been anticipated.

Six days after the trip to Kyoshi Island, the group woke up to Katara and the prince loading their things onto Appa’s saddle, dressed in conspicuous black clothing. Katara looked furious but, for once, it didn’t seem as though the prince was the reason.

“Is it your turn to take a little field trip with Zuko?” Aang asked. His tone indicated that it was meant to be a joke. Katara didn’t take it that way.

“Yes,” she said simply. “It is.”

“Oh…” Aang glanced at the others. “What’s going on?”

Katara’s knuckles were white as she gripped her pack. “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”

A heavy silence settled over the group for a moment. Sokka looked abnormally pale, and Suki squeezed his hand, trying to get something out of him. He only watched Katara as if he were seeing a ghost.

“Sokka told me the story of what happened,” the prince said. “I know who did it, and I know how to find him.”

Aang frowned. “And what exactly do you think this will accomplish?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Katara said with a scoff.

“Wait,” Aang said. “I

do

understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

“She needs this, Aang,” the prince insisted. “This is about getting closure and justice.”

Rich, that. He was doing this so (y/n) would talk to him, so they could work around the horrible chasm that had torn its way through them. Where was

her

closure? Where was

her

justice? Closure and justice would not come to her through a conversation. It would come from tearing Ozai apart.

“I don’t think so,” Aang said. “I think it’s about getting revenge.”

“Fine, maybe it is,” Katara said. “Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe that’s what he deserves.”

Aang’s face dropped. “Katara, you sound like Jet.”

Jet

. (y/n) hadn’t heard that name in so long.

“It’s not the same!” Katara insisted. “Jet attacked the innocent. This man; he’s a

monster

.”

“Katara,” Sokka said, and his voice sounded slightly tremulous, “she was my mother too, but I think Aang might be right.”

“Then you didn’t love her the way I did.”

Once more, a heavy silence blanketed them all. She’d never seen Sokka look so hurt, so

anguished

by anything. His lip quivered slightly, blue eyes wide as he watched his sister’s angry pacing. Nobody could believe the words she had spoken. Nobody but the prince, who was letting this happen - was

wanting

it to happen. Fueling Katara’s rage, letting her feel and say the things she did, would bring him a step closer to making amends with her.

But at what cost? At the cost of Katara’s and Sokka’s relationship?

“The monks used to say,” Aang said gently, as if talking someone down from a panic, “that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.”

The prince scoffed. “That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple preschool. It’s the real world.”

“Now that I know he’s out there,” Katara said, “now that I

know

we can find him, I feel like I have no choice.”

“Katara,” Aang pleaded. “You

do

have a choice. Forgiveness.”

(y/n) barely refrained from flinching. She understood Aang’s argument - that not exacting revenge on this man was better than doing so - but there was

no way

that a person could, or should, forgive their parents’ murderer. Aang may have forgiven the Fire Nation for their genocide, but that kind of belief was in his very blood and it drove his culture.

Katara would not forgive, just as (y/n) would never forgive Ozai.

“That’s the same as doing nothing,” the prince insisted.

Aang stood a little straighter. “No, it’s not. It’s easy to do nothing, but it’s hard to forgive.”

“It’s not just hard.” Katara’s brows lowered, shadowing her bright eyes and making them look uncharacteristically dark. “It’s impossible. Don’t try to stop us.”

She grasped Appa’s horn and pulled herself to sit on his head, clutching the reins. Her shoulders were tight with anger.

“I won’t,” Aang said, sounding rather resigned. “This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man, but when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Once more, the prince scoffed. “Okay, we’ll be sure to do that, Guru Goody-Goody.”

Then, he leapt up and grabbed the edge of Appa’s saddle, pulling himself inside. When he was seated, he looked over the edge, catching (y/n)’s eyes right before Appa flapped his tail and sent them into the air. There was something in his eyes she didn’t want to see -

pride

. He knew he was one step closer to getting what he wanted.

As they flew away, she tried hard to convince herself of how badly she didn’t want him to succeed.

– –

“How’s Sokka doing?”

Suki paused in a set of crunches. “He’s upset, rightfully so. He wants some space to think about things.”

It was strange, (y/n) thought, how people processed emotions differently. Sokka wanted to be alone to think. Suki was drilling through crunches and defensive manoeuvres, running laps around the clearing they had found and using her fan to mutilate a rotten tree. The prince, back when (y/n) knew who he was beyond somebody she couldn’t understand anymore, had often used his firebending to unleash his anger.

Her father used to write in a little collection of scrolls, scribbling away until his fingers were covered in ink. Her mother would sit and gaze at nothing, eyes distant yet soft, mouth set firm and fingers woven.

(y/n)’s nail beds were raw and in a right state. The only reason she had stopped, had ended the assault on her skin, was to join Suki. She needed her strength and her stamina back. If they were to try and end this war, to help the

Avatar

end it, she needed some piece of the girl she had been back. The girl who fought effortlessly. The girl who didn’t get winded just walking through the forest to gather firewood.

Neither of them wanted to talk about what happened. Really, it was an issue between Sokka and Katara, and the prince for what Suki and (y/n) agreed to be overstepping. They had no place discussing it, so they didn’t. Instead, they sparred.

They had one fan between them, the one the prince had given (y/n) so long ago, but she lent it to Suki, whose primary form of combat was the fan. (y/n) wanted to focus on her bending.

At first, Suki took it easy on her, letting her take breaks whenever she needed them, pulling her punches. (y/n) didn’t want that. She was sick of this body that couldn’t cooperate, this body that grew exhausted too quickly and couldn’t function when it became a few degrees colder.

Suki didn’t want to push her, but (y/n) insisted, and so she did. They had two breaks, an hour apart. Their bodies were bruising and sore and (y/n) was sure she had managed to singe off some of Suki’s hair, but it didn’t put them off. Even when her lungs burned, when her ribs ached from Suki’s kicks and her limbs felt weak from being jabbed by the fan twenty too many times, she didn’t stop. Wouldn’t.

It felt good to fight. It felt so good to let some rage out, to feel her fire burning through her almost as brightly as it once had. The fire was slowly growing stronger. It was fueling her, powered not through fury but through a desire to

thrive

. She had longed for these flames for months, had felt so horribly empty without them during her months in the Boiling Rock that the choking need for more fire gave her the spark she had been waiting for.

They took a break when Suki accidentally drove the butt of the fan too hard in the solar plexus, drawing the air from her lungs. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, hand splayed across her chest, but the air came back momentarily, followed by Suki’s incessant apologies. They had gotten too into the fight. That much was clear from the uneven ends of Suki’s hair and the blooming bruises on the arms and faces and torsos.

(y/n) lay back in the grass, breathing slowly to accommodate for the pain in her chest. “Is it wrong for me to say that things are so much more complicated than they were before?”

Suki splashed water over her red, flushed face. “Depends when ‘before’ is. The Boiling Rock? Yeah, that’s wrong. Ba Sing Se? No. From what you’ve told me, things seemed much simpler then.”

“I was lying through my teeth the whole time,” (y/n) said. “Pretending that I was an Earth Kingdom citizen when really I was a Fire Nation noble who was also part Earth Kingdom. That’s pretty complicated. But, somehow, now it’s worse.”

“Because of Zuko?”

The name made her skin feel cold and obnoxiously warm at the same time. “Yeah.”

Suki’s eyes softened with sympathy. “You’re allowed to be confused. I mean, he betrayed you and then you thought he left you to die, only to find out he thought you were dead until he came and helped us escape because he’s now sided with Aang. Spirits, I’m confused, and I’ve nowhere near as complicated a relationship with him.”

“I just…” She watched the clouds passing above, trying to ignore the nausea in her throat. “I don’t know if I can forgive him, but I don’t think I can hate him, either. Not with everything we’ve gone through.”

“Then don’t.” Suki’s hand was warm, so comfortingly warm, when she reached for (y/n)’s. “Just do what feels right.”

– –

The prince returned the next afternoon alone on Appa’s back. When Katara’s absence was noted, the group was driven into a panic. Aang was beside himself with worry. Sokka looked like he was about to start crying or pummeling the prince, demanding to know where his sister was. Even Toph seemed on the brink of growing frantic, though she wouldn't admit it.

“She’s okay,” the prince promised. “She wanted some time alone. I dropped her off somewhere safe; somewhere I know the Fire Nation won’t come looking for us."

“And where’s that?” Sokka asked, though his tone sounded a little accusatory. Katara’s absence had reduced his trust in the prince.

“Ember Island. My family’s holiday home.”

Toph laughed. “What, so now we’re going to have a holiday?”

The prince’s face looked grim. “No. We still have to get ready to overthrow my father, but nobody will even suspect us being there. It’s safe. I swear. My family hasn’t been in years.”

(y/n) had a pit in her stomach. It had been so long since she had been to Ember Island. Years since she had felt the warm, golden sand under her feet and ran, giggling, down the halls of her family’s beachside house, finding joy in the ever-so-faint echoing. The thought of going once made her squeal with excitement. Now she felt dread.

“And what about your trip?” Aang asked warily. “How…?”

“We found the man,” the prince said.

Sokka’s anger faded, and now he only seemed scared. “And?”

The prince’s gaze flickered over to (y/n) for just a moment, but it left her frozen in place. “Katara let him go. After giving him a good scare, but she let him go.”

A sigh of relief was shared amongst the group. Aang’s worry seeped away. Suki squeezed Sokka’s hand and received a squeeze in return.

“Well,” Aang said brightly, “to Ember Island, we go.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Memory"  The salty sea air was bitter on (y/n)'s tongue. The breeze slipped through her hair, cold fingers latching around her arms and neck, drawing gooseflesh across her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest, some instinctual response to the cold, but she forced herself to ignore it. Being present at this moment took precedence over her fears.  She wished she could have such control over her terror all the time. Perhaps she only possessed this power because of the circumstances, because of the two mounds of loose dirt before her, packed with shaking hands - soil crusted beneath her fingernails, a pressure that kept her aware.   Tova Shayin and Jomuk Aoro would never receive a proper burial, this much she had known for months now, so (y/n) did what she could.   It had been hard walking through the empty halls of what had once been the Aoro holiday home, but she had needed to do it, both for her own sake and necessity. She retrieved old, half-crumbled incense sticks to burn and wandered the perimeter of the house until she found some small, budding white chrysanthemums. At some point during their last visit, almost a decade ago, her parents must have accidentally left behind some belongings. A small compact mirror of her mother's. Her father's travelling writing kit - she even remembered being on a diplomatic mission with her father weeks later when he realised he had left it somewhere.  Clothes. Not many, most moth-eaten and unwillingly infused with the stench of dust and humidity. But, even still, there was a hint of her parents beneath it. Ma's jasmine soap. The ink Dad would use and accidentally drip onto the hem of his tunic. That had been the second hardest part of it all, being so aware of people who no longer walked in the same world as her. Being taken back in time by a mere reminder of what they smelled like.  The hardest part was the emptiness of the home. Every step she took echoed. The floorboards creaked.  It was so incredibly obvious that people - her family - had lived here. There were paintings of her parents, of her, pinned up in frames on the walls. There were bits and bobs left stranded around each room; a comb on the corner of a vanity; an old pair of dolls that had been left to enjoy a holiday by themselves while the Aoros went back to the real world. But dust covered everything. It always did. They would be gone for months before returning, but this dust felt permanent. Heavier. Each footstep imprinted in the thick layer only made it worse.  If she focused hard enough, she could hear a child's laughter, bouncing off the walls as she entered the house with glee. She could feel the love her family had had for this place.  It was gone now. Only she was left.  (y/n) had exited the house, bleary-eyed and throat tight, clutching one of her father's old white tunics to her chest. There were spots of some kind of mould on the hem, simply because it had been left alone in a humid place, unmoving, for far too long, but it would do the job.  She had slipped the tunic over her head and knelt between the two makeshift graves, feeling more alone than she ever thought she could as the sun slowly rose.  With trembling hands, she placed the white chrysanthemums on each mound of dirt. The mounds meant nothing, really. No bodies, no ashes laid beneath them. They protected no spirits, but the act of digging, of placing that little mirror and the travelling writing kit in the dirt, was the best she would ever be able to do. The tears came thick and fast as the flowers found their place, burning the skin of her cheeks and tearing sobs from her chest.  She'd had a speech planned, not that anybody would have been there to listen. The others had offered to join her, to give her comfort in such a terribly hard time - Zuko, especially - but she denied their support. She needed to do this alone - and for that, she was glad. The others had seen her in a bad state, but this was worse. This was so much worse, and she couldn't be around people for that. She needed this to be just her and the memory of her parents.  The speech never came. She thought of her father calling her his spitfire. She thought of her mother's calloused hands that would hold her so gently, as though she were a glass sculpture. Every memory she could conjure up came fast and hard, choking her until she could hardly breathe.  How was it fair that she was left on her own? She stared at the headstones she had engraved, the shaky handwriting of her parents' names and their family crests, and cursed everybody she could think of. She wasn't even an adult yet. How could they leave her in a world such as this, alone?  The salty air was asphyxiating. She could hardly keep her eyes open for the tears. Beneath the musty stench of the tunic, she could faintly smell her father.  She wondered if they would be disappointed in her. Disappointed that she was reunited with Zuko, working with him, after all that had happened. Disappointed to even associate with the family of their killer. Would they be looking down at her from the afterlife, horrified that she had saved his life; let him sit so near? Would they hate her for her confusion - confusion over his change, over her change, over wanting him as far away as possible and yet still wanting him closer? They had never met the boy from Ba Sing Se. They would never have understood her turmoil.   The sun was high in the sky when she found the strength to stand up and leave.  --   "Doesn't it seem kind of weird that we're hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?"  From where he stood in the courtyard, panting from finishing a sparring session with Aang, Zuko heaved a sigh. "I told you, my father hasn't come here since our family was actually happy. And that was a long time ago. It's the last place anyone would think to look for us."  Katara, who had asked the question in the first place, looked like she was going to ask something further, but was interrupted by the arrival of Sokka and Suki, both of whom had been out wandering the island.  "You guys are not going to believe this," Sokka announced excitedly. "There's a play about us!"  Suki grinned. "We were just in town and we found this poster."   Sokka unrolled said poster, revealing a remarkably good theatre production poster. From a distance, the characters painted - Aang, Katara, and Sokka - looked pretty accurate. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the artist had simply painted off of description rather than any kind of reference. The poster listed multiple dates, times, and ticket prices. Was it an insult that it was so cheap?  "How is that possible?" Katara asked.   "Listen to this," Sokka said, turning the poster around so he could read it. "'The Boy in the Iceberg' is a new production from acclaimed playwright Puan Tin, who scoured the globe, gathering information on the Avatar from the icy South Pole to the heart of Ba Sing Se. His sources include singing nomads, pirates, prisoners of war and a surprisingly knowledgable merchant of cabbage."  "Brought to you," Suki continued, "by the critically Ember Island players."  Zuko threw his head back and groaned. "My mother used to take us to see them. They butchered 'Love Amongst the Dragons' every year."  "Did you ever watch 'Fire and Fury'?" (y/n) found herself asking.  The question seemed to catch Zuko off guard - perhaps because she had not spoken all morning. Perhaps because she was speaking to him for the first time in days. "Yeah, once or twice. It made no sense whatsoever."  She remembered the way her father would laugh when they watched that play, and a small, almost non-existent smile crept onto her lips. "None. They got the story all wrong - they had the characters completely mixed up."  The others seemed hesitant to talk, not wanting to break what they probably considered to be a fragile, rare moment for the day, but Katara had other worries.  "Sokka," she said, "do you really think it's a good idea for us to attend a play about ourselves?"  "Come on," Sokka said. "A day at the theatre? This is the kind of wacky, time-wasting nonsense I've been missing."  And so, the group voted. Four for going to the play - Aang, Toph, Sokka, and Suki - and three for staying - (y/n), Zuko, and Katara. It was decided. They were going, and they needed disguises.  Thanks to the plethora of clothes left in the Fire Lord's holiday home, there were plenty of disguises for the group to wear. Aang wore an oddly tall hat that covered his head tattoo, as well as long-sleeved clothes to cover his arms and legs. Katara stayed in the same Fire Nation outfit that she often wore, a cropped red bandeau and flowy red trousers that cinched at the ankles. In her hair was a flame-shaped pin. Toph, Sokka and Suki also didn't change. Despite their varying skin tones, the five of them looked like they belonged in the Fire Nation, seemingly perfectly comfortable.  Zuko was wearing a gold-trimmed red tunic and trousers, as well as a long, light cloak to help obscure his face. (y/n) was expecting to have a more negative, visceral feeling when she saw him. Maybe she expected to see him as no more than the Crown Prince again. But she didn't. No, he looked like a regular Fire Nation guy, with messy hair and regular worries. Had he been wearing green, she was entirely sure she would see the boy from Ba Sing Se, just as he had been before she lost him. It made her heart stutter in an odd way.  Wearing the Fire Nation clothes herself felt wrong. Once upon a time, she would have worn this red halter top and flowing trousers every day, and would have pinned up half her hair in a bun with a flame pin routinely, but now it felt wrong. She had often felt like an imposter while living in the Earth Kingdom, but it didn't compare to this.  As she draped a cloak over her shoulders, all she could focus on was how she was wearing the colour of blood.  --  The theatre was much busier than (y/n) had expected.  Every row was completely filled with chattering Fire Nation citizens - nobles on their holidays, probably. There was an air of excitement as people ate their snacks prematurely, watching the heavy red curtains with eagle-like attention, waiting for the moment the lights dimmed and the play started. The group managed to get a private booth in the nosebleed section, and in that privacy, Zuko pulled down the hood of his cloak.  And sat down right beside (y/n).  It had been days since his trip with Katara, since he had met (y/n)'s terms of making amends with the waterbender in order for them to have a conversation, and she still hadn't allowed it to happen. She wasn't sure if that frustrated Zuko or not. If it did, he made no show of it. He simply watched her, whether she was training or reading or simply being, allowing her to come to him when she was ready, which she appreciated.  She couldn't keep him waiting forever, she knew that. What they had gone through together on Kyoshi Island had made things evident to her and had made it clear that he wasn't the person she had hated so much at the Boiling Rock. If he was, he would have left her to die. He didn't. But the guilt she felt deep in the pit of her stomach made her feel nauseous. Every time she looked at him, she first saw Ozai, hands wreathed in fire as he prepared to kill her parents. It just felt too wrong, too hard to sit across from him, to look him in the eyes and have a conversation.  It had to happen. Just not yet.  "Why are we sitting in the nosebleed section?" Toph asked from the row behind. "My feet can't see a thing from up here."  "Don't worry," Katara said. "I'll tell your feet what's happening."  The lights flickered and went dim. The crowd fell silent as soft, swaying music began to play, echoing across the walls. The curtain rose, revealing a scene made to resemble the icebergs and ocean of the South Pole. At the centre of the stage was a boat, and inside were the actors playing Katara and Sokka. The real Katara and Sokka sat straight in anticipation.  Fake Katara heaved a sigh. "Sokka, my only brother. We constantly roam these icy South Pole seas and, yet, never do we find anything fulfilling."  "All I want," Fake Sokka said, "is a full feeling in my stomach. I'm starving!"  The crowd burst into laughter. Katara and Sokka shared a confused look.  "Is food the only thing on your mind?" Fake Katara asked.  Fake Sokka didn't hesitate. "Well, I'm trying to get it out of my mind and into my mouth. I'm starving!"  More laughter. Sokka put his hands on Katara's shoulders. "This is pathetic! My jokes are way funnier than this."  Toph giggled. "I think he's got you pegged."  Sokka sat back down as Fake Katara said, "Every day, the world awaits a beacon to guide us, yet none appears. Still, we cannot give up hope, for hope is all we have and we must never relinquish it, even... even to our dying breath!"  Fake Katara began to sob. Real Katara huffed. "Well, that's just silly. I don't sound like that."  "Oh, man," Toph said. "This writer's a genius!"  A bright light appeared onstage as a large iceberg structure was wheeled to the centre, with a strange shadow moving around in an orb at the top. The crowd hushed with anticipation.  "It appears to be someone frozen in ice, perhaps for one hundred years!" said Fake Katara.  "But who?" asked Fake Sokka. "Who is the boy in the iceberg?"  Aang sat forward as Fake Katara used her 'waterbending' to split open the orb. The music swelled in suspense. Fog blew out of the orb as it cracked open and from the mist jumped an actress, dressed in the orange robes of an air nomad, wearing a skin-coloured cap on her head with a bright blue arrow painted on. Aang no longer looked excited.  "Who are you, Frozen Boy?" Fake Katara asked.  Fake Aang giggled. "I'm the Avatar, silly, here to spread joy and fun!"  "Wait," Aang grumbled, "is that a woman playing me?"  A furry beast popped up behind the actors, meant to resemble Appa, and Fake Aang grinned even wider than before. Fake Appa ran around the stage, making strange yelling-grumbling noises.  Fake Katara gasped. "An airbender! My heart is so full of hope that it's making me tear-bend." She began to sob, once again, and hugged Fake Aang's leg.  "My stomach is so empty," said Fake Sokka, "that it's making me tear-bend!" He also hugged Fake Aang's leg. "I need meat!"  The three actors continued on with the scene, and each one's role became very clear very quickly. Fake Katara was in tears every other sentence. Fake Sokka talked only about food. Fake Aang pranked Sokka with the prospect of food. Fake Aang actually only pranked, and proceeded to perform some practical jokes on the audience, which had them in hysterics. The real versions of the characters were less than pleased. Toph, it seemed, was the only one who thought that the characters were completely correct, and set to annoying Katara about it for the following five minutes.  "Dreading to see us," Zuko grumbled under his breath.   (y/n) pursed her lips. She didn't even want to begin to imagine how she had been portrayed.  But, as it turned out, she didn't have a choice. The next scene began, a grey ship rolling onto the stage with three people aboard. At the front, a young man with an oddly luscious ponytail looking through a telescope, a large old man stood on the centre deck, and a young woman, leaning against the flagpost, eyes cunning and slivers of green tucked underneath her red clothing.  "Prince Zuko," said Fake Iroh, "you must try this cake."  "I don't have time to stuff my face," grumbled Fake Zuko. "I must capture the Avatar to regain my honour!"  "Well, while you do that, maybe I'll capture another slice."  "You sicken me!"  Real Zuko crossed his arms and frowned. "They make me look totally stiff and humourless."  "Actually," said Katara, "I think that actor's pretty spot-on."  "How could you say that?" Zuko demanded.  The actress playing (y/n) twirled a small knife in her hand and tucked it up her sleeve. "Let's forget about the Avatar," she suggested, her tone overly suspicious, "and go explore the Earth Kingdom instead."  Fake Zuko whirled around. "How could you say that?"  Despite the overly mistrustful tone and body language of her character, (y/n) found herself trying to contain a laugh. They really had pinned Zuko. She could remember being on that Fire Navy ship with him and biting her tongue every moment of the day because of his bratty princely manners.  The first act continued on, depicting the group's journey to the North Pole and the troubles they faced along the way. Actors appeared on stage as King Bumi of Omashu, some as the pirates they had met at a merchant's pier, and eventually the people of the North Pole. Fake Aang came out in a strange-looking blue suit, meant to represent the Ocean Spirit that wreaked havoc on Fire Nation forces - led by Zuko -  after the death of the Moon Spirit. The crowd cheered and laughed and fell silent in anticipation, completely enthralled by the play.  "So far," Zuko grumbled when the lights came back on, "this intermission is the best part of the play."  Sokka scowled. "Apparently, the playwright thinks I'm an idiot who tells bad jokes about meat all the time."  "Yeah," Suki said with a grin. "You tell bad jokes about plenty of other topics."  "I know!"  Aang adjusted his hat on his head. "At least the Sokka actor kind of looks like you. That woman playing the Avatar doesn't resemble me at all."  "I don't know," Toph said from beside him. "You are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys."  "Relax, Aang," Katara said. "They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all the time."  The group fell silent. Aang pursed his lips. "Yeah, that's not you at all."  Toph smiled. "Look, friends. It's obvious that the playwright did his research. I know it must hurt, but what you're seeing up there on that stage is the truth."  (y/n) had not been prepared for the eyes of the group to warily fall on her. After witnessing her character not-so-subtly try to derail the Fake Zuko's plans and practically be booed off stage, it was a little bit of a sensitive topic.  But it was true. The Fire Nation hated her now. There was no changing that.  Act Two began, with Fake Aang soaring around the theatre on a cable and disguised harness in search for an earthbending teacher. Toph wiggled her toes with anticipation, sitting forward excitedly.  "I flew all over town," announced Fake Aang, "but I couldn't find a single earthbending master."  On cue, a prop boulder raised from the ground, and from a trap door came an extremely burly man dressed in a significantly larger version of Toph's outfit, a black wig covering his eyes.   "You can't find an earthbending master in the sky," he boomed. "You have to look underground!"  He threw the boulder off stage. The crowd burst into laughter.  "Who are you?" Fake Aang asked.  "My name's Toph, because it sounds like tough, and that's just what I am."  "Wait a minute," Real Toph said. "I sound like a guy. A really buff guy."  "Well, Toph, said Katara, "what you hear up there is the truth. It hurts, doesn't it?"  Toph didn't look very hurt. She was grinning. "Are you kidding me? I wouldn't have cast it any other way! At least it's not a flying bald lady."  Toph was even happier when the actor revealed how she saw the world, being blind. However, she apparently didn't see with her feet. No, she released sonic waves from her mouth. Therefore, the actor screamed for a solid minute. (y/n)'s ears were bringing afterwards, even being up in the nosebleeds.  It continued very lightheartedly, showing when Zuko split off from Iroh and (y/n), and then showed Tu Zin. A new actress appeared, playing Azula, with dramatic makeup and rather long, claw-like nails. In this version of Tu Zin, Azula did not send flames at (y/n), knocking her unconscious and beginning her strange thread of confusing feelings, but rather tricked Zuko into looking for his honour before slipping through a hidden door. The crowd found it hilarious.  After a few Earth Kingdom adventures, they were brought to the secret Dai Li base. The entire theatre took on a greenish-blue hue. Another new actor came on stage and, although it was clear they were under some weird kind of possession, (y/n) recognised the outfit immediately. Jet. He tried to fight the Avatar and his friends, claiming he needed to serve the Earth King, before a fake boulder was dropped on him.  Zuko looked at her, eyes slightly wide.  (y/n) hadn't liked Jet, not really. She hadn't liked the way he went about getting justice. She hadn't liked that he found similarities between the two of them. But finding out that he had died?   When Zuko's hand moved next to hers, barely touching, she didn't move away.  It changed when Fake Azula, (y/n), and Zuko came on stage. A spotlight shone down on Fake Zuko who stood centre stage, while Fake Azula stood to the left beneath a Fire Nation banner, and Fake (y/n) to the right, beneath an Earth Kingdom banner. Rather dramatically, she pulled off her Fire Nation clothes, revealing a set of green Earth Kingdom clothes beneath. The crowd booed and threw their snacks onstage.  "Well, my brother," said Fake Azula, "what's it going to be? Your nation, or a life of treachery?"  Fake Zuko looked between the two actresses either side of him, looking extremely anguished.   "Choose treachery," Fake (y/n) told him. "It's much more fun."  The prince walked towards her, followed by protests by his sister, but he did not side with Fake (y/n). Instead, he shoved her so hard she fell to the ground.  "I hate you!" the prince declared. "You tricked me, and I hate you for all time!"  The Earth Kingdom banner fell, covering Fake (y/n).  (y/n) gritted her teeth, pulling her hands into her lap. Suddenly, whatever strange comfort she might have felt ebbed away, leaving her feeling nothing but discomfort and shame. This was stupid. How could she be sitting here, wasting her time watching a play written by someone from a nation that now hated her guts?  She didn't stay to watch the rest of Act Two.  Zuko found her outside a few minutes after the second act finished, sat atop a balcony railing. From there, she could see all the way out to the ocean, watching how the moonlight reflected on the calm water. The stars glittered up above, millions of them looking down at her and the boy she couldn't understand. He stood beside her, giving her enough space to herself. She could still smell warm embers. She didn't hate the way it made her relax as much as she thought she would.  "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.  She appreciated that he didn't ask if she was okay. The answer to that was very obvious. But he was giving her a choice. He was letting her make the calls.  "I don't have a place in the Fire Nation anymore," she said, brushing loose hair from her eyes. "I mean, I figured that already, but this - this has just solidified that feeling. And I understand it. They think I'm a traitor, but I've spent so much time hiding one half of myself and now that I can actually embrace that part of me, I'm forced to push the other aside."  It was the most she had said to him in days and, still, she felt like she needed to say more. To tell him all of those feelings she'd felt on their travels through the Earth Kingdom, the ones she had felt when the mere sight of him made her stomach flip. She wanted to fill him in on all of those things she almost had those long months ago. She wanted to tell him that, once, she had only been a girl of the Fire Nation and now she was simply a girl from the Earth Kingdom, when all she had wanted for seventeen years was to belong to both but now neither wanted her.  When had she started wanting to tell him everything, again? Had she ever stopped?  Zuko leaned against the railing, and for a moment she was almost back on their Fire Navy ship, looking at the stars at night, wondering where she would fit in amongst them. Wondering if he was a better person than she thought.  When she looked at him, now, it wasn't the son of Ozai she saw, not like she used to. Now, she saw the ever-present kindness of his mother lingering in his gold eyes; in the absent way his fingers tapped on the balcony railing. She had felt it when he had cleaned her wounds and given her space.  "As long as I'm a part of the Fire Nation," he told her softly, "there will always be a place for you."  She watched his face carefully, trying to catch him out in a lie. But she saw no twitch of his mouth or wavering gaze. He meant what he said. His eyes shone, never breaking from hers, and she found herself in a situation she had so often been in those months ago, stuck, never wanting to look away. Wanting him to smile at her.   "Act Three is starting soon," he said after a few minutes of silence. "Are you coming back inside?"  (y/n) shook her head, finally tearing her eyes from his. "I'd rather not watch my execution. Assuming that's what everyone thinks happened."  Zuko's lips pursed and he nodded. "Do you... Do you want me to stay? Out here, with you, I mean."  The gentle, almost awkward tone made her think of those primroses, wilted somewhere in Ba Sing Se. It made her think of the fan that sat carefully on her nightstand, given as a truce when neither of them were quite sure what they meant to each other.  And she found herself wanting to say yes. She wanted him to sit next to her, whether talking or silent, and enjoy just having him next to her again. But she had buried the memory of her parents just that morning - it was too soon. She wasn't sure what they would think, looking down at her from the afterlife, hidden amongst the stars, but she wanted to respect them. She and Zuko needed to talk, but it couldn't happen tonight.  Soon. Just not tonight.  "It's all right," she told him. "You go back inside. I'll find you guys once it's finished."  "Are you sure?"  He was looking at her as if she were about to turn into a cloud of mist and drift away, no more than a memory; a dream. But when she nodded, he left without argument.  Now, it was just her and the stars she could not squeeze amongst.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Hesitance"  "Do you ever resent your parents for what they did?"  The words almost felt like a punch to the gut, but they also didn't surprise her. They merely reflected the same, horrible thoughts she had at night, teary-eyed and missing them more than words could explain. It was a complicated question, and it had a complicated answer. But Zuko didn't push her for it. No, he stayed seated beside her on the sand, watching as the sun rose over the soft waves, waiting until she was ready to speak.  She hated her answer because, yes, she found that, recently, she had been resenting them. She hated how they had shipped her off on a mission she had never wanted to go on in the first place. She hated how her life had been dedicated to protecting someone instead of living it for herself. Most of all, she hated that it had been the reason she had ended up in the Boiling Rock.  It was hard, tying her parents to something that had so badly affected her, and probably would for the rest of her life, but she could only wonder what she might have done with her life had she not been put on that Fire Navy ship for a goal they weren't even sure was possible. What could she have been if the knives had been taken from her hands? What could she have done if her feet had stayed in the Fire Nation?  It was harder, still, to call them cruel. Cruel for putting a thirteen-year-old on a ship with no way of knowing what would happen. Cruel for deciding what she would do with her life.  She had never thought of them as anything but loving and supportive. And, yes, they were. There was nobody that she could have possibly loved more, but loving them so strongly made it easy to hate them, too. She supposed that the two emotions were often tied.  "They're the reason I am what I am," she decided.  They were the reason she was - or had been - such a skilled firebender and so adept with weapons. They were the reason she could lie her way out of almost anything and could act the diplomat in precarious situations.   It became clear to her, then, that really it was not Zuko's fault she had ended up in the Boiling Rock. It was theirs, however indirectly it might have been. She didn't dare think into it too much. She couldn't think about that place.  She put her head in her hands and took a deep breath. "I want to know what happened. After Ba Sing Se. All of it."  She could feel Zuko's eyes on her as easily as she could feel the slowly warming breeze on her bare shoulders. He was watching her carefully, as he so often tended to now. It wasn't something she was oblivious to; no, after they had escaped the Boiling Rock, it was often the only way he had looked at her. She found herself wanting him to look at her with something other than pity. She wanted him to look at her the way he used to, when he would study her expressions until he could understand what they meant from a glance.  He was hesitant to talk, that much she could tell. But he was the one who had wanted to talk, and she wanted closure. She wanted them to move past whatever it was that was between them. She wanted to know if she was meant to hate him or if she could allow the feelings from Ba Sing Se to slither their way back into her heart, as if they hadn't started to already.  Following her and Iroh's capture in Ba Sing Se and their imprisonment for their journey across the Earth Kingdom, and then the ocean to the Fire Nation, their fates had been deliberated. It was unanimously decided that Iroh would be imprisoned in the Citadel, a high-security prison just outside of the capital city, because executing a member of the royal family may have been looked down on, but things had been more difficult for (y/n). Azula was adamant she be executed, as was the order of the Fire Lord, but Zuko had argued. He had fought tooth and nail for some kind of change, but as far as he knew, when she was taken from that ship, she was on her way to be killed. Ozai kept a facade up, reiterating to Zuko that she had been dealt with in a way suitable for a traitor such as herself. Of course, Zuko assumed that meant she had died.  "I guess he never specified," Zuko said, hands fisted in the sand. "He never said the words, I just... I was certain it had happened. That's why I had never come looking for you. And, believe me, I would've. Even when I thought I hated you, I wanted some kind of closure. I spoke to Uncle - tried to - but, spirits, I needed to speak to you. Maybe I would've come to my senses sooner. If I'd known they'd put you where they did, things would have been so different. I would've come for you."  She wasn't sure what to say to that. Looking at him now, seeing the barely-there sheen over his eyes, she realised how hard it must have been for him. After all they had been through together, after all they had felt, to be betrayed and then believe that she was dead while being unsure of his own feelings about the situation, it must have been a lot.  Her hand found his in the sand. His was so much warmer than hers.  "When they put me in the cooler," she said, voice wavering, "I would see you. Sometimes I tried to kill you. I thought you had put me there. I thought I hated you. But it was  worse when you weren't there. Seeing you... I guess it made it more manageable, thinking there was someone I could reach out to or lash out at."  "That's why you reacted the way you did when you saw me?" he asked. His hand had flipped over at some point, fingers lacing with hers.  The warmth from his hand helped reduce her trembling. "The cooler made it hard to know what was real and what wasn't. I saw you so often there that sometimes I wondered if you were really there, too. But I only ever saw you inside. I assumed I was back in it when you showed up."  "I'm so sorry." His voice was shaky now. His hand squeezed hers. "I'm so sorry about all of it. I was so confused by it all. When Azula told me everything, I didn't think about how maybe your motivations had changed. That maybe we weren't just working against each other. All I heard was that somebody else I cared for had lied to me."  It was hard, talking about it all. She felt weighted down by an incomparable grief - not like the grief she felt for her parents, no. This was the grief of losing somebody who was still alive.  For all she hated that her parents had put her on that spirits-forsaken ship, she realised that this - whatever it was between her and Zuko, the feelings they had shared in Ba Sing Se and were now trying to navigate - would not have existed without it.  She just hoped they could find their way back to some semblance of how things had been.  But, with his hand enveloping hers, with him sitting so close, she felt a spark of warmth. Faith that they could.  --  "This is insane."  Zuko crossed his arms, frowning. "You're telling me. Sozin's comet is coming, and they're having a beach party."  (y/n) didn't want to be a buzzkill, after all, the others were managing to enjoy themselves, what with building sand sculptures and having water fights, but Zuko was right. Sozin's comet would be passing through the sky in a matter of days, and while it would increase the strength of her and Zuko's firebending, that meant it would do the same for the rest of the Fire Nation. Ozai would be near unstoppable, and here they were acting as though the world had already been saved.  Her parents hadn't given their lives for them to just lose.  Aang's firebending was good, but it wasn't good enough. She knew better than anyone that utilising airbending techniques in firebending manoeuvres was advantageous, especially against firebenders who had been trained exclusively in one way, but Aang was an airbender at heart. While firebending didn't need to be powered by rage - and it shouldn't - it needed more than what he was giving. It was almost as though he was giving up on it.  "Do they not realise what's at stake?" she asked, watching Aang finish a sand sculpture of Appa. "We've all lost so much because of this war, and we finally have a chance to stop it. But they're lounging around."  They were children, all of them, and it wasn't fair that this was on their shoulders, on Aang's shoulders, but the truth was that it was their responsibility. And the others didn't seem to care.  A tame kind of anger shone in Zuko's eyes as he watched the rest of their group. Not a hungry rage like she had grown used to over their years together, but something built on annoyance. Frustration.  "Do you trust me?" he asked.  She didn't know why he had asked it, she just found herself nodding.  There was no warning when he lept from the sand dune they stood atop. No warning when flames burst from his hands, aimed directly at Aang. The Avatar, eyes wide with shock, jumped out of the way, dodging endless attacks. Out of sheer instinct, she found herself trying to think of ways to derail the fight, like she would've done once upon a time, but Zuko had asked her to trust him. He had his methods, no matter how strange. She relaxed her muscles and watched.  "What are you doing?" he shrieked from behind his Appa sculpture.  "Teaching you a lesson," Zuko said.  Aang jumped high as another arc of fire raced towards him, tearing apart his sculpture. He disappeared over the nearby cliffside, Zuko's fire following in his wake. Zuko climbed up the cliff face, vanishing in mere moments.  "(y/n)!" Katara called from the water. "What's happening? We need to stop Zuko!"  Sokka knelt by a pile of sand. "He's gone crazy! I made a sand sculpture of Suki and he destroyed it."  The others looked up at her, trying to figure out what was going on, and part of her felt bad about it, about letting Zuko do this, but she knew there were no ill intentions. Sitting in the house all day, training only when they could be bothered, had made the others complacent. Zuko was giving Aang no choice but to use his fight or flight, and to actively try and use fight. The others had been lenient. Even Suki had become more laid back.  But their lives were no joke. If this was what it took to get them to realise the severity of the situation, then so be it. If it made her a bad friend, letting Zuko go after Aang, making the others think he had somehow turned on them, then so be it. They needed a wake-up call.  Katara was running in the direction of the house instantly, the others right behind her. Bursts of fire could be seen amongst the trees, and as they ran, they passed smoking bushes and leaves.  The house was smoking when they reached it, and only moments later, a person burst through the side wall, crashing heavily into the ground. (y/n) ran over, pulling Zuko to his feet. Splinters littered his clothes. Her hands lingered on his for a moment too long.  "What is wrong with you?" Katara demanded. "You could have hurt Aang."  "What's wrong with me?" Zuko said. "What's wrong with all of you? How can you sit around having beach parties when Sozin's comet is only three days away?"  No one said anything. They all had a strange look in their eyes, almost like guilt.  "Why are you all looking at me like I'm crazy?"  Aang pursed his lips. "About Sozin's comet... I was actually going to wait to fight the Fire Lord until after it came."  (y/n) felt like her heart had stopped. "After?"  "I'm not ready," Aang said. "I need more time to master firebending."  "And, frankly," Toph added, "your earthbending could still use some work, too."  It felt a little hard to breathe. Her skin felt hot. "So you all knew Aang was going to wait?" (y/n) asked. "Suki?"  Suki had that look in her eyes, the kind she would have when (y/n) had been given the worst tasks to complete in the Boiling Rock, alone and still facing the consequences of the cooler. The guilt of knowing she couldn't help. She had known this plan and, despite knowing (y/n)'s feelings surrounding it, about wanting Ozai gone, she hadn't told her. It almost physically hurt.  "Honestly," Sokka said, "if Aang tries to fight the Fire Lord right now, he's going to lose. No offence."  Katara took a small step forward, closer to Aang's side. "The whole point of fighting the Fire Lord before the comet was to stop the Fire Nation from winning the war. But they pretty much won the war when they took Ba Sing Se. Things can't get any worse."  "You're wrong," Zuko told them. "It's about to get worse than you can even imagine. The day before the eclipse, my father asked me to attend an important war meeting. It was what I'd dreamed about and wanted for so many years. My father had finally accepted me back. But, what they planned, it was horrific. The Fire Nation intends to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground using the power from Sozin's comet. My father wants to rule the world. I wanted to speak out against this plan, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't. My whole life, I struggled to gain my father's love and acceptance. But once I had it, I realised I'd lost myself getting there."  (y/n) felt the side of his hand brush against hers. Another apology, silent but there. Silent but accepted.  She felt sick hearing it all. She knew Ozai intended to establish his rule over each kingdom and tribe, but hearing that he planned to reduce the Earth Kingdom to ashes made her feel violently ill. Her skin felt coated in sweat.  Even if she hadn't been a part of the Earth Kingdom by blood, the news would have shaken her. But knowing that if they didn't stop Ozai, the only home that might accept her would be torn from existence, felt as though her very soul was being torn out. He had taken her parents, and now he intended to take all she had left of her mother's culture.   She found herself reaching for Zuko's hand once more. He squeezed hers softly.  "I can't believe this," Katara breathed.  "I always knew the Fire Lord was a bad guy," Sokka said. He looped his arm around Suki, who was as pale as a ghost. "But his plan is just pure evil."  Aang hung his head. "What am I going to do?"  "I know you're scared," Zuko said. "And I know you're not ready to save the world. But if you don't defeat the Fire Lord before the comet comes, there won't be a world to save anymore."  It was meant to push him forward, but Aang's face morphed into a scowl. "Why didn't you tell me about your dad's crazy plan sooner?"  "I didn't think I had to," Zuko said. "I assumed you were still going to fight him before the comet. No one told me you decided to wait."  "This is bad." Aang was pacing back and forward. "This is really, really bad,"  Katara stepped towards him. "Aang, you don't have to do this alone."  "Yeah," Toph insisted. "If we all fight the Fire Lord together, we've got a shot of taking him down."  "All right!" Sokka cheered. "Team Avatar is back!"  Aang took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. His expression made him look much less like a twelve-year-old and more like the Avatar. More careworn. "Fighting the Fire Lord is going to be the hardest thing we've ever done together. But I wouldn't want to do it any other way."  The group, excluding (y/n) and Zuko huddled together in some kind of group hug. After a moment, their eyes fell on the two and they beckoned them over.  It felt nice to be part of the group, arms laced around each other. It felt nice not to be alone anymore to complete her parents' goal.  --  There was one technique (y/n) insisted Aang learned before he faced the Fire Lord, one technique that could save his life. She stood beside Zuko in the courtyard of his family's holiday home, allowing her mind to clear. After hearing of Ozai's plans, it had been hard to reach the state of calm needed, but Aang needed to learn this. She needed to be confident in his abilities, or she would try and face Ozai herself.  "Redirecting lightning is dangerous," she told Aang when she saw a grin split his face upon learning what they were about to practice. "More dangerous than summoning it, some would say. One wrong move, and you could die."  She didn't mean to be grim about it, he just needed to understand the gravity of what they were doing.  "If you let the energy in your own body flow," she said, "the lightning will follow it. You turn your opponents' energy against them."  "That's like waterbending," Aang said.  Zuko began slowly demonstrating the movements. "Exactly. My uncle invented this technique himself by studying waterbenders."  "So, have either of you ever redirected lightning before?" Aang asked.  (y/n) shook her head, but Zuko nodded. "Once, against my father."  "What did it feel like?"  "Exhilirating but terrifying. You feel so powerful holding that much energy in your body, but you know if you make the wrong move - like (y/n) said, it's over."  Aang laughed nervously. "Well, it's not over-over. I mean, there's always Katara and a little spirit water action, am I right?"  Katara made a face from where she sat off to the side with Momo, the winged lemur. "Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you."  "Oh."  "You'll have to take the Fire Lord's life before he takes yours," Zuko told him.  Aang went pale. "Yeah. I'll just do that."  The group spent the remainder of the day training. Sokka came up with a strategy, giving Toph control of launching flaming rocks at the rest of them - among other distractions and enemies - that would allow the rest of them a way to figure out how they would fight the Fire Lord and his force, and how they would give Aang the opportunity to fight Ozai himself. Toph seemed entirely too into the role of 'Melon Lord', cackling maniacally as pre-made fires burned around her.   Sokka, Suki and Katara took the approach on the left while (y/n) and Zuko took the right, using their fire to cut down rock soldiers that tried to encircle them.  Over the course of the last few days, (y/n) had regained more strength. She had a feeling it would take longer than three weeks of being free of the Boiling Rock to return to the strength she once had, but she had come considerably far since then. She could run more than a few steps, use more and more fire without breaking a sweat. Old moves her mother had taught her came easily again. Slowly, she was becoming the girl she had once been.  Zuko swept his leg out, slicing a rock soldier in half with blazing flames. More burst from (y/n)'s palms, knocking down another that had tried to come for Zuko while his back was turned.  He looked at her over his shoulder, then, and smiled. "I've missed this."  He had a way of making her heart stop as if it were nothing. The words, the smile, made her think of long ago; of primroses and fans and pink-cheeked smiles when they were still figuring out what they meant to each other. And, really, that was still something they hadn't figured out, but that was okay.  "Me, too," she found herself saying.  And she meant it. How many years, months, minutes had she spent fighting by Zuko's side? She had grown so used to his movements, to the way his mind worked in a fight, that they didn't even need to talk to plan their strategies. They moved as two halves of a whole, cutting down their stone opponents without a need to communicate. Where he ducked, she jumped. Where he went right, she went left.  Spirits, had she missed it.  "Aang, now!" Sokka called.  From a tall outcrop on the cliff where they were training, Aang lept down, staff held above his head and ready to strike. He landed in front of the Melon Lord scarecrow created by Sokka, staff hovering mere inches above the melon head. But he never brought it down.  "What are you waiting for?" Zuko called. "Take him out!"  "I can't," Aang said.  Sokka stormed up to Aang. "What's wrong with you? If this was the real deal, you'd be shot full of lightning right now."  "I'm sorry," Aang said, "but it just didn't feel right. I didn't feel like myself."  Wordlessly, Sokka unsheathed his sword from its sheath and sliced the blade through the melon. "There. That's how it's done."  --  That night, the group sat on the courtyard steps of the holiday home while they ate. The sky grew dark quickly, stars speckling the dark blue in beautiful constellations. The moon bore down on them, bright and silver and ever-watching.   "I have a surprise for you guys!" Katara announced, hurrying down the steps. She held a rolled-up paper in her hands. "I was looking for cooking pots in the attic and I found this."  She unrolled the paper, revealing a painted image of a young boy at the beach, dark hair tied in a knot at the top of his head. He looked so happy and so familiar, but something told her the image wasn't of who she originally thought; the boy sitting beside her.  "Look at baby Zuko!" Katara grinned. "Isn't he cute?"  "That's not me," Zuko told her. "It's my father."  Suki pouted. "But he looks so sweet and innocent."  "Well, that sweet little kid grew up to be a monster," Zuko said. "And the worst father in the history of fathers."  Aang was sitting with his back to the group. "But he's still a human being."  (y/n) couldn't help the anger that bubbled up. "You're going to defend him?"  "No," Aang said, "I agree with you. Fire Lord Ozai is a horrible person and the world will probably be better off without him, but there's got to be another way."  "Like what?" she demanded. "Aang, this isn't some pirate you can knock over the head a few times, or a few bandits that you can fend off. This is easily one of the most powerful men in the world."  It wasn't fair, really, to be so angry at Aang, but she couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was about the man who had killed her parents, who had locked her away in a prison that had forever changed how she interacted with the world, who had imminent plans to raze the Earth Kingdom, just like his grandfather had done to the Air Nomads, and Aang was hesitating. The Avatar didn't intend to do what needed to be done.  "I don't know," Aang murmured. "Maybe we can make some big pots of glue and then I can use gluebending to stick his arms and legs together so he can't bend anymore."  "Yeah," Zuko said. "Then you can show him his baby pictures and all those happy memories will make him good again."  Aang smiled. "Do you really think that would work?"  "No!"  "This goes against everything I learned from the monks," Aang insisted. He started pacing back and forth in front of them, tugging at the hem of his tunic and scratching his head. "I can't just go around wiping out people I don't like."  "Sure you can," Sokka said. "You're the Avatar. If it's in the name of keeping balance, I'm pretty sure the universe will forgive you."  Aang whirled around. "This isn't a joke, Sokka! None of you understand the position I'm in!"  Katara frowned. "Aang, we do understand. It's just -"  "Just what, Katara? What?"  "We're trying to help!"  "When you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it!"  With that, he stormed off. Katara looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. "Aang, don't walk away from this!"  But, he walked away. (y/n)'s gut twisted with dread.  With the way things were going, Ozai was still on track to get exactly what he wanted, and, without Aang, they had no way of stopping him. They didn't stand a chance.