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Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji offers a blessing upon the occasions of the birth of each child born to the royal family. It is one of the many honours of his status, and one of the few honours that Kenji truly enjoys. Kenji is rarely called upon for any kind of officiating, because he is too high up in rank for anything but the most noble and important of matters. 

Funerals are an honour, but they are a sad honour. For Kenji’s fellow sages, weddings can be a joy, but Kenji only has authority over royal weddings - and in Kenji’s experience, these have never been joyous affairs for the brides and grooms. Kenji has yet to officiate a coronation, because those are rare occurrences in a healthy system. 

But the blessing of the newborn - this is a beautiful occasion. All infants are miracles unto the world, droplets of the heavens descended onto the earthly plane, the celestial made human. Children of Agni hold fire in their souls, and every royal child since the birth of the Fire Nation has been gifted with the spark. 

Kenji blesses Fire Prince Lu Ten with strength of body and strength of will. The words are ancient, but they are unplanned. The blessing of a High Sage must come from the fire and heart, not from the script. 

Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel. 

Kenji blesses Fire Princess Azula with command, power, and strength. As the words leave him, Kenji wonders how these three terms are different. The word of Agni is never contradictory, but it is also never superfluous. 

High Sage Kenji’s first coronation takes place amidst political upheaval. 

High Sage Kenji is not crowning Crown Prince Iroh. Prince Iroh is lost in grief for poor Prince Lu Ten. It seems that, unbeknownst to the sages, Fire Lord Azulon privately declared Prince Ozai his successor. 

Prince Ozai was never bestowed with the title of Crown Prince. 

The sages are not happy. There is grumbling in the court. But Ozai has papers from his father declaring that Prince Iroh’s lack of heirs should cause issue with the line of succession. Should Fire Lord Azulon die before Crown Prince Iroh has secured his lineage, Prince Ozai should be declared the new Fire Lord. 

It is unorthodox. But the Fire Sages bow to the will of the Fire Lord, as is their custom. And these are the words of the Fire Lord, written in the Fire Lord’s hand and sealed with the Fire Lord’s seal. 

High Sage Kenji does not like it, but he also has no leg to stand on. And Prince Ozai knows this. 

“I must take this matter through the council,” Kenji insists, standing tall before the future Fire Lord. “Once the Council of the High Temple has convened, we can seal the matter.” 

Prince Ozai is already sitting on the throne. It is unorthodox, but only in matters of custom. He is not obligated to leave the throne vacant, not when he is the presumed heir. 

“That’s such a long time,” Prince Ozai complains. “It will take days for you to gather the Great Sages. You know as well as I do, Kenji, that the throne needs to be secured.”

Prince Ozai is not wrong. A bare throne is a sign of weakness. 

“It is in the Fire Nation’s best interests,” Prince Ozai continues, “for me to be crowned today.” 

Prince Ozai is not wrong. 

“What can I do to convince you?” 

High Sage Kenji stands and thinks back over the law. He raises a hand to indicate that he is contemplating the factors.

Yes, this is a case of doubt regarding the line of succession. In cases of doubt regarding succession, one must rule strictly. 

However, this is also wartime. The High Sage is entrusted with leniency in rulings during a time of war, and while Kenji might prefer to avoid using this logic in a century-long war, it is a tool at his disposal. It is also a moment with an empty throne. Usurpers and attackers may well be waiting in the wings. That makes this ruling a potential case of great upheaval, even life and death. 

High Sage Kenji believes that he will be able to successfully argue before the Council of the High Temple that this is a valid ruling. 

“Furthermore,” Prince Ozai continues, “I would like to offer you a… token of goodwill. A gesture of the trust and faith I put into the sages of our great tradition. A method to bind us more tightly than we have ever been.”

Prince Ozai’s words ring false. His wording is deliberately chosen to appeal to Kenji, and his meaning is empty: the Fire Lord cannot be held more tightly to the religious order than ever before, because it was a historical truth that the High Sage was the Fire Lord.

Nonetheless, curiosity sparks in Kenji’s soul.

“I shall of course gladly accept your token,” Kenji responds. 

Prince Ozai smiles with his teeth. “Good,” he responds. “I think you will be most pleased. The gift I give you… is my firstborn son.”

Prince Zuko is eleven years old when he loses one title and gains another.

The youngest Fire Sage in all of history was in his forties when he joined the order. When High Sage Kenji crowns Fire Lord Ozai, it is with the assumption that the sages must determine the minimum age for initiation as a Fire Sage, and must wait for Prince Zuko to be reared in the palace. They will take over the boy’s education, of course, and will welcome him as a regular guest, but surely the boy must be a man before entering into service at the temple.

Fire Lord Ozai does not seem to have the same plans. Upon hearing Kenji’s assumption, the Fire Lord insists that Kenji take the child now. 

It is absurd, of course, to raise a child in the temple. It is almost as absurd as the idea of a child taking the vow. Being reborn in fire means severing all familial connections from beforehand. Some Fire Sages retain their marriages, but that is only by recreating their marriage vows after their rebirth. There is no such method for reestablishing connections with the family one was born into.

But Fire Lord Ozai isn’t technically wrong. There is no minimum age for entry into the service, and there is no technical ruling against having a child raised in the temple.

(And Kenji thought his child-rearing days were far behind him.)

Prince Zuko arrives the day after the coronation. He shakes like a leaf in the wind, and Kenji is reminded, abruptly, of the blessing that he gave to this boy when he was an infant. 

“You will join the order on the solstice,” Kenji explains. The boy does not look up at him. “Until then, Fire Sage Matsu will show you to your new rooms. They will not be as… delicate as your previous lodgings.” Still, the boy does not raise his eyes. “You will turn to Fire Sage Matsu for practical questions. Fire Sage Tatsuya will be in charge of your regular education. This will include language, logic, history, and exegesis. This week, Fire Sage Tatsuya will also prepare you for your ritual immersion and your vows.”

Prince Zuko - because he is still Prince Zuko, at least for the coming week - does not respond. He bows his head again. At least Kenji can be assured that he is listening.

“I will be in charge of your deeper questions,” Kenji explains. “I will not tutor you in the facts of history or the intricacies of the texts. But should you require a deeper understanding of our tradition than you are receiving, you shall not hesitate to request my time.” 

Prince Zuko looks up for a moment. He looks lost. “Can I… High Sage…?”

“High Sage Kenji,” Kenji corrects him. “We are careful to use titles properly in this holy space, but you need not shy from my given name.” 

Prince Zuko nods. “High Sage Kenji,” he corrects himself. “Can I ask you why I am here?” 

Kenji’s eyebrows pull in. “Do you not understand? You are to be a Fire Sage.” 

Prince Zuko swallows. “I understand that,” he explains. “But I don’t understand-- I don’t understand why. Mom is gone, and Father is the Fire Lord, and now I have to go, too?”

It has been so long since Kenji has been faced with a child for more than a ritual or a ruling. But Kenji raised two boys to adulthood. He does remember that there was a time in which they didn’t understand where their feet would fall each time they lifted them.

“You are to be reborn, Prince Zuko,” Kenji explains as gently as he can manage. “When you step out of the fire, you will no longer be a prince. Your previous familial ties will be broken in law and in spirit. You will no longer need to worry for your familial relationships, for they shall no longer exist. You will exist instead for the service of the Fire Nation.” 

Tears spring to the boy’s eyes. Kenji is startled. 

“I’ll be alone?” Prince Zuko asks. “My father doesn’t… want me to be his son anymore?”

“You will spend your life in the High Temple,” Kenji explains. “You will not be alone; you will be with your brothers in service. As for your father: he has given you as a gift. A gesture of goodwill. A… token.” 

This does not appear to be a comfort to the child. A tear escapes his eye and trickles down his cheek, to be wiped hastily away. 

“A token,” Prince Zuko repeats. “Yes. I understand.” 

“Then you shall spend this next week in preparation,” Kenji closes. “I shall see you at meals and offerings. You will not hesitate to ask for my attention, should you need it.”

Something bothers Kenji for the rest of the day. He feels that there is something else he was supposed to offer, something aside from education and preparation and a room that a child of eleven years might need. But it has been so long since the children who were once his were boys, and Ahmya truly did most of the work in providing for their non-material needs. 

Kenji thinks about writing to Ahmya for advice, but quickly quenches the urge. Ahmya had not wished to renew their vows when Kenji shed himself of previous attachments. 

Kenji inspects Prince Zuko for his immersion. The child is wrapped in a robe for privacy. The robe will be shed on his descent into the fire, at the point at which he can no longer be witnessed. Then, it was only be Zuko and the flames.

His hair is loose, washed, and brushed. He wears no jewelry. His skin is clean. 

“Hands,” Kenji calls, and Prince Zuko raises his hands. They are empty. His nails have been cleaned. 

He is physically prepared. 

“Do you understand the implications of the vow you will recite upon ascending from the fire?” Kenji asks. Prince Zuko states his affirmation. The boy’s jaw is tense; he doesn’t look like he’s ready to cry anymore. “Has someone parsed each word in the vow with you, and do you understand each syllable?”

“Yes,” Prince Zuko responds. 

“Do you understand that this is irreversible? A Fire Sage may fall to heresy, but he will always be beholden to the obligations of his station.”

“Yes,” Prince Zuko responds. His voice wavers. 

High Sage Kenji gives the boy a moment to catch his breath. He does not seem scared of the fire, but Kenji recalls the weight of this moment. 

“When you are ready, Prince Zuko,” he says, “you may descend into the fire.”

The Fire Prince turns his face toward the flames. He draws a deep breath. It does not waver.

Prince Zuko begins to walk down the stone steps into the holy fire. When he is only visible from the shoulders up, he shrugs off the dark robe and continues. 

Soon, there is no sign of the boy in the flames. But the fire roars out its knowledge of the child within it. 

High Sage Kenji waits as a silent witness. 

The sages behind him begin to chant out their prayers. 

A life of service. A life of health. A life of service. A life of strength. A life of service. A life of honour. A life of service. 

The sages give their offerings of hope. High Sage Kenji bears witness to them all.

Eventually, the fire begins to slow. The sages cannot see more than the tops of the flames from here, and soon, they disappear below the wall, and all the sages can witness is the glow of light. A few more moments, and the glow is down to almost nothing.

There is a shuffling sound as the boy approaches the stairs again. Then the top of his head appears, and then his bare shoulders. He waits there, face visible, as he recites the ancient words. 

The fire has burned away everything over the skin. Not a single hair remains; not a single eyelash. This is good. Not every sage is accepted so readily by the fire. 

When the vow is complete, Kenji offers the sign of the flame. 

“Welcome, Fire Sage Zuko.” 

Sometimes, having an eleven-year-old Fire Sage reminds Kenji of raising a toddler. 

It seems that Fire Sage Zuko cannot be satisfied with any one answer. Each ‘why’ only leads to another, until Kenji simply deposits the boy in the library and says: “Find the answers for yourself.”

This, it turns out, is a masterful move. 

Zuko’s questions cease briefly, turning to technical questions he can aim toward Fire Sage Tatsuya. Within a year, Zuko is back at Kenji’s heels, but his questions are much better. 

“Fire Sage Tatsuya can explain this to you,” stops being Kenji’s go-to answer. 

Zuko is still a child, and still lacks an adult’s intuition with the deeper meaning of many of the scriptures, but he will read anything that is put before him. Zuko has all but memorised the Fire Scriptures in his first year, and he has a knack for the intricacies of grammar. 

His questions improve. His nature does not. 

Fire Sage Zuko develops a poor temper. He goes from calm to blisteringly angry in sheer moments. Kenji isn’t sure if this is normal, but he arranges for more meditation in an attempt to rebalance the child. 

And while Zuko is generally good with rules, he also develops a tendency to question them. He wants sources for every single ruling, even rulings which are far beyond his capacity to understand. And while this isn’t exactly worrying - a healthy appetite for questioning is a good building block for the ability to make rulings - this healthy questioning accelerates due to the presence of the Fire Princess.

“The Fire Princess came to request you today,” Kenji informs Zuko. Zuko looks up from his meal with a frown. “This is her third attempted visit. I must remind you, Fire Sage Zuko, that this relationship is unbefitting of your station.”

“It’s unbefitting to have a sister?” Zuko asks. 

“You have no sisters,” Kenji reminds him, trying to be gentle. Zuko flinches a little anyway. “Since the Fire Princess is not your sister, this appears to be a request for counsel. And you may not provide counsel for the royal family without obtaining permission to do so.” 

Zuko’s eyes narrow. “And how do I obtain that permission?”

“You will have to do enough studying that you could provide moral and religious support for a person of the Fire Princess’s station,” Kenji explains.

He does not intend this to be a challenge.

Fire Sage Zuko was impressive prior to Kenji’s accidental challenge. He becomes something else entirely in its aftermath. 

It seems that every time Kenji requires Zuko, he is in the libraries. The only regular exception to this is that the boy gets into the habit of dragging volumes into the Room of the Broken, to sit himself among the shards while he studies.

“Is it permitted for him to use the Room of the Broken this way?” Tatsuya asks. It’s not a question that Kenji has ever been asked before, because nobody has ever tried to use the Room of the Broken for anything but storing shards of pottery and shreds of parchment including Agni’s holy name. “I suppose I could ask Fire Sage Zuko that, as a test, to show that he can source the answer.”

Kenji smiles. “Please ensure that he remembers to eat and meditate,” he requests. “And… you can begin the formal testing soon, should you feel he is capable.”

Zuko’s first rulings do not go well.

Zuko stands before the public with a glare on his face. It seems that every other sentence Zuko utters is followed by him reaching up to fuss at his ceremonial hat. Zuko shouts at a man for lack of honour, and just when Kenji is about to intercede, Zuko spouts off his legal reasoning for asserting this lack of honour. 

It’s good legal reasoning, but poor execution. 

Zuko is only twelve years old. 

“He lacks an ability to talk to people,” Tatsuya comments from beside Kenji. “I fear that allowing him to sequester himself in the libraries and the Room of the Broken have only exacerbated this. He’s a child; perhaps he should have been socialising.” 

“His legal reasoning is excellent,” Kenji responds. “His use of the example of the house built around a stolen beam was… inspired.” 

“He’s also angry,” Tatsuya continues. “I’m not sure any amount of meditation is going to cure him of that ill.” 

Before them, Zuko comes to a legal conclusion. He also tells a woman that she should be ashamed of herself. Kenji controls his features and very carefully does not wince. 

“He requested an ability to counsel Fire Princess Azula,” Kenji says. “If the princess does not mind his lack of social manners or his temper… technically, his legal and moral reasoning is sound enough that I would not disallow it.”

Tatsuya turns to face Kenji. “You know he requests this because he sees himself as her brother,” he points out. “He’s a child. He does not yet understand the gravity of what he has left behind.” 

Kenji sighs. 

Kenji has spent enough time in the presence of Fire Princess Azula to know that if anybody is able to convince Fire Sage Zuko that he has no family, it will be her. She might even do it intentionally, for fun. 

“So be it.”

Kenji allows the Fire Princess in on her next visit. 

By the time she leaves, Zuko is in tears. 

The Fire Princess returns weeks later. Kenji would like to turn her away, because Zuko looked withdrawn for days at her last visit. But now that there is an established counselling relationship, he has no right to do so. 

What Kenji can do is this:

He can pass by the Room of the Broken where they are speaking (a most unorthodox choice of meeting rooms, but not technically inappropriate), just long enough to hear a snippet of conversation: 

“I did tell you that nobody but Mom ever wanted you at home anyway…” 

It’s childish and meaningless. But Zuko is a child, so childish things are sometimes meaningful to him.

The next time Kenji has a meeting set with Prince Iroh, he allows Prince Iroh to arrange it to happen at the temple. Thus far, Kenji has been avoiding this, as he thought that any connection with Zuko’s former family would only confuse him further. But now that Zuko is seeing Princess Azula, it appears that there is damage to be undone.

Prince Iroh’s relief at finally being able to enter the areas of the temple not intended for public prayer is palpable. It is also proof that Prince Iroh, too, does not understand the severing of this relationship. 

If Kenji were ever accused of being soft on Zuko, he would have a difficult time arguing his case against it.

Kenji allows Zuko to sit in on the meeting. 

He hasn’t seen Zuko this excited in all the long months of his life in the High Temple. Kenji has seen Zuko frenzied with the excitement of good study, lost in the midst of a legal argument that he knows he’s going to win, but never like this. Never filled with hope and wonder. 

Fire Prince Iroh enters the room, and his face crumples in delight at the view of Fire Sage Zuko. 

Zuko stands like he’s going to approach Prince Iroh, and Kenji holds out a hand to stop him. Zuko looks at Kenji’s hand for a long moment, and then visibly deflates. 

Zuko cannot offer greetings. It is not his turn to speak. 

“Fire Prince Iroh,” Kenji says, offering a shallow bow to the prince. Their stations are technically parallel; any lower a bow would be an insult to the Fire Sages, but any less of a bow would be an insult to the station of royalty. 

“High Sage Kenji,” Prince Iroh responds, offering his own bow. He then turns toward the boy who was once his nephew. “Am I free to offer greetings to our guest?”

Kenji offers a small smile. “Of course.”

Prince Iroh turns to Fire Sage Zuko and bows, entirely properly. “Fire Sage Zuko. It is… a pleasure to behold you again. You look well.” 

“Un--Um.” Zuko offers a hasty bow. It’s too low for his station, but Kenji thinks that it’s just sloppiness, not a deliberate slight. “Fire Prince Iroh.” 

He doesn’t say anything more, and Kenji doesn’t press him to. He assumes that simply being in Prince Iroh’s presence will calm the boy. But later, when the meeting is wrapping up and Kenji turns back to Zuko in an attempt to prompt whatever goodbye he might wish to make, it’s to find that Zuko’s expression is drawn in. He’s staring at Prince Iroh, but it isn’t with any kind of relief or affection. The frenzied hope from before has died.

“Goodbye, Fire Sage Zuko,” Prince Iroh says. “I am so pleased to see that you are well.”

Zuko offers a smile with his bow, but it seems strained. “And to you, Prince Iroh.” 

Fire Sage Zuko gets better at taking requests and giving counsel. 

He’s still stiff and awkward before the crowd, in a way that Kenji wouldn’t have expected from a boy who was once a prince. Though, Kenji reflects, he was probably asked to do little public speaking when he was a part of the royal family, and certainly not because anyone cared for his opinion. Nowadays, people come to seek advice from the temple, and they listen carefully to Fire Sage Zuko’s responses.

The boy is still rough around the edges. His anger flares at the concept of ‘unfair’ more than once. Sometimes, he exercises poor impulse control over his wording; often, he has poor control over his inner flame.

But Fire Sage Zuko offers excellent counsel. His rulings are as legally creative and thoughtful as they are compassionate. And that is the reason that people request to see him.

(He may still not offer counsel to anyone from the royal family but the Fire Princess. Kenji has tried suggesting that he test to a higher level and gain access to private meetings with Prince Iroh, but Zuko’s excitement and hope at spending time with the Fire Prince dwindled in that first meeting and did not return.)

The sages have to choose particular days and times for Fire Sage Zuko to offer counsel to regular people. This is not a usual setup; any sage should be available at any of the times the doors to the temple are open for counsel. But eventually, even Kenji gets tired of the walk from the Chamber of Counsel to the Room of the Broken to retrieve their youngest sage, and thus a system is born. 

Fire Sage Zuko offers excellent counsel, and his legal reasoning causes pride to swell in High Sage Kenji’s chest. 

Fire Sage Zuko is also deeply, deeply dangerous.

“High Sage Kenji, I have some questions.” This has been a fairly common statement for years now. But this afternoon, Zuko looks different. Usually, when something isn’t making sense, Zuko develops a tension in his shoulders that will only be released when Zuko manages to unwind the logical knot in the law.

Today, he seems uncomfortable in a different way. He won’t meet Kenji’s eyes, which is a habit Kenji thought the sages had coaxed from him well over a year ago.

“Of course,” Kenji says. “I have two meetings, and then I will find you.”

Kenji finds Zuko in the Room of the Broken. He’s here more often than the libraries, nowadays. Kenji thinks that Zuko prefers this space because he is only disturbed when it is deliberate.

Kenji brings tea with him, because the child clearly needs some kind of soothing. Zuko’s face relaxes a little at the tea, and he even offers a smile. 

“I am glad to see that you are wearing your glasses,” Kenji offers. Zuko pushes the glasses off his face in direct rebellion, and Kenji holds down his smile. “What did you want to ask me?”

Zuko folds his glasses and places them on his hat, which is sitting on the floor beside him. Kenji gave up this particular fight years ago. Almost as soon as Zuko’s hair began to grow in again, Zuko has refused to wear the hat when it isn’t directly necessary. Having the hat with him at all times is the best compromise they have been able to meet.

(Last time Kenji had tried to convince Zuko to don the ceremonial hat outside of ceremony, Zuko quoted six different texts about the laws of hat-wearing. He would have continued, but Kenji was overcome with weariness. He is much too old to be raising a child approaching puberty, let alone a precocious thirteen-year-old sage.)

“I have been researching the relationship between the Fire Lord and the Fire Sages,” he explains. “To… offer better counsel.” 

Kenji doubts this. Princess Azula still turns up from time to time, but Kenji has yet to hear her ask for counsel. As far as he can tell, the princess simply enjoys reminding Zuko that he isn’t a prince anymore. 

“And what have you found?”

“It’s an elegant system,” Zuko allows. “It’s wise to have a system that balances itself. And since the Fire Lord is no longer the head of the Fire Sages, the system is very carefully constructed to ensure that everyone is accountable to someone else, and we are all accountable to Agni.”

Kenji sits patiently and drinks his tea.

“And,” Zuko concludes, “it’s not working.”

Kenji hesitates. “Not working?”

“No,” Zuko states. He is looking at one of the books now, and Kenji isn’t sure if he’s looking for information, or if he’s just avoiding Kenji’s eyes. “It looks like it fell apart when my great-- when Fire Lord Sozin started the war. He didn’t wait for permission from the High Sage.”

“Times of war have their own legal standing,” Kenji reminds Zuko, surprised that the child would forget this.

Zuko looks up from the book. “But Sozin started the war,” he points out. “You can’t claim it’s a wartime ruling to make it wartime. That’s in direct contradiction to the Fourth Council of Greats. You can’t use circular logic in order to give yourself power. It also contradicts the Ichika Principle--” 

“Fire Sage Zuko--”

“And furthermore,” Zuko continues, having worked himself up now, “the rules about wartime decisions were clearly put in place with the assumption that the moment is fleeting. There are all kinds of decisions we’re making while using the excuse of wartime standing, as if we don’t have the time or resources to do better, but that’s not true. We’re winning the war, and it’s peaceful in Caldera City. It’s a farce.”

Silence follows in Zuko’s wake. 

Kenji leans forward and closes the book. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” he says, quiet but forceful. “There are rulings from Fire Sages that come before us that we must respect. This is a time of war, even if our ancestors did not foresee a war lasting this long.” 

Zuko is already shaking his head. “No council for the last century has declared itself properly. I know you know this, because you keep calling them improperly. And I know why you’re doing it. It’s because you know that the system isn’t working as intended.”

“Zuko.” Kenji’s voice is sharp, and it makes Zuko sit back. “You will not speak like this in this temple, or anywhere else. You are a boy of thirteen. You do not have the ranking, nor the insight born of experience, to question this. The logic stands.” 

“But High Sage--” 

“Is the logic unsound?” Kenji presses. “Remove your feelings from the matter. Stop thinking of the intentions of those who wrote the law. Stop thinking of yourself. Is the logic unsound?”

Zuko breathes for several moments. He isn’t meeting Kenji’s eyes. 

Eventually, he nods. “The logic is sound.” 

“Good,” Kenji responds. “Now, add this to your sound logic: Should the Fire Lord wish, he could remove the Fire Sages entirely.”

“That’s against the--”

“I don’t mean legally.” Kenji leans down so that he can encourage eye contact. “Child, in war, might makes right. Our tradition lives by the grace of the Fire Lord. Should we step too far out of line, all of this will be lost. All of our reasoning, all of our scriptures, all of the beauty of the worship of Agni.” 

“But that isn’t how it’s supposed to work,” Zuko insists. “We’re supposed to be weighted equally. There’s supposed to be no palace without the temple, and no temple without the palace.” 

Kenji sighs. He feels much older than his years, and his years are many. 

“There is one sign of hope here,” he says. When Zuko looks to him with an inquisitive expression, Kenji clarifies: “You.” 

“Me?”

“The Fire Lord gave you to us as a gift,” Kenji explains. “You are a token of his relationship with us. You were once his firstborn son. That is a stronger bond than we have had between us since long before the war began.” 

Zuko nods once, decisively. “I understand.” 

“And Zuko.” Kenji reaches out to touch the boy’s forearm. “Do not bring this up to anyone else.” 

Zuko stands tall before the Fire Lord.

He has not technically sought permission from the High Sage for this meeting. But if the High Sage is so quick to use the excuse of wartime decision-making, then Zuko thinks that the matter of the 41st Division deserves this. 

“It is bold of you to take my time, Fire Sage,” the Fire Lord states. 

Zuko swallows. 

“I am here to present counsel,” Zuko states. 

The Fire Lord raises an eyebrow. “I don’t recall requesting counsel,” he says, “and I certainly don’t recall requesting it from you.” 

Zuko stands up straighter. “Nonetheless, as a Fire Sage of the High Temple, it is my duty to offer my counsel when I have been led to understand that an immoral political decision is being pushed through the system without reaching either of our stations.”

Fire Lord Ozai’s eyes narrow, but he looks more curious than angry. “Gossip?”

“I have been led to understand that one of your war advisors has suggested sacrificing a battalion of new recruits for advantage in battle.” 

Zuko hasn’t felt so uncomfortable in his official garb for years. The hat is tall and ridiculous, but he mostly only has to wear it when he is facing the public - but even then, the hat has never felt so heavy, the robes have never felt so stiff, as in this moment.

“I fear this must have escaped your notice. You would have been obligated to present this before the sages, who would have of course overruled the decision. It is immoral, and it runs against multiple areas of our religious law and tradition. I would be happy to cite--” 

“There is no need.” 

A long silence stretches before them. 

Eventually, Fire Lord Ozai sighs. “Boy,” he states, standing from the throne. He walks through the flames and descends until he is standing in front of Zuko. “I fear you have misunderstood.” 

The relief is so sudden that it almost knocks Zuko from his feet.

“Oh,” he says. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Was the information wrong--” 

“Zuko.” Zuko looks up at his fa-- at the Fire Lord. “Not about the 41st Division. I fear that you have misunderstood this arrangement.” 

Zuko tilts his head, and then rebalances so that the hat doesn’t tip over. 

“You mean… You sending me to the sages?” 

He can’t help the hope creeping into his voice. He can’t hold it back. After Princess Azula’s regular taunting, and Prince Iroh’s careful coldness, is it really going to be the Fire Lord who tells Zuko that he hasn’t been banished from his family entirely? 

Zuko takes a hesitant step forward. 

“I mean your place as a sage,” Ozai states. “You are not some wise old man to give me advice - and even if you were, it would only be when I seek it. You answer to me.” 

Cold sweeps down Zuko’s spine.

This isn’t right.

“You all answer to me,” the Fire Lord continues. “I am the presence of Agni on earth, am I not? And you are Agni’s worshippers. I rule over you.”

“That’s not how this--” 

“You do not insult the station of the Fire Lord by turning up unannounced,” the Fire Lord says, voice creeping louder. “You may not break these rules simply because you were once my son. You are nothing, and you will learn to act that way.”

Zuko struggles to breathe properly. The Fire Lord is too close. 

“Bow.” 

“What?” 

Nothing is making sense. Zuko doesn’t like it when nothing makes sense. 

“Bow, child,” the Fire Lord spits. “On your knees before me.”

“Fire Sages are not permitted to bow low to the Fire Lord, lest we turn him into an idol,” Zuko rattles off. 

Ozai sneers. “I don’t care about what you think you’re allowed to do. Your Fire Lord gave you a direct order. On your knees.” 

Anger flashes. 

“I will not,” Zuko argues. “You made me a Fire Sage, and I will not desecrate my vows on your whim. This is not how the relationship between the palace and the temple is supposed to be. I will not bow.” 

The Fire Lord raises a hand, and some old instinct in Zuko tries to flinch away. He raises his arms to protect his face - but it isn’t fire, and this isn’t training. Ozai grasps Zuko’s forearm, hard, and pushes downwards. 

“I will not bow!” Zuko all but shouts.

Ozai’s hand heats. Pain flares. 

“I will not bow,” Zuko says again, but it sounds less convincing this time.

Ozai’s fire is so strong. Zuko doesn’t burn easily, but this kind of force for this long, at this close a range-- 

Zuko feels his flesh sizzling under the Fire Lord’s hand.

“I will not,” Zuko tries again, but he can’t get out the rest of the sentence.

It hurts so much. 

If Father doesn’t let go soon, will he burn all the way down to bone?

“I,” Zuko tries, and then his knees buckle.

It takes him long moments of harsh breathing to realise what he has done. He’s on his knees before the Fire Lord.

“Good boy,” Ozai says, and then turns and walks away.

Darkness rushes in. 

Zuko wakes up in the Fire Temple on Crescent Island. 

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji restrains his impulses. It is not his place to make demands, much as this fact might infuriate him.

“There is no method for dismissing a Fire Sage,” High Sage Kenji reminds the Fire Lord and his advisors. “Once a man or woman has accepted the vow, the vow is binding upon them until their soul leaves their body.”

“The punishment for heresy is death, is it not?” the Fire Lord asks.

Kenji tempers down his anger.

“The punishment for high heresy, which is a form of treason, is execution,” he accepts. “But nothing you have said has indicated anything close. It is unclear to me whether you are accusing Fire Sage Zuko of heresy or blasphemy. Perhaps you would like to revisit the story, and I shall determine the precise accusation?”

The Fire Lord stares, and it is a clear attempt to stare him down.

High Sage Kenji stands tall and stares right back. 

His sages are behind him, minus one. They, the Fire Lord’s advisors, and the guards, have heard the Fire Lord’s accusation. He can add details if he wishes, but it is clear to Kenji that Fire Lord Ozai does not know the definition of heresy, let alone high heresy, and so any attempt at that accusation would be a stab in the dark. 

“Then tell me, Kenji,” the Fire Lord says, “what is the punishment for insulting the station of the Fire Lord, disgracing the station of the sages, and acting without honour?”

Kenji feels the sages shift behind him. 

The truth is that the sages know Zuko better than the Fire Lord. They have spent two years raising this child, and Kenji isn’t certain that the Fire Lord spent any time raising him at all. The sages have guided this child carefully in the ways of their glorious tradition.

Fire Sage Zuko would not disgrace his station, or insult the station of the Fire Lord. He knows the rules, rituals, and gestures, and he executes them - for the most part - flawlessly. And as if that accusation wasn’t damning enough…

Zuko would never act without honour. 

There are accusations that Kenji would believe. The boy has a temper problem that his meditation barely restrains. He has had more than one ranking officer make a formal complaint about his colourful language choices. He will only follow rules once they have been adequately sourced, and will utilise loopholes to his own advantage without shame. Zuko might even be on the verge of heresy, were it not for a carefully guiding hand… 

And just like that, Kenji knows exactly what is happening.

The child had brought his concerns about the proper balance of power between the palace and the temple, and Kenji thought the issue was resolved. Kenji thought he had answered adequately by demonstrating the soundness of the logic, thought he had appealed to Zuko’s legal reasoning. But Zuko is a child of thirteen. He does not understand the danger he puts himself in by pointing to the imbalance; he sees only the injustice of the imbalance itself.

Heresy, indeed. Fire Sage Zuko has looked the Fire Lord in the eyes and told him that their glorious tradition is not being upheld. Zuko told the Fire Lord that he must relinquish power to create balance. Zuko, who once had a claim on the Fire Lord’s throne. Zuko, to whom the people keep coming for moral and legal advice, even though he is a child, even though he has referred to more than one of them in unflattering terms to their faces. 

(The sages have spent so long teaching Zuko to use logical reasoning in matters of law. But Kenji has failed to teach him to think.)

“He must be re-educated,” Kenji offers. “He is just a child. I can--”

“You have done enough,” the Fire Lord interrupts. “He has enjoyed too much freedom as a Sage of the High Temple. We will have him sent somewhere. A temple that won’t be so soft on him.” 

Kenji keeps his head high as he leaves the palace.

The sages remain quiet behind him until they are in private again, sequestered in the High Temple and one sage short.

“High Sage Kenji,” Fire Sage Kei says, turning to face him. Fire Sage Kei’s face is lined in disapproval.

He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do the rest of the sages. They are teetering on the edge of something dangerous here. It is entirely possible that their disapproval of the treatment of one boy could tear this whole temple down to its foundations. 

“Fire Sage Kei,” Kenji responds as calmly as he can. “Please ensure that the boy’s robes are sent with him, and that a healer accompanies him on the journey to… to tend to the wound.” 

The sages pretend that Kenji did not hesitate. 

Fire Sage Kei stares at Kenji for a long moment, and Kenji is reminded of the way the Fire Lord had looked at him. And then finally, Fire Sage Kei nods and turns to fulfil his duties. 

“High Sage Kenji.” It’s Fire Sage Tatsuya this time. Tatsuya was in charge of the child’s education; he would know better than anyone what lines Zuko might walk over. “The Fire Lord burned him.” 

If Zuko were here, Kenji knows what he would say. He would turn to the passages in the Fire Scriptures about the infliction of violence, and then to the legal cases of violence against Fire Sages specifically, and finally, to the rights and responsibilities of the station of the Fire Lord. Zuko is so unapologetic in his rulings that Kenji wonders if he would accuse the Fire Lord of treason. 

(He might even bring in side cases that don’t seem relevant and then paint a portrait of how they guide decision-making. Those moments of legal creativity cannot be predicted. It’s one of Kenji’s favourite things about watching over Zuko in counsel.)

“Yes,” High Sage Kenji agrees, because this is a fact that cannot be refuted. 

Wartime. Accusations. The only witnesses being under the Fire Lord’s thumb. Layers of precedent building for a hundred years. 

Fire Sage Tatsuya scowls at Kenji, and Kenji is hit with a wave of despair. It’s a feeling that usually only comes over him on the anniversary of the death of the man who was once his son. 

“He cannot get away with this, Kenji,” Tatsuya insists, his voice quiet enough that Kenji is its only witness. 

Kenji closes his eyes for a moment, breathing steadily to temper his inner flame. 

“Rest assured, Fire Sage Tatsuya,” Kenji replies. “He already has.”

The Temple of the Avatar on Crescent Island is nothing like the High Temple.

The High Temple was always bustling with people. There were over a dozen sages, many of whom dedicated significant time to Zuko’s wellbeing. Fire Sage Matsu would come by every day at sunrise to offer Zuko a cup of tea before breakfast. Fire Sage Tatsuya would teach him anything he wanted to learn, as long as it was within permitted boundaries. And High Sage Kenji… It somehow entirely escaped Zuko’s notice that the High Sage, the most important sage of their entire nation, willingly granted Zuko unlimited access to his time. 

There are only five other sages on Crescent Island.

And the High Temple had visitors every day. Zuko mostly hated this because it would impose on his studies. But there were morning offerings daily, and everyone was welcome: the royal family would sometimes sit on their special platform; the people of Caldera would pile into the room; visitors would come from near and far. Zuko would stand with the other sages. Sometimes, Kenji let him light and hold the candles. 

There is no public worship on Crescent Island.

And beyond public worship, the High Temple would accept requests for legal and spiritual counsel from the sages. Zuko slowly came to enjoy the intricacies of the law when applied to living situations, and it was one way in which Zuko could really help people. And they would even have visitors from other temples from time to time. Once, a whole order from a temple in one of the colonies came to visit for an entire week. It was a female order, and one of the sages was Fire Sage Matsu’s birth sister, Fire Sage Miki. The two of them invited Zuko to walk with them when Fire Sage Matsu had business at the palace, and Fire Sage Miki had walked with Zuko to see the turtleducks. 

There are no visitors to Crescent Island. 

Worship and visitors and counsel requests broke up the monotony. Zuko understands that now, because there has been nothing but monotony for the last three years. 

There are a few things that Zuko doesn’t hate about Crescent Island.

The library isn’t terrible. It isn’t as expansive as the libraries in the capital city, which is understandable, but they still have a library. Their Room of the Broken is barely a cupboard, but Zuko finds other areas of the temple to be by himself, and there’s barely any need to attempt to escape with so few other sages around.

Zuko learns to make candles, and takes over that role in the temple. This task is mindless, and it allows him to do something with his hands when he needs to run through logic without staring at books and scrolls anymore. 

And then there’s Fire Sage Shyu. 

“Here,” Fire Sage Shyu says, holding up a few letters. “Counsel requests from Caldera.”

Zuko nods to the table. “Thanks. I’ll get to them soon.”

“What’s got you candle-making?” Fire Sage Shyu asks. 

Zuko wouldn’t say that they’re friends. The sages of Crescent Island are much firmer than the sages of the High Temple. Everything has to be done to precise standards, including interpersonal interactions. But Fire Sage Shyu skirts the line, sometimes. He asks how Zuko is doing, maybe once every few months. He brings Zuko the legal counsel letters that have always seemed to arrive from him - mostly from people in Caldera who are used to his counsel - as a simple, kind gesture. He has even tried to make jokes before, Zuko thinks, but they’ve never quite landed.

(It’s nothing like Fire Sage Matsu bringing him tea in the mornings, or Fire Sage Youta quizzing him on tree law over lunch, or High Sage Kenji trying not to laugh when Zuko would prove that he didn’t technically have to wear the hat.)

But it’s something. Fire Sage Shyu is kind, and he does try to engage with Zuko when the other sages aren’t around. Sometimes, Fire Sage Shyu will join Zuko on his long walks around the island. More than once, he has caught Zuko crawling through secret passages in the temple, trying to figure out where they go. Fire Sage Shyu’s response is always to laugh, and to suggest that Zuko try to get to a particular room before Fire Sage Shyu can walk there.

But there are some things that Zuko does hate about Crescent Island.

The only letters he receives are about counsel. Nobody from his previous family or from his previous brothers in service bothers to write to him. Zuko understands why they wouldn’t, but three years with Fire Sage Shyu’s face being the only one close to friendly is… difficult. 

The sages of Crescent Island won’t allow him to deviate from ceremonial garb at all. The stupid hat must be worn during all waking hours, outside of the bathroom and some forms of firebending practice. His legal reasoning falls on deaf ears. And worse than that, the robes are short-sleeved, so Zuko cannot go a single day without being faced with the angry, ugly, hand-shaped scar wrapped around his left forearm.

(Zuko cried for days when he arrived here. Every time he thought he was getting a hold on his emotions, he would see that scar and it would well up inside him all over again. Because it’s more than just an angry, ugly scar. It’s a symbol, just like the metal cuffs on his wrists and ankles, just like his robes and his hat and his shoes. It’s a symbol that he can never shed. He will be marked forever by the fact that he bowed before the Fire Lord.)

“I keep coming back to this question,” Zuko admits, dipping the candle. “The case of the palace built around a stolen beam.” 

Fire Sage Shyu places Zuko’s letters on the table, and then turns to frown at Zuko. “You like that case.”

Zuko hums. He can’t actually tell Fire Sage Shyu what fascinates him so much about the stolen beam. Last time Zuko spoke out about something like that, he was forced to bow before the Fire Lord. But he can shroud his inappropriate questions in legal queries, can ponder hypothetical cases instead of asking anyone else to face their reality. 

“So it’s interesting that you just misquoted it,” Fire Sage Shyu points out. Zuko carefully removes the candle from the wax, and then looks up at Fire Sage Shyu. “It isn’t a palace built around a stolen beam. The case is talking about a house.”

Zuko feels himself drain of colour. He’s suddenly desperately hungry, the way that he always is when he missteps, like his body is reminding him of the potential consequences of breaking the rules on Crescent Island.

“I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine,” Fire Sage Shyu assures him, raising his hands in a calming motion. “Don’t worry, Fire Sage Zuko. You misspoke. That is all.” 

Zuko hesitates, staring up at his brother in service, and then finally nods. 

But Fire Sage Shyu starts to look at him differently.

One day, years into his exile to this painfully quiet island, Zuko looks up at the statue of Avatar Roku and thinks that something looks… different.

Zuko is halfway through lighting the candles in this room to make it bright enough for study, now that the sun is on the other side of the temple. His hand is outstretched toward the candles by the statue’s feet when he looks up, only to find that Avatar Roku’s watchful eyes are nothing but stone. 

(Sometimes, Zuko thinks there’s a joyless irony in the fact that the man who was once his father sent him to this specific temple. Ozai never once mentioned that Zuko’s former mother was the granddaughter of Avatar Roku - and yet this is where he chose to send Zuko. From the remnant of what was once his family in Caldera, to the remnant of what was once his family on Crescent Island.)

Avatar Roku’s eyes have always held a low, dull glow. But now they are simply stone. 

A trick of the light, Zuko tells himself as he continues to prepare the room for his studies. Surely the stone eyes only seem to glow when sunlight pours through the sanctuary window.

The following day, light spills from Roku’s eyes like never before.

“The rumours are true,” Great Sage Sadao states. “The Avatar has finally returned.” 

Zuko frowns and looks to Fire Sage Shyu. Fire Sage Shyu is looking up at Avatar Roku’s statue with an expression of reverence. The other sages seem less impressed.

“The Avatar has been gone for a hundred years. Do you think this means he finally died, and the next Avatar has been born?” Zuko asks.

“No, the eyes only glow when the Avatar has entered into the Avatar State,” Fire Sage Shyu explains. “The new Avatar must be old enough to be realising their power.”

“You’re both wrong.” The Great Sage continues to frown up at the statue’s bright eyes. “The rumours are that the last Avatar is back. The airbender.”

Zuko blinks. “But where did they go? Why didn’t they use the Avatar State in a hundred years?”

“Does it matter?” the Great Sage asks. 

Zuko hates it when he answers questions this way. Questions always matter, but Great Sage Sadao seems uninterested in anything that Zuko ever has to say. 

“Of course not,” Fire Sage Juro responds. “We are loyal to the Fire Lord. The presence of the Avatar makes no difference to our obligations.”

Great Sage Sadao smiles, and then gestures for the sages to leave the sanctuary. 

Once only Zuko and Fire Sage Shyu are left, Zuko turns to look at the glowing eyes of the statue. As he watches, the light fades. The Avatar has left the heightened state. 

“But this is the Temple of the Avatar,” Zuko points out. 

Fire Sage Shyu huffs something that sounds almost like a laugh. “Yes. That, it is.” 

There have been entire seasons on Crescent Island in which Zuko has felt that he was living the same, wearisome day, over and over again. 

Once Roku’s glowing eyes inform them of the presence of the Avatar, that changes. Tensions rise in the temple as the sages await the possibility that the Avatar will come here. Should this be the airbending Avatar, and should he wish to speak with his previous incarnation, this temple would be the place to do it. 

The Fire Sages of Crescent Island do not spend much time together, outside of meals and offerings. But those moments seem charged now, as they each wait for the possibility of disturbance. 

Atop that tension is an uneasy understanding settling between Fire Sage Shyu and Zuko. 

Zuko is almost certain that Fire Sage Shyu’s loyalties do not lie with the Fire Lord. But the last time Zuko suggested that his loyalties might lie elsewhere… 

So Zuko says nothing, and he waits. 

Zuko is feeding the songbirds when the bells ring. 

It’s a cloudy day with a bite of chill in the air, and Zuko is in a bad mood. He’s halfway through responding to a request for counsel, and the request is so absurd that Zuko wishes he could look the man in the face while delivering his response. The tension in the temple is high, and the addition of the request has reached boiling point for Zuko’s sanity, and so he has gone on a long walk to feed to songbirds. He’ll come back a little calmer, meditate, make offerings to Agni, and then finish his correspondence as clearly and uninsultingly as he can manage. 

When Zuko hears the bells, he looks to the waters, but they’re clear on this side of the island. Zuko is about to turn and head back to the temple when he realises that the Avatar isn’t arriving via ship at all. 

That… is a flying bison. 

Zuko almost laughs, watching the massive beast approach. Flying bison are supposed to be extinct. But then, so are Air Nomads.

He makes it back to the temple before the Avatar lands, but it’s a close call.

And the Avatar… is a child. 

(He might even be younger than Zuko was when he first came to Crescent Island. And the Avatar’s allies aren’t much older. Why are they children?) 

Five adult sages chase the Avatar. 

(It has been years since Zuko has seen anyone close to his own age.)

Zuko leaves the Avatar and the sages to their chase, and rushes to the closest window. He cannot see the flying bison anymore. Zuko wonders if the bison is a hundred years old, or if his books are wrong and the flying bison aren’t extinct after all. 

Zuko is considering leaving the temple to locate the mysterious creature when a mighty boom sounds from below him.

“The sanctuary!” Fire Sage Chiasa shouts. 

Zuko hesitates. He doesn’t want to be involved in the capturing of the Avatar. He doesn’t want to play a role in the illegal and immoral rule of Fire Lord Ozai.

But it’s hard to resist knowing what is happening below ground.

Zuko takes the shortcut. 

(The sages don’t like it when Zuko discovers more secret passages in the temple, but as far as Zuko can tell, temples are all created with secret labyrinths. And they are intended to be explored. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have been built in the first place.

So Zuko ignores the pang in his stomach that reminds him of the consequences of being caught, and he finds his way to the sanctuary the fun way.)

Of course, when he gets there, Zuko enters at a different angle to the rest of the sages. And while the main problem with this should be the potential trouble of being caught, there is a more immediate consequence:

Zuko finds himself face-to-face with the Water Tribe boy. 

“Um,” the kid whispers. “Hi?”

He’s behind a pillar, hidden from sight from where the sages enter. 

Zuko looks around the pillar to where Shyu is acting like he has no idea what’s going on, gesturing widely to the closed sanctuary doors. 

“Oh no,” Zuko says, keeping his voice down. “Fire Sage Shyu is a terrible actor.” 

And then the Water Tribe boy laughs.

He immediately clamps a hand over his own face, forcing the slightly-hysterical chuckle down, but he continues to look at Zuko as if Zuko has said something funny. And Zuko hasn’t made someone his own age laugh since he was in Caldera. In fact, Zuko can’t remember the last time he made someone his own age laugh by being funny, instead of being laughed at for his failings.

Zuko finds himself smiling, pleased in some small way that seems all-encompassing, and then the sages blast open the sanctuary doors. 

The Water Tribe boy springs out to attack Fire Sage Juro.

Zuko holds back, watching Fire Sage Shyu and the Avatar’s allies secure the sages. The Avatar darts into the sanctuary. 

(The Avatar, who is a child.) 

Fire Sage Shyu throws the Great Sage off himself and rushes to close the doors. As they’re closing, Great Sage Sadao takes position for an attack.

Before Zuko has a moment to consider the ramifications, he finds himself sweeping in and blocking Great Sage Sadao’s fire. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Great Sage Sadao booms. “You will stand down.”

Fury settles in Zuko’s spine. 

“I will not stand down,” he says, falling into stance. 

Zuko can easily take the Great Sage in a fight. He might even be able to take all four temple sages together. Not only are these men past their prime, they are only trained in firebending required of sages, with the barest of self-defence training. Zuko spent years in combat training, from the moment he kindled his first flame.

“Why are you doing this?” the Great Sage hisses. 

Zuko punches at the air, stopping Fire Sage Juro from attacking the Water Tribe girl from behind.

“Because you are wrong,” Zuko replies. 

And yes, this is probably a huge mistake. He’s thrown away a life that he thought he didn’t want once, when he stood up to the Fire Lord and lost his place in the High Temple. He’s probably doing the same again, but for an even lesser cause - just to allow the Avatar safe passage. 

But Zuko bowed last time. He submitted himself to power instead of honour. He will not bow again. 

“Our duty is to aid the Avatar,” Fire Sage Shyu states, meeting the Great Sage’s glare. Zuko leaves him to handle the Great Sage and slots himself between the Water Tribe boy and Fire Sage Juro. Zuko has never liked Fire Sage Juro. “This is the Temple of the Avatar. Not the Temple of the Fire Lord.” 

And then, as if it cannot get messier, the Temple of the Avatar falls under attack. 

By… the Fire Nation?

“How touching.” 

Zuko looks over at the Fire Nation soldiers, all of whom are masked except… 

“Commander Zhao,” Great Sage Sadao greets, with a bow that is a fraction deeper than appropriate. 

“Tie up the traitors,” Commander Zhao demands of his soldiers. “Then we’ll take out the Avatar.” 

This is bad. 

Zuko ends up bound to the same pillar as the other children and Fire Sage Shyu. He leans forward to catch Fire Sage Shyu’s eyes, but Zuko doesn’t even know what he wants to communicate.

“Aang,” the Water Tribe girl laments, staring wide-eyed at the closed doors. “How will he know they’re coming?”

“We could scream?” the boy suggests. 

Zuko shakes his head. “He won’t hear you from behind the doors,” Zuko explains. 

The Water Tribe boy gives Zuko a long look. “Then we need to distract them right after they open the doors,” he says, looking back and forth between Zuko and the girl on either side of himself. “To give Aang time to react. Any ideas?” 

They’re tied up tightly. Zuko’s arms are pinned to his sides. He can touch the chain with his right hand, can grab onto it, but there’s no shaking it loose. 

But Zuko’s legs are loose. A glance tells him that the same goes for Fire Sage Shyu.

Zuko leans forward and over the Water Tribe boy. “Fire Sage Shyu,” he whispers. Fire Sage Shyu looks over with raised eyebrows. “According to the fifth chapter of--”

“Zuko,” Fire Sage Shyu replies, a strained smile on his face. “I don’t need the reasoning.”

“We can fight the soldiers,” Zuko concludes, a little miffed at being interrupted, “even though they’re not directly attacking us right now.”

“That only really helps if you have a plan for how,” the boy points out. 

Zuko leans back so that he isn’t squashing the Avatar’s ally quite so much. 

“My legs are untied. Can you brace yourself?” he asks Fire Sage Shyu. “If we kick at the same time, right when the doors are opening…” 

Fire Sage Shyu nods. “Got it.”

Zuko braces his back against the pillar. He can grasp the chains with his right hand, but not with his left, so he turns to the Water Tribe boy. “I’m going to need to use you for leverage,” he explains, and winds their fingers together. “Brace.” 

“Uh,” the boy says, going faintly pink, but Zuko doesn’t have time to figure out what that reaction means.

The soldiers blast their fire into the door. 

Zuko and Fire Sage Shyu jump and kick fire at the soldiers’ backs, hard. 

They break formation, turning to defend themselves--

And the doors don’t open. 

Zuko feet land back on the floor. He looks over to Fire Sage Shyu, wide-eyed.

Commander Zhao growls.

“Why didn’t the doors open?” he demands. 

“Avatar Roku must not want you in there,” the Great Sage points out from his own place as a prisoner of the Fire Nation. 

There is no way any of this ends well. 

Commander Zhao growls again, and then storms up to Zuko and Fire Sage Shyu. “Your little trick was for nothing,” he spits, and then turns to his soldiers. “Tie up their legs. The Avatar has to come out eventually.” 

But then, just as Commander Zhao goes to leave them at the pillar, his eyes catch on Zuko’s face. 

After a moment, he laughs. Zuko recoils from the sound.

“So this is where they sent you?” Commander Zhao says. 

Zuko glares. 

“As far away as they could. I understand. What do you think the Fire Lord is going to think when I dump you on his doorstep? A traitor, again?” Commander Zhao is too close to him. Zuko tries to shrink back to avoid the disgusting feeling of Commander Zhao’s breath on his skin. It appears that Zhao hasn’t gotten any less creepy in their time apart. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t burn you to--”

“Hey!” the Water Tribe boy snaps from beside Zuko. “Leave him alone!” 

Commander Zhao pauses, smirking at Zuko. He doesn’t lean away. “Maybe I won’t take you back to the palace at all,” he suggests. Zuko shudders. He doesn’t fully understand the threat, but he hasn’t missed that there is one. “I wouldn’t suggest underestimating me.”

Zuko can’t glare any more deeply.

“You’re impossible to underestimate,” he responds.

There’s a brief pause, and then the Water Tribe boy laughs uproariously. Zuko blinks, that same pleased surprise washing through him, and - thank Agni - it’s loud enough that Zhao leans away. 

“Good one,” the boy next to him says, squeezing the hand that’s still holding Zuko’s.

“Say what you want, Fire Sage Zuko,” Zhao sneers, using Zuko’s proper title as if it’s an insult. “I still own you.”

And then he reaches up to Zuko’s face. 

Zuko flinches away, but Zhao’s hand passes by his face and lands, instead, on Zuko’s hat. 

“Get off me,” Zuko growls, but it makes no difference. Zhao tears the hat from Zuko’s head and drops it to the floor. “You can’t--” Zuko starts, watching Zhao lift his heavy boot, and Zuko is so angry that he might consider screaming fire at Zhao, even though it can’t possibly do anything but make it worse--

And the doors to the sanctuary burst open. 

Blinding light pours from the sanctuary, followed by a wave of fire. The fire dissolves the chains but doesn’t harm them - it’s like nothing Zuko has ever seen before - 

“Run!”

“Avatar Roku is going to destroy the Temple!” Fire Sage Shyu shouts. Zuko stares at the Avatar, barely feeling the world shake beneath him. “We have to get out of here!”

Zuko feels himself pulled away from the carnage. Somehow, Zuko’s heartbeat is so loud that it’s competing with the sound of the floor splitting and stone falling from the ceiling. He lifts the arm that isn’t being dragged by Fire Sage Shyu in an attempt to protect his head. His hand brushes his bare topknot.

“Wait,” Zuko says, realisation dawning. He pulls his arm from Fire Sage Shyu. “You go, I’ll be right behind you!”

Zuko darts back to the pillars, narrowly avoiding - oh spirits, oh great Agni, that is lava -

There. 

Zuko rushes back to the pillar he was tied to, which is somehow miraculously still standing, and snatches his hat from the ground. 

“Zuko.”

Avatar Roku stands tall, staring straight at Zuko. And Zuko freezes, pinned in place by Roku’s watchful eyes, until Avatar Roku fades into Avatar Aang.

“We need to run!” Zuko calls to the other kids. 

The Water Tribe kids all but drag the Avatar for the first leg of the journey, up the stairs and around to-- 

The temple is tilting. 

The temple is tilting. 

They find themselves at a hole in the wall that used to be a window, lava to one side of them and a collapsed pillar to the other. 

They’re trapped.

“We’re going to have to jump,” Zuko declares, looking out to the water. They’re not likely to survive it. Even if they hit the water, the temple will be hitting the water soon. But it’s their only chance. “When you hit the water, swim as fast as you can.” 

“Wait! Zuko,” Avatar Aang says, grabbing for Zuko’s forearm. Zuko pulls away hastily. “We don’t have to jump into the water. Look!”

He points out of the gaping hole where the window once was. 

It’s the flying bison. 

There’s no time for relief to settle, because the temple is still tilting under their shoes. But Zuko jumps with the Avatar and his allies and lands in a saddle on an extinct animal, and then the wind whips at his face as the animal flies away.

Zuko looks back and watches his home for the last three years disappear in lava and ash. 

There are so many books in that temple. Were so many books. Ancient manuscripts, holy items, rooms Zuko has dedicated and re-dedicated to the service of Agni.

Zuko feels hollow as he watches it fade into the distance. 

(What is he supposed to do now?)

It’s quiet on the bison for a long time. 

Zuko has no idea what he’s doing. The Temple of the Avatar is gone. He cannot return to Crescent Island, but he also cannot return to Caldera without being killed. 

The other Fire Sages… 

Zuko draws a deep breath and crosses his legs. He cups a flame in his hands in lieu of a candle and offers a silent prayer for their lives and safety. It’s not much of an offering, but it’s all Zuko can give.

“Zuko?” the Avatar asks. “Are you okay?” 

Zuko looks up to find three weary, worried faces staring back at him.

He frowns.

“How do you know my name?” he asks the Avatar. 

Avatar Aang smiles. “Roku told me!” he declares. “He said that I should pass on a message to you. He wanted me to tell you that you’re going to have to help restore balance.”

Zuko closes his eyes for a moment. 

Well. Running away and starting a new life was never an option, anyway. He’s taken vows for his nation and for the service of Agni. There’s no running away from that. The heavy cuffs on his wrists and ankles bear witness to this fact.

“Any idea why an Avatar who’s been dead for over a hundred years would ask you to do that?” the Water Tribe boy asks. When Zuko opens his eyes, it’s to find that he’s been peered at with suspicion.

Zuko preferred it when he made the boy laugh. 

“He was an ancestor of mine,” Zuko says. “I imagine that’s why.”

The Avatar gasps. 

“Zuko!” he says, face lighting up. “Don’t you know what this means?” 

“Aang,” the girl says, reaching out a calming hand. 

“We’re family!” Aang declares, beaming at Zuko. 

The boy settles his face in his palm. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, buddy.” 

“I don’t have family,” Zuko informs the Avatar as plainly as he can. 

The Avatar’s smile wavers. 

“But you’re going to teach me firebending, right?” he suggests. “So that I can beat the Fire Lord and restore balance to the world?” The smile is gone entirely now. “Because Roku says that I have to do it before summer’s end, or Fire Lord Ozai is going to use a comet to end the war for good.” 

Sozin’s Comet will be returning. Zuko knows this, of course, but the Avatar’s statement turns this from a natural fact into a phase of war. 

Zuko sighs. 

“I cannot teach you firebending,” Zuko explains, trying his best to be gentle about this fact. “I am a Fire Sage. My bending is for use in ritual, worship, and defence. I am not permitted to teach you bending intended for war.”

Avatar Aang stares at him, wide-eyed. “But Roku said…”

“Avatar Roku was not referring to the balance of the world,” Zuko explains. “I have a different imbalance to correct.” 

The Avatar’s flying lemur swoops from his shoulder to perch near Zuko’s knee. The lemur frowns up at Zuko, confused and offended, and then scrabbles toward Zuko’s hip and starts pawing at Zuko’s robes. 

“Momo,” the girl says, reaching forward to try to pluck the lemur from Zuko’s robes. Momo scrambles away from her, chittering, and then returns to Zuko. 

“I don’t think Roku would tell me that,” the Avatar insists. “And besides, where are you going to go?” 

“It does seem like Zhao has it in for you,” the Water Tribe boy adds. “And considering how much he has it in for us, that’s saying something.” 

Ugh. Zhao. Zuko shakes his head, irritation prickling at his skin. “Zhao is the worst.” 

“I figure any enemy of Zhao’s isn’t so bad,” the Water Tribe boy says, a false cheer laced in his tone. “I’m Sokka. That’s my sister, Katara. She and Aang are trying to find a waterbending master.” 

“Trying to find-- You haven’t mastered waterbending yet?” Zuko asks the Avatar. “Why would you be looking for a firebending teacher? You have to master waterbending and earthbending first.” 

Aang’s shoulders slump. “I don’t have time to wait,” he insists. 

“There’s a proper order.” Zuko pushes away the lemur again as it urgently grabs at Zuko’s robes. “There’s a reason it’s that way.”

“How about,” the girl - Katara - starts, and then huffs and picks Momo up again. “How about you just teach Aang about firebending? Tell him how it works? That way, you don’t have to do any combat training, and it prepares Aang for when he’s ready to learn firebending?” Momo escapes from her arms. “What is with you?” 

Zuko finally focuses on the flying lemur. 

Oh, right.

Zuko pulls a few scrolls out of his left pocket, fishing around until he finds-- 

“Here,” Zuko says, pulling out the bundle. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

He unties the string and unfolds the cloth, and Momo sticks his entire face into the birdseed. 

Zuko smiles. 

“Well,” he says, “it’s not like I can go back to the temple.”

They fly for a long while, trying to gain as much distance on Zhao as possible, but it seems that the flying bison is tired. “He’s already flown so much today,” the Avatar laments. “We’ve gotta let him rest.” 

Zuko wonders if a hundred years in ice also contributes to this tiredness, but it isn’t any of his business. 

(Zuko is pretty tired, too. Between the mounting tension in the temple, the fight, and watching his home of three years collapse… it’s been a long day.)

They find a clearing to make camp in, and Zuko is faced with a whole new challenge: sleeping outside. It’s cold. He doesn’t have any clothing other than his robes, which are thick and warm, but also leave his arms and calves bare. 

It’s fine, Zuko tells himself; he’ll just build a fire and maintain it until he’s asleep. 

But the moment Zuko creates a fire, the other three kids start giving him long looks.

“What?” Zuko asks, irritated. 

“Nothing!” Sokka insists, looking away, and then immediately looking back. “It’s just… weird, that’s all. Until today, we hadn’t met any firebenders who weren’t evil.”

“I had!” Aang insists. “I knew firebenders growing up. I had a friend from the Fire Nation, and sometimes the temple would host meetings of Fire Sages like you, Zuko.” 

Zuko blinks over the fire at the Avatar. 

“They would… host meetings?” 

Aang nods. “Yeah, they would talk about philosophy and stuff. I was never invited.” He sounds a little petulant about that. “But they were really nice! Monk Gyatso would call them his brothers.” 

Zuko has read about conferences, in the loosest sense. There were legal cases and frameworks in the literature that were clearly examples picked up from the Air Nomads. But it somehow has never occurred to Zuko how these things got communicated - that, once upon a time, a sage like him might travel to an Air Temple to learn from the monks. 

Guilt creeps up Zuko’s spine. He’s spent time reading about the facts of the war, but the truth is, Zuko’s concern has always been the relationship between the palace and the temple. Today is the first time in his life he is on Earth Kingdom soil. It’s always been a theory to him, facts on a page that exist to prove his point that something is wrong in Caldera. 

“I am sorry,” Zuko offers, “for what happened to your people.” 

Aang’s smile dampens. He looks away. 

“Well, if you’re sorry,” Sokka points out, “you might want to consider stepping up to help stop the war.” 

Zuko sighs, looking into the fire, and then pulls his hat on. “I should give evening offerings,” he says, and then realises he really has nothing on him for prayer. He runs through the order of the rules in his mind, weaving together what evening offerings look like in the scenario he has found himself in. He hasn’t spent a night away from a temple since his initiation ceremony, with the sole exception of time on a ship when he was sedated. “I will be back soon.” 

He doesn’t miss the suspicious frowns that Sokka and Katara both send his way.

The Avatar, apparently, does. 

“Okay,” Aang says. “We’ll have dinner waiting when you’re ready!”

“Oh, we will, will we?” Katara asks drily. 

Zuko walks away for privacy, and then drops into the first bow to Agni’s disappearing presence. 

The ritual clears his mind and heart. 

A life in service of Agni means a life in service of honour, truth, and justice. As he settles into the final meditation, Zuko’s focus lifts and shifts. His devotion is to the will of Agni, not to the will of the Fire Nation or the Fire Lord. 

When he arrives back at the campsite, Zuko’s steps land more easily. 

“We will begin in the morning,” he informs the Avatar. “At sunrise.” 

It’s cold at night, even by the fire. 

Zuko uses his hat as a pillow, because there’s technically no reason not to. He curls up his legs as tightly as possible to tuck them into his robes. And he utilises his breath of fire to stay warm, but it takes the kind of concentration that keeps him from falling into sleep.

After a while, Zuko feels something warm and heavy settle over him. It’s a thick blue coat. 

Sokka disappears back to his bedroll without a word.

“Thank you,” Zuko whispers, but doesn’t get a response. 

It might be strange and cold, sleeping outside - but at least Zuko isn’t completely alone.

“Firebending comes from breath, and is fueled by emotion,” Zuko explains. 

Aang spent the very first moments of sunrise following Zuko through his morning offerings. Due to the Avatar’s incessant questions, Zuko can’t quite settle into the feeling of fulfilled obligation. But Zuko suspects that there’s no way to avoid feeling on-edge anyway, considering how the world has shifted around him. 

“What emotions?” Aang asks. 

“I’ve read that there are many options,” Zuko explains. “Most firebenders today use anger and passion.” 

Aang screws up his nose. “I don’t think I want to use anger.” 

“You won’t be using anything yet,” Zuko reminds him. “You’re not ready to learn firebending, and I’m not able to teach you. We will simply meditate together.”

Zuko walks Aang through the breathing exercises he was taught as a child. He doesn’t give Aang a flame to meditate on. 

“This doesn’t seem like it has much to do with firebending,” Aang says. 

The sun is creeping higher in the sky. Zuko turns his face toward it, soaking up the rays. 

“The first step is to control your breathing, and to locate your inner flame,” Zuko explains. “You will not be using your flame. You simply need to know that it is inside of you.”

Aang opens his eyes. “You’re saying ‘my flame’ like it’s separate to me. But isn’t it just… part of me?” 

Zuko hums. “I suppose. In a sense. But you need to know the boundaries of it so that you can temper it.” Zuko reaches for the edges of his inner flame and its comforting warmth. “Fire can be destructive if it goes unchecked. You need to be able to control your flame before you start using it.” Zuko calls his flame to his palm and holds it up between them. “You need to understand its boundaries.”

Aang looks unimpressed.

“The monks taught me that there are no such things as boundaries.” 

Zuko raises his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like…” Aang stares at Zuko’s flame for a long moment. “We think of everything as being separate. Like the nations. But that’s just because it’s easier to see the world that way - it’s not actually true.”

“It isn’t?” Zuko asks. He coaxes his flame into dancing on his palm, which makes Aang smile. “Then why can’t I waterbend?”

Aang looks at Zuko over the flame, and his eyes are bright.

“It’s more than that, I think?” He looks thoughtful for a moment, clearly reaching for memories of lessons of men long gone from the world. “It’s not just that the boundaries between the nations aren’t real. It’s that the boundaries between you and me, between my skin and the air, they’re not real. The closer you get to where you think the line is drawn, the less the line seems to actually exist.” 

Zuko lowers his palm, allowing the flame to flicker out. 

There’s a truth to that, he recognises. The closer you get to the boundary, the more blurred it is. Where, exactly, does Zuko end and the flame begin?

“And if there’s no real boundary between what’s me and what’s the air, then why can’t I move it, like I can move my arms?” Aang explains. “And if there’s no real boundary between me and the air, what are the boundaries between the nations?”

Zuko watches Aang carefully.

“Airbending isn’t like firebending,” he clarifies. “Your fire is already inside of you. You don’t need to reach out and grasp it, to dissolve boundaries. You control it.”

Aang smiles. “But what if you didn’t do it that way? What if you let go of the boundaries between you and the flame, instead?”

Zuko stares for a moment, trying to parse out the thought. And then he raises his hands again and cups them, and instead of calling fire to his palms like he’s pressing down on the edges of it, Zuko tries releasing the boundary between himself and the flame, tries accepting that maybe the boundary never existed in the first place.

Time passes, and nothing happens. Aang slips back into his breathing exercises. The sun climbs in the sky.

Zuko meditates on the nonexistent space between Zuko’s skin and the air.

And eventually, the smallest flame grows in his cupped hands. It’s weak, orange and yellow. It feels different, somehow.

The Avatar might be onto something, Zuko thinks. Perhaps they need to stop seeing themselves in terms of the walls their ancestors built. 

“I will teach you what I can,” Zuko agrees. Aang beams at him. “If you will teach me.” 

Chapter Text

Three years without a child in the High Temple teaches Kenji that something deeply strange is happening in Royal Caldera City. 

Despite the fact that the High Temple is filled with sages with decades of experience, it has become a regular practice for people to approach the temple with a request to receive counsel or questioning from a banished sage. This has puzzled Kenji from the first time a letter was pressed into his hands, only days after Zuko was taken away from his care. Kenji knew that Zuko had much potential as a legal arbitrator, and that he was a popular figure when he resided in the High Temple, but part of Kenji had assumed that his popularity was largely due to the novelty of receiving a ruling from a child.

Is it Zuko's creativity with the law? His brazenness when it comes to utilising loopholes? The fact that he is unafraid to insult people in court, like he is unable to mentally process the potential ramifications?

(Is it, perhaps, that Zuko was once their prince?)

“You’re overthinking it,” Tatsuya insists when Kenji asks. “The people have always liked the kid. They probably still picture him as being thirteen.”

Kenji pushes down the part of him that also still pictures Zuko at thirteen. He must be sixteen by now. He might even be as tall as Kenji. 

“You think it’s the novelty of his age,” Kenji responds.

Tatsuya raises an eyebrow. “No, Kenji, I think it’s because he’s a kid. He just sees ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. He doesn’t see everything else. And when people have been wronged, they appreciate that.” Tatsuya frowns at the letter in Kenji’s hand. “It’s probably a good reason to keep him from giving too much counsel, you know. Context is important.”

And then Tatsuya looks up at Kenji with a curious expression, like he’s genuinely interested in Kenji’s reaction to that proposal. 

Kenji sighs. Zuko can only be getting better at adding context and shedding naivete with age. There’s no point in withholding this from him now. 

“I will have Fire Sage Kei send these to Crescent Island,” he says, and Tatsuya offers him a knowing smile. 

Later, when Kenji is penning a quick note to attach to the most recent counsel requests for Crescent Island, the Fire Prince sweeps into his doorway. 

“High Sage Kenji,” Prince Iroh says, and then offers an appropriate bow. He seems unsteady in a way that Kenji is unused to seeing in him. “I have... news.” 

Zuko’s first full day away from Crescent Island is marked by a series of arguments.

They continue their journey north until Aang and Katara decide to stop to practice waterbending. Zuko uses the excuse to find another space in the river to bathe and wash the ash out of his hair, for which he has to use borrowed soaps and no oils. He’s already a little frustrated by this fact when he returns, comb in hand, to find a mounting tension between the others.

Aang is apparently good at the basic waterbending moves. While Zuko expects this to elicit a positive response, it apparently irritates Katara - and then Aang’s overexcitement at waterbending causes several of their bags to wash downriver. 

This is when the first argument breaks out. It is, oddly enough, not about Aang’s waterbending mistake or Katara’s irritation. Instead, Sokka turns to Zuko to explain that Zuko cannot wear his own clothing into the nearest town to replace their lost provisions.

“Because of how much you stand out!” Sokka explains, waving his hands at, apparently, the entirety of Zuko. 

“I won’t wear the hat,” Zuko allows, because after three years of being forced to wear it every day, Zuko is very ready to stop wearing the hat. “But I’m not changing into… What do you even want me to wear?” He frowns at Sokka’s blue clothing, and then at Aang and Katara. “None of you look like you belong in the Earth Kingdom.” 

Sokka pinches his nose. “Yes, and Aang’s arrow is bad enough--”

“Hey!” Aang responds, hands flying protectively to his head. “There’s nothing wrong with my arrow!” 

“-- but you stick out like a sore thumb.” 

Zuko looks down at his heavy robes, and then back to Aang. 

“I don’t see the problem. I’m not going to make us any more conspicuous than you were without me.” 

They get stuck in the kind of logical circle that Zuko has never enjoyed. Sokka’s reasoning doesn’t make any sense, but he’s not letting go of it. 

“Sokka, please just say what you mean,” Zuko requests, as plainly as he can. “I can’t interpret you.” 

Sokka blinks at him for a moment, and then looks over to Aang and Katara. Aang doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening any more than Zuko does, but Katara is frowning and biting her lip in a way that tells Zuko that something is happening here. 

“Look, buddy, you look… really Fire Nation.” 

Zuko tilts his head. “I am Fire Nation.”

“Yes, I get that - I am in the process of getting that - but you look. It’s like… Some of the people we meet and help, they see people like you, and you represent all the most awful things that have ever happened to them.” 

Zuko continues to comb through his hair to give his hands something to do while he considers Sokka’s point.

“Is where we’re going really so unused to people from the Fire Nation?” he asks.

“I don’t know!” Sokka exclaims. “Maybe they are!” 

Zuko moves all of his hair over his left shoulder to ensure that his comb can reach the ends. 

“Then wouldn’t it be good for them to encounter someone from the Fire Nation who isn’t a soldier?”

Sokka huffs, gesturing at Zuko again. “Stop - you’re doing that on purpose!”

Zuko frowns up at Sokka, comb stilling halfway down his hair. “Doing what on purpose?” he asks. “You’re not making any sense.”

Sokka makes a frustrated noise and walks away. 

Zuko looks over to Aang and Katara, who are both watching with raised eyebrows. 

“Can you clarify what just happened for me?” Zuko requests.

“And!” Sokka states, whirling around again. “And. Stop talking like you’re ninety. It’s weird.” 

Zuko scowls. “You’re weird!” he snaps. “I’ll stay behind with Appa. I don’t want to come to an Earth Kingdom town with you anyway.”

“Oh what, because the Earth Kingdom is so below the Fire Nation?” Sokka asks. 

“I don’t understand you!” Zuko shouts, and then spins around and walks away. 

That’s the first argument. Zuko cannot comprehend why Sokka insists on being illogical, or why the other kids seem unwilling to help. 

The second argument breaks out upon their return. 

Zuko finds a nice spot to make a fire offering, spends some time brushing Appa, and then sits to read the last of his counsel requests. 

Zuko has just fished ink and a brush out of his right pocket when the group returns. And that’s when everything falls apart over a single scroll.

“You stole it?” Zuko asks, stunned, as he stares up at Katara. “You can’t do that. Theft is wrong.” 

Zuko has needed to explain the injustice of many actions before, often using fairly complex arguments. He has never had to justify ‘theft is wrong’ as a statement, and he wasn’t expecting Katara to be the person to require that explanation. 

Katara scowls at him. “He stole it, too,” she points out.

“And it’s none of your business!” Sokka adds, as if that makes a difference to whether or not theft is morally wrong. 

Aang looks confused. “Weren’t you also mad at Katara for stealing, Sokka?”

Sokka folds his arms. “Yes, but that doesn’t make it any of his business.” 

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, then packs away his ink. “We’re returning the scroll,” he insists. 

“That’s not your call to make!” Sokka yells.

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” Zuko says, standing up and turning to face Sokka properly, “but it doesn’t matter. Katara stole something. Theft is wrong. And I’m sure it’s illegal, even in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Oh, even in the Earth Kingdom, huh?” Sokka replies. “What, because it isn’t civilised here like in your precious Fire Nation?”

Zuko blinks at Sokka for a moment, and then turns to Katara. “Katara. Good people do not steal. It is important that we return this item to its rightful owner.” 

Katara is scowling, but she doesn’t look furious like Sokka does. She looks… hurt?

“It’s a Water Tribe scroll,” she says, holding it up so that Zuko can see it. “It’s Water Tribe, and pirates had it. They even admitted to stealing it! Does that really make them the ‘rightful owner’?” 

Zuko takes a step forward, looking from the scroll to Katara’s fierce eyes. 

“It’s stolen from your people,” Zuko clarifies, looking back to the scroll.

“Do you know why I don’t know waterbending, Zuko?” Katara asks. “It’s because the Fire Nation took away all my tribe’s waterbenders. I’m only alive because my mother…” She hesitates, and then reaches up to touch the hollow of her throat. “Because my mother protected me when the Fire Nation came for me, too. So there was nobody to teach me waterbending. I’ve had to teach myself everything I know.”

She glares at Zuko.

“So tell me again who this rightfully belongs to.”

Zuko looks back at the waterbending scroll. 

He thinks of the house built around the stolen beam. 

What happens if the wronged party doesn’t come to the courts? What happens if they tear down the house themselves to retrieve the stolen beam? 

Two wrongs don’t make a right, Zuko reminds himself. The courts still have to handle the matter. There’s a reason for rule of law. It protects everyone from ‘might makes right’. 

Zuko looks back up at Katara. Her expression has softened a little, and her eyes don’t seem to have left Zuko’s once. 

But what happens if there are no courts? What happens if nobody is there to hear the case of the house built around the stolen beam? 

Or worse, what happens if the system is so thoroughly rotten that there is no hope for justice?

Zuko takes a step back, and then nods at Katara. 

Zuko has no authority on this case. This is between the Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom. And Katara hasn’t asked for his counsel. 

Katara offers Zuko something like a smile. It’s small and fragile, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be victorious or grateful. But either way, the moment is broken, and Katara and Aang return to waterbending practice. 

Zuko expects this to be the end of the issue. He sits back down, retrieving his letters and readying himself to craft responses, only to find that the tension builds once again - this time between Katara and Aang. 

Katara almost makes Aang cry. 

She apologises almost immediately afterwards, but Zuko still feels a little off-balance by the experience. The Avatar is a child. A child who can be brought near to tears by an instructor being sharp with him. 

(Before Zuko became a Fire Sage, he was used to regular sharp words from his instructors. He was used to being burned if he couldn’t get out of the way on time. And Zuko knew that this was his own fault, so it never would have occurred to him to look at any of his teachers the way that Aang looks at Katara.)

Aang is talented. That’s apparently part of the problem. But if he isn’t able to grow up, and fast, there’s no way he’s going to be able to fight the Fire Lord. 

Zuko turns back to his counsel letters. 

(Not long afterwards, Zuko fishes a healing balm from his pocket and hands it to Katara, for the reddening spot where she whipped herself with water.

“How much do you have in those pockets?” Sokka exclaims, and apparently this is another thing for him to dislike Zuko over.)

“I have clothing,” Zuko snaps, glaring at the items the other kids have brought back from the Earth Kingdom town.

Sokka squares his shoulders, clearly preparing for another argument, and Zuko feels himself deflate. He is too tired to deal with this. 

Zuko changes into green and brown clothing. It’s too loose on him, and the material feels scratchy. The sleeves and trousers are so long they cover his metal cuffs, and even cover most of Zuko’s shoes and hands. But at least the tunic hides the handprint burn on Zuko’s left forearm. He’ll appreciate not having to look at that.

Zuko ties the sash as tightly as he can, and then returns to their campsite.

“Sorry,” Sokka says, a half-smile on his features as he looks over Zuko’s too-loose clothing. “It’s kind of hard to judge the size of you under that tent. You’re actually kind of little.” 

“I am not ‘little’,” Zuko hisses. “I’m the same height as you.” 

“Hah! You wish,” Sokka replies, which makes absolutely no sense, because they are objectively almost the exact same height. And Zuko doesn’t understand how Sokka can go so quickly from angry to… whatever this is. “That tunic is going to slip right off your shoulders.” 

Zuko’s glare deepens. 

“Here,” Sokka says, and then reaches out to straighten the tunic. His fingers brush the bare skin of Zuko’s neck, and the contact makes Zuko jump. 

Sokka clears his throat, and Zuko notices that his face is faintly pink again. Zuko watches him, curious, and Sokka’s hands linger on Zuko’s new clothing for a moment too long.

Sokka drops his hands eventually, but doesn’t step away.

“Thanks,” Zuko tries, because the silence is stretching on too long.

Sokka clears his throat again, and then smiles briefly, and then steps away. 

“You look stupid,” Sokka states before turning and walking away.

Zuko is so confused. 

He looks over to the other kids in hopes of clarification, but all Katara offers is: “Wow.” 

Zuko does not like the Earth Kingdom clothes. 

He’s worn the same uniform for five years now. Even if the Earth Kingdom clothing fit him properly, it would still feel wrong. It’s the wrong material, the wrong shape, the wrong colour. But beyond that, it feels like a lie. It feels like a disguise. And Zuko is a Fire Sage of Agni. The pursuit of truth is his goal. This outfit is a symbol of insincerity. 

Zuko also doesn’t appreciate how much the outfit makes Sokka snicker. They trek through the woods together in an attempt to gain some ground on whoever might be following them without having Appa spotted in the sky, and Zuko trips over the edge of his trousers more than once. But Katara seems amused by Sokka’s amusement, and this lifts Aang’s spirits too, so at least the incessant arguing from before seems to have settled down.

And then, of course, they stumble into a Fire Nation camp.

And Zuko cannot even claim the authority of his station, because who would look at a boy in Earth Kingdom clothing that barely fits and believe that he is a Fire Sage? 

Zuko blocks the incoming fire. 

“It’s a direct attack,” Zuko explains, taking a fighting stance. “I can fight back.” 

Sokka makes a frustrated sound, and Zuko is very sure that he’s about to have an argument with Sokka throughout an altercation with the Fire Nation soldiers-- 

Only to find that they don’t need to engage at all. 

When the fight is over, the Earth Kingdom children who fell from the trees make their way through the belongings of the Fire Nation camp. Zuko holds himself back from demanding they stop, reminding himself of Katara and the waterbending scroll. But he does approach the leader, because as much as Zuko understands that he is not being called upon to make a ruling, he also cannot sit back without being complicit in a crime.

“I trust you understand that theft is both illegal and immoral,” Zuko says. The leader, who is leaning against a tree and talking with Katara, looks up at Zuko with a lazily raised eyebrow. 

“According to who?” he asks. 

According to whom, Zuko thinks, and holds himself back from making the correction.

“Every established moral code I’ve ever come across,” Zuko responds. He glances at Katara, who looks a little pinched and unhappy, and decides that now is not a time for preaching. He’d been wrong with Katara, after all. “I’m sure there’s a reason you think otherwise. Would you be able to explain to me?”

The boy narrows his eyes for a moment, expression searching, and then shrugs. “I figure it’s like this,” he says. “The Fire Nation took everything from us. Our families. Our homes.” He looks out to the other kids. “All they’ve brought here is war and devastation. We’re not even starting to level the playing field, not really.” He looks away from Zuko and toward his friends. “We all lost everything to the Fire Nation. We’ll do everything we can against them. That’s the war they chose to fight.”

Cold sweeps down Zuko’s spine. 

There are really no courts handling these matters. 

“My name is Zuko,” he greets, offering a shallow bow. “I appreciate you explaining this to me.” 

Katara smiles at him over Jet’s shoulder. Zuko doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

“I’m Jet,” the boy responds. “These are my freedom fighters.” 

Freedom fighters. Zuko looks out at them. They’re children, too - some are younger than even the Avatar. They shouldn’t need to reference established moral codes yet, because there should be adults ensuring that the world is working in their favour. And yet here they are, stealing from the soldiers who stole their freedom, all in an attempt to gain back some of the freedom that was ripped out from under them. 

“I like your swords,” Zuko says after a moment, eyeing the hooked swords Jet has propped up against the tree. “I trained in twin swords when I was young.”

Jet smiles at Zuko with half of his mouth. It has an edge to it, like he’s seeking to challenge Zuko. For what, Zuko doesn’t understand.

“Oh yeah?” he says, nodding down to the swords. “Want to give them a spin?” 

Zuko does. 

And it isn’t combat. It’s just recreation. 

He touches the swords, and then looks down to his outfit. The looseness might be helpful for moving, but his sleeves and pants are too long. He takes a moment to roll up his sleeves to his elbows, and tries something similar but less effective with his trousers.

And then, finally, Zuko grasps the hooked swords and tests their weight. 

It’s been a long time. Zuko learned with swords in a time that was technically, legally, a past life. He’s been reborn in fire since, has spent years away from weaponry of any kind. 

But somehow, standing with swords in his hands feels right. It feels like he can hear Master Piandao’s voice, stern and encouraging, as he spins and turns and strikes. 

Zuko goes through steps he’d assumed long forgotten. The swords slice through the air, dance around him and around one another, and Zuko breathes steadily. 

It feels good.

Zuko finishes with the swords back at his sides, and lets himself breathe for a moment before he returns to the moment. 

“What?” Sokka exclaims from somewhere behind him. Zuko very deliberately chooses to ignore him. 

“Huh,” Jet says. He’s standing properly now, no longer slouched against the tree. “That was some fancy footwork there. You said you trained?” 

“When I was a child,” Zuko replies, and hands the swords back. “It was a long time ago. I wasn’t sure I’d remember anything.”

Jet stops close to Zuko, eyes glinting. “Looks to me like you remember just fine,” he says with a grin.

Zuko smiles hesitantly back. “Thank you for letting me try.” 

“Anytime,” Jet replies. He finally takes the swords, but then he nods downward. “That’s a nasty burn scar. You piss off a firebender?”

The smile drops from Zuko’s face. He pushes his sleeves back down. “Yeah.” 

“Was it worth it?” Jet asks. 

“It didn’t change anything I wanted to change,” Zuko admits, pressing his palm to the hidden hand-shaped scar. His heart beats a little faster as he remembers falling to his knees before the Fire Lord. “But I think it’s always worth standing up for what is right.” 

When he looks up at Jet, the smile on his face is bright and a little unnerving. “Well, I can’t disagree with that.” 

They end up following Jet and his friends back to their hideout in the woods. Katara and Aang seem excited by everything they come by. Sokka seems less impressed, and keeps throwing Jet suspicious looks. 

“I’m not so sure about this guy,” Sokka informs him. They’re standing on a bridge between the trees. Zuko doesn’t know anything about engineering, but he’s fairly certain this is quite a feat. “He just gives me this… off feeling.”

If Katara and Aang could hear, they would mock Sokka for his ‘instincts’ again. 

“He seems okay to me,” Zuko responds. “I can’t… condone what they do, but I can understand it. There are no just courts here to arbitrate between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom.”

Sokka makes that low, frustrated sound that he so often does around Zuko. “I didn’t mean that!” he insists. “Why is it always ‘law’ and ‘morality’ with you? I mean that something feels off, Zuko, and Aang and Katara are too busy being dazzled to see it.” 

Zuko looks up at Sokka, surprised, and then looks over to where Jet is talking to the other kids. 

Sokka huffs. “Maybe you’re too busy being dazzled, too.” He folds his arms. “You sure seemed to like it when he was falling all over himself about your fancy footwork.” 

Zuko frowns, looking back to Sokka. 

“It’s not like we’re planning to stay forever,” he says, choosing to ignore Sokka’s confusing accusation. “Let Katara and Aang have their fun, and we’ll leave tonight.”

They don’t make plans to leave. Sokka gives Zuko a significant look over dinner as Jet talks Katara and Aang into staying for a mission. 

Zuko shrugs. It doesn’t make much of a difference to him whether or not they stay another day. 

And then everything goes wrong. 

It falls apart for what seems immediately like the most mundane reason. They’re finishing their dinner, and Katara is prodding nervously at her undercooked fish. So Zuko leans forward, over Jet who is seated between them, and sends a quick blast of heat to Katara’s food.

Katara smiles up at him. “Thanks, Zuko,” she says, her voice softened from the edge it usually has around him.

“You’re welcome,” Zuko replies, and he goes to make a comment about his firebending being useful for something, only to be unceremoniously shoved by Jet. 

“You’re a firebender!” Jet exclaims, scrambling to his feet and drawing his swords. “Fire Nation - in my camp!” 

Zuko remains seated, but his spine straightens. 

After a moment of confusion, he remembers: he isn’t wearing his robes. Jet and his friends don’t have any way to place him as Fire Nation, unless they pay close attention to the colour of his eyes. 

Zuko swallows.

“I am Fire Nation,” he admits. “I apologise. It didn’t occur to me that it wasn’t obvious. I didn’t mean to deceive anyone.” 

“Get up and fight,” Jet snarls. 

Zuko eyes Jet’s swords, and then glances around them. There’s a crowd of kids here, all of whom are now staring at him. Jet isn’t going to be the only person fighting for long, even if Zuko does hold his own. 

Zuko presses his lips together, thinking.

“I took a vow,” he says eventually, as carefully as he can manage, “as a Fire Sage. I am only permitted to fight in self-defence, extended or otherwise.” 

Jet spits the grass out of his mouth. “You can sit there and I’ll cut you down, or you can stand and defend yourself, ashmaker. I don’t much care which.” 

Zuko looks around again. He doesn’t want to firebend here, surrounded by wood. If the wrong thing catches fire, it could bring the whole structure down. 

“Jet,” Katara says, scrambling to stand beside him. She attempts to lay a hand on Jet’s arm, but he shrugs her off. “Zuko doesn’t mean any harm. He’s on our side.”

“I am not on the side of the Fire Nation,” Jet spits. 

“Well, neither is Zuko,” Sokka points out. It’s only now that Zuko notices that Sokka has been shifting on his knees until he’s sitting between Zuko and Jet. One of his hands is raised, open, towards Jet - like he could defend himself that way from the swords. 

Zuko stands up, dusting off his Earth Kingdom clothing. He doesn’t want Sokka to be between them. If Jet strikes, it should be at Zuko, not at a third party. 

In seconds, it seems that the whole camp is standing. 

Zuko’s pulse picks up. 

“How could a firebender not be on the side of the Fire Nation?” Jet asks. He looks curious now, underneath layers of suspicion. 

Zuko holds his head high. “I am on the side of the Fire Nation,” he insists, which causes a shift in the air. “Which pits me against the Fire Lord.” 

“You can’t even get your own story straight.” Jet raises his swords. 

“Wait!” Aang insists, bursting in and standing in front of Zuko. 

Zuko glares at the back of Aang’s head. 

“Just wait,” Aang says. “Let him explain, okay? Zuko is helping me, and I’m the Avatar - he’s helping me to restore balance to the world. He’s one of the good guys. When we met, he was helping to defend us against the Fire Nation soldiers.” 

Silence hangs in the air for a long moment.

The other children of the camp are watching their leader carefully for a reaction.

Katara, Sokka, and Aang have all placed themselves near Zuko. Sokka is standing just behind him, giving him cover from the other kids. Katara is close to Jet, hand still outstretched like he’s a frightened animal. Aang is directly in front of Zuko, but Zuko can see over his head to where Jet is staring straight at him, eyes piercing. 

And then Jet’s eyes flicker down to Zuko’s left forearm and the scar now covered by his sleeve. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Jet says, each word slow and deliberate. “Zuko of the Fire Nation. If you denounce the Fire Nation right now - if you say that, in those words, then I’ll consider not attacking you.”

Zuko’s eyes narrow.

Jet knows what he’s doing, he realises. Zuko has already declared himself against the Fire Lord by virtue of being on the side of the Fire Nation. Jet is asking him to say something that he knows Zuko cannot and will not say, in order to hold it up as his attempt at mercy.

Zuko hates when people do this. He hates when people manipulate the crowd into accepting their actions using an illusion of choice. He’s seen it enough in a legal setting. But when he’s approached for counsel, Zuko can act as the objective decider spelling out what is happening. Here, in these woods and surrounded by these children, nobody is going to listen to him.

“You know I cannot do that,” Zuko replies. “My loyalty is with my nation.”

“But you know that’s not what he means,” Sokka states, sounding annoyed. For a moment, something loosens in Zuko’s chest. He’s grateful that somebody else has noticed the way that Jet has moved the pieces on this Pai Sho board. “He already told you: loyalty to the Fire Nation means not being loyal to the Fire Lord.” 

“Zuko is going to help us bring balance to the world,” Aang adds. “Avatar Roku told me himself.” 

Zuko flinches.

Jet, unfortunately, notices. 

“Really?” Jet pushes, eyes alight as he watches Zuko’s face. “That’s what you’re going to do? Bring balance to the world?”

Zuko breathes deeply, centering himself.

“I did tell you,” Zuko says, keeping his voice as quiet as he reasonably can, “that the world is not the rebalance I’m working on.” 

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Jet states. 

Zuko glares. “The imbalance I am called to correct is an imbalance at the heart of the Fire Nation,” he explains. “The balance of power between the palace and the temple.”

“What?” Katara bursts. She turns to look at Zuko directly, her eyes wide and betrayed. “Zuko, what are you talking about?”

“The Fire Nation was born with a system of balance at its heart--” 

“It’s not your fault,” Jet says to Katara, tilting his head toward her. His eyes are still on Zuko, like Zuko can’t be trusted without being properly monitored. “The Fire Nation are like this: they’re self-serving and manipulative. They’ll tell you anything to get you to hand them power.” 

“I’m not looking for power,” Zuko hisses, fury settling into his core. “I’m looking to right what has been set wrong.”

“Didn’t you say you took a vow as a Fire Sage?” Jet asks. “You just said you’re looking to rebalance the power to give more power to… who, exactly?”

Zuko does not correct his grammar. 

It’s very difficult.

“Oh,” Katara says, and when Zuko looks at her… it looks like Katara is moments away from crying. 

“It’s not like Jet is making it sound.”

But nobody is listening to Zuko anymore, because Jet has positioned his pieces on the board so that Zuko doesn’t have any more moves left. 

(Zuko has always hated Pai Sho. He hated it when Uncle Iroh tried to teach him as a child. He hated it when Fire Sage Youta dragged him away from his studies to play a game. He hates it even more now, feeling like a piece that is about to be removed from the board.) 

“Maybe you should go back to Appa,” Aang suggests, his voice quieter than normal. “We’ll come find you tomorrow after the mission.” 

Jet nods to a few of his friends. 

“I can tell you’re really upset about this betrayal,” Jet says, his voice soft in a way that does not ring true to Zuko at all. “But since he was a friend of yours, we’ll let him go.”

Zuko stares at Jet for a long moment, and Jet’s gaze is just as unwavering. 

Aang, Katara, and Sokka don’t object. 

Zuko is off-balance for a moment as he wonders whether the children he’s been travelling with understand what’s happening here. Because there’s no way Jet is letting him go back to Appa to camp by himself and wait for the others. 

Zuko looks over to the others, and none of them will meet his eyes. 

Are they simply unwilling to say out loud that they’re attempting to send him to his death? 

“Very well,” Zuko says carefully, and takes his leave.

It’s not like it’s the first time his current allies have turned against him. Zuko has been braced for something like this to happen since the moment they escaped Crescent Island. These kinds of relationships just aren’t for him - or, perhaps more accurately, he wasn’t built for them. Even his birth family gave him up as swiftly and completely as possible. Zuko hasn’t heard a word from the men who raised him for two years in the High Temple since they had him shipped to Crescent Island. 

Of course he shouldn’t expect three children on their own mission to care about what happens to him. 

Zuko tells himself that he feels nothing about this as he walks toward Appa, well aware that the woods have eyes.

When he reaches Appa, Zuko takes a moment to pet his soft fur before finding the bag containing his robes.

“If you’re going to kill me,” he says, “I would rather die in my Fire Sage robes.”

There is silence as Zuko changes his clothing. There is silence for so long that Zuko almost wonders if he has misread the situation, if he’s really only being watched for the safety of the camp. 

Zuko removes Momo from his hat. Momo blinks up at him and Zuko smiles, briefly, before placing Momo on one of Appa’s huge paws. Then he walks away from the bison, heart beating hard. 

There’s a shuffle in the trees. Zuko turns to face it, and eyes the arrow pointed in his direction.

“I was really hoping we didn’t have to do this,” Zuko says, and falls into stance. 

By the time Zuko escapes from the woods, he has one bloody gash on his bare arm. 

(The kids are fine, but they might be a little spooked. Zuko imagines that he hasn’t done much to assuage their fear of firebenders. But at least their fight took place far away from the camp, so no feat of engineering was sacrificed for Zuko’s safety.) 

Luckily, Zuko always carries a healing balm and some cloth with him. Once he finds a source of water, he will be able to take care of himself and move on. 

(Without the vague plans of following the Avatar and learning from him about the way the world used to be, Zuko doesn’t know where he will be moving on to. He needs to stop and think at some point. But that can be saved for later.) 

Zuko finds his way to the nearby town, mostly because the cover of other people is likely to keep him from being directly attacked by Jet and Jet’s fighters, which may or may not now include the Water Tribe kids and the Avatar. The Avatar might not be well-trained in anything but airbending, but Zuko doesn’t really want to try fighting him, and he certainly doesn’t want to try fighting him along with a whole crowd of other children. Getting out of that alive without hurting anyone will likely be… tricky. 

Zuko is harried, messy, and more than a little angry when he walks into the Earth Kingdom town. Luckily, the town is crawling with Fire Nation warriors, and thus his status as a Fire Sage is likely to keep him from being attacked again today. 

“Fire Sage!” one of the soldiers exclaims, running forward to greet Zuko with a bow. “To what do we owe this honour?”

Zuko sighs. 

“I’m in need of a place to stay for the night,” he says. “I can be on my way in the morning. I’ve been… It’s a long story. Can I offer my services in exchange for a bed for the night?” 

The soldier blinks at him. “Of course, Fire Sage,” he says, and bows again. “You don’t need to offer your services. We’ll be honoured to have you with us. But… um, don’t leave before you talk with Private Masayuki and Private Aimi?” The soldier’s eyes widen and he bows again. “They have been hoping to see a sage, Great Teacher, and had little hope.”

Zuko watches the soldier, and wonders how Kenji hoped for their people to be attended to in spiritual matters when they were out to war - and that isn’t even touching the numerous legal and ethical matters that were no doubt arising. Were they setting up smaller temples in the Earth Kingdom, or was that an inappropriate statement of permanence? Were any sages travelling? 

(Zuko thinks he should probably know the answer to these questions, and feels a twinge of guilt that it hasn’t occurred to him to ask.)

“Arise,” he says. “There’s no need to call me Great Teacher. Fire Sage Zuko is fine.”

“Fire Sage Zuko,” the soldier responds. 

“It will be my honour to hear cases.” Zuko straightens a little, tiredness seeping into his bones. “Is there anything that cannot wait until the morning?” 

Fire Sage Zuko rises with the sun, gives morning offerings to Agni, bathes in an actual house and not a stream, and stands before the people of Gaipan to give counsel.

The first thing that he notices is that, despite the fact that Gaipan continues to have residents of Earth Kingdom origin, no such resident has come to stand before him. 

The second is that Privates Aimi and Masayuki are holding hands.

“Oh,” Zuko says, eyeing their hands. “I see.” 

This is not where he thought today’s activities would lead. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Private Masayuki says, his eyes bright with hope. “We would like to petition you for our marriage.” 

Zuko can’t say no. For a start, there’s no logical or legal reason to deny them at this juncture. This is part of his role, even if it’s a part he’s never had to fulfil before.

(Zuko has worked on dozens of divorce cases. Usually, a powerful husband wants to ruin his wife’s life when the marriage falls through, and Zuko is left to pick up the pieces and ensure that the divorce goes through properly. But he’s never been asked to be a part of the formation of a marriage before. His specialty is in law, because it isn’t difficult to read books and believe in the absolute necessity of justice. This is… more than a little beyond him.)

And beyond that, there is a reason Privates Masayuki and Aimi are so excited that a Fire Sage is passing through. They can’t be wed without a sage present, and they are likely struggling to receive permission to travel to a temple. Zuko is their only chance to be wed anytime soon.

“Of course you may petition me,” Zuko agrees. “Will you be prepared before sunset today?” 

Private Aimi nods. “We gathered everything we need last night, when we heard of your arrival,” she explains. “Great Teacher, we can be prepared before midday if you would be so kind as to hear our petition.” 

Zuko doesn’t have anything scheduled. 

“Before midday is quick,” he points out. “Will you be able to announce your plans to the whole village?”

Private Masayuki hesitates, looking confused. “To the whole village?” he asks. “The soldiers and our families, you mean?”

Zuko tilts his head. “All the residents need to be invited, and any strangers within the gates. Weddings are by nature public affairs. All must be made welcome.”

There’s a distinct pause while the soldiers process Zuko’s words. Zuko doesn’t understand why this would be the case. It’s clear in the rules of weddings that everyone in the place of the celebration must be expressly invited. 

Eventually, Private Aimi bows. “Of course, Great Teacher,” she says. “We can be ready by midday, with… everyone invited.”

Zuko suspects that his smile is as unsure as her own. “Then I will see you at midday,” he states. 

Zuko spends some time going over the specific details of the ceremony with other soldiers. While Zuko has only been to a few weddings himself, mostly shadowing Fire Sage Tatsuya, he does recall the order of events due to divorce proceedings. A good divorce includes an attention to detail on every element of the wedding ceremony as it occurred, partly to ensure that there is no reason to cast doubt on the legality of the ceremony itself. 

(Zuko should probably not mention to the bride and groom that his knowledge of the building of marriages is mostly due to his knowledge of how to tear them down. He probably shouldn't mention that any knowledge he has on relationships - family, friendships, even allyship - is truly only knowledge on how easily they can be taken away.)

By midday, they are ready. 

The soldiers have divided the guests around the space where the ceremonial fire will be lit, with the Earth Kingdom residents on one side and the Fire Nation residents and soldiers on the other. It’s an odd set-up, but technically legal. 

Zuko sits cross-legged at the front before the set table, facing the guests. He casts his gaze over the table, the teas and the flowers and the bowls, ensuring that everything is present and accounted for. When he is satisfied, Zuko lowers his head and waits for Privates Aimi and Masayuki to approach him to make their petition. 

Aimi is wearing an anklet with bells. Zuko can hear her every step as they approach, arm in arm. When they stand before the table, Zuko raises his head. He sweeps out an arm, indicating that they may be seated. 

Every moment of the petition is prescribed. Zuko relaxes into this, because the prescription means that all he has to do is be a vessel for Agni’s blessing. 

The pair pour the first cup. Zuko drinks.

“Tell me of your petition,” he orders. 

“We wish to be wed,” Masayuki states. 

They continue as prescribed until the third cup. This is where the tradition loosens, allowing for Fire Sage Zuko to understand the couple as unique individuals before him.

His heart beats fiercely. Zuko reminds himself that this isn’t about him, but it isn’t much comfort. He has seen first-hand how destructive a bad marriage can be. Even before he was a Fire Sage, he’s seen this. 

“How long have you known one another?” he asks. 

Three years. They met in training. They were friends first, separated for a brief period, and then confessed feelings for one another when they were stationed together.

“Why do you want to be married?” he asks. 

Love. Honour. One day, when they are done fighting, to start a family. To declare before the world that they intend to be together forever.

Zuko nods and places the third cup down. It’s not empty. 

Aimi and Masayuki look at the last of the tea in the cup, eyes wide and worried, and then look up to Fire Sage Zuko. 

Zuko draws a deep breath. 

He turns his face to Masayuki. 

“Do you believe,” he starts, and then hesitates on the wording. Masayuki’s eyes are very intense. “Do you believe that this marriage would put Aimi in your ownership?” 

It’s not a simple question. Legally, the origins of marriage lie in the exchange of ownership between a woman’s father and her husband. Zuko suspects that Masayuki knows this. But the assumption of ownership has been at the heart of the worst divorces Zuko has seen. It’s been at the heart of the worst cases Zuko has seen at all: ownership of wives, of children, of servants, of land, even of animals. 

Masayuki glances at Aimi, and Zuko sees an apology in his eyes before he turns to Zuko.

Zuko braces. 

“No,” Masayuki admits. “I don’t wish to own Aimi. I do wish for us to belong to one another, but… Great Teacher, if you want me to take ownership of her, I can’t do that.” 

Relief rushes through Zuko. 

He reaches forward for the third cup and finishes it, and then places it back down. 

“You may pour,” he states, gesturing to the large, ornate teacup in the centre between them. 

Masayuki lets out a loud breath of relief and turns to Aimi for a moment. They press their foreheads together. And then Aimi reaches to the final pot and pours half of the tea. 

Masayuki pours the other half. 

They sit back and look to Zuko.

Zuko thinks for a moment. There is no appropriate wording for this moment in the ceremony. There are many options, and Zuko has never had to choose one before.

He looks between Masayuki’s face and Aimi’s. 

Finally, Zuko nods. 

“If you truly love,” he quotes, “give away your heart to make half of a greater whole, and follow it for the rest of your days.” 

Zuko gestures to the cup. “You may drink and bind yourselves.” 

Aimi and Masayuki drink, passing the cup between themselves, until it is empty. 

Zuko stands and bows, and then sweeps around the table to the middle of the room. He extends a hand to light the ceremonial fire for the couple to walk around.

They begin the first of seven circuits, joined at the hands. The bells on Aimi’s ankle sound gently as they walk. Between the circuits, Aimi and Masayuki exchange vows. 

After the seventh circuit of the ceremonial fire, Zuko feels himself flooded with happiness as he declares them wed. 

The roar of joy from the Fire Nation soldiers almost knocks Zuko from his feet. He finds himself laughing, caught in the throwing of rice. 

If Zuko had estimated the trajectory of his day when meeting Aimi and Masayuki, he would have assumed that the wedding would be difficult and the counsel, while legally tricky, would be more emotionally simple.

It appears that he had the order flipped. 

While the prospect of the wedding filled Zuko with nerves, the ceremony itself was an honour. The state of the village, functioning as both a home and a military outpost, is more complicated. 

The sergeant with whom Zuko has been discussing has clearly spent some of the celebration crying. Judging by his expression, today is also not going the way he had planned. 

“I don’t understand what you’re telling me to do, Fire Sage Zuko,” he admits.

“I’m saying that there is too much wrong here for me to take individual cases right now,” Zuko explains. “The whole outpost is set up unethically.”

The sergeant’s posture shifts and his eyes narrow. “How can you say that? You’ve been here a handful of hours, most of them sleeping or partaking in--” A smile ghosts over his face. “I don’t understand what you could have seen that’s so wrong, sir. Fire Sage.” 

“None of your Earth Kingdom residents came to me for counsel,” Zuko says. “That’s how I knew to look for a structural problem.”

“Why would they come to you for counsel? You’re a Fire Sage.”

“Yes, and a legal arbitrator to whom you are beholden.” Zuko turns to look out toward the village. “Unless you were somehow running a perfect society, there’s never a case in which nobody has a complaint they’d like an established court to see through. And, Sergeant, this is an occupied village. It’s not perfect.” 

The sergeant is quiet for long enough that Zuko looks back toward him. 

“Please explain,” the sergeant requests. 

Zuko hesitates, trying to cut through the laws of war enough to make sense of what is bothering him here. 

“Military occupation,” he says, “is by definition temporary. The Fire Nation cannot take land, because the world was divided by the spirits, not by the nations. This is Earth Kingdom land, even if the village decided to share it and create a mixed village. The spirits saw fit that this land should belong to the people of Earth, not Fire. So our presence here can only be temporary, as a means of war. Do you understand the problem?”

Sergeant Kichiro is frowning, but he doesn’t seem angry. Zuko takes this as a win.

“You think we’ve set this outpost up as if we’re planning to stay, and you think that’s illegal?” 

Zuko nods. “That’s part of your problem. That’s the structural issue.” He lifts a hand. “The other issue is… Sergeant, when one nation occupies the land of another in war, that first nation takes total responsibility for the people on the land that is being occupied.” The sergeant’s eyes grow a little wide. “They are, temporarily, our citizens. Not when it comes to our rights over them, but when it comes to our responsibilities. We are interfering with their ability to be homed, to be fed.” 

“Are you being serious?” Sergeant Kichiro asks. 

Zuko holds his head high. “If we are unable to take that responsibility, then we have no place in occupying a settled area for a military outpost.” The sergeant’s eyes appear to be unblinking as he watches Zuko. “Do you understand, Sergeant? The fact that the people for whom you are responsible do not think it appropriate to come to me with their complaints is concerning.” 

“This is not how I was taught to lead,” Sergeant Kichiro says. 

Zuko bows his head. “Then I am afraid you were grossly misinformed as to the teaching of our great tradition and the will of Agni.” He takes a breath, trying to figure out how to begin unweaving the complex tapestry before them. “I have counsel for you. I also wish to lead the soldiers in public worship. And then I shall spend time with your Earth Kingdom residents.” 

Many hours later, tired from a day of doing the work of an active Fire Sage instead of following the Avatar on his mission, Zuko recognises that he bought himself good favour in the officiation of the wedding earlier in the day. The soldiers are not easy to convince to follow in the ways of their great tradition. They have been taught poorly. Sometimes, it appears they have been taught against the way of Agni. 

(Anger at the Fire Lord simmers under Zuko’s skin.)

But having started his day with a blessing these soldiers have been long waiting to participate in has softened them a touch. Zuko thinks there’s good work he can do here.

(He isn’t sure where he will go next. He doesn’t know how to correct the imbalance at the heart of the Fire Nation. Appealing to the High Sage and the Fire Lord has done no favours. Allying himself with the Avatar has almost led to his death. But at least Zuko has been able to make some small difference to one small village.)

The next day, the village is swept away in a flood.

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji’s hands seem to have developed a tremble. 

“He will have a funeral as befitting a Fire Sage,” Kenji says, holding his voice as firm as possible. “That is the clear recourse for such a scenario.” 

Fire Lord Ozai’s eyes flicker down Kenji’s body to his hands. Kenji holds them as still as he can.

“The boy was caught betraying his nation in his final moments,” Fire Lord Ozai replies. “He is to be declared a heretic and a traitor to his nation.” 

The sages shift behind Kenji.

“Fire Lord.” Kenji waits until the Fire Lord looks back up to his eyes, away from his hands. “That is not a judgment we can make posthumously. Fire Sage Zuko is no longer--” Kenji draws a sharp breath, small enough that he hopes to have gotten away with the emotional outburst, “alive, to defend himself before a court.”

“I am certain that we can declare treason and heresy even when a sage has fled from his post.”

“You are correct, of course,” Kenji allows. “We are able to declare treason when the defendant has fled. We are also able to declare treason and heresy of a Fire Sage who does not respond to the call to return and see judgment.”

“Then that is what you’ll do,” Fire Lord Ozai declares, and waves a dismissive hand.

Kenji does not narrow his eyes. He has better control than that. 

“We are able to make those declarations when an individual or a sage is considered a threat,” Kenji explains. “That extreme action is allowed in order to thwart such a threat. Please explain before us the threat that you see in Fire Sage Zuko.”

Kenji has probably said too much.

The Fire Lord’s eyes narrow as he watches Kenji. 

“The boy will have a funeral as befitting a Fire Sage, because he died a Fire Sage in good standing,” Kenji insists. 

But ultimately, Kenji has no power to insist. 

“If you will not declare the child a heretic and a traitor, so be it,” the Fire Lord responds. “You are correct that he poses no future risk to us. But there will be no funeral. Neither public nor private. His memory has not earned the honour.” 

Kenji’s fire simmers beneath his skin. 

The sages behind him are restless and unhappy. 

“Very well,” High Sage Kenji allows. 

This time, there is no body to bury. There is no marked grave to visit or to avoid. No former wife to blame him for abandoning his connection to the man who was once their son. All Kenji has is the victory of allowing this boy to retain his name and status. 

It will have to be enough. 

Zuko is talking to a mother with a toddler on her hip when it happens. 

“Are you going to stay?” Meifen asks. She shifts the toddler on her hip. The child in question is watching Zuko with wide, curious eyes. 

Zuko blinks, first at the toddler, and then at Meifen. “I don’t know what my plans are,” he admits. “I thought I was in transit, but… I don’t know where to.”

“Then this is all very nice, but there isn’t any point to it,” Meifen insists.

Zuko clasps his hands together. He wants to cross his arms, but High Sage Kenji once told him that crossing his arms before people seeking counsel might make him seem too stern. And Zuko and Meifen are still in the midst of untangling the issue around her wages and her concerns about being pregnant again - an issue on which no resolution has been found. It won’t do for Zuko, in his red robes and with his attachment to the Fire Nation army, to be read as stern and uncaring.

“Please elaborate?” Zuko requests.

“Look, I do understand that you’re… important to them in some way.” She uses her free hand to wave to Zuko’s robes. “But what’s to say everything isn’t going back to normal the moment you’re gone?”

Zuko sighs. Meifen has a point. Maybe he should stay and help ensure change in Gaipan, but Zuko also needs to think about how to rebalance the Fire Nation as a whole. Any difference made here will be unsustainable without the sturdy foundation of the Fire Nation behind it.

Zuko looks back to where Private Ayaka is lecturing her superior officer. She has been Zuko’s best advocate all day. Zuko is glad that amongst stubborn warriors he has found at least one person easily swayed by ethical argument.

“I know you must be concerned that if you point out the Fire Nation soldiers are breaking their own laws, they will only punish you for pointing out their own unethical behaviour.” Zuko wraps his hand around the scar on his forearm. “I understand that. But I think Private Ayaka is a good person to go to, if you’re worried about the sergeant.” 

“What makes you think that? She hasn’t exactly been knocking on doors like you.”

“This morning, over breakfast, I was explaining the ethical issues behind occupying land to some of the soldiers. Private Ayaka has been talking to the sergeant about it all day,” Zuko explains.

Meifen’s eyebrows draw in. “Doesn’t that seem fickle? That it took until you were here to, what… tell her that it’s wrong? She couldn’t figure it out for herself?”

Zuko shrugs. “Sometimes, people need someone to back up their own internal sense of right or wrong before they feel they can stand up for it. But she wants you to trust her, and she is trying. That’s more than nothing.”

Meifen looks at Zuko for a long moment. Her daughter, who is much too young to be following the conversation, looks just as concerned. 

“Has trusting people just because they tell you to ever worked out for you?” Meifen asks. 

Zuko’s shoulders drop as he thinks back over every single relationship of his life. There haven’t been a great many, and none of them have ended well. “Not even once,” he admits in the name of honesty.

There’s a long stretch of silence between them as Zuko searches for a reason for Meifen to at least try. 

Finally, Meifen smiles at him. “You’re kind of young to be doing this job, aren’t you?” she asks. Her tone is startlingly gentle compared to before. She gestures with her chin toward the soldiers. “They’re adults. Why is a kid trying to clear up their mess?”

Zuko blinks. “Waiting for other people to clean up messes isn’t a very effective method.”

Meifen watches Zuko for a long moment. She’s frowning, but Zuko thinks she doesn’t look angry.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” she asks eventually, and steps out of the doorway.

Zuko knows that he should probably say no. He has more villagers to speak with, and much work to do before the day is over. But Meifen’s home looks messy and warm, like the opposite of the palace and temples Zuko has grown up in, and maybe she will be more willing to discuss change if Zuko says yes?

Zuko’s response is on the tip of his tongue when the commotion starts. 

Meifen looks over Zuko’s shoulder with a deep frown, and then the volume rises. The soldiers are shouting, and-- 

“Sokka?” Zuko asks. 

“You have to-- Zuko?” Sokka’s intensity doesn’t fade, exactly, but it’s rechannelled in Zuko’s direction. “This is where you-- Oh, thank La,” he says, all in a rush, as he runs toward Zuko. Zuko tries to take a step backward once he’s close, but the wall to Meifen’s house is there, and he can’t dodge quickly enough to avoid Sokka.

Sokka throws his arms around Zuko’s shoulders and squeezes him. 

It takes Zuko longer than it probably should to recognise that this is a hug. 

“Um,” Zuko says, voice pitched higher than he intends. Sokka’s hair is in his face, and his arms are strong and confining, and Zuko can feel the press of Sokka’s body all down his front. They’re too close. Zuko doesn’t know when he was last anywhere near this close with someone.

(He tries, for a moment, to remember. But he honestly can’t recall. The woman who was his mother, maybe?)

It feels… kind of good. It’s like Zuko wants to crawl out of his own skin, but in a good way? 

Sokka tears himself away, and Zuko’s whole body shifts towards him like it isn’t ready to let go. And then Zuko’s mind calls up the fact that the last time he saw Sokka was when Sokka let him walk to his death, and suddenly, the idea of touching him isn’t appealing at all. 

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asks, shifting away. 

Sokka’s breaths are short and light, like he ran to the village mid-panic. “You have to help make them believe me,” he says, reaching out to Zuko’s shoulders. Zuko shifts away before Sokka can touch him. “Zuko. It’s Jet. He’s going to flood the village.”

Zuko straightens his back and narrows his eyes. “Tell me the plan.” 

The ground shakes under the explosion, and then the water comes rushing in to sweep away the village.

By the time the water comes, the residents are standing at a distance, safe on higher ground. Sergeant Kichiro stands at Zuko’s side, his eyes wide as he looks on. 

“What do we do now?” Sergeant Kichiro asks Zuko. 

Zuko folds his arms across his chest. 

“What’s the nearest town with Fire Nation presence?” he asks, turning to the sergeant to begin to draft a plan.

“Zuko!” Sokka calls, rushing toward him. “We have to go find Katara and Aang. They’ll still be with Jet. They could be in trouble.”

Zuko blinks, glancing back and forth between Sokka and Sergeant Kichiro. 

“What do you need me for?” Zuko asks, not following Sokka’s logic.

Sokka hesitates, his stance off-balance like he was just about to run back to Appa and wasn’t expecting to be stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Are you expecting a fight with Jet?” Zuko asks, trying to piece together why Sokka is asking him to join. “I can’t fight in that capacity. It wouldn’t be self-defence.” 

Sokka stares at him for a moment, and then some of the tension leaves his face, but it doesn’t seem to be in a good way. “You’re angry with us. Of course you’re angry. I’m sorry, Zuko - we should never have let Jet kick you out of the camp. You trusted us and we didn’t stand up for you.”

Sokka’s voice is lower than usual, like he’s attempting to imitate a maturity he hasn’t really arrived at yet. But his words don’t make much sense to Zuko, who can only frown at Sokka in confusion, and add: “What are you talking about? I didn’t trust you.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Sokka flinches, like Zuko’s words took too long to arrive and then landed all wrong.

“I have to… Katara and Aang,” Sokka says, raising his hands in a perplexing gesture, and then he turns and jumps onto Appa’s back. 

“What was that about?” Sergeant Kichiro asks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko replies. “We need to draft a plan for getting everyone to safety.” 

Zuko puts Sokka and the others out of his mind while Sergeant Kichiro calls together some of his soldiers and begins to plot a course to safety. They don’t need Zuko’s guidance in this kind of planning, but Zuko notes that they don’t consider abandoning their Earth Kingdom residents. 

By the time Zuko is starting to think that the soldiers have this situation as controlled as it can be, Appa reappears in the sky. 

Zuko blinks up at the bison, and then down at a tiny pair of hands pulling at his robe. 

Meifen’s daughter stares up at him, round-eyed and silent.

“Hi,” Zuko says. “Where’s your mom?” 

Meifen’s daughter lifts her arms, her soft cheeks puffed out in what might be an attempt at a frown. Zuko hesitates, glancing up at the crowd to try to locate Meifen, and then the toddler draws in a loud breath like she’s about to shout.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Zuko insists. He crouches down and holds out his arms, and the girl immediately burrows into him and finds a way to cling on as Zuko stands. He pats her back in a way that he thinks he’s seen parents do sometimes. “It’s okay. Where’s your mom, huh?” 

A bolt of fear shoots down Zuko’s spine. 

Had he seen Meifen on their way out of the town? How sure can they be that they got everyone out before the flood? 

“Meifen?” Zuko calls, pushing his way through the crowd. Meifen’s daughter continues to cling to Zuko, with her little face pushed into Zuko’s neck. “Meifen, are you here?”

“Zuko?” he hears from behind him, but it’s the wrong voice. 

Meifen’s daughter makes an unhappy sound. 

“Oh, shh,” Zuko tries, patting her back again. He’s pretty sure that if he panics, the child will sense it and panic alongside him. He means to say it’s okay again, thinks that maybe that’s the kind of thing one says to a child in this scenario, but Zuko isn’t sure whether or not it would be a lie. 

“Meifen?” Zuko asks, louder. 

“Zhi Ruo!” Zuko hears in response, and the girl in Zuko’s arms perks up. Zuko’s breath escapes his chest as the relief crashes down. “Oh, Fire Sage Zuko, thank you,” Meifen says, reaching for the girl.

Zhi Ruo smiles at her mother, but continues to cling to Zuko’s neck. 

“You can go back to Meifen now,” Zuko explains. The child doesn’t budge. 

Meifen lifts a hand to her own forehead, pushing aside some of her sweaty hair. “I guess she likes you, Fire Sage,” she says. “Have you heard what the plan is?”

“Zuko!” 

Aang has finally caught up to him.

Zuko turns around. “I trust everything is okay?” he asks. 

Aang looks at Zuko, and then at Zhi Ruo, who is currently making an attempt at knocking Zuko’s hat from his head. Zuko tries to shift his head away from her. 

Katara and Sokka catch up with Aang. 

“Zuko!” Katara greets. “I’m so glad you got everyone out in time - Sokka told us how you helped him.” 

Zhi Ruo wins the fight for Zuko’s hat. “Please don’t drop that,” Zuko requests of her. Zhi Ruo crushes it between her arm and Zuko’s body, which is a little annoying, but technically acceptable. “It looks like the soldiers have a plan to get you all to the next town over, at least until resettlement can be established more permanently,” he explains to Meifen, and then frowns as he thinks about how much walking that will entail. It will be fine for the soldiers, but… “Aang, could we borrow Appa to take some of the residents there? Those for whom walking will be more of a difficulty.” 

Aang beams. “Of course! Appa loves to help.” 

“Thank you,” Meifen responds, smiling at Zuko with one hand on her belly. “Zhi Ruo, darling - are you going with the Fire Sage instead of mama?” 

Zhi Ruo giggles and hides her face in Zuko’s hat. 

“I’m not sure walking with me is going to be more fun than riding on a flying bison, you know,” Zuko explains. 

“You should definitely come on Appa!” Aang insists, turning his grin on Zhi Ruo. “Appa loves kids. And he flies so high up! Have you ever been that high?” 

“Plus,” Katara adds, sounding tentative, “Zuko, aren’t you… coming with us?”

“On Appa?” Zuko asks. “You should save the room for people who need it more. I’m capable of walking.” 

Katara bites her lip. She looks more unsure of herself than Zuko is used to. He wonders what happened with Jet. “I meant in general,” she explains. “Are you not coming with us anymore? To the north?”

Zuko frowns. Zhi Ruo is a comforting weight in his arms, somehow, even as she wriggles to get more comfortable. Zuko wonders if it’s because there’s technically someone between him and the other kids. 

“I thought we established that you don’t want me around,” Zuko says slowly, trying to parse out why they’re asking him to join them. “That seemed… final?”

Sokka is scowling. He hasn’t stopped scowling once since they got here, Zuko realises. “It wasn’t meant to be final,” he says. “We sent you to make camp with Appa, it wasn’t…” 

Zuko finds his expression mirroring Sokka’s. “You sent me away,” he replies. “It’s unclear to me what has changed since then.”

“Away?” Aang asks, looking between Zuko and Sokka. “Wait, what do you mean we sent you away?” 

Sokka closes his eyes. “The scorch marks,” he says. 

“What are you talking about?” Katara asks.

Sokka keeps his eyes closed. “I found scorch marks, and I asked Jet about it.” He opens his eyes and looks at Zuko, and he looks endlessly tired. “He told me that you attacked some of his friends.” 

“Uh…?” Aang says. 

Sokka scowls. “Yes, I know,” he snaps. “Of course Zuko wouldn’t attack anyone.” He lowers his head to his hands for a moment. “I did think it sounded unlikely, but then there was the whole blowing-things-up plan. I didn’t even think about how you might-- We didn’t know that’s what they were going to do. You know that, right? You know that.”

“Honestly, Zuko,” Aang adds. “We didn’t know. I thought you were with Appa.” 

Zuko’s frown deepens. 

Zhi Ruo pulls at Zuko’s topknot, and he runs a soothing hand over her back, hoping that she isn’t picking up on his tension too much. 

“You thought I was with Appa, but none of you actually checked?”

“I did,” Sokka reminds him. “I wanted to ask you about Jet, because he was weirding me out. That’s when I found the scorch marks.” 

It would have been a long time to be camping alone, Zuko thinks, glancing at Katara and Aang. They’re both avoiding Zuko’s eyes. Zuko knows what it means when people make truth claims and then fail to look at him. 

“You’re lying.” 

Katara’s mouth pulls into a frown. “I didn’t check on you because I didn’t want to talk to you,” she explains. “I didn’t want you to come with us anymore.”

“Katara,” Aang says, soft, trying to calm her down.

“No, Zuko’s right for once,” Katara responds, crossing her arms. “Jet might have been-- Jet, but Zuko’s right - the reason that we asked him to leave was because he doesn’t care about the war, or about anything except the Fire Nation.”

Meifen scoffs. 

Zuko had kind of forgotten that she was there. He turns to look at her, wondering if she’s waiting for Zuko to hand over her daughter, only to find that she’s watching Katara with an expression hanging somewhere between amusement and annoyance. 

“This kid?” she asks, gesturing to Zuko with her chin. “He doesn’t care about anything but the Fire Nation?” 

“Mama,” Zhi Ruo says, finally reaching out toward Meifen. Zuko shifts her on his hip, ready to hand her over so that Meifen can step away from this conversation.

“Shh, hold on, baby,” Meifen says, not taking Zhi Ruo from Zuko. “This kid doesn’t care about anything but the Fire Nation,” she says, looking between Katara, Sokka, and Aang. “That’s interesting. So why was he knocking on doors all morning and collecting disputes between us and the soldiers?” 

Nobody answers Meifen. 

Meifen turns to Zuko again. “Why did you insist that the soldiers had to change the way that food was distributed to ensure that the Earth Kingdom citizens' needs were guaranteed to be met?”

“Because military occupation comes with complete responsibility for the occupied,” Zuko explains. “It’s an ethical imperative. Otherwise, we might come to temporarily assume lands in war at the expense of the residents. Or worse,” he adds, irritation welling up, “think that we can permanently assume lands.” 

“Huh,” Meifen says with narrowed eyes. “Yes. It does sound like you don’t care about the war and only care about the Fire Nation.” 

Zuko frowns, trying to follow her logic. “Ethical imperatives are true whether or not we’re at war,” he explains. “They remain true in moments of peace, too. And I hold spiritual, legal, and ethical authority over the Fire Nation and nowhere else. So yes, I suppose it doesn’t matter to me that we’re at war, and my primary concern is the Fire Nation.”

Meifen’s face does something strange, like she isn’t sure whether or not to laugh. “I think you might have missed the point.” 

“I didn’t,” Sokka replies. Zuko looks over to find Sokka watching him with wide eyes. “You were helping the Earth Kingdom residents and telling the Fire Nation soldiers they had to treat them better, right?”

Zuko feels like he’s about to walk into a trap. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

Sokka watches him for a long moment, and then sighs. “You’re going to have to write us a Zuko instruction scroll,” he says. “We can’t keep doing this. You don’t make any sense at all.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Zuko responds. “You never explain your reasoning.” 

Sokka folds his arms, and then nods. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” Katara asks, turning to her brother. “What does that mean?”

“Well, maybe we could all actually explain ourselves rather than assuming things,” Sokka reasons. “We all grew up differently, right? We were at the South Pole. Aang’s been in ice for a hundred years. Zuko grew up under a holy rock somewhere.”

“That’s not--” 

“It’s not impossible to understand you, you’re just a puzzle,” Sokka continues. “I’ll work you out.” 

Zuko tilts his head. 

Zhi Ruo gets her entire fist entangled in the base of Zuko’s topknot. 

“Ow,” Zuko says, trying to tug his hair away from the child, who then bursts into a flurry of giggles. 

By the time Meifen frees Zuko from Zhi Ruo’s reign of terror, Katara is scowling. 

Zuko’s heart sinks a little at her expression. But he tells himself that he never really believed that spending time with the Avatar and the Water Tribe kids was going to last long, anyway. 

“Why couldn’t you have just said all that stuff before?” Katara asks, and then her expression shifts to something worse than a scowl. Her eyebrows draw upwards, and she has that same shining, hurt expression as when Zuko accused her of theft. “Why couldn’t you just tell us that?”

Zuko’s arms feel empty without Zhi Ruo, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He clutches his hat, but he needs to fix his hair before he can put it back on. Everything feels awkward and off-balance. 

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” he says eventually.

Aang smiles up at him. “Well first, let’s help everyone,” he suggests. “We can take people over on Appa. Um, maybe you can talk to people about how to resettle? And then we can keep going north, and we’ll try to remember to ask you questions when we don’t understand you, and you’ll try to remember to ask us questions when you don’t understand us?” 

Zuko should say no, because Zuko should have a better plan by now. 

But Zuko doesn’t have any plans at all. He has a goal, but no method to reach it. This path is as good as any other.

“Fine,” he relents. 

Katara becomes Zuko’s shadow through the rest of the day. Zuko isn’t sure why the other children don’t want him left alone, since he’s already confirmed that he will join them on their journey north. But when Aang and Sokka take people to their destination on Appa’s back, Katara follows Zuko into his conversation with Sergeant Kichiro as they begin the long walk. She doesn’t acknowledge Sergeant Kichiro directly, but she keeps glancing at Zuko with wide eyes, and Zuko doesn’t understand what it means.

Sergeant Kichiro describes the trespasses of the kids in the forest to Zuko in painstaking detail, while Zuko nods and watches the path before them. Eventually, the sergeant pauses for long enough that Zuko assumes his opinion is being requested, and he enquires: “Do you plan to assume authority over them?” 

Sergeant Kichiro hesitates for a long time. They turn a bend, and Zuko glances back to ensure that the group seems to be holding up. 

When he finally looks back at Sergeant Kichiro, the man is scowling. “I know what you’re going to say,” he states. “Assuming authority over them means assuming responsibility for them.” 

Zuko smiles. “That does seem to be the only ethical route, should you wish to engage,” he agrees. “Though I’ll also remind you that they are all underage, and any punishment - or any means to apprehending them - would need to reflect that.”

“They destroyed our homes,” Sergeant Kichiro points out, leading to an in-depth conversation about how the position of adulthood means that Sergeant Kichiro is unable to treat children as his peers. 

Katara’s eyes are still wide when Zuko checks on his shadow.

Later, Katara pulls water from a nearby source for people to drink, and Zuko gains Aimi and Masayuki as walking companions. They’re still glowing with happiness from the wedding ceremony, regardless of the fact that their lives have been upended. It’s pleasant to walk with them, and he allows them to convince him to give an extra blessing of safety. Katara reappears during this blessing and watches him work his fire around the couple. 

They get stuck at that point on the journey, as others approach for blessings. When Meifen steps forward, other Earth Kingdom residents join her. It’s an unnecessary obstacle in their walk, but Zuko feels good about lifting their spirits, and he thinks that the soldiers and residents seem less wary of one another afterwards.

Katara remains silent, and she remains by his side. 

Finally, their next port of call is in sight. The town’s leadership have been hard at work with Aang and Sokka to find room and resources for the residents of Gaipan, and Zuko is pleased to find that he does not need to prompt Sergeant Kichiro to display adequate gratitude. 

“I will need to discuss the placement of the soldiers with the Fire Nation,” Sergeant Kichiro explains to the elders of the town. “It is my expectation that they will have us move to the nearest outpost, which is a few days of walking from here. But first - I want to ensure the safety and security of the Earth Kingdom residents we will need to leave behind.” 

The elders hesitate, and two of them frown at one another. “Do you mean to imply that they owe you something?” one asks, voice pitched low in confusion and what might be the edges of offense. 

Sergeant Kichiro blinks a few times, and then looks to Zuko.

“Elders,” Zuko says, greeting them with a shallow bow. “I am Fire Sage Zuko of the Temple of the Avatar. I was visiting Gaipan at the time of the flood. May I be permitted to speak on Sergeant Kichiro’s behalf?” When one of the men acquiesces, Zuko explains: “The sergeant merely wishes to extend aid in resettling the Earth Kingdom residents of Gaipan. Our soldiers are capable of accompanying small groups to nearby towns and villages.”

The elders look at one another again. “If… that would be what the sergeant wishes to do?” one allows. “We will of course take responsibility for the resettling ourselves, but… extra support would be appreciated.” 

“Thank you,” Sergeant Kichiro says, and then looks confused by his own thanks. 

For a moment, everyone is looking at Zuko, and they all look equally bewildered. 

“My companions and I do not need to take up room in your town,” Zuko states. “We can continue on our journey tonight, unless you believe you have more use for us.” 

Sergeant Kichiro finally looks away from Zuko and toward Katara, who has been joined by her brother and Aang again. “So that’s… the Avatar?” he asks. 

Zuko glances over his shoulder, and Aang waves with his usual cheer. 

“His name is Avatar Aang,” Zuko says. “Would you like to talk with him?”

Sergeant Kichiro’s eyes linger on Aang, and then return to Zuko. He looks thoughtful. 

“You’re,” he starts, and then clears his throat. “I heard the Fire Lord was seeking out the Avatar to imprison him.”

Zuko almost wants to laugh. “What for?” he asks. “Being the Avatar isn’t a crime.” 

Sergeant Kichiro hums. “I suppose I don’t know,” he admits. “Working against the Fire Nation?”

“Believe it or not, sergeant, that’s also not a crime,” Zuko points out. “It’s only treason to work against the Fire Nation if we do it.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” the sergeant asks. But where Zuko expects those words to be delivered with suspicion or anger, he finds none. Only curiosity is present in Sergeant Kichiro’s eyes. 

“I took an oath to protect the Fire Nation, to rule ethically, and to walk in the way of Agni,” Zuko states. “I did not take an oath to obey the Fire Lord. Especially when he acts in a way that is unethical and antithetical to the way of Agni.” 

Sergeant Kichiro watches Zuko for a moment that stretches out too long.

“I have no argument against that,” the sergeant says eventually, voice quiet, like he’s afraid of being caught in this conversation. “But I do feel the need to warn you that talking like that will get you in trouble.” 

Zuko doesn’t bother restraining his cynical smile. He offers the sergeant an appropriately shallow bow. 

“I took no vow against causing or finding myself in trouble, Sergeant Kichiro,” he replies. “I hope our paths cross again. May I offer you a blessing?” 

Sergeant Kichiro agrees, and then steps forward as Zuko winds his fire about Kichiro’s body.

“May the paths you follow be ones of justice, righteousness, and honour. May those who follow you find themselves bettered by you, and may you find yourself bettered by them.”

“May it be so,” Sergeant Kichiro responds. 

Zuko calls his fire back to his own hands and lets them fall from position. He goes to leave, only to be stopped by Sergeant Kichiro calling his name.

“I wouldn’t presume to bless you,” Sergeant Kichiro says, though Zuko privately thinks it would be nice to be blessed. “But whatever it is you’re looking for… I hope you find it.” He wavers before adding: “Great Teacher.”

Zuko smiles. “May it be so,” he responds, and then turns to leave.

They make camp next to a river. 

It’s a good space to camp. They are hidden by trees, and the river will give them an opportunity to bathe in the morning. Perhaps Katara and Aang will be inclined to practice waterbending before they continue their journey. 

Zuko lights a campfire as it begins to get dark, and then they share out some of the food the elders pushed into their hands. Zuko is bone tired from a day of drama and walking, and beginning to feel the warm effects of the fire and the food, and so it takes him a long while to realise that the other children are watching him in silence. 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

Aang puts his bowl on the ground in front of him. “You said, um,” he starts.

Sokka points a chopstick at Zuko. “Tell us about the Fire Nation and the whole balance thing. We’ll listen.” 

What Zuko wants to do is tug his hair out of its topknot and brush out the tangles, curl up close to the fire, and sleep until the sunrise calls to him. Instead, he sighs, trying to work out how to paint the picture of his mission in a way that won’t cause the other children to ask him to leave again. 

He stands from his position by the fire and collects small, flat stones by the river. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls the box that contains his glasses from the pocket of his robes, and then sits in front of the other children and begins to build. 

He places the larger flat stones one atop the other, starting with the widest stone and finishing with the smallest. 

“The Fire Nation was built with a system of balance in its heart,” Zuko explains, and very carefully places his glasses case on his stack of flat stones. The box wobbles for a moment, but then slowly rights itself. “The Fire Sages who built our nation looked at the wartorn islands and declared that to truly unify, we needed both a heart and a head. Any political decisions needed to be ethically and spiritually proper. Therefore, the leader of the nation was also the leader of the spiritual order: the High Sage.” 

“That’s what the Air Nomads believed, too,” Aang points out, leaning closer to Zuko. “That there shouldn’t be a divide between spiritual leaders and political leaders.” 

Zuko picks up two smaller pebbles and weighs them in his hands. Then he places one on each side of the rectangular box. It remains balanced on the tower of stones. 

“I think the Fire Nation was a lot more like the Air Nomads in its birth,” he says to Aang. “But the Fire Islands were difficult to control. There were so many warring factions. It seemed that the only way forward was to unify under a central power, and that worked… for a while. But then the domain of the Fire Lord and the domain of the Fire Sages began to shift.” He places two more pebbles on each side of the rectangular box. It wobbles, and Zuko holds his breath until the box retains its balance. “And so we required an intricate system to ensure that we didn’t unbalance. The relationship between the palace and the temple was born.”

Zuko places two more pebbles. The box tilts dangerously, but with a careful nudge, it balances out.

“There would be a Fire Lord in charge of the palace, and a High Sage in charge of the temple. And they were to work together. The Fire Lord could be interested mostly in the political, but he would have the High Sage to bring him to the side of the just and the true. And the High Sage could have his or her head in books, in the world of spirits, away from the reality of political manoeuvring - but they would have the Fire Lord to bring them back to the facts on the ground. Together, the Fire Nation would be ruled with balance. Everyone is accountable to someone else, and we are all accountable to Agni.” 

“It doesn’t sound like a bad system,” Sokka responds, frowning. “But then Sozin happened?”

“How did he get away with it?” Katara asks.

Zuko begins a second, smaller stack of stones, close to the first.

“Slowly,” Zuko responds. “There’s this myth about badgerfrogs, that if you put them in a pot of water and heat it up gradually enough, they won’t notice that they’re dying until it’s too late.” 

“That’s awful!” Aang protests.

“It’s also not true,” Zuko assures him. “Animals are smarter than we’re inclined to give them credit for. It makes people feel smarter to look down on them.” 

Zuko eyes the height of the second stack of stones, and then removes the top one. 

“But even if it’s not true about badgerfrogs, it’s true about what happens if you enact change slowly enough,” Zuko explains. “Fire Lord Sozin wasn’t the first Fire Lord who took more power than he should have. But until then, it always got corrected after a time. But the precedent had been set, and Sozin knew how to use the rules so that the sages couldn’t protest. He used rules about decision-making in wartime, even though he started the war, which is…” 

Zuko’s hand shakes so much that he almost knocks over the second tower.

“Wrong,” Katara offers him.

“Wrong,” Zuko agrees. “Logically and ethically. And he syphoned off enough power that the sages felt unable to fight back. Because they’re frightened.” Zuko looks around himself and picks up one of his chopsticks. “They’re frightened that without the grace of the Fire Lord, they won’t exist anymore. That the palace will crush the temple entirely.”

“You’re saying ‘they’,” Sokka points out. 

Zuko shrugs. He takes the chopstick and balances it on the second tower of stones. The very edge of the chopstick fits just under the edge of the glasses case. 

“The Fire Sages know that this is wrong,” Zuko goes on. “No council in the last hundred years has declared itself properly, because they can’t. Once they do that, they’ll be forced to either admit that the system is failing, or they will be forced to state untruth in council and undermine our entire reason for existing. So they all know this, and they’re doing nothing about it.”

Zuko draws his hands back to himself, because he doesn’t trust himself not to unbalance what he has built.

To one side, the glasses case sits on the taller tower of stones, pebbles balanced on both ends. Beside it stands the smaller tower, a chopstick resting at the top, barely touching the glasses case. 

“When we were with Jet, you said it was self-centred,” Zuko remembers, looking at the towers. “But it’s not just that I want the High Sage to have more power. There’s a reason that the system was built this way.”

“You think Sozin’s war wouldn’t have happened if the temple was working properly,” Aang says. Zuko looks up to him, and catches something much sadder in his eyes than Zuko is used to seeing in him.

Aang lived through the beginning of this, and then his entire nation was torn away. This isn’t just a tower of stones to Aang. It’s his whole life.

“That’s our purpose,” Zuko says. “We serve Agni by serving the Fire Nation. Currently, we’re doing neither of those things.” 

“What’s the other tower?” Sokka asks, motioning to the smaller tower and its chopstick. 

Zuko purses his lips for a moment. “It’s more complicated than this, of course,” he says. “I’m sure every nation has its own version of this, too. But… the world was also built with a balance. Four nations. Four elements. What happens when one nation unbalances?” Zuko asks. 

“It unbalances the whole world,” Sokka responds. 

Zuko shifts a single pebble from one side of the glasses case to the other. 

It tips over and catches the chopstick. Both structures tumble to the ground. 

There's a hush for a long moment. 

“I get it,” Sokka says, his voice quiet. “If we want the war to end, it isn’t enough to beat the Fire Nation. The whole world is still out of balance.”

Zuko’s frown deepens. “The whole world will always be out of balance now,” he says, glancing at Aang, who’s sitting quietly with his head tipped downwards. “We can’t fix everything. But we can make a new balance.”

“But to do that, you have to fix the heart of the Fire Nation,” Sokka says. “That’s your mission. Right?” 

Zuko fights against a wave of tiredness. 

“The problem is that I can’t fix it, not alone,” Zuko says. “I haven’t figured out what my next steps are. It’s been three years, and I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“What’s been three years?” Katara asks. 

“I’ve been looking for a way out of this situation for three years,” Zuko explains. “I’ve read everything I could get my hands on, I’ve tried to draft plans, but - I always end up back here.” Zuko looks at the pile of stones in front of him. “Talking about the problem got me banished to Crescent Island. And I don’t actually have the power to do anything about it.” 

Zuko has worked his way through multiple ideas. At one point, at age fourteen and sick to death of Crescent Island, Zuko got halfway through a plan to draft an essay on what was wrong with the Fire Nation and have it sent to the palace and every temple in the world. But he knows it won’t work. There was once a time that Zuko thought that being right was enough weight behind an argument, but he knows better now.

“Okay,” Katara says, sounding decisive. “Then we’ll figure that out together.”

“Yeah,” Aang agrees. His smile is blinding. “That’s the difference, right? You didn’t have us before.” 

Sokka nods. “So you’ll help us get rid of the Fire Lord, and we’ll help you rebalance the temple and the palace,” he concludes. 

Worry simmers in Zuko’s stomach.

“I can’t ‘get rid of’ the Fire Lord,” Zuko responds. “That’s treason.” At the confused silence, Zuko explains: “Treason is a kind of heresy.” 

Sokka seems to deflate before him. “Just when I think I’m understanding you.” 

“I don’t mean kill the Fire Lord,” Aang assures him. “I’m not going to kill anyone! We just need to stop him?” 

“You mean to dethrone Fire Lord Ozai,” Zuko notes. “That’s still treason.” 

“No,” Sokka says, and he shifts to sit closer to Zuko. He’s frowning at Zuko, but it seems to be in concentration rather than displeasure. “Come on, there has to be a logical solution to this, right? What happens when the Fire Lord goes mad? Goes crazy and tries to take over the world? What are the Fire Sages supposed to do?”

Zuko shakes his head. “The Fire Sages don’t do anything. The High Sage does,” he responds. 

“See? You could have said that before, instead of ‘no’,” Sokka points out. “You can’t dethrone the Fire Lord, but there’s a system in place for it to happen.”

Zuko nods, and then taps his fingers against his knees. “Except High Sage Kenji doesn’t agree with us on this,” Zuko points out. “I’ve talked to him about it before. Three years ago.” 

“Three years is a long time,” Sokka insists. “Maybe he’s changed his mind. And if he hasn’t… maybe it’s time to start convincing him to.” 

(“And if you can’t convince the High Sage,” Sokka says much later, when the other kids are sleeping, “how do we make you the High Sage?” 

Zuko’s laughter bubbles out of him.

“I’m going to be lucky if I’m not accused of high heresy and put to death.” Zuko turns over to look up at the stars. “I’m not aiming for much higher than that.”)

Things aren’t simpler after their discussion over the balancing stones, but they are less volatile. 

They continue to travel. Zuko doesn’t come into towns with the others, because he isn’t going to dress himself in Earth Kingdom clothing again. But it’s okay. Zuko’s time is taken up by finishing his counsel letters and writing an explanation to High Sage Kenji. He doesn’t have high hopes that the letter won’t be burned upon arrival, but at this moment, Zuko doesn’t know what else to try. 

Days after the flood, Aang ambushes Zuko with a request. 

“I was thinking maybe you could teach me about firebending,” Aang suggests with a wide smile. “I even got up early, since firebenders rise with the sun!”

Aang looks so proud that Zuko doesn’t point out that Aang missed sunrise and Zuko has been awake long enough to complete his morning offerings.

Zuko offers a hesitant smile. “That will be fine,” he allows, because talking to Aang about firebending is his primary function in this group. 

They find a space far enough away that it won’t bother the Water Tribe siblings, who are still sleeping steadily in the morning sun. Instead, Zuko builds a small fire between the pair of them in lieu of a candle and talks Aang through connecting to the flame via meditation. 

Zuko closes his eyes and finds his connection to the flame, and then focuses on what Aang taught him: deconstructing the idea of a boundary between himself and the flame. He meditates on the nonexistent line between his skin and the air, the air and the fire. It takes a long time, and many layers of letting go, but it’s worth it.

After a long while, Zuko opens his eyes. He feels a smile blooming on his face as he comes back to the world…

Only to find that Aang is gone.

Zuko’s breath catches for a moment as the smile slips from his lips. Humiliation unfurls in his chest and threatens to turn into hurt. 

There’s nothing to be hurt about, Zuko reminds himself. He folds his hands in his lap. There’s nothing to be rejected from here, because he and Aang have not developed any kind of partnership. The point of this exercise was for Zuko to help Aang to meditate over a flame; the point was not to meditate together. The natural vulnerability in a moment of meditation is just a natural consequence, Zuko reminds himself. 

It doesn’t help. Zuko feels his face burn as he thinks about Aang deciding he wasn’t worth staying with. 

(In all his meditation training, nobody has ever left him before. Not even Fire Sage Kyo, who never liked Zuko. It’s the kind of insult that is below a Fire Sage to make. Zuko tells himself it’s the kind of insult that is below a Fire Sage to feel, too.) 

Zuko is still trying to collect himself when Katara finds him. 

“You missed breakfast,” Katara states. Zuko assumes he’s being scolded for failing to uphold the internal rules of this group, up until the moment that Katara presses a bowl into Zuko’s hands.

“Oh,” Zuko says, off-balance with confusion. “Thank you?”

Katara frowns at him. “You shouldn’t skip meals,” she insists. “We don’t always know where the next meal is coming from.”

Zuko should be more grateful, he realises, glancing down at the meal Katara has prepared. 

“Thank you,” he says as sincerely as he can muster. “I appreciate the efforts you go to.” 

Katara blinks, and now she looks like the one who’s off-balance. And then her expression blossoms into a smile. “We need to go into town today,” Katara tells him, her voice softened around the edges. “Would you like to come with us?”

Zuko takes a bite of his breakfast to stall for time as he thinks. He’s done writing his counsel letters and his note to High Sage Kenji, and thus would have little to do when staying behind. But… “I will not dress in Earth Kingdom clothing again,” Zuko states. “It isn’t honest.” 

“Okay,” Katara agrees. “But you can still come?” 

“I do need to send my letters to Caldera,” Zuko allows. 

“You’re done writing?” Katara finally sits across from Zuko, in the space that Aang abandoned. “You said you were going to write an explanation to the High Sage, right?”

“High Sage Kenji hasn’t taken my correspondence in years,” Zuko explains. “I don’t hold high hopes for him even reading this.”

“Can I read it?” Katara asks. Zuko sees no reason to deny her, so he passes over his letter to High Sage Kenji, and eats his breakfast as Katara reads. 

Katara appears to get to the end of the letter, but she just blinks for a moment before returning to the beginning and reading it again. On her third pass through, Zuko starts to get worried.

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asks.

Katara presses her lips together and doesn’t respond for a long moment, and Zuko begins to worry that he’s offended her. This is the fifth draft of this letter, and Zuko has planned it out in his head for three years. Every word is carefully chosen in that letter, every irrefutable logical argument, every call to ethics and the way of Agni. But Katara is staring silently at the words of the page, eyes no longer tracking words but rather just staring through them.

She puts the letter down onto the grass in front of her. 

“Did Sokka tell you about what happened to our mother?” Katara asks, her voice hushed. 

Zuko shakes his head. He can recall Katara mentioning that her mother protected her from the Fire Nation, but nothing more. 

Zuko waits, and then Katara continues: “The Fire Nation came for me,” she explains. “They were taking all our benders away. To weaken us. And to ensure that if the next Avatar was born in the Southern Water Tribe…” 

Anger bursts in Zuko. “They should not have done that,” he grits out. 

Katara nods. “Mom told them she was the bender, not me. And they killed her for it.”

Zuko closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say now, but he knows that an apology won’t even be a beginning.

“The Fire Nation that you believe in,” Katara continues, laying a hand over Zuko’s letter. “The way that it’s supposed to be. Do you really believe that it’s possible to get there?”

Zuko opens his eyes again to find Katara watching him with an intensity that almost makes him want to shrink back.

“I don’t know,” Zuko responds. “But I think we owe it to the world and to ourselves to try.” 

Katara nods. “The High Sage would be stupid not to listen to you,” she says, laying a hand onto Zuko’s letter. “Write more copies of this.”

“Why?” Zuko asks as Katara stands up again, brushing off her clothing. “Do you think I should keep sending them to him until he responds?” 

Katara looks down at the letter again. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I don’t think you should give it away. Trust me on this one,” she requests, and then turns to leave. 

Zuko has a lot of thoughts about trust. He trusts in the validity of the legal system and its relationship with ethics. He trusts in the original plan for the Fire Nation. Zuko trusts in the will of Agni and the sanctity of the Fire Scriptures. 

But every time Zuko has tried to trust in people, it has… not gone well for him. Zuko trusted the people who were once his family, and was given away. Zuko trusted the High Sage and found that nobody was looking to fix the broken heart of the Fire Nation. Zuko even trusted that the Fire Lord would listen to him, would allow him to speak his mind even if nothing would come of it, and was forced to bow in submission.

When Katara says “trust me”, the first thing that Zuko feels is fear.

Zuko remembers the mixture of curiosity and suspicion in Meifen’s eyes as she asked: “Has trusting people just because they tell you to ever worked out for you?” 

But Zuko had requested that she try trusting a Fire Nation soldier, a soldier who gave Meifen no reason to trust her other than wanting to try to be trustworthy. Is that so different to what this group of children are asking now?

And so Zuko opens a spare leaf of paper and tries to parse out the reasons to trust and mistrust the children he has found himself temporarily allied with.

It’s an exercise he’s used before to chart his way through a legal argument. Zuko draws a line down the paper and begins with his arguments against the suggestion of trust, and then returns to the other side to present counterarguments to each point. His expectation is that he will end up with a balanced sheet, with arguments for and against the concept of trust equally weighted. That is how it feels in his mind. 

When it’s down on paper, the reasons are unbalanced. Zuko has more reasons to mistrust this group than he has to trust them. 

Some of his arguments have decent counterbalances. They sent me away before to my death is counterweighted with they didn’t know it was to my death; they apologised. 

Some have weak counterbalances that Zuko cannot honestly claim weigh up. They only want me around to teach firebending, which I cannot do has a measly I can teach about firebending. 

And there are two points that Zuko cannot even begin to present contradictions for: 

Aang does not respect me. 

Everyone who has ever claimed to care has sent me away. 

Zuko hovers on the last point, considering writing ‘the past does not dictate the future’, but what kind of logician could he claim to be if he ignored all previous evidence because of what he would like to be true?

Eventually, Zuko gives up on this exercise and returns the paper to the pocket of his robes. 

Zuko follows the others into the nearest town to collect supplies and find someone to deliver Zuko’s letters. The sky is shifting abruptly from the clear blue of the morning, with a thick layer of clouds approaching from the north. Zuko is watching the sky when two things happen at once.

First, Katara goes for her money purse only to realise that it’s empty. She sighs, frustrated, and begins to put the fruits and vegetables back while Sokka complains about how they have no food.

(“We’re out here trying to save the world - surely we should be paid for that!”) 

And second, shouting starts from the midst of the crowd.

Zuko is drawn to the commotion. What he finds is a teenage girl almost crying as she follows a large man through the crowd.

“Please!” she asks, touching his arm and then flinching when the man tries to elbow her out of the way. “Please, I didn’t notice you had it!” 

“Tough luck, kid,” the man responds. 

Zuko holds his head high, and regrets not wearing his hat on this trip. It feels wrong to step into a situation like this with his hair loose around his shoulders. 

“Excuse me,” Zuko interrupts, stepping into the man’s path. 

“Excuse yourself,” the man grumbles, trying to pass him. Zuko steps neatly into his path, keeping his head high. “What’s your problem?”

“You and the girl have a dispute,” Zuko points out. “You require legal counsel.” 

The man blinks at him. “And who are you, exactly?”

“I am Fire Sage Zuko of the Temple of the Avatar,” Zuko introduces himself with the sign of the flame. “I will hear your dispute.” 

The girl bows deeply to Zuko, gratitude spreading on her features. “I sold some items to this man, but I didn’t realise he had this hairpin in his hand,” she explains. “The hairpin is the most valuable thing in my family’s stall. I didn’t charge him for it. It was an accident.”

Zuko nods and then turns to the man. “Do you dispute this sequence of events?” he asks. “Or do you have details to add?”

“It’s mine now,” the man responds. “It’s not my fault she forgot to charge for it.” 

Zuko blinks. “This is your defence?” 

The man glares. “I don’t know what authority you think you have, kid, but I don’t see why I should care.”

Zuko tilts his head as he watches the man. In all of his years of giving counsel, Zuko has seen many attempts at weaseling out of rulings. Zuko has been bribed, blackmailed, and threatened - on one memorable occasion, all in the same conversation. With the Earth Kingdom residents of Gaipan, there was mistrust and an assumption that everything would go back to normal once he left the town. But he has never had his right to offer counsel questioned before. 

“What is your name?” Zuko requests. “If you don’t consider my counsel or rulings sufficient, I will gladly take them to a higher Earth Kingdom authority. I am a Fire Sage; they will take a meeting with me if I request it.”

“I don’t have to give you my name,” the man snarls.

“His name is Xiaowen,” a man from the crowd offers. It’s only now that Zuko recognises that the crowd has slowed around them, and they have gained an audience. “He lives at the northern edge of town.” 

“Xiaowen from the northern edge of town,” Zuko repeats, holding his head high. “And your name?” he asks, looking toward the girl. 

“Jinghua,” she says. 

Zuko nods. “Jinghua did not see the hairpin in your hand, Xiaowen from the northern edge of town. Perhaps you also failed to realise the error. But the item belonged to Jinghua and her family when it was at the stall, and no exchange of ownership took place, so it still belongs to her. If you attempt to leave with the item, this is an act of theft.” 

“Thank you,” Jinghua says, bowing to Zuko again.

“You need not bow,” he tells her. “I am simply stating a fact. Xiaowen, you will return the item, or you will be called to court with the Earth Kingdom authorities in the morning. This is your decision, but I will warn you: most legal systems include a penalty alongside return of stolen items. Since you are apparently only learning now that this would be theft, I will not require a penalty.”

Xiaowen glares deeply at Zuko. Zuko clasps his hands together as he waits for a decision to be made.

Finally, Xiaowen scoffs and thrusts the hairpin toward Zuko. Zuko takes it with careful fingers. 

“This is the correct decision,” he tells Xiaowen. “You may bow.” 

Xiaowen scoffs again. “I’d sooner spit in your face,” he responds and storms off. 

Zuko holds out the pin to Jinghua. 

Jinghua steps around the hairpin and Zuko’s outstretched hand, and throws her arms around Zuko’s shoulders. Startled, Zuko goes to take a step back.

“Thank you!” Jinghua all but shouts into Zuko’s ear. “Thank you, thank you. I was so scared - my parents would be furious with me, I told them I could handle running things, but I was wrong. I cannot handle it. Thank you!”

“Um,” Zuko says, all of his muscles tense as he waits for Jinghua to let go. “You are welcome, but you don’t need to thank me. It is simply my station.” 

Jinghua finally steps away and wipes the tears from her face. “I must repay you,” she insists as she finally takes the intricate pin from Zuko. “I have money. Come with me.”

“I will not accept payment,” Zuko insists.

“Um, yes he will accept payment,” Sokka insists, appearing from nowhere. He drapes his arm around Zuko’s shoulders, and Zuko feels himself relaxing into it before he can question why. When Zuko looks over at Sokka, it’s to find a strange expression on Sokka’s face: he’s smiling, and his eyes are kind of intense as he looks back at Zuko. “That was something else. Did you see that guy’s face?”

Zuko almost goes to smile back automatically, and then recalls what they’re discussing. “I do not give counsel for payment,” Zuko insists as firmly as he can. “That is the road to corruption.” 

“That’s really honourable and all, Zuko, but if I may offer a counterargument: hunger is the road to death.”

Zuko narrows his eyes at Sokka, whose face is way too close, and then hears Jinghua giggle. When he looks over, Jinghua is hiding her smile behind her hand. 

“Well, if you won’t accept payment, perhaps you’ll accept dinner?” she suggests. And then thunder calls in the distance, and they all look up to the dark clouds rolling in. “Oh, but I suppose you’ll want to go to where you’re staying to wait out the storm.” 

Zuko shrugs. “We’ll need to find a cave,” he says to Sokka. “It looks like we don’t have much time.”

“A cave?” Jinghua asks, aghast. “Oh no, that won’t do. Come and stay with my family. We’ll give you dinner and a place to sleep until the storm passes.” 

“We can’t ask that of you,” Zuko replies.

“Zuko!” Sokka hisses. 

Jinghua smiles again, but this time it looks more affectionate than amused. “You’re a strange thing, aren’t you? My brothers are off to war - we have plenty of room in the house.”

Sokka’s arm tightens around Zuko’s shoulders.

“There are four of us,” Zuko informs her, ignoring Sokka. “And a sky bison.”

Jinghua looks thoughtful. “Give me one moment,” she requests. “My neighbours are around here somewhere. They have a barn for your animal. And I can’t promise everyone a bed to themselves, but we can handle four guests. Please consider it?”

Sokka looks over at Zuko with wide, pleading eyes. 

Zuko feels his resolve crumbling. “As long as it isn’t payment,” he says eventually. 

Zuko knows that something is wrong the moment they turn to the path before Jinghua’s house. 

Jinghua has gone ahead of them to warn her family, after having obtained permission from her neighbours to use the barn for Appa. But the moment Zuko sees Jinghua, he sees that she’s drawn in on herself again. 

Jinghua rushes forward, and Zuko leaves the others behind him to meet her halfway. 

“Is everyone well?” Zuko asks. 

Jinghua’s eyebrows draw in. “I’m so sorry, Fire Sage Zuko,” she says. “My parents-- My father, really. It’s…” 

Zuko looks beyond her to what must be Jinghua’s parents and grandmother, hovering by the doorway. “They don’t want visitors?”

“They’re grateful,” Jinghua insists. “They would be quite happy to have you all. But…” She trails off, looking at Zuko with wide eyes as if willing him to understand without waiting for her to make the statement. 

There are multiple reasons that their group could be unsavoury. They are culturally mixed. Aang is the Avatar. They’re tracking in mud from living on the soil. 

“Because I am Fire Nation,” Zuko concludes. 

Jinghua nods, looking down. “I told them what you did, but… Please understand. Both of my brothers are away at war because of the Fire Nation.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies. Sokka had warned him, back when he had insisted that Zuko wear Earth Kingdom clothing. Zuko is glad that he isn’t disguised this time. This could be a lot worse if they had already invited Zuko into their home, like with Jet. 

Zuko glances over his shoulder. The others have almost caught up with them, and the storm is coming in fast. They might not have time to find alternative shelter before it hits. 

“Will you let the others stay?” Zuko asks. “I’ll stay with Appa.” 

“With… In the barn?” Jinghua asks with horror dawning on her face. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I won’t set anything on fire,” Zuko insists. 

Jingua frowns, and her eyes are still wide. She looks offended. “That is not what I meant,” she says. “I can’t… What kind of person would allow someone to stay in the barn through the storm?”

Zuko looks over his shoulder again. They’re running out of time.

“It’s better that some of us have shelter,” he insists. “And if the barn is good enough for Appa, why wouldn’t it be good enough for me?” Jinghua continues to look unconvinced. “I have not asked much of you,” Zuko states, pushing down his guilt at using this kind of language with her. “But I do ask that you allow me this, and that you do not mention it to my allies.”

 Jinghua looks surprised. “But,” she starts, and then hesitates. 

The others catch up.

“Jinghua!” Sokka greets, like it’s been any significant amount of time since Jinghua ran ahead. He grins at Jinghua, and discomfort simmers in Zuko’s stomach. “Is everything okay?”

“A small change of plans,” Zuko informs the others. “You’ll stay with Jinghua. I will be sheltered at the grace of their neighbours.” 

“What?” Katara asks. “Why are we splitting up?”

It’s a direct enough question. Zuko pauses for a moment as he collects his thoughts, and then answers: “There is some discomfort around my lineage. It’s no matter - I have alternative shelter.” 

“I’ll make sure everything is okay with that,” Jinghua insists. Zuko tenses as he waits for her to say something else, but she just looks up at Appa. “We can take your sky bison with us.”

Sokka folds his arms and frowns over at Jinghua’s family. “Maybe I should stay with Zuko,” he suggests.

“There’s no need,” Zuko insists. “Jinghua’s family have room for you, and… you did say this would happen.” 

“I said what would happen?” Sokka asks. 

“That people would be uncomfortable with me being from the Fire Nation,” Zuko replies. “I prefer it this way to what happened with Jet. But these are the natural consequences of my decision to enter an Earth Kingdom town as a Fire Nation sage - just like you warned me.” 

Sokka doesn’t look happy. He turns his face toward Katara, as if awaiting her judgment. 

Katara shrugs. “I don’t like it either, but we need to get inside before the storm,” she points out. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Zuko? The neighbours are happy to have you?”

“We will make sure of that,” Zuko assures her. 

“But you were the one who saved Jinghua,” Aang says, wringing his hands. “It’s not fair for us to be the ones who benefit from that, is it?”

Zuko blinks. He doesn’t understand why they are resisting this. “I’ll be fine,” he states, and then backtracks, because surely that isn’t the issue. “This wasn’t repayment for my counsel. I will not accept payment.”

“You’re so weird,” Sokka informs Zuko, and then walks to Appa to take down one of the bags. “Enjoy the neighbours’ house!”

Zuko and Jinghua watch the others being welcomed into the house. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” Jinghua tells him. “I feel awful.”

Zuko nods his head. “It’s fine, Jinghua,” he insists. “Let’s ask your neighbours for permission for me to stay with Appa.” 

The neighbours are no more warm to Zuko than Jinghua’s family. Zuko wonders how many people he has walked past today who have lost loved ones to his nation, and guilt crawls up his spine. 

Jinghua leads Appa and Zuko to the barn, and her shoulders slump.

“I was hoping they would invite you inside,” she admits quietly. 

Zuko encourages Appa to sit. Appa starts eating the straw immediately, and Zuko smiles. 

“It’s no trouble,” he says. “I will see you once the storm has passed.” 

When Jinghua takes her leave, Zuko sits down on the straw next to Appa. It’s dark in the barn, and only going to get darker, but Zuko cannot afford to play with fire in a place this flammable. He thinks about searching Appa’s bag for food, but then remembers Katara’s acknowledgement that they were out of supplies. It’s probably not worth searching in the dark, even if there might be something left. 

Zuko sighs, feeling the cold air against his bare forearms and calves. It’s technically still too early to be time to sleep, but Zuko cannot read or write, and has nobody but Appa for conversation. And if he falls asleep now, he won’t feel the cold as the storm passes through.

Set on the idea of sleep, Zuko curls up in the straw. 

And then he immediately gives up on that idea as a shudder passes through his body.

“Okay, Appa,” Zuko says. “I hope you don’t mind, but only one of us is covered in thick fur.”

And with that, Zuko curls into Appa’s side. Appa is warm and soft, and suddenly the whole night seems bearable. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Zuko tells Appa, reaching out to pat one of his legs. 

Appa responds by curling his leg around Zuko’s body. 

Zuko is warm enough to face the storm. He tucks his face into Appa’s side and waits for sleep to take him.

(Not long later, Jinghua tries to sneak Zuko a bowl of stew. Zuko sends her back immediately. The storm is about to become unbearable, and the food is stolen from her family. Jinghua looks like she might burst into tears at any moment, but she leaves.

Zuko stands up to watch her go back to the house, checking that she makes it without hurting herself. From here, he can see light from the house, flickering like it’s coming from a fireplace. 

Staying in an actual home is a novelty to this group. Zuko hopes they’re enjoying it.)

Late in the night, something wakes Zuko. 

It takes him a moment to figure out what it is. He doesn’t usually wake before sunrise, but he’s shivering from the cold of the storm. The wooden walls of the barn are a decent shelter for animals with fur like Appa’s, but Zuko’s skin isn’t even completely covered by his clothing.

Zuko considers searching through the bags to see if he can pull out a blanket or some more clothing, and then he realises that it isn’t the cold that has awoken him. It’s a sound. 

Voices in the distance. Shouting, almost masked by the storm. 

Who would be outside in this?

Surely nobody would go out in this weather deliberately. It must be that someone is caught out there, Zuko realises, and stands up to move to the barn’s window. 

He sees flickering lights in the darkness. Fire from torches - a dozen of them, maybe. And there’s more than one voice, but the loudest of them sounds almost--

Recognisable. 

Zuko’s heart sinks. Zhao has caught up with them. 

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji was the youngest man to become High Sage in Fire Nation history. It was only by four years, but since Kenji is no longer a young man, he is approaching record length for his service, too. 

In all of Kenji’s many years as High Sage, he has seen a lot. Kenji has seen cases that have spanned the entire length of the ethical arena. He has sat in war meetings and by the bedside of a deceased Fire Lord. He has officiated at royal weddings, funerals, and baby blessings. Kenji has presided over the immersion and vows of an eleven-year-old child, a concept that would have been unthinkable to his predecessors. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Fire Sage Tatsuya notes. From anyone else, it would sound like a complaint. “I expect there’s a good reason we’re meeting here.”

Kenji straightens his shoulders. “I have news,” he informs Tatsuya. “This is not yet for the ears of the other sages.” 

Though he expects it won’t be long. 

Tatsuya looks away from Kenji for a moment, casting his gaze over the room as if it might give him a clue. 

“I am listening,” Tatsuya assures him.

Kenji thinks very carefully over his words. 

“I met with the Fire Lord earlier today,” Kenji says, keeping his voice low, even though sound does not travel so well that anyone would hear him clearly from outside the closed door. Even though it is the middle of the night, and nobody in the High Temple is likely to be awake, let alone wandering the halls. 

Tatsuya’s gaze sharpens. “What has happened?” he asks, voice quiet and concerned.

“Nothing yet,” Kenji replies. He takes a deep, cleansing breath. “But that is only a matter of time. I tell you this in strictest confidence.” Kenji’s inner fire licks at him. His control seems to be fading with age.

Tatsuya nods once, firmly. “Understood.” 

“The Fire Lord has devised a plan,” Kenji explains. “When Sozin’s Comet joins us again this summer, the Fire Lord plans to take further control on the world.” Tatsuya draws a breath to interrupt, but Kenji does not allow it. “That’s not all. He plans to crown himself over the world.” 

Tatsuya’s attempted interruption falls into nothing. He blinks widely at Kenji. 

“That’s…” 

Tatusya doesn’t finish his sentence. It’s probably for the best. 

“He plans to call himself the Phoenix King,” Kenji explains, and turns away from Tatsuya to absent-mindedly examine the shelf closest to him. 

Tatsuya’s breath goes a little odd, sharp and quick, and it takes Kenji a moment to place it as an attempt to smother laughter. When Kenji looks over at him, Tatsuya clears his throat. “My apologies.” 

Their eyes stay locked for a moment. Kenji doesn’t smile, but he does understand what Tatsuya finds amusing. Rising from what ashes? Tatsuya’s eyes are asking, even when his mouth would not dare utter the words. 

Finally, Tatsuya’s expression turns curious. “Why are we meeting here, Kenji?” 

Kenji looks back to the shelf. “I don't wish to give anyone reason to talk,” he explains. 

“I asked why we’re meeting here, not why we’re meeting at night,” Tatsuya points out. “What made you choose the Room of the Broken, and not your office?” 

Kenji walks along the room away from Tatsuya, giving himself time to think. It’s a question Kenji won’t answer and Tatsuya won’t press on, because there are some things they shouldn’t say out loud. But Kenji hadn’t been thinking of Fire Sage Zuko when he told Tatsuya to meet him here. 

(Kenji generally doesn’t come into this room anymore, but he also rarely needs to. He isn’t avoiding it because the room makes him think of a confused eleven-year-old glaring at a scroll, or a tenacious twelve-year-old casually untangled a centuries-old law, or a stubborn thirteen-year-old declaring that the system is broken.)

Had Kenji been thinking about Fire Sage Zuko when he decided to meet here tonight?

(Kenji knows what Zuko would have said about the Fire Lord’s plan. Or at least, he knows what Zuko would have said at thirteen years of age. Kenji has missed out on the years of growth since then, and so Zuko will live forever as a child in Kenji’s mind.)

Kenji draws a deep breath. There’s nothing to be done tonight but think. And while there are words hanging in the space between him and Fire Sage Tatsuya, neither of them will give the words voice. They are safe to think them, and safe to know the other is in agreement, as long as the words are never spoken aloud. 

Kenji turns, ready to return to his bed, and his eyes catch on a glint of a blade on the shelf next to him. Made in Earth Kingdom is inscribed upon the blade in careful symbols. 

“What kind of Earth Kingdom dagger would have the name of Agni inscribed?” Kenji asks, picking up the dagger. He turns it over, but finds no holy name; only the words: Never give up without a fight. 

It’s a beautiful pearl-handled dagger. It’s probably fairly valuable. Why would someone leave a perfectly functional, valuable item - an item with no holy inscription, no less - in the Room of the Broken? 

“That’s strange,” Tatsuya agrees, looking over at the dagger. “I don’t remember anyone dropping something here today.”

“I’ll ask the others in the morning,” Kenji replies, taking the dagger with him for safekeeping. “There’s nothing more to be done this night but rest.” 

Commander Zhao is fast approaching.

Zuko ducks out of sight, heart jackrabbit-fast and stuck in his throat, as he considers his options.

Fighting is not an option; Zuko cannot fight unless he’s directly attacked or defending the Fire Nation, or arguably defending his temple. There’s no way to understand protecting Jinghua’s home as permissible. And even while irritation flares in Zuko, he recognises the legitimacy of such a rule. 

Zuko draws in a deep breath, calming his heart rate. He needs a plan to alert those in the house, and he needs a plan to slow Zhao down while Aang and the others figure out a way to keep everyone safe. Zuko cannot be a soldier, but he can be a messenger and a distraction, and that is exactly what he’ll do.

The darkness is complete enough that Zuko can leave the barn unnoticed. He makes his way close to the house and peers upwards, shielding his eyes from the rain. All he needs is to get someone’s attention, preferably without alerting Commander Zhao and the Fire Nation soldiers that he’s here. 

Zuko finds a pebble and throws it at the shutter on a window. When nothing happens, he tries another. 

“Come on,” Zuko mutters under his breath, and casts another stone. 

This time, there is movement. The light of torches is growing close enough that Zuko should be visible by now. Zuko raises a hand to wave for attention, only to find the face at the window is the face of a flying lemur. 

“Momo,” Zuko grumbles, and then waves Momo down. Momo chitters and flies down to join Zuko. “Listen,” Zuko says, hoping for the best. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out the first scrap of paper he finds, and the first writing tool. He scrawls a quick message and presses it to Momo’s hands. Momo blinks and tilts his head. “Aang,” Zuko says. “Aang. Take this to Aang.”

Momo tilts his head further, and then takes off back to the window.

It’s all Zuko can do to send a quick intention to Agni, a promise of extra offerings and gratitude, in the hopes that Momo will wake Aang, that Zuko’s message will be legible despite the rain, that something will happen. 

Zhao’s voice is close. Zuko cannot stand here for long without being spotted. 

Aang does not come to the window. 

They’re out of time. 

Zuko closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’ll have to shout to warn everyone in Jinghua’s house, and then do his best to distract the soldiers. They’re unlikely to harm Zuko directly due to his status, but it will only take one soldier deciding to set the house alight for this to go awfully, horribly wrong. The only thing Zuko can hope for is that the flames won’t catch quickly thanks to the storm-- 

Zuko stops. 

They’re unlikely to harm Zuko directly. 

Commander Zhao might be tempted to, but the most he has ever acted against Zuko physically was to tie him up and throw his hat to the floor. Zuko might even be safe from Zhao. 

Zuko looks up at the roof, and then reaches a hand to the ridges on the wall. 

How does one weaponise safety? 

Zuko climbs. 

The wind and rain are harsh against his skin. Zuko’s loose hair whips around his face, and his robes flare in the storm. When he’s safely on Jinghua’s roof, Zuko turns to the approaching Fire Nation soldiers and smiles. 

“COMMANDER ZHAO,” Zuko shouts, hoping that his voice will wake someone in the house. “YOU WILL NOT BRING HARM TO THIS HOUSE.” 

The storm is so loud, and it carries Zhao’s laughter on it. 

“You can’t just die, can you?” Zhao shouts up at him. Zuko can barely see anything in the storm, just the flickering light from the torches, but he can hear Zhao’s snarl in his voice. “How are you going to stop me?”

Zuko’s hands curl into fists. 

There’s a noise from beneath him. Zuko’s fists uncurl. He raises his hands into a defensive posture. 

“The question is not how I plan to stop you, Commander Zhao,” Zuko insists, shivering where the awful wind whips by. “But rather: how do you plan to start?”

There’s a long moment of hesitation as Commander Zhao deliberates, and then he turns to his soldiers.

“Set the house aflame,” Zuko hears him command.

Zuko holds his breath, and holds his head high. 

“Sir,” one of the soldiers responds, hesitant. “Surely we can’t-- He’s a Fire Sage.” 

“And I am your commanding officer!” Zhao spits, and then turns to another soldier. “You. If you value your life, you will set the house--”

“Why don’t you do it yourself, Commander Zhao?” Zuko shouts. There’s enough movement below him that Zuko is sure the others are awake, now. He has stalled long enough. His only job now is to remain on the rooftop, to ensure that the majority of soldiers won’t dare attempt to set the house ablaze under him.

Zhao turns a snarl on Zuko.

“I should,” Zhao insists. “You’re no Fire Sage. You’re a heretic.”

“Have I been so declared by the High Temple?” Zuko asks. 

Silence follows. Zuko smiles. The rain falls even harder. 

“Only because they think you’re dead!” Zhao insists. He raises his hands. “They’ll thank me for getting rid of you.”

“Commander Zhao,” one of the soldiers insists, panic lacing his tone. “Harming a Fire Sage is a death sentence!” 

“We’ll anger Agni,” another soldier adds. “Surely--”

“I don’t care!” Zhao all but screams. 

The front door bursts open. 

The fight begins.

Zuko breathes as evenly as he can, standing on the roof in the storm as the fight rages below him. He can have no part in this fight; it is not his place. Standing here is the only protection Zuko can offer, a faint circle of protection that extends no further than the building. He is useless but for the fact of his own safety. 

The rain pours down. It turns to ice on the mud, and soldiers lose their footing. 

This is untenable. 

Zuko’s heart pounds as he watches the fight unfold. 

Katara and Aang are down there, doing their best to act on the offensive, but they are far outnumbered. Jinghua’s family are not soldiers. Sokka is nowhere to be-- 

“Zuko,” Sokka calls, stumbling onto the roof. 

“Sokka,” Zuko greets, relieved, and helps to steady Sokka with a hand on his arm. “We need a plan.”

“That’s what I was going to say,” Sokka complains, and then turns to help Jinghua up onto the roof. 

Zuko turns to her. “I am so sorry,” he apologises. “If we hadn’t come here--”

“Don’t you apologise to me,” Jinghua insists, pointing an accusing finger at Zuko. “You’re the one who was out here in the cold!”

“Guys, we don’t have time for-- What do you mean, ‘out here in the cold’?”

“A plan,” Zuko reminds Sokka. 

“Right!” Sokka responds. He looks down to where Katara and Aang are fighting. “We should lead them away from Jinghua’s house,” he says.

“If we lead them away and then get away from them, they’ll just come back and punish the family,” Zuko points out. He pushes hair away from his face. It’s getting hard to see Sokka in this downpour. At this point, he’s less worried about fire catching on the house - but at some point, the storm will be over, and Commander Zhao will be angry.

“Then we need to lead them far enough away that they don’t turn back,” Sokka replies. He looks away from Zuko and Jinghua, back toward the fight, and the dull light catches on the side of his face in a way that makes him look like a man instead of a boy. “I’ve got it. Jinghua, do you know any shortcuts to the docks?”

They hit the ground running. 

Zuko’s shoes aren’t made for this, and they slip in the mud. Sokka grasps Zuko’s forearm, his hand directly over Zuko’s scar, and steadies him as they run.

True to Sokka’s prediction, Aang and Katara follow without question. 

Well, almost without question. When they’re running down the muddy path - aside from Aang and Momo, who are flying above the mud - Katara turns from shooting ice across the ground behind them to shout:

“I hope you have a plan, Sokka!”

“I always have a plan,” Sokka insists. His hand is still steady on Zuko’s arm, and it makes Zuko feel more grounded as they dart through the storm toward the docks. “Just follow my lead!”

Zuko’s breath is cold in his chest, both from the panic of running from the soldiers, and from the harsh wind and rain. There is a small part of him that is aware that he might need to slow down to create a barrier if the soldiers get too close, but between Katara and Aang, they seem to be maintaining distance. 

Zuko’s feet hit the wood of the docks. 

Sokka looks around wildly for a moment, and then glances back at the soldiers. 

“Perfect,” Sokka notes, and then keeps running. 

Appa and Jinghua appear in the distance. 

“Appa!” Aang declares, speeding off ahead of them. 

Sokka looks back to the soldiers, checking their distance. “We need to hang back for a few seconds,” he suggests. “Give them reason to think they can catch us.”

“Here,” Jinghua says, thrusting a bag at Zuko. “It has medicine - you shouldn’t be out in the storm like this. And some food,” she explains. “Be careful, okay?” 

Sokka lets go of Zuko’s arm, but only to grab his shoulder. “Don’t you dare try to give that back to her,” he insists, and then scrambles up onto Appa’s back. “Thank you, Jinghua!” 

“Be careful!” Jinghua calls back, and then looks to Zuko with wide eyes. “Good luck, Fire Sage Zuko,” she says, and then grasps Zuko in a very quick hug. “I’ll ask the spirits to guide you.”

“Thank you,” Zuko says. 

Jinghua is gone by the time Zuko has climbed onto Appa. The soldiers are very close now - so close that when Appa takes off, they deem it an acceptable risk to board their ship and follow into the storm. 

There is a ship following them, and an angry storm swirling on all sides. 

But Jinghua and her family are safe. 

Zuko finds himself beginning to relax.

The rain is falling light and steady by the time they duck into the cave. 

“I’ll start a fire,” Zuko suggests, noting the way everyone else is shivering. And then he pauses, looking around the cave. “Hm.”

“If we gather some sticks, I might be able to get the moisture out of them,” Katara suggests, her eyes a little forlorn as she looks out to the rain.

“I’ve got it,” Zuko suggests, ducking back out of the cave to grab some waterlogged sticks from nearby. Between an airbender, a waterbender, and a firebender, they really should be able to start a good fire. And luckily, this cave is far enough inland that they shouldn’t have to worry about Zhao for a long while. 

When Zuko returns, Aang and Sokka are already asleep. 

“How,” Zuko says, startled. “They must be so cold!”

Katara hushes him. “They’re exhausted,” she explains, and Katara looks exhausted, too. They’ve flown through the night and through a storm. Appa snores loudly, which makes Sokka jump in his sleep. “Just let them sleep.”

“Of course,” Zuko agrees, handing over the wood. Katara concentrates on pulling the water out, and Zuko warms them enough to dry whatever moisture is left in them. When the sticks are dry enough, Zuko offers Katara a hesitant smile. “You should sleep, too. I’ll keep watch.”

“Don’t you need to,” Katara starts, and then breaks off into a yawn. “Okay. I’ll take the next watch.” 

Katara crawls beneath wet blankets and falls asleep.

Zuko works first on lighting the fire, and then on bringing warmth to the whole cave himself. Now that he isn’t in a wooden barn, Zuko can be more creative with his firebending. Zuko can’t quite rid himself of the gnawing sensation of guilt at his lack of aid when Jinghua’s home was attacked, and using his firebending to encourage the cave to be warm and dry feels like a small comfort. 

Eventually, satisfied with the state of the cave, Zuko gives extra offerings to Agni. 

It’s a long time before anyone else wakes up. It’s Momo first, who comes to tuck himself under Zuko’s arm. Zuko radiates warmth toward the flying lemur, who chirrups happily and buries himself further into Zuko’s robes. 

The next to awaken is Katara. 

Katara barely says a word to Zuko, and moves like she could use much more sleep than her body has granted her. Zuko watches, interested, as Katara sits by Sokka and kisses him on the forehead. It’s a strange gesture that lasts a little too long, and Katara nods firmly when she pulls back and then does the same to Aang. 

When she approaches Zuko, one arm reaching out toward his head, Zuko finds himself instinctively moving away.

“I’m checking your temperature,” Katara insists. “Jinghua gave us medicine. I think we should take it when we’re all awake, just in case.” 

Zuko nods his understanding, which Katara apparently takes as consent. She kneels next to him and presses her mouth to his forehead, in what Zuko now recognises isn’t a kiss at all. 

After a moment, Katara sighs and sits back. “You feel warm,” she explains, “but I don’t know how to tell if that’s because you’re a firebender.” 

“We can all take the medicine if there’s enough,” Zuko suggests, and reaches toward the bag. There are four small vials, presumably enough for each of them, and Zuko trusts that Jinghua would have given further instructions if she didn’t intend for them to each drink one. Underneath the glass are a few packages of dried meats and something Zuko doesn’t recognise but hopes is appropriate for Aang. And underneath that--

Zuko pulls out a small pile of coins, and feels his face crumple.

“Oh, that’s great,” Katara breathes. “Thank the spirits for Jinghua. We’ll be able to-- Zuko?”

Zuko blinks, pulling himself away from the crushing weight of his own failure. “Yes?”

“Why do you look like this isn’t great?” Katara asks, quiet and concerned.

Zuko tries for a reassuring expression. Based on Katara’s frown, it doesn’t seem to work.

“Here,” Zuko says, passing her the bag. He doesn’t want anything to do with the coins. 

Payment, Zuko thinks. Just like bowing to the Fire Lord, it’s something that Zuko has tried to avoid in order to fulfil his duties with honour and integrity. And it’s something that has been forced onto him. 

“Are you okay?” Katara asks. 

“I feel fine,” Zuko assures her. “I’ll take the medicine anyway, if that’s what you think we should do.”

“I didn’t mean--” Katara starts, and then sighs. “Okay. You should sleep, too,” she says, and then holds out one of the tiny glass vials. “Drink this first.” 

There’s a text in the legal scriptures about taking medicine from peoples of other nations. The text acts as a hook between rulings about the legal status of experts from other nations, and outdated healing advice. There was a brief period of time in which Zuko was fascinated by the fact that outdated advice was codified into the writings and what that meant for the truth of the scriptures as a whole. 

It comes to mind as Zuko takes hold of a vial of unknown medicine, given to him by an Earth Kingdom merchant girl, by way of a Water Tribe waterbender. 

In times of war, the text states, trust only those experts who have taken vows to do no harm. 

Zuko hesitates. 

He’s always thought that considering a whole century a ‘time of war’ has stretched the legal system to its very limits. But with the Avatar back and planning to stop the Fire Nation’s mass expansion across the world, he has little room to claim that this is a time of peace. 

It’s a hook between different pieces of literature, Zuko thinks. It comes on the tail of medical advice he would never think to follow. And the next lines switch to the language of legal codification. 

It’s advice, Zuko decides, not a ruling. This medicine is inadvisable. That’s all.

Zuko drinks.

When Zuko wakes, the rain is heavier again, but the wind has slowed. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Sokka greets with what looks like a kind of forced smile. “Ready for lunch?”

Zuko stretches. Something in his back pops, which feels amazing, so he stretches further. 

“Jinghua’s medicine really hits the spot, huh?” Sokka asks. When Zuko looks over, his expression has gone soft. “I think she should just sell that as a drink.”

“That would probably be really bad for you,” Katara responds from across the fire. 

“I don’t care,” Sokka replies. “I’d drink it every day.”

Zuko laughs, and Sokka grins at him. 

“Can I help make lunch?” Zuko asks, shifting away from the blankets to sit nearer to the fire. Zuko holds out a hand and coaxes the flames higher. 

“We’re eating what Jinghua packed for us,” Aang replies from where he’s happily munching on something green. 

It’s surprisingly nice in their warm, dry corner of the world. The rain falls like sheets outside the mouth of the cave, obscuring the outside from them, but also keeping them safe from any prying eyes that might dare to come by. The children are in a surprisingly good mood for the fact that they were awoken from a night in actual beds to fight for their lives and fly through a storm. 

Aang and Sokka decide to regale them with an impression of Commander Zhao, drenched and angry and trying to convince his soldiers to fight. It’s technically disrespectful to a man of significant status, but to be fair, Zuko has said more technically disrespectful things to Commander Zhao. He finds himself laughing along.

“Oh man,” Aang says, one hand on his belly from where he’s been laughing. “He was so mad that they wouldn’t just blast you off the roof.” 

“I guess being a Fire Sage comes with its perks,” Sokka notes. “You might not be able to fight anyone, but it turns out we can just throw you at our enemies.”

Zuko’s smile falters. They’re talking about using Zuko as a human shield. 

And it might be reasonably effective, but that’s only true until someone decides that they don’t want to follow the rules, or until the Fire Lord makes a declaration about his status. But, Zuko reasons, the Fire Lord cannot legally do that without trying to recall him back to Caldera first. Zuko has time to be a shield before that becomes a dangerous option.

“Hey,” Katara says from across the fire. She sits up straighter and throws Sokka a brief glare.  “Sokka’s kidding. We wouldn’t actually do that.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be very effective,” Sokka admits. “What we really need you to do is just stand there and glare at them.” 

Zuko nods. “If they do decide to attack me, I could fight back at that point,” Zuko points out.

“Well, that’s the weirdest battle strategy I’ve ever heard of,” Sokka responds with a grin. “But hey, I guess most people don’t bring Fire Sages with them into battle.” 

“There was a game Monk Gyatso and I used to play in which the sages could only move diagonally,” Aang comments. 

Sokka snorts. “That sounds like a stupid game.”

“How were Jinghua’s family?” Zuko asks. 

“They were fine,” Katara assures him. “They were hiding.” 

“I can’t imagine they were very happy about deciding to have us as guests,” Sokka adds. “We were so polite! But there’s only so much that makes up for.” 

“What about their neighbours?” Aang asks. “Did you tell them what was going on?”

Zuko freezes. “No,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t see them. I assume they figured it out and hid, too.” 

Aang nods, and Zuko feels his muscles slowly relaxing. 

And then Sokka asks: “Wait, how come you saw what was happening so much earlier than us?”

Zuko tenses up again. “I think the light woke me,” he says, in complete honesty. “Or maybe shouting? I’m not sure.” 

“Well, we’re lucky you did wake up,” Katara says, and her smile looks a little forced. Zuko frowns as he watches her, because he’d thought that earlier about Sokka, hadn’t he? That Sokka’s smile had seemed strained? “If you hadn’t, who--”

“You were outside,” Sokka interrupts. He isn’t faking a smile like his sister. Sokka isn’t smiling at all. His face looks very carefully blank. “Jinghua said you shouldn’t apologise to her because you were ‘out in the cold’.”

Aang leans forward, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Come on, Zuko wasn’t outside, Sokka,” he says. “Let’s just--”

“Nuh uh.” Sokka lifts up a hand, and Aang falls quiet. “Nope, we’re not just happily dancing around this. I want answers.”

Zuko shrinks back. “What does it matter?” he asks. “I heard Zhao before you did. It’s a good thing that I was there.”

“What?” Katara asks. “That you were where?” 

“Oh no,” Sokka says, and something happens on his face that Zuko can’t quite follow. His brow loosens from its frown, but it doesn’t look like a good thing. “Zuko, please tell me that the neighbours invited you into the house like you said they did.” 

Zuko narrows his eyes. “You might recall that I didn’t say that.” 

Sokka’s frown comes back with a vengeance. “You implied it!” Sokka insists, and his voice is too loud in this small, quiet space. “You definitely said you were going to be - what was it - sheltered-- Oh.” And then he closes his eyes and draws a deep breath before saying: “Zuko. Were you sleeping in the barn?” 

A sense of panic claws at Zuko, even as he can’t understand why. He doesn’t know why Sokka seems so offended, or what Katara’s gasp or Aang’s wide eyes are supposed to mean. 

“Jinghua did ask her neighbours,” Zuko explains, “but they were unwilling to take me as a guest. Therefore, I stayed with Appa.”

“Zuko,” is all Katara says, but she sounds deeply unhappy. Maybe even angry, Zuko thinks, as he risks a glance at her. “How could you not tell us?”

And Zuko really doesn’t understand what he has done wrong. But here they are, ready to turn against him again. At least last time, Jet had been there to move the pieces on the game board, to corner Zuko into a loss. Now, as time repeats itself, Zuko has nobody else to blame. And he doesn’t even understand why this is happening.

It had been so nice up until now, in this little cave. There had been laughter and food and warmth.

But even then, Zuko notes, there had been something false about the expressions on their faces. How is Zuko always being lulled so easily into a sense of security?

“Would you like me to leave?” Zuko asks, pitching his tone as formally as he can. He doesn’t much want to walk away in the middle of a storm and the middle of nowhere. They chose this spot for its inaccessibility. Zuko learns a lesson about planning an escape route. 

“What?” Sokka bursts. “What do you even--? Stop it.” He points at Zuko.

“Stop what?” Zuko asks, bewildered. 

“This!” Sokka gestures at the entirety of Zuko, which is unhelpful. “Whatever this is!”

Aang reaches out to Sokka, who shrugs off his hand, but also falls silent.

“Why didn’t you tell us you didn’t have somewhere to stay?” Aang asks, quiet and careful.

Zuko tilts his head. “I don’t know what good could have come of that,” he states. 

“You had a reason,” Katara points out. When Zuko looks over, she’s scowling at the mouth of the cave and refusing to meet Zuko’s eyes. Her arms are crossed so tightly across her chest that it looks painful. “So which was it: Did you not tell us because you were afraid we wouldn’t stay in the house without you?” She finally looks over. “Or because you were afraid we would stay in the house without you?”

Zuko hesitates. “I didn’t want to put you in a position to have to choose,” he explains. “The storm was coming in--” 

“The storm was coming in for you, too,” Katara responds. 

“There was no other option for me,” Zuko reasons, trying to keep calm and mostly failing. “There was another option for you, and it was an easier choice to make without having to discuss it first. It was the logical solution.” 

“It wasn’t fair,” Katara snaps. “It’s not fair for you to make those decisions for us, Zuko. You didn’t give us a chance to stand up for you. How are we supposed to show you that we’re friends if you don’t give us a chance to?”

Zuko has half a response planned before Katara’s words catch up to him.

“... We’re friends?” he asks. 

Katara’s scowl deepens. “I’m really mad at you,” she says, and Zuko nods. “And I’m going to hug you now.” 

“... What?” Zuko asks, honestly lost. 

Katara shuffles around the fire and presses herself into Zuko’s side. It’s not really a hug. It’s more like she’s mimicking Momo, burying herself into his side with her head pressed against Zuko’s shoulder. 

“We’re supposed to be talking,” Katara says. “But I don’t know how to ask you questions about things you don’t tell us.” 

“I’m coming, too,” Aang declares and throws his arms around Zuko from the other side. 

Zuko casts a worried look to Sokka. 

“Don’t look at me,” Sokka says, but it sounds lighter than before. “I don’t know what’s going on. But if you don’t start talking more, this is going to keep happening.” 

Zuko pats Katara awkwardly on the back. 

(“‘Are you okay’ doesn’t mean ‘are you sick’,” Katara says after a long time. “It means ‘are you okay’.” 

“Uh.” 

“Emotionally,” Katara clarifies. 

“Do we have to write you a book about how to be a person?” Sokka offers from the other side of the cave. “I know you like books.”

“I do like books,” Zuko agrees.)

The sky clears up. Zuko might almost miss this quiet corner of the world, in which there was nothing but the four of them and Appa and Momo, and the thick sheets of rain kept them hidden from the outside. 

“We should get going soon,” Sokka reasons. “We have food and money now, and we should really be heading toward the north as soon as possible to find you a master.” 

Aang has picked up everything that Katara has been able to offer in waterbending practice. It won’t take him long to train with a waterbending master. But afterwards, the children will need to find an earthbending master, and then a firebending master. It’s a lot to ask Aang to train in by the summer, and that’s not factoring in the need to craft a plan against the Fire Nation. 

Zuko pushes down his anxiety. 

“We need to bathe and wash our clothes,” he points out, eyeing his muddy shoes. “We should look for a river nearby.”

“We don’t need to bathe,” Aang insists. “We just got washed by rain!”

Zuko blinks. “Rain and mud?” he points out. 

Aang blinks back at him, looking confused by the sentiment that they need to wash, even though there’s actual dirt on his arrow. 

“We did just wash a few days ago,” Katara points out, pulling at her sleeve as if she’s looking for dirt on it.

Zuko rounds on her, utterly bewildered. “Yes,” he responds, “a few days ago!” 

“Well, how often do you think we should be bathing?” Sokka asks. 

“Every day?” Zuko says. “At least once?” 

“What?” Sokka bursts, and then gestures wildly at Zuko. “That is clearly far too much!” 

Aang winces. “That would take kind of a lot of time,” he adds. 

“And it can’t be good for you,” Sokka continues, his voice pitched high with offense. 

“How would it be bad for me?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka gestures again. “It would be bad for your hair or something,” he insists. 

Zuko lifts a hand to his hair. It’s loose, and a little tangled from the fact that he hasn’t washed it since they were running through a storm, but… “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Sokka looks completely lost. “I-- Nothing is--” 

Zuko runs his fingers through the length of it, tugging a little at the bottom. It’s almost to his elbows now, and yes, technically this is longer than is considered entirely proper and modest, but it’s also usually hidden beneath his hat, so nobody is supposed to care about Zuko’s hair except Zuko.

“Your hair is stupid,” Sokka eventually declares, crossing his arms.

Zuko looks back up at him, wounded. 

Katara sighs. When Zuko looks over, she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sokka, stop it. Zuko, your hair is fine.”

“I think your hair is very pretty, Zuko,” Aang assures him. 

Zuko sighs. “Our clothes are encrusted with mud,” he points out. “My shoes are meant to be red. It won’t take long for us to get clean before we start moving again.” 

Between the three benders, they end up making a pretty effective team for washing clothes. Zuko heats the water around them, which quietens the children’s complaints about being in a lake so soon after a storm. Katara keeps the water moving, which is helpful for scrubbing their clothing. Aang seems to be having the time of his life on drying duty. 

Sokka has declared himself overseer, but Zuko isn’t convinced he can see much of anything from where he’s floating in the warm water. 

It is, once again, surprisingly pleasant. But Zuko doesn’t let himself loosen the way he did in the cave. He knows that things can turn on a copper coin. So Zuko enjoys the calm, lets Katara’s laughter ring in his ears, and keeps himself braced for the inevitable. 

When their clothes are clean and waiting for them on the ground, Zuko turns to washing his hair and working out the tangles. Between his hair flying loose in a storm and sleeping on it without combing first, it’s more than a little awful. 

“Here,” Sokka says, reaching out toward him. Zuko freezes, unsure whether it’s appropriate, but Sokka seems to take his stillness for consent. Sokka applies soap to the worst of the tangles and then works at them gently with his fingers. “Your hair’s not close to as bad as Katara’s would get when we were younger,” he comments. 

“Oh?” Katara asks from where she and Aang are practicing moving the water. “So his hair isn’t stupid?” 

“Are you kidding? Look at this. It’s like an arctic hen’s nest.” Sokka finally reaches for Zuko’s comb and starts to comb gently at the ends of Zuko’s hair. It’s kind of nice to have someone else combing his hair, Zuko realises. It makes him feel kind of settled, like this moment isn’t about to break at any moment. 

(It might be a little inappropriate. But nobody else is acting like this is strange, and Zuko understands enough to know that their cultures put value on very different things. So he lets Sokka stand too close and touch his hair, like their relationship allows much more vulnerability than it does in reality.)

Zuko looks over his shoulder, disturbing Sokka’s work a little. Sokka has his tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrates. From this close, Zuko can see the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. He feels a rush of something like fondness.

Zuko clamps down on it, and reminds himself to be prepared for them to turn on him at any moment.

“Thank you,” Zuko says, because he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to say something.

Sokka meets his eyes, and then immediately looks back to his hair. He’s gone faintly pink, and his smile doesn’t look particularly comfortable.

“I only know how to do one hairstyle,” Sokka replies, “so I hope you like hair loopies.” 

(The rain comes back, sudden and harsh, and the other children scream. But there’s not much point in scrambling for shelter out here at the lake, so they end up ducking low in the water, crowded around Zuko’s cupped hands. He does his best to keep them all warm by radiating heat into the water around them.

After a few moments of concentration, Aang pulls up his own fire. He looks over their twin flames at Zuko with a wide grin, and Zuko offers a smile in return. 

There isn’t long left for the Avatar to master his three non-native elements. There’s a war on the horizon, worse than the one they’re currently living through. And if Aang doesn’t win, the world is going to be tipped so far out of balance that it might never be set right again. Simmering under these long-term anxieties is the fact that Zuko can’t trust that he will have a place with this group tomorrow, and he truly has no place in the world anymore. 

But right now, there is nothing to be done about any of those things. So Zuko nods at Aang over the fire and helps him concentrate on maintaining the flames through the heavy rain.)

Zuko’s counsel letters have been soaked. They’re still legible, but just barely. Zuko sighs when he realises this, because if he’d thought to check his pockets once they entered the cave, the letters might have been salvageable. 

They buy more paper in a town on their way north. Zuko hates purchasing the new materials, since his ability to do so is rooted in being unwillingly paid for his counsel. This fact makes him feel itchy and nauseous, but there isn’t anything to be done about it now. Returning Jinghua’s money would mean leading Commander Zhao back to her. 

Zuko rewrites his letters on Appa’s back during the day, and at their makeshift campsites at night. 

He’s almost done writing, letting the children wander up the shore in search of some interesting Water Tribe items they have found here in the Earth Kingdom, when they find a beached Water Tribe boat. 

Bato of the Southern Water Tribe doesn’t let Zuko out of his sight when he leads them away from their campsite. 

It’s early in the morning. Bato found them on a regular trip back to the boat, which Sokka had been making noises about trying to fix up the night before. In the light of day, it’s obvious that Sokka wouldn’t have been able to save the boat, and that it couldn’t have safely housed Appa without risking them all drowning. But even if it wasn’t a good idea, it was an idea that kept them here long enough for them to be found by the right person, for once.

There’s something on Bato’s face that Zuko can’t quite name. Zuko isn’t sure if it’s because he’s still in the process of waking up, or because Bato’s expression is particularly obscure, or even just because Zuko has always had trouble with facial expressions. The best Zuko can do with Bato’s sidelong glances is to assume that he is suspicious of Zuko, but it isn’t the kind of deep distrust that coloured Jet’s expression, so Zuko tries not to worry.

And then Zuko recognises where Bato is leading them, and suddenly his strange expression doesn’t seem so important anymore.

“A temple,” Zuko says, breathless. He holds out a hand to the gate, brushing his fingers over the tiny, intricate carvings. 

“An abbey,” Bato corrects him. 

Zuko stays at the entrance while Bato leads the children and Appa into the abbey. The courtyard is almost empty, but it’s early in the day, so Zuko doesn’t know whether this means that the sisters are all at prayer or whether this is a sparsely-populated abbey. 

Zuko isn’t wearing his hat. He hasn’t worn his hat for days. It’s packed with his things on Appa’s saddle, kept safe but now feeling quite far away. Zuko usually feels that his robes distinguish him strongly enough, but he now finds himself concerned that the sisters won’t be able to tell what he is from a distance. 

He shivers a little in the cool wind, and does his best to bring his fire closer to the surface to warm himself. 

“Zuko!” Aang calls from within the courtyard. “Come on!”

“Ah,” one of the sisters says, pitching her voice loud enough for Zuko to hear. “I suspect your friend might be waiting for an invitation. You are most welcome here, Fire Sage.” 

Zuko lets out a breath and enters into the courtyard of the abbey. When he’s an appropriate distance, he bows his head to the sisters. “I am Fire Sage Zuko of the Temple of the Avatar. I thank you for your grace in allowing me to enter.”

The oldest sister among them smiles. “Welcome to our abbey. All visitors and travellers are most welcome here. I am Mother Superior, and these are Sisters Shen Shu and Huiling.” 

Zuko bows to each of them in the order in which they were introduced. He doesn’t know if that order has any meaning to Earth Kingdom religious officials, but it seems like his best bet. The sisters bow more deeply than Zuko believes is appropriate. Another cultural difference, he assumes. 

“I must make preparations for your arrival,” Mother Superior notes, offering a warm smile to each of her guests. 

“I’ll take them to my room,” Bato suggests. “There’s plenty of food.”

There is, indeed, plenty of food. Zuko and Aang meet with horrified eyes over bowls of stewed sea prunes. They might be the saltiest thing Zuko has ever encountered. He slowly pushes his bowl away, and Aang hides laughter behind his hand. Zuko finds himself smiling.

Bato and the Water Tribe children talk endlessly. But they seem content, so Zuko is disinclined to interrupt them.

“I haven’t given morning offerings yet,” he says to Aang, intending to excuse himself.

Zuko failed to recognise that Aang was wilting, but he notices when Aang perks up. “I’ll come with you!” he insists, suddenly intense. “Bye guys, we’re going to meditate!” 

Sokka and Katara barely seem to notice them slip away. Bato looks up with a smile and raises a hand. 

“That was a lot of stories,” Aang complains when they return to the courtyard. 

Zuko frowns. “I thought you liked stories?”

“Yeah, but… not that many stories,” Aang replies, his voice a lot of grumble. He’s clearly upset, but Zuko cannot figure out what is wrong.

“Offerings are not the same as meditation,” he says as they walk into the sunlight. “Firebenders usually offer fire. Non-benders focus more on words and intentions. There are actions involved.” He hesitates. “If you would rather meditate, I can be quiet.” 

Aang beams at him. It’s such a quick change in mood that Zuko feels a little thrown off. “No, I want to join you! I think I can do the fire thing, too.” 

Zuko hums. “I will teach you simple offerings,” he suggests. “I don’t want you to get ahead of yourself. Fire can be dangerous.” He looks around and spots Mother Superior, and begins to head in her direction. Aang is fast to follow. “Set offerings are simpler than optional offerings, too. You can even keep your robes on.” 

“I can keep my what?”

“Mother Superior,” Zuko greets with a shallow bow, and then concern spikes down his spine. The sisters bowed lower to him last night; this might be a faux pas. “I apologise. I do not know the proper way to approach you.” 

“This is fine, Fire Sage Zuko,” Mother Superior responds. 

Zuko frowns. “Perhaps you have a book that can inform me of the proper customs of the abbey?” 

Mother Superior’s mouth curls into a smile, but it doesn’t look friendly. Zuko’s concern amplifies. 

“I’m afraid you’ll find us lacking for books here, sage,” she informs him. “That is the way of the Fire Sages. We pass on our teachings and record our histories in different ways.” 

Zuko’s surprise at the lack of a library is quickly overshadowed by curiosity. “What ways?” he asks. “What’s better than a book?”

Mother Superior’s smile turns amused. “A very Fire Sage question, indeed,” she notes. “Did you approach me to ask about books?”

“Oh, no,” Zuko says, glancing around the abbey. “I am in need of giving morning offerings. I wanted to know where would be appropriate. Should I exit the abbey?”

“The courtyard will be fine,” Mother Superior informs him. “The sisters are quite used to alternative practices. Though, I imagine they might have never seen offerings to Agni before. I understand that you are not in need of any items for your offerings?”

Zuko nods, and then takes his leave from Mother Superior. He has the impression that she doesn’t like him very much, but she was quick to welcome him and has allowed him to give offerings in her courtyard, so Zuko reasons that it cannot be that problematic. 

Zuko spends the morning teaching Aang some of the simpler motions and words for morning offerings. It makes his offerings take much longer, and ultimately causes them to be less personally meaningful, but Zuko appreciates that there is a separate meaning in the ability to lead. 

(When Zuko served in the High Temple, he would sometimes be involved in leading offerings. He was never given a central role, but High Sage Kenji would often ask him to hold candles, or to lead movements. It used to make Zuko nervous to do so, because he recognised that movement was not a strength of his. But one does not say ‘no’ to a request from the High Sage, and it was a skill the sages probably assumed he would need.)

Aang doesn’t leave this time. He grins at Zuko through most of their offerings, which is a touch distracting, but they make it through to the closing blessings without an issue. 

Aang bows to him when they’re done. “Thank you, Sifu Hotman!”

Zuko bows back, careful with his posture and the depth of his bow in a way that Aang isn’t. “You are always welcome to join me in offerings, Avatar Aang,” he responds. And then, when he’s done with the propriety of responding to an acknowledgement of thanks, he adds: “Sifu Hotman?” 

“I thought it was more respectful than just ‘Hotman’,” Aang responds nonsensically, and then is immediately distracted by a butterfly. 

Zuko blinks as he watches the Avatar. There’s a part of him that wants to find it endearing that Aang is such a child, but it’s overshadowed by the knowledge that this child might be the world’s last hope. 

Nobody in the abbey requires Zuko’s presence. He would like to enquire about how long Katara and Sokka want to spend here, wasting time with their childhood friend, but he doesn’t know where they are and doesn’t think he will be welcomed if he tracks them down. And the sisters give Zuko a wide berth, so he’s not comfortable approaching them without a direct reason.

Zuko sits in the sun and writes. He finishes re-writing his counsel letters, but will need to wait to send them until he can clarify if the nuns have a method he can use. Zuko turns next to his letter to the High Sage, and begins to make copies as Katara had requested. 

He loses track of time in writing. Eventually, the Water Tribe siblings turn up to drag him away for lunch. 

The sisters sit in their dining hall in neat rows, and Zuko’s heart leaps at the sight. 

It’s so ordered that Zuko feels a little overwhelmed with his own relief. The chaos of the previous weeks lifts from his shoulders. This is a place that Zuko understands, even if they have methods for recording information that don’t exist in books and scrolls, even if they don’t make the same offerings or have a Room of the Broken. The abbey is a place that makes sense. 

Katara and Sokka are talking and laughing with Bato as they stand in line, waiting to be served their meals. Aang is trying to hang onto the threads of their conversation, but it seems to be referring to childhood stories that Aang and Zuko have no context for. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Mother Superior greets, sweeping towards their section of the line. They’re so close to the front now that Sokka is starting to make noises about starving to death. 

“Mother Superior,” Zuko responds, surprised to be singled out. 

“Please step away from the line and follow me,” Mother Superior requests, though Zuko knows the sound of an order from a superior figure, even when it’s couched in polite language. 

“Is Zuko in trouble already?” Sokka asks, momentarily distracted from his apparently all-encompassing hunger. He elbows Zuko in the side. “What’d you do this time, buddy?” 

Zuko follows Mother Superior’s order and steps out of the line. 

He expects her to lead him out of the room, perhaps to a personal office for a private conversation. Instead, she leads Zuko to sit in an empty area. “You can wait for your friends here,” she explains. “I will return momentarily.”

It takes Zuko a few moments to realise what’s happening. 

(Zuko was never required to fast in the High Temple. High Sage Kenji had claimed that Zuko was too young for fasting, and required him to eat simple meals at times that it was customary for the other sages to fast from food and water. It’s the only thing that Zuko can recall that was different in his treatment than the sages with more years behind him, but High Sage Kenji insisted that the age of a body has an effect on the ability to participate in a fast. 

There was no such rule on Crescent Island. Great Sage Sadao often required fasting from Zuko when he failed to uphold the standards of the temple. Great Sage Sadao insisted that fasting was spiritually corrective, and that it would help Zuko to realign himself with the will of Agni. Zuko privately thought it was similar to the kinds of punishments he was given as a child. 

He resented being treated as a child to be punished by Great Sage Sadao much more than he resented being treated as a child to be protected by High Sage Kenji.)

Zuko breathes deeply. He is certain that he wasn’t that hungry just moments beforehand, and the pang of discomfort in his stomach is not real. 

He spends the moments before Bato and the children join him flickering between two important points: first, that Zuko doesn’t know what he did that was so offensive he would be refused food, and second, that Zuko doesn’t know how to explain this to the others. 

Bato sits opposite to Zuko with a hesitant smile. 

I’m fasting is technically accurate without requiring the further discussion of the imposition of the fast by Mother Superior, Zuko decides. And perhaps the others won’t even notice. 

“And that’s why you’re not supposed to bother the otter penguins,” Bato concludes as the others sit down. Then he leans in conspiratorially to Sokka and Katara. “Though it’s never stopped me!” 

The Water Tribe siblings laugh, and Aang beams at Bato. 

Should Zuko make an excuse to leave? Mother Superior had claimed that she would return, but did she mean for Zuko to stay and wait for her? 

“What did Superior want?” Bato asks, turning back toward Zuko. Zuko watches as Bato’s eyes flicker down to the lack of food in front of Zuko. And then Bato’s face does something Zuko isn’t expecting: his smile widens. 

Zuko bristles. 

“Mother Superior said she would come back soon,” Zuko offers, trying his best not to glare at Bato. 

Bato lets out a pleased huff of breath. “I’m sure she will,” he says, amusement in his tone. 

Zuko doesn’t like him. 

Even in the Temple of the Avatar, nobody ever responded to Zuko’s enforced fasting with amusement. Zuko would come to the meal and sit in silence, and his presence was very carefully ignored. That’s what Bato is supposed to be doing. Instead, Bato seems to think that Zuko being punished is funny, and Zuko doesn’t even know what he’s being punished for. 

(It’s entirely possible that Zuko has committed a grave error unknowingly. He has no understanding of the customs of this place. But it feels unlikely to Zuko that such an error would only have been stumbled upon by him, and not any of his travelling companions. And he doesn’t understand why it wouldn’t be explained to him, if that was the case. 

Zuko thinks about the Earth Kingdom, and Jet’s freedom fighters, and Jinghua’s family. Maybe being Fire Nation is enough of an error.)

Katara is frowning at Zuko. Bato and Sokka have been swept up into another story, and Aang seems to be trying to follow their conversation, but Katara is silent. She reaches across and touches his bare forearm. 

“Are you okay?” Katara asks, caught somewhere between concerned and protective. For a moment, Zuko allows himself to be comforted by the fact that she cares. 

And then Mother Superior returns. 

“Please excuse my delay,” she requests, and sits beside Zuko. “The sisters are not used to preparing food for Fire Nation guests, and required some guidance.” 

She holds out a bowl toward Zuko. 

It takes Zuko a long moment to realise that she intends for Zuko to eat it. He takes it from her with careful fingers and looks down to see heavily spiced fire noodles. 

For a moment, Zuko is genuinely speechless. 

“I-- thank you, Mother Superior,” Zuko says, and hears his own voice trembling. “This was very thoughtful.”

Mother Superior smiles warmly. “We see many travellers here, though our Fire Nation guests are rare,” she explains. “We find that most people enjoy the taste of home.”

Zuko offers thanks to Agni for the sunlight that allowed the seeds to grow and the animals to thrive, and then takes a bite of the fire noodles. 

(Mother Superior is correct. They do taste of home.)

“I am grateful,” Zuko says again, because his mind has gone from the idea of punishment and hunger to this all too quickly. He feels a little emotionally dizzy with it. “Is there a way I can be of service after the meal? Perhaps I could help clean in the kitchen?” 

Mother Superior watches him, thoughtfully, and then responds: “I shall consider it.”

“How’s the food?” Bato asks, leaning toward Zuko with another smile. Zuko hesitates. “I figured she was trying to locate something so spicy it’d make the rest of us cry.”

“It’s… good,” Zuko says, still feeling off-balance from the abrupt change. And then he looks down again, and adds: “It’s really good.” 

“Oh come on, it can’t be that spicy,” Sokka insists. 

“I do not suggest asking Sage Zuko if you can try some.” Bato’s tone is too deadpan for this to be anything but a challenge. 

Sokka doesn’t let them see his face as he coughs, so nobody can confirm whether or not the spice has made him cry. 

“Why would you eat that,” Sokka croaks out eventually, and even Mother Superior laughs.

Zuko joins Mother Superior in the gardens after lunch. She makes him redress in loose green and brown clothing to protect his robes, and then they walk around the perimeter of the gardens while Mother Superior points to different plants and flowers. 

She explains how they use them for their perfumes, and how some plants are particularly good for healing. They take those to the nearby towns to the healers, Mother Superior explains, but not for a fee. Between the different enterprises the abbey is involved with, most significantly the perfumes, they are not in need of charging for services they consider essential. 

When they’re done with their walk, Mother Superior hands Zuko some tools and points him toward the other sisters. 

The rest of the afternoon is physically taxing, but it is not emotionally or intellectually demanding. Zuko follows orders, and sinks his hands into the earth of the Earth Kingdom, and watches his work come to fruition. 

After the third attempt at tucking long strands of hair behind his ears, Zuko gives up and ties his hair back in a knot. It’s improper and messy, but he also has dirt streaked across his face and clothing, so Zuko expects that propriety is long behind him. 

When their work brings them to a flowering bush, Zuko hesitates. 

“These are fire lilies,” he says, reaching forward to touch one of the flowers. 

The woman who was his mother loved fire lilies, Zuko remembers. She would often keep them in vases around the palace. There were fire lilies all around the gardens of the palace in her honour. Zuko wonders if those bushes are still there, and if Princess Azula ever looks at them and remembers. 

“They have a flowering season before the rains come,” Sister Shen Shu explains. “The last of them will be gone soon, but they bring some good colour to the gardens late in the year, and they’re great for oils and perfumes.” 

Zuko smiles, touching the edges of the flower. 

“You can pluck that one,” Sister Shen Shu suggests, falling to her knees at the soil. “It needs to go, anyway.”

Zuko blinks down at her. “Why?” he asks. 

Sister Shen Shu gestures to the next bush along. “Fire lilies tend to grow outwards. They take over too much space. We need to cut this bush back, because everything else needs room, too.” 

Zuko shifts on his feet, and then goes to his knees near Sister Shen Shu. 

She points him to the parts that require trimming back, while she works at the soil. 

“This is the time of year to ensure that everything has proper room,” Sister Shen Shu explains. “We have a lot of plants that grow and flower at different times of year, but most things are going to bloom soon. And everything needs room to grow.” 

Zuko nods. The flower he was touching beforehand falls to the soil, and he reaches down to move it away from harm’s reach. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Sister Shen Shu asks, her voice quiet. 

Zuko frowns over at her. “I’m doing what you’re telling me to do,” he states, even though he shouldn’t need to.

Sister Shen Shu bites her lip, and then nods. “We keep the gardens for many reasons,” she explains. “We sell the perfumes, and use them for rituals, and it’s good and honest work, to work with the soil. But it’s also because we have much to learn about being human from the earth.”

Zuko sits back on his heels and watches her. “I’m not good at metaphors,” he explains. 

For some reason, it makes Sister Shen Shu smile. She ducks her head a little and continues working. “I see.” Zuko gets back to pruning the bush back as he waits for her to explain. “Plants need certain things to grow well. You learn that looking after a garden. They need light, and good soil, and room. People need that, too.” 

“There’s bad soil?” Zuko asks. 

“There’s soil that’s bad for growing things,” Sister Shen Shu answers. “And some plants need different kinds of soil. What’s good for the fire lilies might not be what’s good for the roses, so you might not want to plant them next to each other.” 

“Oh,” Zuko says, and understands what’s happening here. Fire Sage Tatsuya used to do this sometimes, when he wanted to illustrate a point to Zuko. He would draw things out, or show him a move on a game board, or take him on a walk to watch how the people in the marketplace interacted, all in order to illustrate a matter of law. “Is this about the war?” he asks. “Are you saying that the Fire Nation is bad soil?”

Sister Shen Shu sits back and looks at Zuko. “No,” she says, careful and gentle. “I meant to comment on life. That’s all.” 

Sister Shen Shu is young, Zuko realises. She isn’t as young as Zuko, but she’s much younger than her sisters. 

“Did you grow up here?” Zuko asks. 

Sister Shen Shu smiles at him. “I arrived here when I was a child,” she explains. “The sisters took me in and looked after me. I left for a while, but ultimately decided that I wanted to join the order.” 

Zuko nods, pleased that he understands why she wants to talk about good soil for growing plants, and turns back to his work. 

“Did you grow up in your abbey?” Sister Shen Shu asks.

“It was a temple,” Zuko replies. “I was given to the temple when I was eleven. I left when the Avatar returned to the world.” 

Sister Shen Shu hums. “That’s very young,” she notes. “Did you choose to stay because they treated you well?” 

“I stayed because it was proper,” he explains. “Taking the vows of a sage is a lifelong commitment. I left because that was proper, too.” 

“You took your vows when you were eleven?” Sister Shen Shu asks. She sounds a little bewildered by this. 

Zuko shrugs. “I was the youngest Fire Sage in all of history,” he says. Actually, Zuko will remain the youngest Fire Sage in all of history for decades, unless someone younger than him takes vows. 

After a moment, Sister Shen Shu asks: “Was it good soil?” When Zuko looks up with raised eyebrows, she clarifies: “The temple you grew up in.”

Zuko thinks about the palace. He thinks about being watched from all angles at every moment, about striving constantly for a perfection he wasn’t built to reach, about burns on his arms from training. He thinks about the girl who was once his sister, rising from her first lick of flame to the preferred child almost immediately. 

And then Zuko thinks about the High Temple. He thinks about Fire Sage Matsu bringing him tea in the mornings to wake him, and Fire Sage Youta quizzing him over areas of the law he was studying over mealtimes, and Fire Sage Tatsuya taking him to watch the birds fighting over birdseed so that he could explain the inherent problems in poorly planned food distribution. He thinks about High Sage Kenji, who gave him far more time than he was ever worth. 

“It was good soil,” he admits, and does his best to ignore the pang of loss. He’s good at ignoring it, after three years in the Temple of the Avatar. 

Sister Shen Shu offers him a warm smile. “I’m glad.” 

“Zuko!” 

Zuko turns his head to the entrance of the garden. His travelling companions and Bato have wandered through the gate to the gardens, Sokka at the forefront, but he seems to have stopped in his tracks halfway to Zuko. 

Zuko raises a hand to wave. 

“What are you…?” Sokka starts, and then seems to shake himself. “So I see you’ve decided to become a nun.” 

Sister Shen Shu giggles as if Sokka has said something funny. Zuko throws her a bewildered glance.

“I am gardening,” Zuko explains.

“Yeah, I can see that, bud,” Sokka responds, closing the distance between them. “Why are you gardening?”

Zuko frowns at Sokka, and then at the others. Katara and Aang have been distracted by a small animal in the bushes. 

Bato, he notices, is standing back with his arms crossed. He’s watching Zuko in a way that makes Zuko feel distinctly uncomfortable. 

“They are not in need of my services as a sage here,” Zuko explains. 

Sokka blinks down at him for a moment, and then kneels between him and Sister Shen Shu. “Yeah, so… you should come and hang out with us. Bato’s going to show us around. I’m sure there’s plenty of spirit mumbo-jumbo to keep you happy.” 

Zuko feels thrown off-course. On the one hand, he appreciates that the others seem to have come to find him specifically to join them for something unnecessary. Zuko isn’t sure when he was last requested for anything other than utility. But on the other hand… do they not have a sense of offering their services when they are guests? 

Perhaps, he reasons, this is a product of their ages. Perhaps children are typically welcomed as guests without requiring any kind of repayment. But Zuko’s only experiences are of being a prince and a sage; he has no context for what usual children experience. 

“I have a task to complete,” Zuko concludes. 

Sokka’s face draws in for a moment, and Zuko isn’t sure if he looks annoyed or thoughtful. But just when Zuko is starting to get nervous about whether he has misstepped, Sokka’s eyes catch on the fire lily by Zuko’s dirty knees, and Sokka’s face breaks out into a smile.

“Picking flowers?” he asks, plucking the flower from the grass. “An important task, I’m sure.”

“That’s a fire lily,” Zuko says. He goes to explain that they were the favourite of the woman who was his mother, but holds himself back. It’s unasked for information, and it might only lead to more questions that Zuko doesn’t want to summon the energy to answer. 

Sokka hums, turning the lily over between his fingers, and Zuko looks over at Bato. Bato hasn’t moved once through this exchange, even though Aang is excitedly trying to show him some kind of creature he’s coaxed onto his hand. Zuko blinks and looks down, feeling vaguely threatened, and then jumps when he feels a touch to his hair.

Zuko stills and looks up at Sokka, to find him leaning forward with a look of concentration on his face. It takes him a moment to realise that Sokka is tucking the fire lily into Zuko’s hasty bun. 

“There,” Sokka says after a moment, and sits back on his heels to offer Zuko a smile. Zuko finds himself smiling back automatically, even as confusion swims in his mind. 

A sigh sounds from behind Sokka. “Really?” Katara asks, her voice low and unimpressed. 

Sokka winces. He ducks his head a little, breaking eye contact with Zuko. “Yeah, fine, okay, I see it.” 

“You see what?” Zuko asks, looking from Sokka to Katara. She’s standing with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. 

“Nothing!” Sokka insists. “Okay, we’re going to have fun now. You enjoy your… flowers. Bye, Zuko. Bye, Zuko’s friend.” 

And just like that, Sokka is gone. 

Zuko blinks, and then raises a hand to touch the fire lily tucked into his hair. 

Sister Shen Shu hides a smile behind her hand. 

When the gardening is done, Zuko uses the excuse of his dirtied clothing to brush Appa. It seems natural, after that, to offer to sweep the courtyard - after all, half of the mess is from Appa’s fur. Once the sweeping is done in the courtyard, Zuko decides to move into the hallways of the abbey and sweep there. 

It’s here that he finds his attention snagged by the carvings on the wall. He reaches up to them, tracing his fingers along figures. He looks down the hallway, to where the pictures continue, carved into the rock of the wall. 

They’re telling a story, he realises. 

“No books,” Zuko says under his breath, filled with awe as he follows the figures down the wall.

“Indeed,” a voice sounds from behind him. Zuko turns, feeling guilty. He had been midway through a task - but of course Mother Superior has found him in a moment of weakness. “Our earthbenders help us to preserve our stories in much sturdier ways than words in a book.” 

Zuko looks back to the wall. “It’s beautiful,” he comments. 

It’s like the whole abbey is a book. And while Zuko prefers libraries, and prefers the ability of one book or scroll to be rewritten and sent all over the world, he also appreciates the feeling of standing in the middle of a work of preservation. It’s sturdy, he thinks; it’s solid, much like the Earth Kingdom itself. 

Mother Superior hums in agreement as she approaches him, and then she hands over an armful of items, bundled together with a cloth. Zuko has to balance the broom against the wall to receive them. 

“I will show you to an appropriate bathing room,” she tells him. “We have yet to prepare bedrooms for you, so that will have to do for now.” 

Zuko looks down to find soaps hiding in the bundle, and what looks like it might be hair oil. After a moment of longing, he finds himself explaining: “I cannot accept gifts.”

Mother Superior raises her eyebrows. “This is not a gift. It is merely what we offer to our guests. You are our guest, are you not?”

Zuko’s shoulder tenses and his spine straightens. “You’re unhappy with me,” he notes. 

Mother Superior watches him for a long moment, and then glances to the broom Zuko has propped against the wall. He tries not to wince as he realises he’s leaned it against the wall of carvings. 

“You are not here to do a job, Fire Sage Zuko,” she tells him. “Sister Shen Shu appreciated your company in the gardens earlier. But you do not need to work for your place here.” 

Zuko presses his lips together for a moment, watching Mother Superior as she frowns at him. 

“I don’t know how to…” he starts, and then trails off. “I always had tasks to complete in the temple. Legal advice to give, research, jobs. I’m not sure how to…”

“How to chase butterflies like the Avatar?” Mother Superior offers, with the beginnings of a smile. “Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t. Even in the palace, I imagine you lived on a tight schedule.” 

Zuko releases a deep breath. “Yes,” he agrees, glad that she understands. “I don’t mean to be a… bad guest?”

“May I make a suggestion?” Mother Superior requests. When Zuko nods, she continues: “We will be leaving in the morning to work in a nearby village. You are most welcome to join us for offerings and to accompany me and the sisters. I’m sure they will find your presence quite enthralling.”

“It will be my honour,” Zuko responds with a shallow bow. “I am only unsure of our plans to leave.”

“Very well.” Mother Superior nods. “And aside from those structured moments, I request that you do not take liberties to find yourself tasks around my abbey.” 

Zuko nods. “I understand.” He goes to follow Mother Superior through the hallway, eyes tracing the stories as they walk. “What are these stories?” 

Mother Superior looks over at him as they walk, and then offers a smile. “There are many,” she explains. “Some are spirit tales. Some are histories. If you look carefully, the ancestors impart advice.” 

Zuko listens carefully, up until his eyes land on a particular carving, high on the wall. He stops in his tracks, breath catching in his throat, as his eyes trail over a narrative of a lion turtle. 

He’s read about the lion turtles, of course. They cared deeply for humanity. They taught humanity the art of bending. And then people turned against them and hunted them into extinction. Zuko thinks it’s the saddest story he’s ever read, and here it is, beautifully and painstakingly carved into the wall of an abbey. 

“The lion turtles,” Mother Superior explains.

“I’m familiar with the story,” Zuko admits. At his eye level, a lion turtle attempts to disguise itself on dry land. His eyes flicker through the story. The disguise doesn’t work. “It’s awful. The lion turtles, and… the dragons, too.” Zuko closes his eyes. “And the Air Nomads.” 

Mother Superior moves closer to him, and Zuko holds the bundle in his arms tighter. 

“I believe none are gone from the world,” she says. “Your friend is here - the Air Nomads are not all lost to us. There are stories of dragons and lion turtles surviving, also, just like the Avatar.” Zuko looks up at her, even as the carvings call to him. “Did you know that the legends say the last of the lion turtles is a fire lion turtle?” 

Zuko shakes his head, and Mother Superior leads him further up the wall, toward the corner. She gestures, and Zuko’s eyes follow the story. 

It would be easier with words, Zuko thinks. He knows how to define words, even when there are multiple options. These carvings are all pictures, which leaves too much room for metaphors that might escape him. But… 

“I hope it’s true,” he says, at the end of the narrative. The lion turtle with the fire markings escapes into the ocean. 

Zuko thinks he might have forgotten what it feels like to be this clean. He knows he will be back to bathing in rivers again soon, and only as often as he can convince his travelling companions to bathe, so he takes the time to appreciate bathing in the abbey. 

He even manages to brush oils through his hair, which feels happier than it has since he left Crescent Island. Maybe even longer than that, since he is now regularly spending time without covering it. He twists half of it up into a topknot and, in a moment of weakness, tucks Sokka’s fire lily back into it. 

They take dinner in Bato’s rooms. Zuko misses the neat rows of sisters in the dining room, but he doesn’t question the decision to be alone. And when Aang makes a face at Zuko about the sea prunes, one of the sisters walks into the room with separate bowls for Aang and Zuko. 

“Thank you!” Aang beams. 

The sister bows. “It’s no problem, of course,” she says, and then passes Zuko his bowl. “Please let us know whether this is to your liking. I recall having guests who were Fire Sages, a long time ago - they taught me to make this dish. But it has been many years.” 

Zuko glances down at the rice dish as he accepts it, and then back up. “You had Fire Sages here?” he asks. 

The sister nods. “I was new to the order at the time,” she says, and the smile slips from her face. “The sister sages from the Yushui Temple passed through here, after they were attacked. We cared for the few survivors.” 

Zuko’s breath catches, and he finds himself standing. “My apologies, but I do not know your name.”

“Sister Liqin,” she responds. 

“Sister Liqin,” Zuko repeats, and then offers her a bow. “I thank you for coming to the aid of my sisters.” 

Sister Liqin smiles and nods before taking her leave.

Zuko’s heart is beating hard in his chest as he watches her go. He calms himself with a deep breath and then takes his seat on the floor of Bato’s room. 

It takes a moment for Zuko to notice the quiet. 

When he looks up, it’s to see that the children are looking between Bato and Zuko with puzzlement. And it’s because Bato has an intense look about his face. His mouth is drawn downwards, and his eyes are a little wide. 

“I recall the counterattack,” Bato explains slowly. “I was a boy at the time.”

Zuko looks away from Bato to the others, hoping for some help in understanding the stillness in the room, but they still look confused. 

“The counterattack?” Katara asks, gently. 

Bato raises his eyebrows at Zuko, who purses his lips for a moment before turning to Katara. 

“The sages of the Yushui Temple were attacked on the road by savages,” he explains. “Most did not survive. It’s a story I grew up with, as a warning for…” He hesitates, and then clears his throat. “As a warning for what might happen to a Fire Sage who leaves the temple in a time of war.”

Katara’s eyes are wide and sad. “That’s awful,” she comments. 

Bato draws a loud breath, and Zuko’s heart rate picks up. When he looks back to Bato, his expression is even more drawn. He looks angry, Zuko realises. Zuko’s eyes flicker to the door. 

“Savages?” Bato asks, his voice deep. 

Zuko feels his eyebrows draw in. “Anyone who would attack a group of sages is a savage,” he responds. “They were innocent and peaceful.” 

“Aren’t Fire Sages the backbone of Fire Nation politics?” Bato argues. “Don’t Fire Sages have to sign off on every act of war? I don’t know how innocent and peaceful that makes them.”

Zuko’s temper flares. 

“There is a problem at the heart of the Fire Nation,” he bites out, trying to keep himself from glaring. “The temple and the palace are unbalanced. That does not excuse an attack on sages.” 

Sokka clears his throat. “You said you remember the counterattack,” he says to Bato. 

Bato nods, eyes never leaving Zuko. “The Fire Nation launched a counterattack on the Southern Water Tribe for those sages,” he states. “My father was severely injured in that battle.” 

Understanding calms Zuko. 

“I am sorry for your father’s injury,” he says. “If he was not one of the savages who attacked my sisters in service, he did not deserve it, and it should not have happened.”

Bato slams his hand to the ground. Zuko jumps at the sudden movement. 

“Stop saying that,” Bato all but growls.

Zuko sits up straighter. He really thought he had solved this tension with the apology. He glances at the others, only to find that both Sokka and Katara seem to have frozen. Zuko realises now that he was expecting them to protect him. 

(Will Zuko really never learn this lesson?)

“Um,” Aang says, his voice quiet and unsure. “Is everything okay?”

Sokka and Katara won’t meet Zuko’s eyes. Zuko’s heart thuds against his ribcage. 

The door is on the other side of Bato. Zuko looks to it again, just briefly. He can’t leave without walking past Bato, but he doesn’t know for sure that this is a problem.

“I would like to take my leave,” Zuko says, as politely as he can manage. 

Bato’s scowl is unmoving, but the Water Tribe children aren’t. 

“No no, wait,” Katara says, her voice pitched high with worry. “Don’t leave. It’s fine, everything’s okay.” When Bato turns an incredulous frown on her, she turns to her brother. “Sokka?”

Sokka licks his lips, looking carefully between Zuko and Bato. 

“Okay,” he says, slow and thoughtful. “We need to calm down and figure out what’s happening here, before it’s a whole thing.” 

“Sokka,” Bato says in a firm tone, “you don’t have to put up with him talking to you like that.” 

Zuko is starting to get a pressure headache from how much he’s frowning. “I didn’t talk to Sokka ‘like’ anything,” he protests, and then looks back to the door. He doesn’t think Bato will stop him from leaving. 

Unexpectedly, Sokka moves to sit closer to Zuko. Zuko instinctually pulls away, but Sokka only looks thoughtful.

“Do you know why Bato is upset?” he asks. 

Zuko purses his lips and glances at Aang and Katara. Katara is winding her fingers together, visibly unhappy. Aang looks as bewildered as Zuko feels, but this fact grounds Zuko, a little. 

“The Fire Nation attacked the Southern Water Tribe after what happened with the sages from the Yushui Temple,” he spells out. 

Sokka nods. “Okay. That’s not what Bato is upset about, though. That had nothing to do with you. Bato?”

When Zuko looks back to Bato, his face has cleared of some of the anger from before. His eyes are still narrowed, but he’s lost some of the tension from before. 

“You referred to us as ‘savages’,” Bato states. 

Zuko blinks. “No, I didn’t,” he replies, and then continues when Bato’s face darkens: “I referred to the people who attacked the Fire Sages as savages. I… don’t know that it was the Water Tribe who did it. Was it?” 

“I do not believe so,” Bato responds. “But even if it was, I would have still been insulted.” 

Zuko looks over to Aang, who is the only person who looks appropriately confused, and then back to Bato. “But why?” 

Sokka loosens suddenly then, his shoulders falling in a way that speaks of relief. “You don’t know what it means,” he says. “That makes a lot more sense.” 

“I can define ‘savage’,” Zuko insists, and then goes ahead and does it: “It means violent and brutal.”

Bato huffs a breath. “It’s also how Fire Nation soldiers tend to refer to us,” he says, and his voice has changed, now. It’s still a little rough, but he no longer sounds like he’s holding back from shouting. 

Zuko’s frown deepens. “What? Why?” 

Sokka claps Zuko on the shoulder and offers him half a smile. “How do you know so much and also not know anything?”

“They say it because our society doesn’t function like yours,” Bato explains. “They mean to say that we are uncivilised. That we’re like animals.” 

Zuko’s anger flares again, but this time, it’s aimed in another direction. “They conduct raids and maintain unethical occupations and call you savage?” he asks. 

Sokka looks back over at Bato. “See? I told you he’s all right.” 

Bato stares at Zuko for a moment, and then nods. “Your father is going to be very confused,” he says to Sokka.

“Your father?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka beams at him. He still has his hand on Zuko’s shoulder, which has pulled the two of them a little closer. Zuko isn’t used to being touched much, but he’s getting more familiar with it now. It feels kind of nice. 

“Yeah, didn’t we tell you? Bato has been waiting for Dad to send him information on their rendezvous point.”

“We haven’t seen him in so long,” Katara comments. Her fingers are touching the hollow of her throat, where Zuko understands her mother’s necklace once sat. 

Zuko finally picks up his food. “We need to be careful not to waste too much time,” he says. “Aang doesn’t have long to master the elements. We need to head north as soon as possible.”

Sokka’s hand tightens on his shoulder. When Zuko looks up, it’s to find the other children sharing a smile. 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

“You just admitted that we’re all trying to get Aang ready to fight Ozai,” Sokka points out, and then finally releases Zuko’s shoulder. His hand falls to the floor between them, and he leans back casually and grins up at Zuko. “Welcome to the team.” 

Two days later, the team splits up. 

Chapter Text

There are rumours in Royal Caldera City. 

Kenji is usually not one to care for hearsay. Whispers are natural in any community, and while there are often truths buried in those words, there are also often mistruths waiting to lead one astray. 

But Kenji’s sages are tense as they relay the rumours, and Kenji has noticed that Fire Lord Ozai seems deeply, unsettlingly unhappy. 

“Do you think it’s possible?” Tatsuya asks under his breath as they walk together down the hallway of the palace. 

Kenji glances over his shoulder. “We know the Avatar got away on his bison,” he responds. “It’s… not impossible that Fire Sage Zuko was with him.” 

Tatsuya’s breath comes a little uneven. 

Kenji politely ignores it. 

“Then what happens now?” Tatsuya asks. 

It falls apart with a piece of paper.

Bato spends the evening telling stories. He’s ostensibly speaking to everyone, but it’s clear that his attentions are mostly aimed at the Water Tribe children. Zuko doesn’t mind; once he has finished his meal, he concentrates on copying out his letter to the High Sage.

His attention is only snagged once, when he hears Sokka laugh about the cat owl that was split in two. Aang makes a distressed sound, and Zuko raises his head. 

“It was Sokka’s favourite bedtime story,” Katara huffs in explanation. “He liked to get Bato to tell it because he knew I hated it.”

Sokka snickers. He doesn’t deny this. “Stupid cat owl,” is his only comment. 

Katara rolls her eyes. 

And then Bato tells the story. It’s not a tale of his own adventures, for once, but rather the kind of story Zuko imagines parents tell their children, a story with a moral that is supposed to teach them how to act in the world. 

It goes like this:

A cat owl comes across two snow mice playing together, and tries to hunt both at the same time. The cat owl grasps one snow mouse in each foot. But the snow mice are stronger than the cat owl was expecting, and he finds himself being dragged across the ice. 

The cat owl’s wife calls out to him to take just one snow mouse, but the cat owl responds that they need both or they will go hungry. 

And then the smart snow mice run in the direction of a great, sharp mound of ice. When they get there, they each run in opposite directions - and the cat owl is torn through the middle. 

By the time Bato is done, the Water Tribe children are laughing, and Zuko and Aang are not.

Zuko looks to his side, meeting Aang’s wide eyes. 

“Oh no,” Katara says, finally catching on. “Oh, Aang, sorry. Of course you wouldn’t like that story.”

“It’s okay, Katara,” Aang says, attempting a lightness in his voice that feels patently false. “The monks told us stories about animals, too. They were just usually less… violent.” 

“It’s just a story,” Sokka points out. “No animals were actually harmed or anything. Lighten up! It’s a story about how the snow mice could escape because they were clever, and the cat owl lost because he was greedy.” 

Zuko looks back down to his letter. He thinks about High Sage Kenji trying to hold together the whole Fire Nation, trying to hold the fate of the Fire Sages in one hand and the unethical development of the palace in the other, and finds himself feeling a deep sense of unease. 

But Zuko knows what to do with a deep sense of unease: he retreats to the courtyard to give his evening offerings. 

When Zuko breathes out at the end of his offering cycle, it is to find that the sisters have filtered back into the courtyard. They were probably at their own offerings, Zuko thinks, and he looks forward to taking up Mother Superior’s suggestion that he join them.

Sister Shen Shu finds him on his way back to Bato’s room.

“I have been tasked with taking you to your rooms,” she explains with a smile. “Where are your friends?” 

“They’re with Bato,” Zuko replies. It’s only after he has finished answering that he realises that he didn’t even waver. Sister Shen Shu called Aang, Katara, and Sokka his friends, and Zuko’s mind didn’t even snag on the idea. 

That is probably a problem, Zuko realises, but there isn’t much to do about it now. 

Sister Shen Shu accompanies Zuko to Bato’s room, and the children stretch and say goodnight to Bato. It’s been a long day, Zuko recognises. He’s looking forward to being sheltered through the night. 

“How long until we leave?” Zuko asks Sokka as they follow Sister Shen Shu. 

Sokka flicks at the fire lily still tucked into Zuko’s hair and smiles brightly at him. “We’re going to wait for Bato’s rendezvous letter,” he explains. “It shouldn’t take long. We just have to be patient.” 

Zuko still feels anxious that they don’t waste too much time. But it isn’t his decision to make, and he has made his stance clear. 

“I hope you will find this suitable,” Sister Shen Shu says as she shows them the room. 

It’s large and comfortable. There are blankets and pillows everywhere, and a stone fireplace keeping the room warm. Momo immediately leaps from Aang’s shoulder and burrows into the blankets, chirping contentedly. 

“It’s perfect,” Katara insists, stepping inside. “We really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Your hospitality is most appreciated,” Zuko agrees. 

Sokka and Aang appear to be attempting to follow Momo’s lead, and Katara hides a laugh behind her palm. Zuko takes a step into the room, thinking vaguely of the necessity to get their things from Appa before they settle down to sleep, before Sister Shen Shu holds out a hand to stop him.

“We have separate lodgings for you,” Sister Shen Shu explains. 

There’s a brief moment of hush. “Of course,” Zuko responds. “Lead the way.”

And then all three of the children start talking at once. 

“Uh, no,” Sokka is saying, louder than the other children. He springs up from where he had collapsed onto the blankets and points a finger at Sister Shen Shu. “Not happening. Nuh-huh. Zuko stays with us.”

Zuko blinks, a little overwhelmed by his vehemence. Sister Shen Shu’s eyes are wide as she looks from the three angry children toward Zuko. 

“Uh,” Zuko starts, confusion growing, “it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Well of course you don’t mind,” Katara snaps, turning a scowl on Zuko, “you would sleep in a barn if you were told to.”

Sister Shen Shu looks mildly panicked. “We’re not telling him to sleep in a barn?” she tries. 

There’s another stretch of quiet. Aang is chewing on his lip, glancing between everyone else. Sokka and Katara are both glaring at Sister Shen Shu. 

Zuko clears his throat. He turns deliberately away from the children. “I apologise,” he says to Sister Shen Shu. “You may show me where you would prefer me to stay.” 

“We’re coming with you!” Katara insists, pushing her way to Zuko’s side. 

“Um… Very well,” Sister Shen Shu responds, and then leads them out of the room.

Zuko breathes very steadily, and reminds himself to be patient. 

(It’s never been a strength of his.)

Eventually, Sister Shen Shu rounds a corner and presents a new room. She glances behind Zuko at the children, and then seems to decide to ignore them. 

“Please let us know if you have a need we have not accounted for,” Sister Shen Shu requests. 

This room is smaller than the last. The blankets and hangings are in various shades of deep red. There is a basin of water in the corner, and what Zuko thinks might be a stone altar. The window, Zuko recognises, is facing east; Agni’s first rays will brighten this room in the morning. 

“Thank you, Sister Shen Shu,” Zuko says. 

Sister Shen Shu smiles and ducks her head. “We weren’t sure if you needed a personal altar or any ritual objects,” she admits. “There are candles - Mother Superior seemed quite sure you would have a use for those. But please let us know if you need anything else.” 

“We tend to give offerings from ourselves, using our fire,” Zuko explains, moving further into the room. “I have never witnessed offerings to another spirit.” 

Sister Shen Shu smiles and offers a bow. “Then it will be our honour to have you join us,” she says. “If there’s nothing else you need…?”

Zuko allows Sister Shen Shu to take her leave, and then turns to the others with his arms folded. 

To their credit, the children look a little awkward and sheepish. 

“You were very rude to Sister Shen Shu,” Zuko points out. 

Katara’s shoulders rise as she frowns. “Well, you really don’t need a whole separate room,” she points out. “Maybe it’s rude of them to make you a different room without asking us first.”

“It is kind of weird,” Aang agrees with a shrug. “Why can’t you just stay in the big, comfortable room with us?”

“They must think it’s inappropriate.” Zuko reaches over to light the fireplace and draws warmth out of it as quickly as he is able. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter why. They’re our hosts. If they think I should sleep separately, then I will.” 

Sokka huffs. “I don’t like it. They think it’s fine for Katara to stay with us even though she’s a girl, and for Aang to stay with us even though he’s also into spirit mumbo-jumbo--” 

“Hey,” Aang protests weakly. 

“--So what, what is this? Why would they think it’s inappropriate? Just come and stay with us, Zuko.” Sokka takes a step closer to him and reaches for Zuko’s wrist. 

Zuko pulls away. 

“You owe Sister Shen Shu an apology,” he informs the others. “I will be going to sleep now.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka protests. 

But when Zuko turns his back and waits long enough, the other children leave. 

Zuko lets out a breath, comfortably alone.

(It’s been a while since Zuko has truly been alone overnight. 

Zuko had his own bedroom in the palace, and in the High Temple, and in the Avatar Temple. He slept alone in Gaipan, too, though he admittedly didn’t spend much of that night asleep. 

But these last weeks, he’s been growing slowly accustomed to sleeping with other people around him. He’s used to the way Katara sighs in her sleep, and the way Appa snores loudly, and the gentle shuffling sounds of presence. 

It’s only when he’s trying to sleep in true quiet that Zuko realises that something in him has shifted. Now, when he’s alone, he feels it more starkly than he expected.)

Zuko rises with the sun, gives his own morning offerings, and then joins the nuns.

The morning begins with the cleaning out of the altars, a task which Zuko gladly joins. The sisters are silent through the work, but for aiding Zuko’s understanding. And then they throw their perfumes around the room, and wash their faces and hands in water, and Zuko finds himself swept along for the ride.

It’s a surprisingly quiet experience. Zuko spends much of it sitting on the sidelines, because he doesn’t understand the highly intricate rituals enough to respectfully join in, but the biggest surprise to Zuko is the silence. His own offerings are wordless, too, but that is only the case when he is alone. When Zuko leads offerings, or participates in group offerings, there are explanations, recitations of text, questions and answers. 

This early in the morning, the quiet is something of a blessing. Zuko finds himself filled with gratitude as he witnesses their rituals. 

Mother Superior approaches the stone table at the front of the room and finally speaks, her voice deep and resonant, as she tells the story of the local spirits. Zuko listens carefully, collecting questions to ask her later. 

Finally, Mother Superior throws salt over the stone table, and then stands to one side as the sisters approach. Zuko stands on his tiptoes to see what they are leaving on the altar, but he can’t make sense of it. One sister leaves cut flowers; another leaves a handful of dry rice. Sister Shen Shu delicately places a small mirror at the corner of the table.

Mother Superior moves around the room toward Zuko. He drops back onto his heels, hoping that he isn’t about to be scolded. 

Instead, Mother Superior holds something out to him. It’s a small candle, barely the size of Zuko’s thumbnail. Mother Superior says nothing, but the way she holds it out sounds like a question, and not a demand.

Zuko nods, bows in gratitude, and joins the line of sisters. When he approaches the front, he places the candle down, lights it from his inner fire, and then imitates the nuns by clapping twice before joining the sisters in the back of the room. 

Standing in formation with the sisters causes something in Zuko to relax. He might not understand their rituals, might not have much context for the local spirits they venerate, but Zuko knows how to exist as a part of a group. He knows how to offer respect and gratitude, how to feel the light of Agni permeate the world around him - and now, Zuko understands that the sisters feels the grace of their spirits, too. 

The ceremony ends with Mother Superior offering the sisters tea. Some things, Zuko thinks as he drinks, are universal. 

Zuko follows Mother Superior once they leave the room.

“I have many questions,” Zuko says. “First: how do you choose the spirits? Are there ancestral stories about them? Do they ever change, or is this abbey bound to specific spirits?”

Mother Superior watches Zuko from the corner of her eye. After a moment, she sighs. 

“Are you planning to join us today, Fire Sage?” she asks. When Zuko nods, she continues: “I shall answer your questions as we travel. But I implore you to be careful with your words.”

Zuko doesn’t stumble, but it’s a near thing.

“Oh.” He swallows. “Have I… said something to cause offence?” 

“Not as such,” Mother Superior responds. They are almost at the dining hall. “But you Fire Sages adore your words. Your questions, arguments, criticisms. My sisters are not here to argue or to cast doubts. We are an order of action and worship.” 

Zuko stands up a little taller. He finds himself wanting to argue for the concept of healthy argument, but he catches himself before the words fall from his lips. Perhaps, he recognises, Mother Superior has a point. 

“Our way is not your way,” Zuko recognises. 

Mother Superior offers him a smile. “It was an honour to offer with you,” she says, her voice a little warmer. “And I shall explain more as we travel. Go, sit with your friends.” 

Zuko finally sends his letters to Royal Caldera City.

He includes one version of his letter to High Sage Kenji, and keeps the others with him. Zuko still isn’t sure what Katara wants with the copies - he imagines sending them to the other temples, but… he doesn’t imagine that would work, and it feels underhanded to suggest that anyone go against the High Sage. 

If only Zuko could speak with him in person again. If only Zuko could spell out his understanding of the war and the future, and have High Sage Kenji take him seriously. 

Zuko spends the rest of the day focusing on work with the sisters. Mother Superior, true to her word, allows Zuko to ask questions and does her best to respond to them. There is a small part of Zuko that wishes she had a book, so that Zuko could make notes and connections, but he does not waste the opportunity to learn from her.

Zuko follows Mother Superior around all day and hopes that he isn’t being too annoying.

Trading the perfumes is only a small part of their work in the village. Mother Superior is approached by many people seeking her wisdom, which feels familiar, even though their questions are not legal or ethical in nature. Zuko spends much time tending to bandages and providing ointments, which he feels underprepared and undertrained for, but he does his best to follow orders without question. 

(Some of the villagers are not pleased with Zuko’s presence. Zuko has opted to leave his hat behind, as is becoming his usual custom, but he is still visibly Fire Nation... and many of the injuries he treats are burns. It does not escape Zuko’s notice. But Mother Superior never goes far, and nobody outright refuses to be aided by him.)

“May your healing be swift and complete,” Zuko says again, this time to a child whose arm he has treated. 

The child looks up at him with round eyes. 

“Are you a firebender?” he asks, suspicious. 

Zuko forces himself to remain still and not shift uncomfortably. He’s kneeling on the floor in order to be on the boy’s level, and the boy’s mother is looming over the two of them with a distinctly unconvinced expression.

“I am,” Zuko responds. “My name is Fire Sage Zuko. I am a guest of Mother Superior’s.” 

The boy tilts his head. “I’m Weizhe,” he said eventually. “I wanna see your fire.”

The boy’s mother clears her throat. “Weizhe,” she says, soft but stern in a way that Zuko has heard other mothers speak. “You can’t insist on benders performing for you.”

“You said I need to not be scared of fire,” Weizhe points out. “He’s nice and he has fire!” 

Zuko’s smile is small, but it blooms so suddenly that it catches him off guard. “Oh. I, um. I don’t mind.”

When Weizhe’s mother doesn’t protest, Zuko lifts up a hand between them and calls up a tiny flame on his fingertip. Weizhe startles, but then he relaxes, leaning in to watch the flame dance.

“Your fire’s weird,” Weizhe declares.

“What?” Zuko asks. “No, it isn’t.”

“It has weird colours,” Weizhe insists, pointing his own index finger at it.

Zuko blinks, and then frowns. Is the child correct?

He pulls the flame into his palm and extends it outwards, allowing the fire to unfold further along his skin. 

And… Weizhe isn’t completely wrong. His fire is filled with reds and oranges and yellows, but there is the occasional flicker of a rusty brown, or a pale green. It’s very strange, Zuko thinks, watching the flames. Zuko’s fire has never acted out before. But Princess Azula’s fire has been blue for years. Perhaps there is a part of him that would be able to produce blue fire, too, if he trained for it. 

“You’re right,” Zuko allows, and then smiles at Weizhe. “I guess it’s a little weird.” 

“I don’t think it’s scary,” Weizhe states with a firm nod.

Zuko allows his fire to flicker out. “Good,” he says. “We have to be careful around fire… which you, uh, know. But it’s not inherently scary.”

Weizhe runs to Sister Huiling for a piece of candy, and his mother hesitates before leaving. 

“Thank you,” she says, short and clipped. “For the rebandaging, but… also for helping him not be scared.” 

Zuko stands back up, and offers her a shallow bow. “It is my honour.”

She watches him for a moment, and then nods before following her son. 

Zuko catches up with Sister Shen Shu on the long walk back from the village. She smiles widely at his intrusion, as if she is pleased for his company. 

“I have a question for you, Sister, if you don’t mind sharing,” Zuko requests. When Sister Shen Shu gestures for him to go ahead, Zuko asks: “The other sisters were offering from nature this morning. You offered a mirror. I was wondering…” 

“Isn’t everything from nature?” Sister Shen Shu asks. “Just because human hands polished the mirror doesn’t make it unnatural. People, after all, are also from nature.” 

Zuko looks out to the lines of trees they are walking between. He supposes Sister Shen Shu has a point. If antmole hills are natural structures, even though they were built by antmoles, then surely even houses built by humans are natural. 

He nods. “I see. Thank you. I have a follow-up question.”

Sister Shen Shu hides a smile behind her hand. “I assumed you would,” she admits, amusement lacing her tone. “You always seem to have more.”

Zuko recalls Mother Superior’s request that he be careful with his words around the sisters. “Of course. My apologies. I will withhold my questions and simply walk with you, if that is acceptable.” 

Sister Shen Shu’s smile disappears. “Oh. No, I didn’t mean that you should stop. It is not usual here - but I don’t mind. Please ask your question.” 

She reaches out to touch his arm as they walk, a touch that Zuko now recognises as an offer of support. Travelling with Aang, Sokka, and Katara has taught him a great deal about the ways in which people seek and offer contact from one another. 

“It seemed that everyone offered something different,” Zuko says, choosing his words carefully. “In Fire Temples, we offer only fire. We usually use candles and lamps in set services - and of course there are ceremonies which use other objects, but fire is the only thing we actually offer. I wished to ask what your mirror meant.” 

Sister Shen Shu hums. “Our offerings represent things we are asking for, or things we wish to communicate with the spirits.” She holds out a hand to brush the leaves of the bush they are walking by. “It is often from different plants, representing different elements of our existence. Fire lilies,” she explains, glancing at Zuko with a smile, “represent passion and zeal.” 

Zuko nods. “And mirrors?” 

“I wished to ask for self-reflection,” she explains. “To see myself more clearly.” 

Zuko thinks about the cat owl who was split in half because of trying to hold too many things at once, and finds himself aching for the same thing Sister Shen Shu asked from the spirits. How can Zuko know whether he is helping to maintain balance, or about to be split in two? 

“Do you not ask such things of Agni?” 

“We offer only fire, because Agni gives us the fire of life. It is a representation of our gratitude for such a gift. But Agni’s presence touches all places - so he knows what it is we wish for and need. We do put it into words, sometimes, but… that is to harness our own self-understanding, not to guide Agni.”

Sister Shen Shu hums. “Your words are your mirror,” she suggests, and the pair smile at one another, pleased to have found common ground. 

All in all, it is a productive day. Zuko learns about healing, and the offerings at the abbey, and Mother Superior even tells him about the history of the area. 

It is late when they return to the abbey, but Zuko sees Appa chewing on hay in the courtyard, so he knows the others have not moved on without him. He goes to look for them after dinner, and finds them eating in Bato’s room again.

“It’s just a bit weird in there,” Sokka explains. “They’re so…” 

He trails off. “Ordered?” Zuko suggests. “Tidy?”

“Yeah, you get it,” Sokka replies, even though Zuko definitely does not ‘get it’. “What were you up to today?”

Zuko explains about joining the nuns in the town, and witnessing their offerings beforehand.

“That sounds fun!” Aang insists. “I liked learning the Fire Nation offerings. Maybe I’d like the Earth Kingdom ones, too. Do they do them in the evening? Can we go now?”

This is how Zuko finds himself hassled into requesting another welcome to join the sisters, this time with the Avatar in tow. 

It is, in short, a disaster. Zuko isn’t sure he’s ever been more embarrassed in his life, and he grew up as a failure constantly compared to a firebending prodigy. 

Zuko motions to Aang to cease immediately. 

Aang lets the fire go out in his palm. He sighs, posture collapsing, and watches the silent procession with the air of a bored child. 

Zuko is aware that his face must be as red as his robes. He feels hot with indignation and humiliation. Aang twists his foot against the stone floor, creating a squeaking noise.

Mother Superior looks over at the pair of them, and Zuko tries to communicate his sincerest apologies with his eyes. He sits perfectly still and perfectly silent, not even daring to participate in the occasional moment of hand-clapping. In this moment, Zuko does not feel worthy of participating even in this way - and he certainly doesn’t want Aang to try to follow his cue and end up clapping out of sync. 

Mother Superior does not suggest that Zuko offer anything today. Zuko holds himself together with perfection, and feels a pang of pain in his stomach that he has come to associate with displeasing a superior at the Fire Temple on Crescent Island. 

Finally, the service concludes with the tea ceremony. Zuko squashes down the questions he wants to ask Mother Superior (they used a different altar and faced a different direction than this morning; do they do this for different spirits, or different times of day?). He recognises that he has not earned the right to her attention tonight, especially after leeching so much of it during the day. Instead, he participates in the ceremony, repeating the sparse words of acceptance of the tea that the sisters recite. 

When Mother Superior hands Aang his tea, he beams at her and says: “Thanks! I love tea. Yum.” It is… not even close to the recitation he’s heard over a dozen times before receiving his cup. 

Zuko tries to hold himself back from sighing. It would be improper to display his irritation in a house of worship, he tells himself. The least he can do is remain proper, so that only one guest is behaving inappropriately. 

When they leave, Aang turns to Zuko with a wide-eyed expression. “Wow, that was boring,” he comments, as if they’re not still in the abbey run by the sisters whose offerings he is insulting. As if they’re not guests here. “It was so quiet, and they didn’t even meditate! And it was so long - was it this long this morning?” 

Zuko feels his hands heating up with anger. He squashes it down and restrains his inner fire. “You are being highly inappropriate,” he says as quietly as he can manage. 

Aang blinks up at him. “Huh?” 

“The sisters are--” Zuko starts, and then pulls in a deep breath. He locates his fire and soothes it. “They are doing us a huge favour here, Aang. We’re sheltered at their mercy and their grace. They’ve been looking after Bato’s health. The least you can do is not insult them.” 

“I didn’t insult anyone!” Aang protests. “It’s not my fault I was bored. It was boring. And anyway, I didn’t say that to them, I said that to you because you’re my friend.” 

Zuko tries to smother his glare, but he’s aware that he isn’t managing it very well. “You spent the entire service making it abundantly clear how bored you were. You made noise continuously in a silent service - do you have any idea how distracting that was? It was… You were disrespectful. And I need a moment to think,” he requests, “so that I can figure out how to adequately apologise.” 

Aang looks stricken. He looks like Zuko has just attacked him physically. 

“Oh.” Aang swallows, and his eyes are gleaming with-- oh, no. Zuko’s anger dissolves as he realises that he has chastitsed a child into crying. “I’m. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Mother Superior that I’m sorry too, I promise. I didn’t realise…” 

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a headache growing behind his eyes - the kind that usually means he’s been reading for too long without his glasses. 

Aang goes to walk away from him.

“Wait.” When Aang stops, Zuko makes himself look up. He feels very tired. And Aang is very young. “I am sorry. I should not have spoken to you like that. You didn’t know any better, and I… didn’t prepare you for this experience,” Zuko says, realising this truth as he says it. “I’m used to working out the rules of worship and following them, and you’re not. That was unfair of me.” 

Aang blinks at him a few times, and then reaches up to brush away the few tears that have fallen. 

“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” 

Zuko is abruptly reminded of himself as a child, before he was given over to the Fire Temple. He was always stepping on the toes of his elders, especially the man who was once his father, and he never really understood how he was misstepping so badly. Nobody ever explained it to him, either. 

“I will help you smooth it over with Mother Superior,” Zuko promises. “I will explain to her that it was my error.” 

Aang frowns. “It wasn’t your fault,” he insists. “I know how I get if I’m not meditating. I should have asked instead of assuming. Monk Gyatso used to say I have beetle-ants in my pants.” 

It shocks a chuckle from Zuko, which makes Aang smile at him. 

“Anyway, I, uh. I feel bad that I made this weird for you.” The smile slips from Aang’s face as he looks over at the sisters who are gathered elsewhere in the courtyard. Sister Shen Shu catches them looking and waves. Zuko nods back at her. “You really like it here, don’t you?” 

Aang sounds… sad, Zuko thinks, but he doesn’t understand why he would sound sad when asking a question like that.

“Yes,” Zuko admits. “It reminds me of the best parts of life in the Fire Temple. I appreciate the order, and the sense of purpose. Does it remind you of being in the Air Temples?” 

Aang shakes his head. He’s still looking over at the nuns, and not at Zuko. “No, the Air Temple was different,” he explains. “It was filled with kids, for a start. We used to play games together, and go to lessons, and then we would travel and go to towns and… all sorts of things! It was fun.”

Zuko doesn’t know that he could describe his life in the Fire Temples as ‘fun’. There were certainly moments that he treasured, but it was not a place designed for childhood. 

(Mother Superior is stern but understanding. She orders no punishments or actions of educational value. Instead, she listens, nods, and requests that Aang refrain from joining them for full services. 

“If you wish to join us, perhaps you can come for the tea ceremony only. That way, you can experience offerings with us in a way that is compatible with your… spirit.” 

“Yum,” Aang responds with a grin.)

Late in the evening, late enough that Zuko should be heading to bed, Sokka gives him a gift. 

Bato is in the middle of telling a story to Katara, who is listening intently and occasionally adding questions, when Sokka turns and catches Zuko’s wrist. Zuko flinches away, surprised by the sudden contact, but Sokka only smiles and nods his head for Zuko to follow.

They leave the room quietly. Zuko is tired in a way he has almost forgotten: tired from a long day of work and thinking, rather than from travel and companionship. He can feel it in his bones, and he tries to hide a yawn behind his hand as Sokka leads him out into the courtyard, where the night air is cool and comfortable against his skin.

Sokka turns a smile on Zuko, who finds himself automatically smiling back. He isn’t sure when he developed that instinct. 

“You haven’t spent much time with us since you got here,” Sokka points out, but Zuko doesn’t think he looks annoyed by this fact. “Bato’s been showing us around the abbey - but you’ve been hanging out with the nuns so much that I thought you hadn’t really seen everything?”

Zuko tilts his head. His hair catches a little in the breeze, pushing it into his face, and Sokka’s hand comes up like he’s about to push it away. But then Sokka snatches his hand back and coughs, awkward for a reason Zuko doesn’t understand. Sokka has spent a lot of time touching his hair, in a way that would be inappropriate by Fire Nation standards but clearly isn’t for the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko isn’t sure why this particular motion is something to avoid. 

“I suppose I agree.” Zuko tucks his own hair behind his ear. He feels a little bereft by the fact that Sokka stopped himself, and can’t quite categorise his own emotions. 

Sokka reaches into his bag and hands over a piece of parchment.

It’s so thoughtful that Zuko’s eyes ache with it. Sokka has apparently been spending time drawing Zuko a map of the abbey, to make up for the fact that Zuko has been too busy to wander the grounds. 

The map is meticulously detailed. Sokka has added titles where someone has given them to him, but left other areas blank where he clearly lacks understanding. In several places, he has used the margins around the map to draw a circle with an arrow pointing inwards, and then scratched out an up-close picture of something of interest. 

It is both the best and worst map Zuko has ever seen. The map itself is carefully detailed and precise. The zoomed-in pictures are almost incomprehensible. 

“I cannot possibly accept this,” Zuko says appropriately, his eyes roving over the page. 

It takes him a moment to realise that Sokka is being unusually quiet. 

Zuko looks up, and the breeze catches his hair again. This time, Sokka doesn’t reach out to push it back. Zuko watches as his face draws into a scowl, eyes flashing with what might be anger. 

“Really?” he asks, voice low and flat. “That’s… What exactly do you think we’re paying you for, Zuko?” 

Zuko’s heartbeat quickens. He glances around, first down at the map and then around at the near-empty courtyard. No clues burst out to meet him. 

“I don’t understand,” Zuko admits, hoping that Sokka will explain. 

Sokka scoffs, and then reaches out and takes the map out of Zuko’s hands. Bitter disappointment wells up as Zuko watches it being taken away - but he’d barely had it in the first place, he tells himself; there’s really nothing to miss. 

“Sure.” Sokka shakes his head, not meeting Zuko’s eyes, and takes a step back. “You just go on and keep ‘not understanding’ everything.” 

Zuko has had a long day, and he’s exhausted from how much energy he has to spend trying to understand people - and suddenly, a bubble of anger bursts under his skin.

“That isn’t fair,” Zuko says, forcing himself to stand tall. “You keep saying that I have to communicate. But when I tell you I don’t understand, you don’t actually explain yourself.” 

Sokka turns back to him, drawing in a breath like he’s about to retort with as much frustration as Zuko is feeling. And then his eyes meet Zuko’s, and something holds Sokka there, watching him. 

Sokka purses his lips, the muscles in his face shifting as he looks over Zuko like Zuko is the one who is acting strangely. But if there’s something to be figured out here, Sokka will manage it. Zuko knows he just needs to be patient. 

In the midst of this strange moment, with tension hanging in the air, Aang bursts onto the scene.

“Bato and Katara are being boring,” he insists, his voice hoarser than usual, like he’s trying to restrain himself from showing that he’s upset. 

It’s a distraction that Zuko immediately appreciates, because Sokka’s eyes are piercingly intense and piercingly blue even in the dark, but Sokka doesn’t seem as keen on the interruption. 

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, Aang,” he says, not looking away from Zuko.

Zuko folds his arms. The silence stretches until it’s too thin, and then Aang visibly sags. “Oh,” he says. “Okay-- Okay then.” 

Aang leaves, and Zuko is left with Sokka, waiting for Sokka to decide their fates. 

Finally, Sokka states: “You won’t take the map.” 

Zuko blinks. “What?”

“You won’t take the map, and I find that hurtful,” Sokka declares. He sounds almost painfully awkward about it. “There. We’re talking about things. Now you understand.” 

“I…” Zuko thinks about Jinghua, and everything clicks into place. “You think I was rejecting payment, and that hurt your feelings, because…” He trails off, not wanting to put the last part into words.

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Because we’re friends,” he finishes for Zuko.

Zuko licks his lips. “And friends don’t pay each other. They just give gifts?”

Katara had said, in a warm cave sheltering them from the rain, that they were friends. Aang called Zuko his friend when they were arguing. But Zuko has done nothing to earn that title, and he doesn’t really know what to do with it.

Zuko sighs. “I don’t know how to be friends,” he admits. “But I wasn't rejecting the map. I was... It's considered polite to refuse a thoughtful or expensive gift at first.”

Sokka frowns at Zuko again, but it’s the puzzled frown, not the angry one. “Wait, hold on, back up to the friends thing. What about the kids you grew up with?”

“I didn’t grow up with many children around,” Zuko admits. 

Sokka leans against the wall. He still has the map in his hands. Zuko tries not to look too covetously at it. 

“I guess I assumed you grew up like Aang,” Sokka explains. “A temple full of kids, a bunch of monks - or sages - looking after them. Firebending games. Stupid robes.” 

Zuko finds himself fiddling with one of his metal cuffs. It’s a habit he broke himself of when he was merely twelve, but it flares up again in this moment in which Zuko feels oddly raw before Sokka. 

“No, there are no children in service of Agni.”

“Except you.”

Zuko looks up at Sokka. “I’m not a child.”

“I thought you said the age of majority in the Fire Nation was eighteen.” Sokka tilts his head, still looking too intently at Zuko. “You’re not eighteen, are you?”

“I’m sixteen,” Zuko explains. “I was born in the year of the Tigerswan, in the middle of winter, under a waning crescent.” It’s a fact that Zuko knows well from his youngest years: he was born in the middle of the night, when not even the moon deigned to provide light. But then he was reborn in the flames of Agni, and it no longer mattered. 

“So there’s a child in the service of Agni,” Sokka says slowly, like he can tell Zuko is going to argue but can’t figure out how.

Zuko shakes his head. “I reached the age of majority by passage through the fires, instead of the passage of time,” he explains. “But that isn’t usual. I understand I’m the only person in history who has done this.” 

Sokka lifts the hand that isn’t holding the map and pinches the bridge of his nose. “So there are no kid sages, because becoming a sage means legally becoming an adult?”

“But nobody else does it that way.”

“Why did you do it that way?” Sokka asks, exasperation ringing clearly through his tone. 

Zuko restrains himself from shuddering in the cold. He doesn’t want it to be misinterpreted. Very occasionally, Sokka is startlingly perceptive. 

“I was given to the temple in exchange for something my former family wanted,” he explains. There was a time he might have said that he was a token of goodwill, but Zuko knows better now: he was exchanged for power. “I suppose they could have waited until I reached the age of majority the usual way before they allowed me to join the order, but… there was no rule against having me take my vows when I was eleven.”

“When you were--” Sokka’s voice comes out high and loud. He stops, clears his throat, and tries again: “When you were eleven, your family sold you, and then you became a legal adult because there was no legal reason not to?” 

He looks at Zuko like Zuko is supposed to correct him.

“Yes?” Zuko tries. “That is what happened. But it was… fine. I liked being in the High Temple more than I liked being with the people who were my family.”

“Well of course you did, those people sold you.”  Sokka gestures at Zuko, and then seems to realise he’s still holding the map. “Here. This is yours.” He presses it into Zuko’s hands, and then he looks at Zuko very seriously again. “Look. I know you like all that legal mumbo jumbo, but sometimes things can be technically legal and still wrong, and selling people is one of those things, and making eleven-year-olds be adults is another one of those things.” 

“Selling people is illegal,” Zuko assures Sokka. “But in a time of war, children take on adult roles. You know this; you were left to raise your sister.” 

Sokka’s face darkens. “That was because there wasn’t another option.” 

Zuko goes to respond, but he slowly realises that Sokka isn’t wrong. The Southern Water Tribe had to leave teenagers in charge because they were fighting for survival. The Fire Lord gave him to the temple for power. Those things are not parallel.

He nods. “Thank you for the map, Sokka,” Zuko says, and dips into a shallow bow.

Sokka makes a frustrated noise, runs both hands over his wolftail, and then says: “Sorry, buddy. That’s not enough. Someone’s gotta hug you and I’m the only one here.” He takes a step toward Zuko, and then hesitates. “If that’s okay?” 

Zuko is confused, but this time his confusion feels manageable. 

“Okay,” Zuko allows, even though he doesn’t really understand what he’s done to deserve a hug. 

Sokka wraps his arms around Zuko carefully, like he thinks Zuko is going to spook and run away at any moment.

And they’ve hugged before, the two of them, back when Sokka turned up with a warning about an oncoming flood. But that had been so brief that Zuko barely had time to register that it felt nice. This time…

This time is unrushed, and careful, and Sokka is very warm. Everything seems to slow down around him. Zuko raises his hands to Sokka’s back, and he thinks he might be able to feel Sokka’s heartbeat, and. And Zuko isn’t sure he can remember the last time he was hugged like this. 

He tries, for a moment, to remember. But aside from Katara clutching his arm or Sokka briefly embracing him in Gaipan, he can’t draw anything out of his memory.

Who would the last person have been? Not the Fire Lord, not even when he was Zuko’s father. Maybe Fire Prince Iroh, when Zuko was ten or eleven. 

Zuko is no expert, but he suspects that this embrace is lasting too long. But Zuko isn’t going to be the one who pulls away. Not when it feels like this, like Zuko’s skin has been hungry all this time, like every inch of him that’s touching Sokka is warmer and happier than Zuko has felt in years. 

He finds himself tucking his forehead against Sokka’s shoulder, and Sokka’s hand comes up to his hair - and yes, it’s inappropriate for him to be touching Zuko’s hair, but nothing about this is appropriate at all, and maybe that doesn’t really matter.

“Hey,” Sokka says, quiet enough that the breeze almost carries it away. “You okay, there?”

Zuko thinks that maybe Sokka is trying to tell him to stop clinging, and he works hard to loosen his arms and draw back. Sokka’s face is stained red, only just visible from flickering torches and moonlight, and Zuko knows he’s messing this up somehow but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Yeah,” he says, and he reluctantly pulls away until his hands fall from touching Sokka at all. Zuko holds the map to his own chest. “Thanks. For the map. And…” 

“And?” Sokka asks, and he still has a hand on Zuko’s bicep, which makes Zuko feel a little better about how difficult it was to let Sokka go. 

Zuko forgets what he meant to say entirely and stumbles a small step forward, bringing them closer. Sokka’s eyes widen, and Zuko is trying to figure out whether he is supposed to ask for another hug or just go for it, and then Aang is back. 

Zuko watches Sokka’s eyes close in annoyance as Aang asks: “Hey guys, what’s…?” 

Sokka slides a confusing glare over to Aang, who seems taken aback by Sokka’s expression. “What?” Sokka snaps, and then shakes himself. “Sorry. What’s up, Aang?” 

“Um. Nothing. I’m going to bed now?” Aang says as he steps backwards, and then he waves awkwardly at the pair of them before disappearing back into the abbey. 

Zuko sighs. “It’s late,” he notes. “I should go to sleep, too.” 

Sokka’s shoulders slump, and his hand falls from Zuko’s arm. “Yeah. Yeah! Right, that makes sense. Uh. Good night?”

“Good night, Sokka,” Zuko says. “Thank you for the map. I like it.” 

Sokka smiles and shrugs. “Maybe we could do some exploring tomorrow, if you’re not too busy?”

Zuko should make himself useful. But then again, Mother Superior has been adamant that Zuko not spend all of his time being productive. “That sounds nice,” he allows. 

The warmth follows Zuko all the way into sleep.

Zuko wakes up alone, which he somehow isn’t used to doing anymore. He prepares for the day, gives morning offerings, and finds Aang so that the pair of them can join the sisters for the tea ceremony at the end of their own morning service. 

Aang is better today, but it’s for a concerning reason: he seems drawn into himself and quieter than usual. And furthermore, when the Water Tribe trio tell one another stories over breakfast, Zuko is fairly certain that he witnesses Aang rolling his eyes. 

There is no reason for a dip in Aang’s emotional state that Zuko can quantify, aside from the fact that Sokka was sharp with him last night. Zuko ensures that the two of them sit beside one another at breakfast and hopes that this will encourage resolution. But he’s quickly distracted from the tension, because Sokka turns a bright smile on Zuko and says:

“Ready for an adventure?”

Zuko feels himself softening at Sokka’s expression. It feels too easy to nod and smile. Zuko should be steeling himself for this going wrong, because it will go wrong - but instead, he finds himself following Sokka and the map around the abbey and trying to piece together the stories carved into the walls.

“This is my favourite story,” Sokka declares with a flourish. “This story is: man meets panda wolf. Panda wolf builds a stone wall to keep man away. Panda wolf turns into a flower. The end.” 

“Intriguing,” Zuko comments, squinting at the panda wolf. “Which is all a metaphor for…” 

“Umm, the circle of life,” Sokka concludes, tapping his chin with a finger. 

Zuko tries really hard to restrain his smile. It doesn’t work. 

“Right, the classic life cycle: panda wolf, manual labourer, flower.” 

Sokka nods. “You’ve got to stick to the natural cycle. See, you got moved from ‘panda wolf’ to ‘manual labourer’ too young, and now you’re like this.”  He gestures to the entirety of Zuko. 

“I would probably be offended if I wasn’t confused,” Zuko responds, and Sokka grins at him. 

They continue like this through the morning, working their way around the abbey and occasionally stopping sisters to ask for actual explanations of stories and items. They are more patient with Zuko and Sokka than Zuko imagines the sages would have been at either of his temples.  

This is a good place. If Zuko didn’t have an oath to keep, didn’t need to reunite with his brothers and sisters in service of Agni, didn’t have an imbalance to stabilise, he could imagine being happy staying here. But then, Zuko thinks as two of the sisters walk Sokka and Zuko through a brief ceremony with perfumed water - but then, maybe that would only be the case if the children stayed with him.

Maybe what Zuko really wants is to crystallise this moment in time. Maybe he wants to trap it in amber, to be preserved forever. 

He isn’t sure he’s ever felt this way before. It’s a little scary, actually. But it’s hard to be scared when Sokka is already leading Zuko to the next stop on the map, his hand careful on Zuko’s wrist like he’s trying to encourage him without being stifling, his laughter a little too loud to be appropriate in a place of worship. 

Zuko finds something in himself relaxing steadily, all the way into lunch, when they sit within the neat rows of sisters. And Aang doesn’t even seem off again once Bato invites him to go back to the boat that had brought them together.

“You can join us too, Zuko, of course,” Bato invites. 

It’s a warm day for this time of year, and the breeze is pleasant by the water. Zuko feels light, like he might be carried away on the wind, but in a good way. 

“This is my father’s ship,” Bato introduces, lifting one hand to the wood. “It’s very sentimental to me.”

“Is this the boat he took you ice dodging in?” Sokka asks, and Zuko finds his interest piqued as Bato affirms. 

“Ice dodging?” Zuko asks, eyeing a gauge along the boat’s side. 

“It’s a rite of passage in the Southern Water Tribe,” Bato explains. “When a boy turns fourteen, his father takes him out where the waters aren’t friendly, and the child dodges the icebergs.” 

Zuko frowns. “That sounds dangerous.” 

“Well yeah, that’s the point,” Sokka explains. “You’ve got to learn to dodge the ice on your own.”

Katara offers Zuko a smile. “It’s okay, Zuko - whatever you’re imagining, it’s not really that bad. The guardian is always there to take over if things get out of hand.” 

To which Sokka adds: “ But, if he does that, you haven’t completed your ice dodging.”

“It sounds like fun!” Aang insists. “Like when I rode the unagi!” 

“That wasn’t fun - that thing tried to eat you,” Katara reminds him. 

“So why do you do it?” Zuko asks. 

“Why did Aang try to ride the monster that wanted to eat him? Because he’s Aang,” Sokka explains, gesturing with both his hands in Aang’s direction. Aang only grins in response. 

“No,” Zuko tries again, “why does the rite of passage exist? What’s the point of it?” 

Sokka drops his arms from gesturing to Aang. “It shows that you’re wise, and brave, and trustworthy, and strong,” he explains. “All the things a tribesman needs to be.”

“But you could prove that in other ways,” Zuko points out. He turns to Bato. “Why ice?” 

Bato hums. “That’s a good question, Zuko,” he responds, calm and good-natured, like Fire Sage Tatsuya. “Ice dodging is a kind of water ordeal.”

Sokka groans loudly. “Ugh, this is the worst. You’re going to love it, Zuko.” He lifts a hand and pats Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko slides a glance to him, confused, and then refocuses on Bato. 

“Water ordeals are how the spirit of the ocean, La, shows his approval. If the ice is impossible to dodge, then La believes that the child is not ready for the rite yet.” 

It’s like walking into Agni’s fire, Zuko realises. When he had descended alone into the fire, Zuko didn’t know how the flames would accept him. When the children of the Water Tribe take to the waters, they don’t know how La will respond. 

“I understand,” Zuko states. “So La accepted you, Sokka?”

Sokka’s face was pulled into a half-smile, but Zuko watches it fade from his face. “Uh. No.” 

“Sokka didn’t get to do it,” Katara explains. “Dad left before he was old enough.” 

“Oh, I forgot,” Bato says. Sokka continues to deflate. “But… You know what, it’s not like the ocean spirit is confined to the South Pole.”

Sokka looks up with hopeful eyes.

Two things happen in quick succession: 

First, La approves of Sokka. Zuko doesn’t join them on the boat, because he doesn’t want to be a factor in a water ordeal, but he watches from the shore as Sokka works through the choppy waters with expert ease. 

Second, the team splits down the middle, like a cat owl holding two snow mice. 

It happens once the children and Bato are back on steady ground, and Zuko is watching with greedy eyes as Bato performs a ritual with painted symbols. 

“And for Aang,” Bato concludes, swiping his thumb in an arc under Aang’s arrow, “the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Zuko has so many questions. Does Aang have a legal status with the Water Tribe now? Are there any issues with Aang being an honorary member of the Water Tribe, but not of the Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom? Should Zuko suggest similar rituals be performed with the other nations to engender balance?

While Zuko is thinking, Aang’s face falls.

“Oh, I-- I can’t accept this,” Aang says, reaching up to wipe the paint from his forehead. Zuko feels an abrupt stab of anxiety at the apparent disrespect. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“What?” Katara asks, taking a step toward him. She reaches out to Aang’s arm, but he flinches away. “Of course you can accept it, Aang.” 

Aang shakes his head. “I need to tell you guys something,” he says, and then draws a piece of crumpled paper from his sleeve. “Someone gave me this for Bato. It’s--”

“--the rendezvous map!” Sokka finishes for him, snatching the map from his hand. “This is the map to our father - how could you keep this from us?”

The atmosphere has turned hostile so abruptly that it shakes Zuko, who takes an automatic step forwards with his hands raised to request quiet. 

“I’m sorry!” Aang replies, his voice high with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-- I was just--”

“Why wouldn’t you give this to us, Aang?” Katara asks. The anger in her eyes is hesitant, like she wants to find a reason for it to fade away, but it’s still very present. Aang doesn’t respond immediately, just stares up at her with wide, worried eyes, and Katara adds: “Aang!”

“I just-- I was scared,” Aang says, and his tone shifts swiftly from panicked to defeated. “I thought… You found your Dad, and Zuko was happy with the nuns, and I didn’t want…”

“You didn’t want to be alone,” Bato suggests, and his voice is understanding and patient, but Zuko frowns over at him nonetheless. 

“It is improper to interrupt statements of witness, and it is certainly improper to provide details that weren’t given,” Zuko reprimands. 

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Sokka snaps. 

Zuko folds his hands together, and pushes his shoulders back, and very deliberately does not take anything personally. “Aang. Please continue.”

Aang’s lip wobbles dangerously. “I just didn’t want to be alone!” he protests. “I just--”

“So you thought you’d just steal this so that we can’t ever see our father again?” Sokka asks, waving the crumpled map. 

“Sokka, you should not interrupt,” Zuko tries again, and this time it’s Katara who whirls a glare on Zuko.

“Don’t tell Sokka what to do!” Katara all but shouts, whirling on Zuko. “You don’t get to choose who talks when, this isn’t the Fire Nation.” 

“I know this isn’t the Fire Nation,” Zuko replies. “But you are asking Aang questions and then not letting him answer - I’m fairly sure that’s considered improper everywhere.” 

Katara’s face screws up. It’s been a while since she’s leveled Zuko with a glare, and Zuko isn’t sure it has ever been this fierce. “Oh yeah, because you just know everything, don’t you, Fire Sage Zuko? Well, you know what - you can add this to your little list, too - you are the most patronising person I have ever met!” 

Zuko has his mouth open to explain to her once again why it is important to allow Aang to make his statement, and then Katara’s words suddenly register. “My… what?” 

There’s a moment of unnatural quiet. Zuko isn’t sure he can even hear the waves lapping against the shore, like La himself is holding his breath.

“What did you say?” Zuko tries again when Katara doesn’t answer.

Katara’s face has relaxed from its scowl, but not in a way that looks any happier. Her eyes are wide now, and she has lifted one hand to her bare throat. “I…” 

“Um, we are not getting distracted from this,” Sokka insists, flailing his arms out. “It’s not even our fault about the stupid ‘everyone hates me’ list. You sent it to us, Zuko.” 

Zuko feels a wash of cold, and then a blaze of heat. 

“You read my list?” he spits, whirling from Katara to Sokka and then back again. “That wasn’t-- That was private!” 

Zuko desperately tries to remember what he wrote when he was balancing reasons to trust them with reasons not to. He feels like he’s on fire, both from fury and humiliation. 

“You, uh, you sent it to us,” Aang explains. “When we were at Jinghua’s house and you were trying to tell us about Zhao.” 

He-- He sent it to them. Zuko remembers finding a scrap in his pocket and scrawling a note, unable to see well enough to know what he was writing on. It was-- 

Zuko’s fists tighten by his side. He works hard to keep them both from bursting into flame. 

“How dare you--” 

“NO,” Sokka shouts and points at Zuko. “This is not about you! This is about how Aang lied to us and kept us from our father - don’t you dare make this about you!” 

And Zuko knows that they’re right, this isn’t about him, but he’s incandescent with anger anyway. He holds it in as best he can, fists trembling and heart beating hard against his ribcage, until Sokka finally nods like he’s satisfied and turns back to Aang. 

“I’m sorry,” Aang repeats.  “I just… I was scared. I was scared you weren’t going to come with me anymore. I didn’t want us to split up.” 

“Well maybe we should,” Sokka exclaims. “Maybe we should go find Dad instead.” 

“Sokka…” Katara says, but doesn’t continue. 

Aang continues to wilt. “I understand,” he says. There are tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

And pieces fit together in Zuko’s mind. Aang didn’t have a list. Aang was naive, and he didn’t approach this relationship with any idea that he would be left behind. He hasn’t been waiting for it like Zuko, hasn’t been constantly braced for this impact. If Zuko were able to feel anything but humiliated and infuriated, he might feel sympathetic. 

“It’s fine, Aang,” Zuko states, trying to reach for his sympathy. “Katara and Sokka are not important. They can go back to their father without it affecting the mission.” 

“We’re not-- You know what, Zuko, go drown your ancestors,” Sokka swears, and then turns on his heel. “Are you coming, Katara?”

Katara hesitates for a moment, but it really is only a moment. She shakes her head at Zuko, and glances at Aang, and then follows her brother.

Bato sighs before following them, and then it’s just Zuko and Aang on the beach.

The ocean is loud now, like it’s judging Zuko, and Zuko finds that his anger burns no longer. It has been snuffed out. There’s a lot left in its wake - embarrassment, and hurt, and aching tiredness - but Zuko does his best to sweep the ashes into some containable pile at the corner of his mind. 

“You’re staying with me?” Aang asks. 

Zuko doesn’t look at him. A bubble of anger bursts again as he thinks about how long they all had access to his private thoughts without saying a word about it: in the cave after the storm, bathing together in the river, Sokka tucking a fire lily into Zuko’s hair. 

“We have parallel missions,” Zuko responds. 

The cat owl could survive the story, if it only let go of the mice. 

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji has never once enjoyed sitting in on war council meetings.

Kenji has never been a particularly idealistic man, but there is still something about the difference between his expectations of this room and the realities of it that pinches uncomfortably at his mind.

Then again, Kenji thinks as he sits back and listens carefully to plans he should have the freedom to object to - then again, the last handful of years have been more difficult than they were before he had to guide a young, idealistic, naïve boy into sagehood. He was supposed to spend those years shaping Fire Sage Zuko into a practical, level-headed leader, but instead, Zuko has somehow managed to drag Kenji backwards. Zuko is somehow still managing it, even years after being exiled from Kenji’s care.

(Kenji finds himself recalling what it had been like to hold his former sons in their infancy. He recalls how his whole consciousness shifted when there was a delicate child in his arms, like every danger was highlighted and the size of the world stretched out so wide around them. And he wonders, occasionally, if the eleven-year-old prince dropped at his feet caused a similar shift in his perspective - if all the time that Kenji was trying to teach Zuko to see the world through the eyes of a sage, Kenji was actually learning to see the world through the eyes of a child.

But it isn’t enough, Kenji recognises. Zuko’s simplicity might have made Kenji freshly aware of the flaws in the temple and the palace, but it hasn’t presented solutions.)

Zuko is alive. Kenji is sure of it. Every time a conversation touches the edges of the question, the Fire Lord’s expression twists in fury and offence, and it tells Kenji everything he needs to know. The boy is alive, and he is with the Avatar. Zuko is alive, and he isn’t alone.

Zuko wishes he could be alone.

His belongings are mixed up with everyone else’s. It isn’t irrevocable, but it does take time for the Water Tribe children to disentangle their lives from Zuko and Aang’s, and it’s an awkward and awful stretch of time. Zuko keeps his eyes down and hopes that nobody is looking at him, because he feels uncomfortable in his own skin with needing to stay beside Sokka and Katara right now. And yes, there’s a tendril of hope in Zuko that the quiet activity will allow them all to calm down, but that hope soon dwindles and dies.

(Zuko firmly tells himself that there is no reason to hope. Going back to the way this group worked at the beginning of today would only lead back here eventually. It’s better to know this now, to have it plain before him, than to try again and again to avoid the inevitable.)

When most of their items are finally separated, and Sokka is sadly patting Appa on the head, Bato suggests: “Maybe the two of you could drop us off on your way.”

Sokka glares over at Bato. “Or not.” He pulls away from Appa and crosses his arms. “We wouldn’t want to get in the way of the mission.”

“It’s, um. North,” Aang points out. He’s barely looked up since the argument. “So it’s… not out of the way.”

“That’s settled then,” Bato insists, ignoring the expressions on the faces of the Water Tribe children. “You’ll drop us off at the rendezvous point before you move on.”

Bato looks over his shoulder to Mother Superior, who offers him a sharp nod. Zuko doesn’t understand what that means, but he knows that he needs to say goodbye properly, so he walks in Mother Superior’s direction and bows a touch too low.

“It’s been an honour and a pleasure,” Zuko says before straightening his spine. “I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality.”

Sister Shen Shu sweeps into the courtyard before Mother Superior has a chance to respond. “Mother Superior, I have the oil,” she says before handing over a vial. She bows to both of them. “And Fire Sage Zuko - I hope you will return to us one day. May your path be clear and your soil bear fruit.”

“May it be so,” Zuko agrees. “May your eyes see truth and your hearth be ever warm.”

“From your lips to the ears of the spirits,” Sister Shen Shu states, and then smiles before bowing deeply and taking her leave. She glances back from the doorway, and Zuko feels a sudden burst of grief about leaving this place, but he has a mission to fulfil.

(And staying longer would only lead to the inevitable moment in which they would send him away, anyway.)

“You’ve left quite the impression,” Mother Superior notes with a touch of amusement.

Zuko nods his head. “I have truly appreciated my time here,” he says, and doesn’t say: I wish I could stay this time.

Mother Superior hums. “I thought to offer you a blessing before your departure, should you find that appropriate,” she suggests.

With the hostility at Zuko’s back, he privately thinks that he can use any blessings he can get. Mother Superior opens the vial of oil and then presses her oiled thumb to the crown of Zuko’s head. “May your heart overflow with the oil of life,” she says, and then presses between Zuko’s brows. “May your inner flame catch only wicks of truth,” she continues, and it’s here that Zuko realises that this was a blessing created for Zuko specifically. Finally, Mother Superior brushes oil against Zuko’s throat. “May the light of your honour cast out the darkness of ignorance.”

“From your lips to the ears of the spirits,” Zuko agrees, feeling a little short of breath.

(Zuko wonders, idly, if receiving a goodbye like this from High Sage Kenji would have changed his experiences on Crescent Island.)

Mother Superior smiles. “I wish you well, Brother Zuko.”

The journey to the rendezvous point seems to take forever. And it is somehow a thousand times more awkward than their first journeys, back when Zuko didn’t know who any of these people were or what he was going to do with himself.

Though he supposes he has returned to that first place again, anyway. He doesn’t really know these children at all, even if there was a brief whisper of a moment that felt like friendship. It only felt that way because they had peered into Zuko’s fears and then responded to them. All of those memories of the last days, which felt at the time like he was softening at the edges and making room for other people in his life - none of it was real. And once again, Zuko doesn’t really know what he’s going to do now, except attempt to follow an ill-defined mission - and likely follow it all the way to being declared guilty of high heresy.

Sokka navigates, because he is their best chance at accurately following a map.

(Zuko has stuffed Sokka’s map of the abbey into a robe pocket. He wants to get it out and look at it, because he already misses the abbey and he already misses Sokka, but Zuko restrains himself and instead keeps very still and very quiet.)

Bato does not seem to react to the tense quiet appropriately.

“... and you’ll have to get your Dad to tell you about the time we were almost capsized by messenger puffin hawks,” Bato explains, as if everything is normal.

Katara’s face lights up, like she’s excited about the idea of asking her father about the puffin hawk story, but then her eyes catch on Aang’s dejected slump and the light snuffs out.

Everything is not normal.

Zuko’s hand has found its way to his pocket, fingers searching for the edge of the map that was once a gift. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering about whether the rules of friendship mean that he is supposed to give it back now. But then his fingertips catch on a petal, and he pulls a crumpled fire lily from his pocket.

He doesn’t remember putting it here, but he does remember Sokka tucking the flower into Zuko’s messy hair. He remembers thinking about the woman who was his mother, and how these were her very favourite flowers, and how they would look in bloom at Zuko’s first home.

His heart snags and pulls as he looks down at the crumpled, dying fire lily cupped in his palms.

Bato’s voice carries in the breeze, warm and friendly and not aimed at Zuko. Zuko closes his eyes and listens instead to the wind whistling by his ears.

The journey seems to take forever.

And somehow, forever ends, and they land.

It’s starting to get late in the day. Zuko can hardly believe that it was only a short number of hours beforehand that he and Sokka were creating foolish stories out of the holy carvings on the abbey walls - something which Zuko now feels was disrespectful and childish of him, even though he felt light as air at the time. He feels heavy now, the cuffs on his hands and feet dragging him down to earth.

The beachside campsite is bustling.

Katara and Sokka hit the ground running.

Zuko stands next to Aang, watching Sokka and Katara reunite with their father. Chief Hakoda’s grin stretches so wide that it looks painful, and he picks up each of his children in turn, even though Sokka struggles and yells through the embrace.

The other men of the camp are almost as enthusiastic, approaching Bato and the children to pat them on the back.

They look happy, Zuko thinks. It’s a nice moment. And it’s a good thing that Sokka and Katara have a parent who cares about them, have somewhere to go home to.

“Come on,” Zuko suggests, turning away from the family scene. He nods toward Appa, and Aang trembles as he looks up at Zuko.

“Can’t we stay? Just for a little while?”

Aang’s eyes are very large, and Zuko is afraid that the wrong response will cause them to fill with tears, but… they’re not welcome to stay here. And as much as there’s a part of Zuko that feels hooked and reeled in by the love surrounding Katara and Sokka, he knows that it isn’t made for them.

However, Zuko doesn’t know how to say this isn’t meant for us to Aang without then having to handle the consequences. Aang doesn’t have a list of reasons to assume he’ll always end up here, back in this moment, leaving everything behind. He doesn’t understand, yet, what it means to be alone in the world.

And Agni help him, but Zuko doesn’t want to be the person who teaches this to him.

Zuko draws in a breath, steeling himself, but is interrupted before he needs to find any words:

“Ah. It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Bato asks, his voice a touch too loud. “You should probably stay until morning. It’s been a long day for Appa, after all.”

Zuko holds the air in his lungs, momentarily thrown.

Behind Bato, Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Oh!” Chief Hakoda takes a few steps toward them, and Zuko feels his shoulders tense. “Kids, you haven’t introduced us to your friends!”

Nobody corrects him.

“Uh, this is Aang. He’s the Avatar,” Katara says, her voice a little reluctant. “And that’s Zuko.”

Chief Hakoda visibly hesitates when he takes a good look at Zuko, even though he hadn’t flinched at the mention of the Avatar. “Oh. Are you…?”

“Fire Nation,” one of Chief Hakoda’s men interrupts. Zuko glances over Chief Hakoda’s shoulder. There are a lot of eyes on him now. Zuko’s heartbeat picks up.

Zuko purses his lips for a moment, and then dips into an appropriately shallow bow.

(Bowing, Zuko reflects, is a show of vulnerability. There is a brief moment in which an attack could be devastating. He has known this in theory for a long time, but isn’t sure he’s ever really understood before this moment.)

“I am Fire Sage Zuko,” he introduces himself, “formerly of the Temple of the Avatar. Previous to that, I was stationed at the High Temple in Royal Caldera City.”

Chief Hakoda’s smile doesn’t falter, but it does shift. He turns his head toward his children, but Zuko is aware that his eyes don’t follow. He’s tracking Zuko on the assumption that he’s a threat, even as he smiles.

“Explain?” Chief Hakoda requests.

“It’s fine, he’s not a problem,” Sokka responds. “We were travelling together. Our plan had been to go north, to help Aang learn waterbending.”

“Because I’m the Avatar,” Aang says, as if it isn’t abundantly obvious. “Katara was helping me learn waterbending, and Zuko was teaching me about firebending.”

There’s a shift of movement, and Zuko can feel the tension rise in the crowd, even though he can’t pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s a series of hands crawling closer to weapons, or eyes narrowing in Zuko’s direction.

“Look.” Bato raises his hands calmingly. “Zuko isn’t a threat to us. He’s just a kid, and he’s travelling with the Avatar.”

Chief Hakoda nods, and then moves closer to Bato. “Maybe it’s best they do go tonight,” the chief suggests. “I trust you, and so I’m sure the firebender is safe. But there’s no need to keep him here, is there?”

Bato’s jaw tightens as he glances around. “Can we talk in private?” he suggests.

Aang doesn’t want to leave, and without Zuko present, he might have been able to stay the night. But it’s clear that Zuko is intruding. “We should go,” he suggests. “I’m not welcome here.”

“That’s not true,” Katara insists, even though Katara should be among the first to try to get rid of them. “There’s nothing wrong with them staying the night. Is there?”

She turns a glare on the camp of men who were just moments ago celebrating her arrival. It’s a powerful thing, being on the wrong side of that expression.

One of the younger of the men comes forward, deliberately not turning his back on Zuko.

“Katara, for all you know, he’s a spy,” he points out. “We’re only looking to protect you. If there’s no need for him to be here--”

“Oh, like you all protected us by leaving?” Katara snaps, and then turns on her heel and walks toward Appa. “Excuse me if I think I can look after myself.”

There’s a wild moment in which Zuko thinks Katara means to leave with them. But once she has reached Appa, all Katara does is reach up for her bags, clearly dismissing the opinions of her tribesmen behind her.

“Zuko and Aang are staying the night,” she calls out.

“He could attack us in the middle of the night!” one of the tribesmen protests.

Sokka snorts. “Well, no. He can’t.” At the questioning silence, he clarifies: “Aang and Zuko are pacifists. They took vows of sitting around and not doing anything.”

“I didn’t take any vows,” Aang corrects him.

Zuko blinks and turns to Aang. “You didn’t take any vows?” he asks.

“Nope! We had philosophy and poetry and all kinds of things, but we didn’t have to say any vows about it. We just dedicated ourselves to the winding path.” He smiles up at Zuko, and Zuko carefully pretends that his smile doesn’t look a little sad.

Zuko recalls Mother Superior’s gentle chastisement: You Fire Sages adore your words.

(He wants to comment, to question, but those words ring in his head and he very deliberately withdraws his words into himself.)

“You’re aware that a spy would say all kinds of things to make you think you’re safe,” the tribesman adds to Sokka.

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Look, Zuko is a lot of things, and they’re mostly all things that aren’t that great. But he isn’t a spy.”

“I think you’d make a really bad spy,” Aang comments to Zuko quietly.

“Thanks,” Zuko responds.

Bato and Chief Hakoda walk around from the back of the tents, and Chief Hakoda’s children turn toward him like sunpoppies toward the sun. The men of the tribe don’t seem to be willing to look away from Zuko, like he might burst into flames and tear them down at any moment.

“Aang and Zuko will stay the night,” Chief Hakoda declares with one hand on Bato’s shoulder. “We’ll say our goodbyes in the morning. But it’s important that the children rest before they continue their long journey north.”

Zuko blinks in surprise when he realises he has been folded into the category of ‘the children’.

And that is how Zuko finds himself eating dinner with a camp of very wary men.

The sun is setting, and a chill is carried on the breeze from the ocean. Zuko sits beside Aang with his back straight and his shoulders tense. Aang is telling stories to some of the tribesmen, but he keeps throwing dejected glances in the direction of the Water Tribe children, who are hanging off their father’s every word.

A long time ago, Zuko was used to eating politely in a room of people who were waiting for him to mess up at any moment. Zuko’s problem was always that he would make a mistake. No matter how hard he tried to ignore Fire Princess Azula’s needling, or the Fire Lord’s impassive, unimpressed gaze, Zuko would always mess up somewhere along the way. It was only a matter of how or when.

This particular meal is different only in shallow details. They are sitting around a campfire, and nobody seems overly caring about manners. There are no proper silences or thinly veiled insults. Nobody cares about the precise angle of Zuko’s spine.

Nonetheless, it is a den of viper shrews waiting for Zuko to stumble, and so stumble he does.

Taqtu turns to Katara with a warm smile and says: “You’ve grown up so much, Katara. I’m glad to see you’re learning waterbending.” He seems like a kind man, even if he keeps glancing warily in Zuko’s direction. “You must be… twelve now?”

“Fourteen,” Katara answers.

Taqtu shakes his head. “It’s been too long.”

And several things shift together in Zuko’s mind:

Taqtu getting Katara’s age wrong by years.

Sokka being fifteen, at least a year older than the ice dodging ritual, and Bato not realising they had missed that cultural marker.

Sokka and Katara’s sheer desperation to reunite with Chief Hakoda.

“Have you not been back to the South Pole in years?” Zuko finds himself asking.

Taqtu blinks at him, and then looks to Chief Hakoda instead of answering.

“You know this already,” Katara points out slowly, like she isn’t sure why Zuko is responding with surprise. “The men of the tribe all left years ago, for the war effort.”

“All of them?” Zuko asks, because he definitely did not know this. “And they didn’t come back to check on you?”

Bato turns to Zuko with a smile, but it’s a strained expression. “We were fighting a war,” he explains. “We believed it was our duty to join the war effort. We provided support to the Earth Kingdom.”

“You left all of your most vulnerable behind,” Zuko reflects back, doing his best to keep his voice calm and steady, “with no protection against the Fire Nation, to add power to a hopeless fight?”

Hush falls, and Zuko knows that he has stumbled - he knows that - but he isn’t wrong.

“It is not a hopeless fight!” Sokka snaps “You-- You’re fighting it, you know that!” More quietly, he hisses: “What are you doing, Zuko?”

Zuko places his food down carefully. “Then explain to me the progress you have made in this war that justifies the sacrifice of all of your most vulnerable.”

“How dare you,” one of the men declares, whipping up to standing. “Of course you hoped nobody would fight back against your people.”

Zuko looks to Bato for an explanation, but Bato’s head is in his hands.

“Um,” Aang says, “I think Zuko didn’t mean that?”

“No, I meant it.” Zuko holds his head high. “The vulnerable belong in the centre of society, protected at the edges by the strong. They do not belong alone and surrounded by predators.”

“You are the predators,” Cupun protests.

“I await an explanation of how you justified this.”

“Nobody owes you shit, ashmaker,” says the tribesman who is still standing, one hand on a sheathed dagger.

“That’s enough, Nukilik,” Chief Hakoda insists. “We are not above being questioned on our choices.”

“Chief, with all due respect, we are above being questioned by an ashmaking brat who’s probably--”

“Nukilik,” Chief Hakoda interrupts, his voice low and calm. “We can discuss this in private. But not in front of the children.”

That is rich, Zuko thinks with dark anger. They can’t discuss this in front of the children, but they can abandon the children to their deaths, all to participate in a losing war in the name of honourless glory.

“Would you really have them do nothing, just let the war go on?” Sokka asks. His eyes are narrowed at Zuko, but it looks more confused than angry this time. “I don’t believe that you think that, Zuko.”

Zuko chooses to ignore the hostile camp and focuses instead on Sokka.

“As I understand it, the war is not close to being won by the Earth Kingdom,” Zuko states. “Perhaps my information is faulty. But if the Southern Water Tribe joining the fight would not tip any scales, then yes, I believe that it is unethical to abandon one’s obligations to children, and the elderly, and the otherwise vulnerable.”

“I’m not listening to this shit,” one of the tribesmen states, and leaves the campfire. Several others follow.

“With all due respect, Zuko, you never had to make that decision,” Bato points out. “And if everyone in the world thought that way, there would be no warriors to fight.”

Zuko blinks and sits back. “That’s a good point.”

Chief Hakoda hums. “Our sister tribe, in the north - they won’t fight against the Fire Nation. They have closed themselves off in the name of survival. They left us to our fate.” The chief’s eyes are bright and serious across the fire. “If they didn’t do that - if they joined us in the fight, and the Earth Kingdom united… that might be enough strength to fight the Fire Nation.”

It’s a bind, Zuko realises. There is no good answer. “There’s no long-term strategy,” he says out loud. “Without everyone on the same side, there isn’t enough power. But you still left. Even though Sokka and Katara…”

“I left for Sokka and Katara,” Chief Hakoda insists.

Zuko believes that the chief believes that. But it still feels hollow, thinking that one bad day could have taken them both out, and the chief would have been nowhere near to aid them.

“You wanted to model to the world that it was time to fight,” Zuko says, and doesn’t continue: but you sacrificed your own children’s safety to do it.

“Yes,” Chief Hakoda adds. “Nobody here will claim that it was an easy decision. But it’s not one you should judge, having been put in no such position.”

Zuko doesn’t like it. He cannot agree with risking the lives of children on the off-chance of convincing more people to join a war effort. But the fight seeps out of him anyway, because as much as he might resent these men for leaving Katara and Sokka to their fates, he knows that there’s no changing it now.

Later, in the dim light of Agni’s last rays, Zuko spots Katara and Sokka having what seems to be an intense conversation at the edges of camp. Katara catches Zuko’s eye and walks over, her steps brisk and her arms crossed across her chest.

“If everyone was on the same side,” Katara says, slow and deliberate over her words, “do you think that would really be enough?”

Zuko has no answers.

Much later, when Zuko is readying himself for sleep, he hears a conversation that wasn’t intended for his ears.

Eavesdropping is inappropriate. Zuko knows this, and he goes to leave, but then he hears:

“If the chief is so adamant that we have to put up with the firebender, we could… you know.”

Zuko freezes in multiple ways: he goes very still, and he goes very cold.

But the faceless man hasn’t said kill him, and Zuko knows better to assume he understands. He might be mistaken. He has missed the context for this--

“Look, I say we just sail out and drop him in the ocean, let the waters decide.”

Zuko’s pulse picks up.

“The ocean is calm here, and hardly cold. We would need to tie his hands,” a contemplative voice adds, and Zuko leaves.

“We should trade off on watches,” Zuko insists when Aang returns to their bedrolls. “I can take first watch.”

Aang yawns. “They have their own watch,” he points out, nodding over to Taqtu.

“I don’t mean a general watch, I mean in case the Water Tribesmen try anything,” Zuko explains.

Aang frowns at him. Zuko can just about make it out in the light of the dying embers. “We don’t need to protect ourselves against Sokka and Katara’s family, Zuko,” he insists. “I know we’re not… friends anymore, but.” Aang takes a deep breath, and then smiles. “But we’re safe here!”

Aang is safe here, Zuko recognises. Aang is the Avatar. He is the symbol of hope for the exact war effort that the tribesmen left for. It’s only Zuko who is under threat, and Zuko deepened his own danger by standing up against these men.

This is Zuko’s problem. He and Aang are not friends, even if they are going to continue their travels together, and Zuko should not attempt to share his own responsibilities.

“Very well,” Zuko agrees.

Aang goes to sleep.

Zuko doesn’t.

Zuko sits a little off-balance, engaging his core muscles to keep himself awake.

Taqtu’s watch ends. Zuko does not know the name of the tribesman who takes over, but his eyes never leave Zuko.

The watches change, and the stars move across the sky.

Morning crawls in.

Sokka takes one long look at Zuko the following morning and asks: “Are you okay?”

He then seems to remember that he doesn’t care, because he looks away from Zuko with a scowl. Zuko doesn’t answer.

(He also doesn’t eat, because the kind of people who would calmly discuss sailing out to sea and throwing him overboard are the same kind of people who would tamper with food.

Zuko isn’t sure whether to count the pointed glares at his rejection of the food as being due to him avoiding tampered food, or because he’s being rude. But he’s too tired to put any effort into figuring it out.)

“Before you go,” Sokka says toward the end of breakfast, “Katara and I were talking.”

Aang’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Katara turns to Zuko. “Did you finish making copies of your letter to the High Sage?”

There’s a story that Zuko knows, a myth of a spirit who was bound to follow the orders of a villager. The villager’s wife asked the spirit to collect fish for their dinner from the river. The spirit failed to return, and the villager found it days later beside a pile of fish taller than the villager’s house.

Zuko feels like that spirit as he continues to pull letters out of his pocket and place them in a teetering pile on the sand.

(Momo growls softly from the bottom of Zuko’s other pocket, jostled by the movement.)

In defence, Zuko says: “You didn’t tell me how many to copy.”

“No, this is good,” Katara insists, choosing a piece of paper at random. “Read this.” She pushes it under Sokka’s nose.

Zuko has spent so many years internally constructing this letter to High Sage Kenji that he feels oddly vulnerable letting anyone else read it. And he certainly feels uneasy about Sokka reading it now, when he has already peered into Zuko’s worst expectations and then caused them to come true.

He doesn’t watch Sokka read. Instead, Zuko looks down at his own hands, and thinks about how the heavy cuffs on his wrists and ankles would drag him down if he was tied up and thrown from the side of a ship.

An aching press of tiredness grows under his eyes.

After a few moments, Zuko’s attention is snagged again as Sokka reaches out to touch his elbow. It’s fleeting, Sokka pulling back almost immediately, and Sokka never looks up. Zuko doesn’t know what the touch means, but he watches the frown deepen on Sokka’s features.

To Zuko’s surprise, Sokka gets to the end of the letter, hesitates, and then begins to read again. It reminds him so strongly of when he first handed this letter over to Katara that he’s filled with a rush of affection, even as he tries to push it down and away.

Sokka finishes again, swallows, and says: “Okay. This is… a plan.”

“It isn’t a plan,” Zuko points out. “It is a description of the problem, not a solution.”

Sokka looks up and meets his sister’s eyes. Katara nods at him once, firmly.

“Right, but what if the description of the problem is the solution?”

“Huh?” Aang asks, before reaching out and snatching up one of the letters. His eyes dart over the characters on the page. “Oh, you quoted Monk Nyima! I heard of her.”

Zuko has spent years developing his thoughts about the Fire Nation based on the case of the house built on the stolen beam. The fact that the woman who proposed the hypothetical question was an Air Nomad is an irony that crept up on him a step at a time.

The smile slips off Aang’s face as he continues to read.

“You already sent this to the High Sage, right?” Sokka asks, and waits for Zuko’s affirmative nod. “Good. So now we’re sending it elsewhere.”

“I thought about sending letters to the other temples,” Zuko explains, and he’s tired down to his bones. The fact is that Sokka and Katara haven’t thought about what would happen for years, haven’t played out every scenario and known that it was inevitable to fail. “If they even read it - if they haven’t declared me a heretic already - they know this. This isn’t news to anyone. It’s an accusation at best, but…”

Zuko hesitates when he sees that Sokka is smiling at him.

“You were just waiting for us to turn up, huh?” he asks, and it sounds… friendly. Like they haven’t shouted at one another, like they’re not sitting in a camp that Sokka has rejected this fight for, like nobody told anyone else to drown their ancestors.

When Zuko fails to respond, the smile starts to slip.

“So the temples won’t do it,” Katara continues, one hand on the scattered pile of letters. “But the temples aren’t everything.”

“Right!” Sokka responds, sitting back. “You’re always talking about the balance between the temple and the palace, Zuko, but you forgot: there’s a third power in there.”

“The… military?” Zuko asks.

“The people,” Katara bursts, even as Sokka looks thoughtfully off to the horizon. “Zuko, haven’t you noticed? People listen to you.”

“They listen to me because I am a sage,” Zuko responds. “The other sages do not support my perspective.”

Sokka’s voice is quiet when he says, “They listened to you in Gaipan.” Zuko looks over to him, but he’s still looking in the distance. “Katara, we were thinking about palace, temple, and people, but… the military is important there. We should send this to the outposts.” His eyes meet Zuko’s again, painfully blue and more than a little determined. “You convinced soldiers to change the way they were treating the Earth Kingdom citizens. Maybe you can do that again.”

“We’re going to send your letter to the High Sage everywhere,” Katara declares. “You lost the argument with the sages? Fine. Let the people decide.”

Zuko swallows. “What you are suggesting is encouraging treason among the masses,” he points out, fear beginning to grow in his belly.

“No, we’re using the people to pressure the temple,” Sokka argues. “We’re not asking anyone to murder the Fire Lord for us - though hey, if it happens, it’s not the end of the world--”

“You said it yourself, Zuko,” Katara presses. “The Southern Water Tribe couldn’t make a dent in the fight alone. The North didn’t join because they had no proof that the Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdom could take down the Fire Nation. But it doesn’t need to be us against the Fire Nation.”

“Not if at least some of the Fire Nation join us,” Sokka continues.

Zuko thinks. His mind is slower today, like he’s moving against a current.

“You want a civil war.”

“Is that any worse than this war?” Katara challenges.

Zuko wipes the cold sweat from his hands on his robes, and turns to Aang. “What do you think?”

Aang is still looking down at the letter. When he looks up, Zuko can’t help but think he looks painfully young.

“I think the more people who want to fix the world, the better. Right?” Aang asks. He looks back down to Zuko’s words, and Zuko tries not to think about how he had detailed the transgressions the Fire Nation military committed against Aang’s people.

“If you say you can’t participate in civil war, I’m going to throw something at you,” Sokka insists.

Zuko’s mind rushes again, working through books he has no access to, and concludes: “I’m only telling the truth. The repercussions of truth are not my direct responsibility.”

This is another fact that others will no doubt disagree with him on. But at this point, Zuko supposes he must trust his own sense of correct action within their great tradition, even if it ends with him falling, burned and scorned, at the Fire Lord’s feet.

Katara and Sokka make a list of places to receive Zuko’s letter to the High Sage, and Aang hesitantly sticks with them.

Zuko does his best to aid the children by pointing to outposts and towns on their world map, but while Zuko’s education in geography was extensive when he was in the palace, it is also quite significantly out of date. Bato and Chief Hakoda are much more helpful, though they seem less enthused by the potential of pressuring the High Sage via the spreading of information.

Zuko tries not to think about High Sage Kenji directly. His letter was personal, inked to the attention of High Sage Kenji, Defender of the Flame of Agni, and was intended to be a plea for the High Sage to act. It feels like a betrayal to bring their citizens into the argument. It feels like opening a closed courtroom to the public.

But if there’s a chance it could work…

Zuko’s mind is racing, and he aches from lack of sleep and food, and guilt is starting to claw at him. There was a time in Zuko’s life in which all he wanted was for High Sage Kenji to be proud of him. There was a time that Zuko took up endless hours of the High Sage’s time and took it entirely for granted. And now here he is, readying himself to air their dirty laundry to the world, in hopes that it will coerce him to act.

Just off the shallow coastline housing the Southern Water Tribe’s campsite is a length of trees, which provide great cover for the camp. Zuko walks until he finds a clearing between the trees, and then strips from his robes to make optional offerings to Agni, in hopes of turning his eye inwards and discovering light and truth.

The offerings quieten his soul.

Zuko is balanced on his forearms, the top of his head brushing the grass, one leg pointed straight up in the air and releasing flame to the sky, the other folded down with his knee to his chest, when he hears a sound.

He hesitates, concerned about potential threats, but the thunk of body against tree is followed by Sokka’s voice saying: “Ow.”

Zuko stretches both of his legs upward and shifts his weight back into a basic headstand, with the fire concentrated only at the tips of his toes. He draws fire from his lungs and sends it up to his toes, his mind focused on the flow of flame.

He chants three times, letting warmth from his lungs inform his words, and then shifts his weight back to his forearms. Zuko stretches his neck back, ignoring the shape of Sokka between the trees, and bends until he can see his feet reaching toward his face.

“Stop it!” Sokka insists, which interrupts Zuko’s concentration. Zuko is attempting to make himself into a circle, from his toes to his forehead, so that he can spin fire in the negative space his body creates. But he never quite gets there. “What are you doing?”

Zuko drops into a backbend instead, and then pushes himself up to stand. He wobbles at the end, body remembering its lack of food and sleep, and then Sokka is steadying him even while he deliberately looks away from Zuko.

“I was engaged in offerings,” Zuko responds.

“Um, no, I’ve seen you do that. It’s all sitting and meditating and little flames, and not being naked.”

“I’m not naked,” Zuko replies. “I am wearing trousers.”

“You are more naked than not naked!” Sokka insists, his voice reaching a higher pitch than Zuko has ever heard from him. “Stop looking at me. It’s distracting. You’re distracting me with your face and, and you should put clothes on and come back to camp.” He pauses, hands still on Zuko’s bare shoulders, like he hasn’t realised that Zuko can’t dress himself while Sokka is holding him still. “Because your face is stupid,” Sokka concludes, and then finally turns and leaves.

Zuko does not get a chance to explain the difference between optional offerings and set daily offerings, because Sokka is gone before Zuko can think to respond.

The letters have been separated into small piles around a world map, and Hakoda and Bato are currently engaged in a whispered conversation while pointing to an Earth Kingdom city.

Aang offers Zuko a wave, and Zuko sits beside him. “Conclusions?” he asks.

“Uh, lots of sending letters?” Aang replies. “I guess they’re going to be in charge of sending them everywhere?”

Zuko nods. His pockets feel lighter.

“You can make more copies if you wish,” he says to Bato at a natural pause, and then glances at the many letters and feels abruptly embarrassed. “Oh, I mean, that’s probably enough.”

Bato smiles at him. It’s wide and pleased, like Zuko has done something other than spend days making copies. “Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

“If you make copies, you just need to note that you’re the copier,” Zuko explains. “So it would be: To the attention of High Sage Kenji of the High Temple, Defender of the Flame of Agni, from Fire Sage Zuko, previously of the Temple of the Avatar, at the hand of…” Zuko hesitates. “However you style your name. Um, Tribesman Bato of the Southern Water Tribe?”

“We’re not so particular about titles,” Chief Hakoda responds with a note of amusement in his voice. “But we’ll keep in mind that we should go by the Fire Nation customs if we do copy it. Though I suspect we’re not going to have to do it ourselves.”

“I didn’t know how many copies they wanted,” Zuko insists.

Chief Hakoda stands and stretches, then leans over to pat Zuko on the shoulder. Zuko’s muscles tense up all at once.

“You did good, kid,” Chief Hakoda insists.

Zuko blinks, watching the Water Tribe chief walk away, and belatedly adds: “... Thanks.”

Bato continues to look at something on the map, and Zuko prepares himself to find Sokka. Before he can gather the energy to move, Aang turns to him and asks: “Do you think we should see if they still want to come with us?”

Zuko’s eyes don’t want to be open anymore. Every blink feels heavy.

“They don’t want to come with us, Aang,” he replies.

“But,” Aang starts, his voice high and reedy and a little irritating, “that was yesterday! It’s been a whole day, and everything was okay earlier, and…”

Zuko allows him to continue, and feels bad about the fact that he isn’t listening, but he just can’t anymore. He wants to sleep. He wonders if he can convince Aang to watch over him if he takes a brief rest, wonders if Zuko is safe to sleep somewhere that Bato can see, because surely Bato won’t allow his people to carry Zuko off.

And then Aang isn’t talking anymore, because Katara is kneeling in front of them both with an uncertain smile.

“This is vegetarian, Aang,” she introduces, passing over a bowl to Aang. Aang takes it with a grateful grin, and Katara seems more confident. “And we used some extra spices for you.” She holds a bowl out to Zuko.

Zuko’s stomach rumbles.

“I’m not hungry,” he insists, hoping that his traitorous body isn't loud enough to give him away. And it isn’t a lie, not really; even though his body aches for nourishment, Zuko feels nauseated from lack of sleep, and would need to approach a meal carefully to keep himself from vomiting. “But thank you for thinking of me.”

Katara frowns, but she doesn’t look upset. “You didn’t eat breakfast,” she says calmly, like Zuko is a small child in her care. “You should at least try to eat something.”

Zuko makes no promises, but takes the bowl from her hand to pacify her. Katara leaves to source her own meal, and Zuko turns his eyes toward the ocean and the boats. Surely the tribesmen will want to return to their journey soon, now that they have been reunited with Bato and the children. Zuko and Aang should leave, too. They have no business here anymore.

Katara and Sokka return, talking between themselves about the route the Southern Water Tribe are travelling. Zuko’s mind won’t quite seem to catch on anything. He’s usually a good faster - his stomach aches with emptiness, but he is able to control his urges and focus on his duties - but Zuko isn’t sure he has ever sat silently awake through the night before. It doesn’t agree with him. Without the adrenaline that accompanied running from Zhao in the middle of the night, Zuko just feels heavy and nauseated, and like every breath of salty sea air is making it worse.

“... aren’t you eating, Zuko?” Katara asks again, and Zuko blinks heavily before returning to the moment.

Zuko clears his throat. Had he been paying attention to their conversation, he could redirect them back to safe territory.

“You don’t look so good,” Sokka says, peering at Zuko’s face. “Are you sick?”

“No, I just didn’t sleep, that’s all,” Zuko assures him. “I’ll be fine later.”

He means to use that to turn the conversation toward leaving, but then Sokka snorts and says: “You got used to your own room at the abbey quickly, huh?”

“What?” Zuko asks, his mind moving slowly.

“Bedroll isn’t comfortable enough anymore?” Sokka tries.

Zuko shakes his head. “I didn’t lie down,” he admits, and then immediately regrets it. He’s too exhausted to filter his words. “I’ll sleep later, it’s fine. We should--”

“Why didn’t you lie down?” Katara asks, her voice low and suspicious, and the other children turn to look at him. Zuko is brought back to the moment in the cave, hiding from the rain, when they had asked him about hiding in the barn with Appa overnight.

That was after they had read Zuko’s innermost thoughts, Zuko reminds himself. He doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“It’s not important.” Zuko moves to gesture toward Appa. “We should--”

“Nope, not happening, talk,” Sokka interrupts. “We don’t have to put up with you changing the subject anymore. Why didn’t you try to sleep?”

He sounds like he’s already suspicious about why. Zuko sighs, searching for a way out of the verbal corner that Katara and Sokka are attempting to back him into.

“Is this to do with you asking me to keep watch?” Aang asks, which is not helpful.

“To keep watch? Dad assigns people to keep watch,” Katara says. “You must have-- Oh.”

“He meant to keep watch on us,” Sokka clarifies, though based on Katara’s wide eyes, he didn’t need to say it out loud. “What did you think would happen, exactly?” he asks, his words sharp and precise.

“Um.” Zuko’s words are less precise. He feels loose and unbalanced, like he’s likely to stumble at any moment but doesn’t know how to stop it. “It’s not because you’re Water Tribe.”

“Oh yeah, real convincing,” Sokka adds.

Zuko frowns. “It isn’t,” he insists. “It’s not that. It’s-- I overheard a few people.” Zuko keeps his voice low, aware that they aren’t alone. “Some of the tribesmen aren’t happy about having me here.”

Katara’s lips are thin. “What did you overhear?” she asks, and she sounds so genuinely angry that Zuko falters, unsure where her fury is being directed. “Tell us, Zuko. It’s okay.”

“Some men were talking about sailing me out and throwing me into the ocean,” Zuko explains. It sounds a little ridiculous to his own ears - why not just slit his throat, after all - and Zuko feels a brief flash of worry that he won’t be believed.

He’s looking at Sokka when he says it, waiting for doubt and disbelief, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Sokka blinks once, and then his eyes narrow with annoyance. “And you thought they were just trying to murder you? What’s wrong with you?”

Confused, Zuko looks to Katara, but she doesn’t provide any reassurance.

“I don’t understand,” Zuko admits, even though admitting this rarely pans out for him.

Sokka scoffs. “Not everyone is always trying to kill you, Zuko,” he snaps. “You’re not that important.”

“Uh,” Aang pipes up, sounding as confused as Zuko feels. “Then why…?”

“They wouldn’t have actually done it,” Katara explains. “They were talking about using the ocean to test your honesty. If La judges someone poorly, he will pull them down. If not, they would know they could trust Zuko. But it’s not done outside of trials - they wouldn’t have actually done it.”

Sokka gestures with both of his hands to the ocean. “It’s basically a swimming test. Can you swim, Zuko?” When Zuko nods, he says: “See? The savages aren’t trying to kill you.”

Zuko flinches. “I didn’t say--”

“No, but you just assumed--”

“Children,” Chief Hakoda cuts in. “Settle down.”

It’s only then that Zuko realises they’ve gained an audience.

Had Zuko assumed the worst because the tribesmen aren’t Fire Nation? There’s an uncomfortable squirming in Zuko’s stomach as he immediately wishes to claim it wouldn’t have made a difference - but Zuko doesn’t know that, does he? He doesn’t know that this wasn’t rooted in something ugly inside him.

“I apologise,” Zuko states.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Chief Hakoda assures him. “I only wish you had come to me with it.”

Sokka and Katara won’t meet Zuko’s eyes. Zuko thinks about eating, thinks about how this is no longer a scenario in which he needs to concern himself over food tampering, and then realises that he shouldn’t take a gift at this moment.

Sokka told him, once, that friends don’t pay one another; they give gifts instead. And the memory sinks in Zuko’s consciousness heavily, like a stone in the waters.

“We should get going soon,” Zuko says quietly to Aang, avoiding the attention of their audience. “We don’t want to lose the light.”

Katara sighs. “We should talk about--”

And cuts herself off when Zuko hands a rolled scroll of paper to Sokka.

“Thank you for this,” Zuko says, trying to press his gratitude for everything into Sokka’s hands along with the map of the abbey. He thinks about saying goodbye to Sister Shen Shu and Mother Superior, but he doesn’t think a blessing would be appreciated here. “I wish you all the best on the path to wherever you’re going,” he tries instead.

Sokka snatches the map back to his chest and glares pointedly away from Zuko. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he snaps, then stands up and walks away.

Katara watches Sokka for a moment, and then shakes her head sadly. “Um… Okay,” she says. “We’ll. Maybe see you again someday.”

And then she’s gone too, and Aang and Zuko are alone, even surrounded by people.

Bato clears his throat. When Zuko glances at him, he looks like he’s about to say something, but Zuko is tired and he’s tired of goodbyes. He stands and bows, shallow and hasty, to Bato and Chief Hakoda, and walks toward Appa without a word.

Aang isn’t far behind him.

“They might change their mind,” he tries.

“They’ve had a day to change their minds,” Zuko points out. “We can’t wait for them forever.”

At some point, Aang needs to learn that he’s in this world alone.

(Zuko really, really doesn’t want to be the one who teaches him this.)

Sokka and Katara reappear when it’s time to leave.

Zuko thinks about Fire Sage Tatsuya explaining funeral rites to him in the months that they walked through the lifecycle rituals. It’s important to see what you’re leaving behind before the body is gone, he explained; a person’s soul needs to perceive death in order to reach closure.

This is good for closure, Zuko insists to himself as he nods to Katara and Sokka. He didn’t get to see anyone at the High Temple before leaving, and he never quite got past that transition. But now Appa is lifting into flight, and Zuko can take a last look back at the Water Tribe children standing between Chief Hakoda and Bato.

They don’t look happy, but they’re with their family now.

Zuko does his best to ignore the fact that Aang is crying when they leave the Southern Water Tribe behind. He does his best to stay still and quiet and not look back. He does his best to focus on the wind whipping through his hair and past his ears, and not on the whisper of Sokka and Katara’s raised voices back at the camp.

They fly, and Aang wipes his face, and Zuko shuts his eyes.

He’s half expecting Aang to ask Zuko what happens next, but maybe they both know the answer too well to bother putting it into words.

Zuko’s eyes betray him before the shore disappears behind them. He looks back to the Water Tribe kids, and Sokka’s hands are in the air like he’s waving them goodbye. Zuko isn’t sure how to understand that. He looks away.

Zuko closes his eyes for a few minutes, lists to one side, and then decides that he needs to either rest or find a way to keep himself awake. It feels rude to sleep while Aang is still sniffling at the front of Appa’s saddle, so Zuko commits himself to remaining awake, and spreads out a map on the saddle to help with charting a course north.

Any other time, this would have been Sokka’s role. Zuko sighs as he realises this would have been easier on Appa if they had hugged the shoreline, and if Sokka had been here, he would have noticed that earlier. Maybe that’s what Sokka was trying to tell them when he was waving his arms in the air.

Aang is still shaking. Zuko can’t think of anything that he could do or say that would help. He looks up, searching for something to offer a modicum of comfort.

Zuko’s attention is snagged by the horizon.

“Is that...” he starts, shifting forward in the saddle and peering at the Fire Nation ships. Aang wipes his eyes and looks down to where Zuko is pointing. “It’s Zhao. Pull east, we can lose him over land.”

Aang nods, going to direct Appa, and--

“Wait,” Zuko says, thinking through their directions. “They’re heading toward where the Southern Water Tribe are camped. They’re going to end up passing right by them.”

Appa is continuing forward due to the lack of direction from Aang. They meet eyes for a brief moment, both balanced at the front of Appa’s saddle, and then Aang nods.

“We’ll lead them away,” Aang decides, going straight for the ships.

Zuko lets out a tense breath. They can do this one last thing for Sokka and Katara, even if they will never know.

Eventually, they are going to need a more long-term solution for Zhao.

“Slow down,” Zuko suggests. “We need Zhao to think it’s worth turning right now.” What would Sokka suggest? “He doesn’t know Appa has only started flying today; if he thinks Appa is tired and we’re heading to land, he’s more likely to try to follow.”

“You hear that, Appa?” Aang asks, pulling back so that Appa slows down a little. “You gotta look less lively.”

Appa groans in response, and Zuko pats him.

Appa is very soft, Zuko thinks, and wishes he’d slept in the few minutes he’d had the chance. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, then focuses his attention on Zhao’s ships.

They’re not turning.

“Fly lower,” Zuko suggests.

“What if they fire on us?” Aang asks in a nervous tone, even as he directs Appa to fly lower.

Zuko pulls on his hat, tucking his hair up to keep it balanced, and moves to stand. “They won’t if I’m visible,” Zuko insists, hoping that Zhao’s men are maintaining their commitment to avoid harming him.

Zuko holds fast to the fact that he cannot be declared a heretic without an invitation back to defend himself in court, and stands tall on Appa’s saddle as they fly lower.

Nerves fill his stomach as he attempts to balance while Appa dips. If they can’t get Zhao to turn around, it’s almost certain that he will run into the Southern Water Tribe ships or spot them by the shore. Zuko tries to remember what the plans had been for the Southern Water Tribe, but the only information he’s retained is about when and where they’re planning to send Zuko’s pile of letters. A rush of anger runs through Zuko’s veins; if he had been less selfish, he might have more of an idea of how much danger the Southern Water Tribe are in right now.

They’re not turning.

“They know,” Zuko breathes, and then more loudly: “Aang, lower.”

“Why aren’t they following us?” Aang asks, bewildered.

Zuko shakes his head. He reaches into his pockets, emptying them onto the saddle. Momo screeches and clings to the back of Aang’s head and they continue their slow descent.

“They either know where the Water Tribe is, or they’ve caught on that we want them to follow us,” Zuko calls, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

This is bad. Zuko’s stomach swoops as they dip a little lower, but still, the ships aren’t attempting to change direction to follow them.

It’s definitely Zhao’s fleet.

They can’t let him continue.

Zuko gasps in a loud breath and shouts: “Aang, you’re going to need to turn back sharply and go to Katara and Sokka,” he says, and then corrects himself: “I mean to the tribe. As fast as Appa can fly. If you warn them now, and they take off immediately, they might be safe.”

“What do you mean ‘you’?” Aang asks, turning to look back at Zuko for a moment.

“Lower,” Zuko insists. They’re closing in on them now. “They might fire on you, so be fast,” he says.

“Zuko, what are you--?”

Zuko drops his hat to the saddle.

“May your path to safety and balance be clear,” Zuko says to Aang, and then bows with the symbol of the flame. And then he says what he hadn’t been brave enough to say to Sokka and Katara: “Goodbye, Aang.”

“No--”

Zuko jumps.

The water hits, so hard that it might as well be a solid surface.

Everything goes dark.

And then, the rush.

The energy pours into Zuko so suddenly that he doesn’t know where it comes from. He kicks, first in the wrong direction, and then the water rights him and he breaks the surface, coughing and blinking.

The ships loom around him.

He kicks to stay afloat, heavy robes and heavy cuffs dragging at him.

It’s less still in the waters than Zuko had thought it would be. The waters push at him as the ships move, and he has to kick with all his strength to stay afloat. If he’s hit badly by a current, Zuko is sure he won’t be able to stop himself being forced to the side of one of the ships, won’t be able to stop himself being flung underneath.

Zuko only allows himself to glance toward the sky. Aang’s scream of no is still ringing in Zuko’s ears, and it’s all Zuko can do to hope against hope that Aang has followed his instructions. There’s no hope in helping Zuko down here by the ships; he chose this position in the waters to give Aang no hope, to force him to leave Zuko behind.

Arcs of smoke streak the air. It hadn’t taken long from Zuko’s fall for the ships to start firing on Appa and Aang. That’s good, Zuko thinks, somewhat hysterically; hopefully that will force Aang to flee.

The second time he glances upwards, Zuko spots Appa as a spot in the sky as he flies away.

It’s an odd triumph, Zuko thinks, to be left here. But if he’s gambled well, then Zhao will insist on dragging him to one of the ships before he continues. If he’s wrong, at the very least, there will be an argument onboard about whether leaving Zuko to drown is an act of harm against a Fire Sage, and those precious minutes will buy Aang and the Water Tribe time.

(Those precious minutes might not bode well for Zuko.)

Zuko coughs up water, and shivers with sudden cold, and tries his best to stay afloat. Energy is pulsing through him, but it’s threadbare and nauseating, like Zuko might laugh or cry at any moment. He can’t stop himself being moved by the water displacement; it’s up to the ocean, now, whether Zuko gets thrown under a ship.

(He remembers Sokka explaining about the use of the ocean in a trial, and Zuko doesn’t know whether to hope that La is watching or that he isn’t.)

He takes one last look toward Appa, but he’s well and truly gone.

There’s shouting on the ships. They’ve slowed, thoroughly distracted by the Fire Sage in their waters.

Zuko feels himself growing steadily more hysterical as the time stretches out. He has fulfilled his goal: Aang and the Southern Water Tribe are safer every moment that the ships remain here. But Zuko doesn’t know what to expect now.

A rope falls from one of the ships, and Zuko draws his strength together to swim toward it.

It falls a moment later, burnt on the other end, and bobs uselessly in the sea.

Zuko stops swimming, eyes wide as he realises that he’s really going to be left down here. The soldiers who refused to fire upon him when he stood on Jinghua’s roof don’t consider inaction the same as action; allowing a sage to slip to his death below the waves isn’t the same thing as firing upon him, after all.

Zuko licks his salty lips, gets tossed lightly by the ocean, and looks for options.

A rope falls from another ship.

Zuko watches it for several moments, waiting for the whole thing to fall with a burnt stub at the other end, but this rope holds strong.

Okay. Okay. It isn’t over yet, Zuko tells himself.

He swims toward the rope.

He’s so cold that his muscles don’t want to work. Zuko attempts heating himself through his breath, but he’s burning through non-existent energy. He grasps onto the rope and ties it around himself with numb fingers, and then Zuko is being dragged upwards.

Zuko looks back to the sky for a moment. Aang is, of course, long gone.

Zuko hits the deck almost as hard as he hit the water. He shudders, and then can’t contain himself from continuing to shake. At this point, Zuko isn’t sure how the combination of cold, exhaustion, and shock are affecting him.

Another beat passes as he tries to get himself under control. And then, just as Zuko thinks he’s ready to sit back on his heels, he heaves forward and retches.

Dizzy moments pass as Zuko tries to control himself.

By the time he sits back, throat burning with the bile he’s expelled, the world is blurry. He blinks the saltwater from his eyes and looks around at the Fire Nation soldiers.

“Zhao is coming,” one of them notes. He’s an older soldier, but Zuko can’t quite focus on his face.

Zuko shakes his head, then reaches out until he’s touching the side of the ship. He scrambles for a bar and pulls himself up, because he has no intention of facing Zhao while on his knees.

The trembling in his limbs slows. Zuko breathes very deeply, trying to pull warmth through himself.

When Zhao attacks, Zuko can fight back to defend himself.

(He wouldn’t last long in a fight against Zhao even at his best. Zuko knows this. But unless Zhao’s plan is to haul him to the brig and take him back to the Fire Nation, then Zuko is going to have to fight or submit to his own death. And Zuko has submitted once, burning in front of the Fire Lord as he fell to his knees. He has the stark hand-shaped scar on his forearm to prove it. Zuko is going to survive or he is going to die on his feet.)

Zhao’s footsteps feel unnaturally loud as he boards the ship. Zuko holds his head high, even as his vision greys out around the edges.

“That was quite a stunt,” Zhao greets him, sounding almost amused. “Were you so desperate to see me?”

“Harm to a Fire Sage--”

“Oh, have I harmed you?” Zhao interrupts. “It seems to me that my soldiers saved you.”

There’s a long moment of quiet. Zuko’s eyes slowly focus.

“And it seems to me that you’re a heretic, no true sage.”

Zuko’s sodden robes want to drag him down.

He stands as tall as he can manage.

“Oh? Are you issuing me an invitation to court?”

Zhao visibly hesitates, and Zuko tilts his head a little higher. There are only two answers to this question. If Zhao has been issued with an invitation to trial for Zuko, then they must turn toward Caldera immediately, and Zhao is entrusted with Zuko’s care until he arrives. If Zhao hasn’t been issued with an invitation, then Zuko’s status as a sage is protected.

If Zuko were Zhao, he would claim an invitation and lose Zuko to natural causes along the way. It’s the smartest way to conclude with Zuko’s death. But it buys Zuko time.

The pause extends for long enough for Zuko to conclude that no such invitation exists.

Zuko smiles. It takes a lot of energy.

Zhao might do it anyway, and it would be easy. But he would also have to kill Zuko with all of his soldiers standing witness. Zuko thinks of his letters to High Sage Kenji spreading throughout the world, and thinks that at least in his death, Zhao will be giving more reason for those letters to be read.

“Go ahead, Zhao,” Zuko says, not even granting him the respect of his title. “Make me a martyr. I’m sure the Fire Lord would appreciate it.”

Zhao snarls at him.

And in the standstill, Zuko hears a voice.

“Zuko,” Katara screams, “Jump!”

Zhao lifts his fist, bringing fire between them.

Zuko turns, grabs the bar at the side of the ship, and throws himself back over.

The water rushes upwards--

And then it doesn’t. Aang catches him by one wrist, and his arm jolts uncomfortably, and then they’re both landing on Appa’s back.

Zuko heaves his breaths, dizzy with the change, and maybe more than a little with the shock.

Katara’s arms fold around him, and Zuko collapses into her. Sokka shouts as he redirects Appa, streaming away as quickly as Appa can manage. The world blurs around him, and Zuko closes his eyes against it.

“You jumped,” Katara breathes into his wet hair, desperate and high. “You jumped. You jumped.”

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji keeps a letter in a drawer in his chambers.

It sits beneath a small stack of letters received from the woman who was once his wife. She hasn’t written to Kenji regularly in decades, not since the first years of his service to Agni, but Kenji has never found it in himself to dispose of those first correspondences, back when Kenji had hoped they would renew their marriage bonds.

It lives in this most private place because it should have been reported immediately, but aside from one delirious moment with Fire Sage Tatsuya, it has been nowhere but in Kenji’s possession since its arrival. He has only dared to read it once, but Kenji is nonetheless certain that he could quote it word-for-word. 

Kenji knows what happens when this letter appears before the Fire Lord. He just needs a little more time to prepare himself and to think about what happens next. It will become beautifully-crafted evidence of heresy the moment that it passes into the Fire Lord’s hands, and Kenji is the High Sage, and he has a sacred duty to share reports of heresy with the Fire Lord. 

(High heresy, Kenji thinks. There’s no protection from high heresy, and Kenji doesn’t think he can argue that this letter does not contain it, at least in the white space between the words. He needs time. He needs time to think about how to handle this situation.)

High Sage Kenji keeps a dangerous letter in a drawer in his chambers, beneath the pile of letters from the woman who was once his wife. Ahmya’s letters are not love letters, not like the notes she used to leave for him when they were young. Kenji did not bring those notes with him when he shed his old life. Just like Zuko’s, these letters are notes of accusation. 

Our great nation is a palace built around a stolen beam. 

Zuko wakes by a fire. 

He doesn’t remember going to sleep. He doesn’t remember much after being caught mid-fall by Aang. He wakes now covered with everyone’s spare blankets, and he’s too warm. His hair is tangled and he smells like salt and sweat, but the idea of finding a river to bathe in, while necessary, is very unappealing.

When Zuko sits up and pushes the blankets off himself, it’s to find that he’s not wearing his robes under the blankets, and Katara is crouched next to him and ready to pounce.

“Eat this,” Katara demands, thrusting a bowl under his nose. She then fusses with his blankets, and Zuko is abruptly reminded that she force-fed him before letting him sleep last time, too. 

Zuko follows orders. 

For a few long moments, the only sound is the crackle of the fire. Aang and Sokka are sitting uncomfortably close to Zuko and Katara, both watching with wide eyes as Zuko eats. 

“How are you feeling?” Katara asks when Zuko puts the bowl to one side. She leans forward before waiting for an answer, pressing her lips to Zuko’s forehead in what Zuko now recognises is checking for a temperature. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko responds, and then rolls his shoulders. “Where are we? How long has it been?” 

“We flew inland far enough that we should be safe,” Sokka responds. “Dad and the others went south. They should have been able to get away from Zhao.” 

Zuko breathes deeply. “Okay.” If they went inland, they’re probably not much further north than they were previously. “Did you choose a new rendezvous point?” 

Zuko glances at Aang, aware that it would be awkward to ask about helping the Water Tribe children find their people again while said children are here and listening. And the logical answer is that they shouldn’t - Aang has a time limit on learning the elements - but Zuko can’t imagine leaving Sokka and Katara to fend for themselves. 

“No, we’re… not going back, Zuko,” Katara says, sounding surprised by the question.

“They’re coming north with us!” Aang declares, clearly happy despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. 

“Yeah, we were, uh.” Sokka rubs the back of his neck. “It seems so stupid now, you know? We were trying to wave you down once you went, but it was too late.” 

“Oh,” is all Zuko can manage to say in the face of Sokka and Katara’s hesitant smiles. They keep watching him, and Zuko begins to think that they’re waiting for him to say something. “I apologise that I didn’t notice you trying to stop us.” 

Sokka flops down onto his back. “I can’t believe you jumped into the spirits-forsaken ocean,” he says. “I feel like I should be yelling at you about that? Katara, maybe you can do the yelling this time?”

Zuko feels his shoulders tensing. “I was buying you all time,” he defends. 

“With your life--” Sokka starts. 

“Let’s not,” Katara suggests. “It’s been a long few days.” 

Aang nods. “Yeah. We’re all okay, and we’re heading north, and we’re friends again. That’s great! Let’s just enjoy that and not argue.” 

Zuko’s breath freezes in his lungs. He looks around at the children for a moment, expecting words to be taken back, but they hang there in the air like they’re comfortable and correct. 

After a few beats of waiting, Zuko clarifies: “No, thank you.” 

Sokka raises his head to look at Zuko again. “No? You want to argue? You look like the wind might knock you over, Zuko - actually, you look like it already did. I don’t think it’s a good idea to argue right now.” 

Zuko shakes his head shallowly, aware of the headache building between his temples.

“No, I mean: I don’t want to be friends again.” 

This time, the subsequent pause is not comfortable. 

Aang is the first to break the silence, with a trembling: “What?” 

“Zuko,” Katara presses, “you don’t mean that.” 

“We can’t not be friends!” Aang insists. 

“Just get some more sleep and--”

“Guys,” Sokka interrupts, and to Zuko’s surprise, both the other children fall quiet and look over to Sokka like they’re expecting him to say something important. “We can’t force him to be friends with us.” 

Sokka looks very serious, sitting up with his back to the fire. His face is in shadows, but Zuko can tell that he isn’t looking in Zuko’s direction.

“But why wouldn’t--?” Katara bursts, turning back to Zuko. “Zuko. Why?”

Zuko hesitates. He wasn’t expecting questions. He wasn’t expecting to have to say this in the first place.

“We tried it,” Zuko explains as best he can, thinking about huddling in a cave away from the storm. Even back then, the three of them were carefully curating their behaviour based on Zuko’s list of concerns. None of that had been real, in the end. Maybe the only moment close to friendship they had experienced was when they were trying to reunite after Gaipan. “It didn’t work.” 

“That’s not how it works,” Sokka states, very calmly, though he’s rubbing his forehead like he has a similar headache to Zuko. “You don’t just try out a friendship and then give up because it isn’t easy.” 

Zuko didn’t know this. In truth, the others hold all the cards here; they know how this is supposed to work, and Zuko is being led through the dark in their relationship. 

“It’s a distraction,” Zuko insists. “We have a mission to fulfil. I would prefer to focus on that.” 

“So that’s it?” Katara asks, and to Zuko’s surprise, her eyes look wet. Zuko can’t even stop this back-and-forth of pain and upset without causing more of it. “You’re just done with us?” 

“But you’re still coming north, right?” Aang asks. “You just… don’t want to be our friend anymore.” 

“Doesn’t sound awkward at all,” Sokka comments. He flops back onto his back with a sigh.

The quiet folds them in once more, until Katara adds in a quiet voice: “But you jumped.” 

Travelling with the Avatar and the Water Tribe children after declaring his intention to remain emotionally distant is surprisingly different to beforehand. 

Zuko thinks that he didn’t realise all the small ways in which he was integrating himself into their relationships before. 

When they decide to bathe and wash their clothing, Zuko stays downstream from the others and only approaches to help dry items with firebending. Katara looks like she might argue that she can do it herself, but her waterbending skills have really only developed through fighting, and sluicing water from clothing without doing damage isn’t an easy task - and while Aang should be their best bet, he has a tendency to get overexcited and stretch things out. And Zuko knows Katara likes it when her clothes are clean and warm by the way that she tends to press the cloth to her cheek. 

(Is it strange that Zuko knows things like this? That he knows that half the time Katara lets Sokka style her hair, or that Aang will naturally forget their domestic tasks once he has an idea about waterbending, or that the three of them usually need to be cajoled into bathing like they’re unused to caring for themselves without an adult present?) 

When Zuko feels clean and somewhat human again, there is the awkward silence of travelling. Before they had attempted friendship, there were either conversations or semi-comfortable silences. Now, the others don’t seem to know whether or not to address Zuko in their conversations, and even Zuko can tell that the silences are stiff and strained. 

And then, the silence breaks. 

They’re stopping for supplies after a long stretch northward, and it’s finally starting to feel like the Northern Water Tribe is within reach. It’s colder up here, so Zuko is using his breath of fire regularly to keep from needing to request different clothing, but he can tell that Sokka isn’t happy about the little licks of flame that escape from him when he’s warming himself. 

Sokka touches Zuko’s elbow very briefly and nods in a different direction. Katara and Aang continue their quest for food while Sokka leads Zuko away.

“You need a coat,” Sokka states, waving a hand at him. “And… pants and shoes. You need new everything.” 

Zuko crosses his arms. “I already told you: I am not going to pretend to be someone else.” 

“Okay, so what do Fire Sages wear when it’s cold, Zuko?” Sokka asks. “Isn’t there a text somewhere that says, I don’t know, one must dress appropriately for the weather?” 

Zuko almost wants to smile. “It doesn’t get that cold in the Fire Nation, and we don’t travel all that much anymore,” he explains. “There are heavier versions of our robes for colder weather. I’ve never worn them.” 

“Well, unless we’re going to do a quick trip to a temple to pick up a Fire Sage fur coat for you, it’s time to consider: these.” Sokka waves his arm at a store selling clothing. “You can always wear the hat more if you’re worried people won’t know who you are.” 

Zuko raises a hand to his hair, thinking about how little he wants to wear the hat - he has never been a fan of the hat - and he catches Sokka’s momentary smile. “Fine,” he says eventually. “We can purchase something inexpensive.” 

Sokka obviously makes him try on every single item. 

(This is another piece of information that Zuko has picked up through the weeks of semi-friendship: Sokka loves things.) 

Eventually, they settle on a heavy dark green coat lined with badgermole fur. (Zuko thinks the coat is black, but saying this out loud causes Sokka to show significant distress.) If Zuko chooses to wear this with his Earth Kingdom clothing from weeks ago, he will be covered and warm in the icy north. Sokka nods his approval once they have paid, and goes to pull the hood over Zuko’s head - only to change his mind halfway through the motion and tear himself away.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Uh, I mean: sorry. I didn’t say that before, I think? But I am.” 

“About the hood?” Zuko asks, failing to catch the thread of this conversation. 

“No, I.” Sokka sighs and crosses his arms, then uncrosses them again. Zuko watches, bewildered. “I should apologise for before. I was really angry at you, but… it wasn’t really about you. And I should have known better than to take it out on you.” 

This sounds like something Katara would say - we should have known better - and so it takes Zuko a moment to go from wondering about whether Katara put him up to this to realise that he is speaking in the singular.

“You should have known better?” Zuko asks, suspicious. 

Sokka’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, we talked about your whole… not knowing how to be a kid and have friends thing.” 

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” Zuko points out, narrowing his eyes. “There’s nothing to feel sorry for me about.” 

“I… don’t necessarily agree, but okay,” Sokka responds. “But this isn’t about feeling sorry for you, Zuko, it’s about how I should have known you wouldn’t know what to do when we were arguing. And I’ve been thinking about it, and… you started trying to handle us like we were, I don’t know, Jinghua and the thief guy, rather than your friends.” 

Zuko bristles. “We’re not--” 

“--friends anymore, I know.” Sokka holds up his hands. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m just saying, maybe I could have handled all of that better. And maybe we could have handled the list situation better. We kind of collectively panicked.” 

“It’s okay,” Zuko responds. “We can move forward. It’s not that big a deal.” 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to lie,” Sokka says, suddenly very serious. Zuko blinks. “It was a big enough deal that you decided we can’t be friends anymore, Zuko.” 

“That’s not what happened,” Zuko explains. “This isn’t a punishment. I meant what I said: we tried it and it didn’t work. It’s a failed experiment.” The corners of Sokka’s mouth pull down, and Zuko just knows he’s going to respond by telling Zuko that this isn’t how friendship works, so he quickly continues: “I’m aware that there are rules to friendship that I don’t understand. But we have a mission here, and I can’t spend time and energy trying to figure them out right now.” 

Sokka visibly hesitates, and then he slumps like he’s a puppet whose strings have been cut. “Yeah, okay,” he responds. “But… if it stops seeming so hard, or when we win the war?”

Zuko almost wants to smile at Sokka’s optimism. He nods once, and Sokka attempts a smile, but he seems as tired and confused by this all as Zuko is.

Zuko continues to keep his distance emotionally, even when he cannot physically. As the days pass, it becomes less tense and uncomfortable. Aang still keeps sending him looks which Zuko assumes are meant to be meaningful, eyes wide and shoulders slumped, but Zuko resolutely ignores this and continues about his business. 

And then they get to the northernmost part of the Earth Kingdom, and when they take off, it’s with the assumption that the next place they land will be in the Northern Water Tribe. 

Of course, the spirits laugh at the plans of meermice and men, and it isn’t long before their trajectory changes course. 

Sokka originally plotted for them to pass by the Northern Air Temple at a distance, close enough to see it and allow Aang to point out its features, but without a plan to stop. They have already had so many detours on their journey north, and Sokka is right to be concerned about their timeline. Aang has only mastered his original element, and the days keep sliding away from them. If Avatar Roku was correct, then they only have until the summer. 

(Aang is going to have to pull off a feat unheard of by his predecessors and master three elements in a number of months. It’s almost impossible. But “almost” leaves wiggle-room, and Zuko is a master at opportunities granted by loopholes.) 

But when they’re passing by, there are figures floating in the sky, and they cannot possibly leave without solving the mystery. 

Unfortunately, the resolution of the mystery breaks Aang’s heart. 

“They’re not airbenders,” he says once they’re close enough. This is the problem with hope, Zuko thinks uncomfortably: it’s a high place to fall from. It’s better to never have it. “They might be gliding, but they’re not flying. They don’t have any spirit.” 

“We should keep going,” Zuko suggests, thinking of Aang’s sad eyes and the journey northward. He’ll be happier once they find the Northern Water Tribe and a waterbending instructor.

But ultimately, Zuko is outvoted by Sokka and Katara, and they visit the Northern Air Temple and its pretenders. 

Pipes jut out of walls, cracking the mosaic tiles of a long and noble history. 

Zuko’s vision greys out for a moment as he struggles for a proper breath, and then he turns on the boy in the wheelchair and demands: “Who is in charge here?” When Teo only blinks up at him, Zuko adds: “Who is at fault for this crime?” 

“Crime?” Teo asks, puzzled. “What crime?” 

“What--” Zuko cuts himself off, giving himself precisely one moment to scorn himself for looking in the wrong direction. He spins around to face the temple’s rightful heir. 

Aang’s face is more closed off than Zuko has ever seen it. He usually wears his emotions so clearly that even Zuko can read him, but right now he seems eerily blank. At a loss, Zuko asks: “What do you want to do?” 

Aang’s eyes move from the pipes marring the walls to the statue of the air bison with thick plumes of steam pouring out of its mouth, and then finally back to Zuko. “What is there to do?” he asks, the words rasping with tiredness. “It’s already done.” 

“You have legal rights,” Zuko insists. “Even within the confines of Earth Kingdom law. I assume.” The Earth Kingdom seems to be regulated differently to the Fire Nation, without a central authority. Zuko isn’t sure where he should even start. But there has to be an authority, and Zuko will find it. “If you give me permission…” 

Aang’s breath hitches on its way into his lungs. “It won’t bring the temple back.” 

He turns and walks away, and even Sokka is distracted from his excitement over the technology. 

Katara rushes to follow Aang, one hand stretched out toward him, and Sokka comes to stand next to Zuko. Zuko tries to keep his hands from trembling. 

“What’s wrong?” Teo asks, pulling up on Sokka’s other side. 

Zuko turns his eyes toward Teo and does his best to refrain from outright glaring. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he says eventually, and then goes to follow Aang and Katara. 

“Ah,” Sokka says behind him, “they can get kind of intense about spirit stuff.” 

Zuko stops walking. He is angry down to his bones, he feels his anger in his follicles, and this isn’t even his temple. “This is not just ‘spirit stuff’,” Zuko spits, not looking around to Sokka because he isn’t sure he’ll be able to contain his anger. “This is everything that’s left of the Air Nomads of the north, and it is sacred, and it is defaced.” Zuko finally spins around. “And yes, I do know that is more my fault than it is yours, thank you, Sokka, but I think we can let Aang be angry without dismissing it as being ‘intense about spirit stuff’.” 

“Whoa!” Sokka responds, holding up both of his hands like he’s proving he’s unarmed. “I would not have said that to you, Zuko, it’s not your fault anymore than it’s--”

“Please,” Zuko scoffs, and then takes his leave. 

In the end, Zuko doesn’t find Aang. He’s too horrified by every element of the temple to stay, and so he finds himself back with Appa in the courtyard, staring out at the view. There’s another bison statue here, and part of Zuko wants to admire it for its beauty and history, but he’s afraid of what changes he’ll find if he does. 

Instead, Aang finds him.

“Hi,” Aang says. He’s pale now, complexion gone sallow and sour, and it appears that the anger has finally settled in. “It’s worse. It’s worse! They’re knocking down statues of the monks to make way for a stupid bathhouse.” 

Zuko closes his eyes. The wind whistles by, and Zuko wonders if the spirits are angry, too. 

“I am at your service,” he says after a long moment, and opens his eyes. “It won’t bring the temple back. But we can force them to stop. There can be recompense.” 

Aang sighs. The anger seems to seep out of him a bit at a time, until he once again just looks tired. “Did you know they’re refugees?” he asks, which Zuko assumes is a rhetorical question. “They fled here from the Fire Nation. This is them trying to live.” 

“They didn’t need to destroy in order to live,” Zuko insists. 

“No,” Aang agrees. “But there’s nobody here to use this temple anymore. And I think the monks would have liked being a refuge. Even if they wouldn’t have liked the whole…” he gestures back to the temple. “At this point, there isn’t anything to do to make it right, and I don’t want to make life harder for refugees, right?” 

“Aang.” Zuko waits until Aang looks back up at him, and then quotes: “‘One must not recompense injury with kindness. If you respond to injury with kindness, with what will you recompense kindness?’” 

Aang winces. “I don’t think the monks would have liked that,” he says. “Can’t we just always be kind?” 

“Aang. You respond to injury with justice, not kindness.” 

“There’s no justice here!” Aang insists, gesturing with his arms. “There’s no justice here, because there are no Air Nomads here. You can’t make this right.” He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes, and then looks up at Zuko again. “Zuko. I’m so glad you want to make this right. But you can’t.” 

And the next thing Zuko knows, he has an armful of Avatar. 

Aang squeezes around Zuko’s ribs, and after a moment, Zuko returns the hug. He isn’t sure why he’s being hugged, but he assumes Aang needs it. 

“I know you don’t want me as a friend anymore, Zuko, but you’re a good friend anyway.” While Zuko is still trying to figure out how to respond to this, Aang says: “But I think you’re wrong about kindness. It’s not limited. I can respond to injury and kindness with kindness.” 

Zuko shakes his head. His hair tumbles over Aang’s shoulder where they’re still hugging. 

“Kindness is an impediment to justice.” 

“Kindness can be justice,” Aang insists. His voice is a little muffled in Zuko’s coat. “If I’m kind to other people, then that makes me feel better, too. Loving people means there’s more love in the world.” 

Zuko doesn’t argue - not because Aang is correct, but because he recognises that it would be kinder not to. 

And then, with Aang still clinging to him, Zuko realises:

“You said there’s nobody here to use the temple as a temple anymore.” Aang pulls back enough to see him, and by his smile, Zuko thinks they are on the same page. “Come on.”

They find an unused corner, gathering dust around its carvings, and sit for a long session of meditation. Agni’s gift of light begins to leave the world as Aang teaches Zuko to chant a traditional text. Zuko stifles his amusement when he realises that they are chanting through a thread of teachings on kindness. 

When Katara finds them for dinner, Zuko and Aang are leaning against the dusty corner. They’re done with their meditations and chanting, but walking back out into the crowd of refugees and the destroyed temple feels like a lot, so they have been sitting together quietly for long minutes. 

Aang stretches widely as he stands, and then smiles at Zuko and knocks into his arm before walking forward. Zuko follows quietly, keeping an eye on Aang to monitor his response to the temple as they wander toward a hall that has been converted into a dining area. 

“Hey!” Sokka waves them over. “Quick! You’ve got to see this candle!” 

The candle pops six times, and Sokka excitedly explains how it is a time-keeping device. Zuko likes candles for their function in life and in ritual, but he prefers sand and water for time-keeping. Nonetheless, it’s nice to see Sokka so interested in something.

“If you think that’s interesting,” declares a man wearing an apron, “wait until you see what we’ve been working on! Sokka fixed my balloon problem.” 

“Sokka has been helping to invent things all afternoon,” Katara says with an amused smile. “If we’re not careful, Sokka’s the one we might lose to a temple after all.” 

Aang and Zuko share an unimpressed glance. 

“Sit down, kids, dinner is coming!” the man declares, and then bowls of food are delivered by a long belt down the table. Zuko sits between Sokka and Aang and watches with wary eyes. 

After Sokka’s excitement at both the technology and the food calms down (which takes a significant amount of time), he points a stick of meat in Zuko’s direction.

(Meat. In an Air Nomad temple. Zuko’s mouth pulls down and he glances at Aang again, but Aang has been swept into conversation with Teo for now.)

“Listen. Over here.” When Zuko looks over, Sokka’s eyes narrow. “We’re going to talk about before.”

“We are?” Zuko asks, picking at his rice. 

“Yuh-huh. Someone has to be the adult here, and regardless of your whole ‘I’ve been a grown-up since I was twelve’ thing, it apparently needs to be me.”

“Eleven,” Zuko corrects. 

Sokka hums, then takes a bite of his meat and stares at Zuko while chewing. Eventually, he swallows, and then says: “I wouldn’t have said that to you.”

Zuko rifles back through their conversation. “Huh?” 

“The whole ‘yeah, Sokka, I know it’s really my fault’ thing. I wouldn’t have said that to you. And anyway, it isn’t true. The war isn’t your fault any more than it’s mine.” 

Zuko tries to restrain himself from sighing. It only kind of works. “Okay. You wouldn’t have said it. That doesn’t change anything.” 

“Um, yeah, it does,” Sokka insists. “Because it’s not your fault? Why would you even think that?”

“I benefited from the war my entire life.” Zuko taps his chopsticks against the side of his bowl. “I grew up in comfort and stability because you grew up without it. And it was my ancestors who did it. Who did this, originally,” he says, gesturing to the ruined temple, “before these people came along and made it worse.” 

Sokka stops eating, which tells Zuko that he’s said something he shouldn’t have. Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, and then says: “Okay. One step at a time. I grew up plenty comfortable, thanks - my parents were great, and Katara and I had fun, and we were loved.”

“And then the Fire Nation took that from you.”

“Yeah, the Fire Nation, not you. Ashes, Zuko, you’ve been railing against it for how long now?” He frowns at Zuko. “How old were you the first time you said ‘this is wrong’?”

“Not until I was thirteen,” Zuko responds. “I spent eleven years thinking it was right. Did I tell you that? It was only when I went to the High Temple that I started to wonder. And before I met you, I only said anything to the Fire Lord once, even though I lived close to him my entire life.” 

Sokka bites his lip, and then glares for a moment, and then says: “I have other things to focus on, but first: you said something to the Fire Lord? Ozai? That guy?” At Zuko’s nod, Sokka flails his arms and says: “Why am I only hearing about this now? Katara? Did you know Zuko apparently told Ozai off one time?” 

“I didn’t tell him off,” Zuko insists. “I just told him that his plans were unethical and illegal. And he didn’t even burn me for that, he burned me because I wouldn’t bow to him afterwards.” 

“I.” Sokka tilts his head back dramatically. “You are too much.”

“Sorry,” Zuko says automatically.

Katara laughs lightly. “I don’t think you need to be sorry. But why didn’t you tell us you met the Fire Lord?”

Zuko tilts his head. “I suppose it wasn’t relevant.” 

“Not relevant!” Sokka crows. “We’re just out here plotting to overthrow the Fire Lord, and you didn’t think you should tell us that you told him his actions were illegal, and then he burned you, and you were how old?” 

“Thirteen,” Zuko responds. 

Sokka thumps his head against the table. 

“I’m not sure why you expected any different,” Katara comments, leaning across the table to pat Sokka’s head. “Obviously Zuko did something stupid because he thought it was right. I’m not sure how you can still be surprised by this.” 

Sokka makes a wordless, high-pitched noise. 

“Is that where you got the scar from?” Aang asks, and it’s only now that Zuko realises he’s been listening. Zuko nods and pushes up the sleeve of his coat so that Aang can see it properly, can see the hand shape against his forearm sitting stark and awful against his pale skin. 

“I did bow in the end,” Zuko admits, because it feels like an important confession to make, and they are in a temple. “I couldn’t stay upright anymore.”

Sokka’s arm flails out until he has a hand curled into the fur lining at Zuko’s neck. It’s only once he’s found it that he looks up and fixes Zuko with an intense stare. “That’s not bowing. You’re stupid. How are you so stupid? Why do I like you so much?”

He then makes a distressed noise like he didn’t mean to say that and buries his face in his hands again.

Zuko smiles, confused but oddly pleased by the backhanded compliment. 

“Okay,” Katara says with what sounds like false cheer, “while Sokka’s having a breakdown, how about we talk about whether we’re staying the night?” 

Not being friends with the children turns out to be oddly comfortable. 

They gather in a small room with their sleeping packs, safe from the wind outside, and Teo brings a board game for them to play together. It’s a game his father invented, but unlike everything else he invented at this temple, it doesn’t fill Zuko with dread. 

(It kind of reminds Zuko of Pai Sho, which makes Zuko think of Fire Sage Youta and the High Temple. His letter to the High Sage must have arrived by now, even if they can’t be sure when the Southern Water Tribe might get around to sending his letters elsewhere.)

Zuko doesn’t play with them, because he’s never been good with games and he still has a scar on the bottom of his foot from when he accidentally beat Fire Princess Azula at a game of chase and she consequently pushed him off the roof in the hanging gardens, but he settles in to maintain the fire and watch. And it’s… nice. He doesn’t need to be tense about what happens next, because it doesn’t matter anymore. He can’t disappoint these people if they’re not friends. They’re just there.

And yes, Sokka is now acting strangely after his outburst at dinner and refuses to look Zuko in the eye. And yes, Aang is still wilting and sad under his optimistic exterior, and Teo is wary of Zuko after his earlier declaration, and Katara is dealing with the tension by being overly cheerful in a way that doesn’t read as natural. But despite all of this, something in Zuko relaxes.

The next morning, Teo takes Katara flying, and Aang decides that it’s time to forgive the refugees for their damage to the temple.

Naturally, this is where everything goes wrong. 

Zuko stands, surrounded by Fire Nation reds and towering weapons in a temple filled with the ghosts of those killed by his nation, and hears Aang say: “This is a nightmare.”

“I can explain!” bursts Teo’s father as he crashes into the room. 

“What’s there to explain?” Aang asks, turning on him with a glare. “You’re making weapons for the Fire Nation.” 

Zuko curls his hands into fists. 

He has thus far respected Aang’s wishes that he stay out of it, because this was a conflict with Aang stuck between Earth Kingdom refugees and the memory of the Air Nomads, and Zuko had no legal or moral authority there. But now, surrounded by Fire Nation weaponry, Zuko has found his footing. 

“I had no choice,” Teo’s father insists. “The Fire Nation found our settlement. They were going to destroy everything - they were going to burn it to the ground! I pleaded with them to spare us. You were so young, Teo. You needed a home. I did this for you.” 

“How did your requesting mercy lead to this?” Zuko asks. Hope begins to unfurl within him, even in the midst of this awful story and this awful situation. This, Zuko can handle. This has legal implications. 

“They asked what I had to offer,” Teo’s father explains. “I offered… my services.” 

“How could you do this?” Teo bursts. 

Zuko holds his head high. “I will need to see all paperwork involved.” 

Teo’s father blinks at him. “What?”

“Everything. Everything you’ve signed. Every record of what you’ve made. Bring it to me,” Zuko insists. 

Aang turns to Zuko with wide eyes, and slowly, so do the Water Tribe children.

“You have a plan,” Sokka says. 

There is no contract.

Everything that Tengfei shows Zuko is a record of weaponry, but there is no original contract among the copies. Zuko looks up for long enough to ask for it, and when Tengfei only offers him a puzzled expression, Zuko changes tracks. 

“I need… paper, or parchment. Something to write with. Tengfei, I need you to estimate the prices of materials you’ve used on a regular market, and estimate the amount of time taken in craft. It doesn’t need to be precise for this draft, we’re only looking for an idea of the numbers. And I need a witness.” 

Sokka hands him paper and a brush silently. He’s unusually silent, actually. Zuko spares him a glance, but Sokka only watches him like he’s waiting for Zuko’s next instruction.

“Oh,” Zuko says. “Sokka, are you of age in the Southern Water Tribe?” 

“What do you mean?” Sokka asks. 

“If you wanted to… say, get married, would you be able to do that now that you’ve passed your ice dodging ordeal?” 

Sokka’s face blooms in redness again, and Katara snickers in the background. 

“Yes,” Katara answers for him. “But it’s customary for you to ask for Dad’s blessing first, you know, Zuko.” 

Zuko sighs out a laugh and turns to his paper. “I’m not proposing anything but using you as a witness. You’re of age and unrelated to the parties. Since this is a conflict between Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation over an Air Temple, it’s appropriate that you’re Water Tribe.” 

Zuko goes quiet while he writes, stopping only to clarify titles: Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, son of Hakoda and Kya; Tengfei of the Earth Kingdom, currently residing in the Northern Air Temple, otherwise known as the Mechanist, son of Zhengsheng and Biya. 

Eventually, he turns the paper over to Tengfei and rifles through the stacks that Tengfei has gathered. “Read this and sign it,” he insists as he pulls his glasses out of his pocket, and then he starts to scrawl out numbers. 

“What is it?” Teo asks, leaning to look over.

“Your father is signing for me to take his case. It’s standard practice, but especially important because you’re not Fire Nation citizens and I’m not taking him with me when I go to see the soldiers.”

“When we go see the soldiers,” Aang corrects.

“I’m sorry, when you go where?” Tengfei asks. “You can’t go and see them. They’ll attack you, and then they’ll attack us!” 

Zuko looks up from his numbers. 

“You’re being distracting,” he scolds. “Aang, you’re not coming with me. It’s not safe for any of you. Tengfei, I’m safe because I’m a Fire Sage. They won’t hurt me. And I’m going to ensure that they can’t hurt you, either.”

Sokka squeaks. “Uh, no way are--” 

“Shh,” Zuko insists and goes back to his numbers. 

After a few minutes, someone brings him a chair to sit in so that he isn’t leaning over the table uncomfortably. Zuko continues, and then finds that someone has moved a candle closer. Later still, Zuko checks through the documentation once again. 

“You’re sure you didn’t sign anything,” Zuko says, looking up at Tengfei. “I need you to walk me through exactly what you remember of the conversation. I know it was a long time ago, but verbal contracts can be tricky. Sokka, you need to listen to this.”

Tengfei tells his story once again, of what amounts to blackmail and the threat against his son’s life. Zuko jots down the details and makes Sokka sign at the bottom, and then he nods and puts his papers together in two piles.

“I’ve made a copy of the originals,” he explains. “These will stay with you, in case… anything happens to my copies. Can you show me how the minister usually arrives? If I’m not back before sundown, I advise you to block off my way back, just in case.” 

“What happened to you being safe because you’re a sage?” Teo asks.

Zuko shrugs. “There are always exceptions to rules,” he responds, thinking of Zhao. 

“So!” Sokka says, the word bursting from him like he’s been barely holding it back. “That is exactly why we’re coming with you.”

“You three aren’t protected by my status,” Zuko states, “and the Fire Nation is after the Avatar. You coming with me is a hindrance, not a help.” 

“Okay, so just I come with you,” Sokka responds. “No Avatars, no Last of the Southern Waterbenders, just me and my trusty boomerang.” 

Zuko opens his mouth to argue that taking someone else will look like a sign of aggression, or an implication that Zuko believes he is unsafe, and then glances down at Sokka’s signature on the witness statement. Actually, having the witness present is a perfectly logical thing to do. 

“Fine.” 

“But if they aren’t so hot on the whole Fire Sage immunity--” Sokka starts, one finger pointed at Zuko in apparent accusation. Then he stops, blinks, and drops his hand. “Oh, great. Let’s go!” 

Aang and Katara aren’t happy about being left behind, but they don’t protest too much as the group splits in two. Zuko packs his papers into a bag, removes his glasses, restyles his hair into a proper top-knot instead of the half-down style he’s started wearing since nobody is forcing him to wear the hat constantly, and… finds the hat. 

“Have I told you recently--” Sokka starts, and Zuko elbows him deliberately as he passes by. 

They go through the secret passage to a winding path, and follow it until they see the flags.

“Cool,” Sokka says as they continue toward the flags. “This is great. Walking into enemy territory. With paperwork. Hey, what are you going to say when we get there?”

“I’ll introduce you as my acquaintance who has signed a witness statement,” Zuko explains.

Sokka snorts. “Acquaintance? You sound like Dad.”

“Does your father call you an acquaintance? That must be upsetting.” 

“Obviously he--” Sokka starts, and then looks over just as Zuko is trying not to smile. “Did you just make a joke? You?” 

“I’m capable of making jokes,” Zuko insists. 

Sokka groans. “Nobody’s going to believe me about this,” he grumbles. 

Two figures begin to approach them. Zuko is privately thankful for the hat. He’s still wrapped in the coat Sokka insisted he purchase, because it’s cold this far north and his bare calves aren’t helping; without the hat, he might not have been recognisable from a distance.

“Fire Sage,” one of the soldiers greets. “What are you doing out here?”

The soldiers bow, and Zuko offers the sign of the flame. “I’m here to see Minister Qin. I’ve been informed he is visiting with you at the moment. Is that correct?” 

“You’re Fire Sage Zuko,” one of the soldiers bursts. The other soldier elbows her. “Sorry! Sorry. Yes, Minister Qin is here. We’ll take you to him.” 

“You got a letter from Zuko?” Sokka asks, and the soldier blinks at him.

“A letter?” she asks. “No, I just… a Fire Sage your age, you’d have to be Fire Sage Zuko, right?” 

“Minister Qin,” Zuko requests, and the soldiers turn to escort them toward the outpost. 

The soldiers clearly aren’t used to visitors. Zuko holds his hands clasped in front of himself and his head high. Sokka fidgets and turns constantly, trying to take in all the visual information.

“Sokka,” Zuko eventually says. “Calm down. They’re not going to attack without notice.”

“You don’t know that,” Sokka responds. 

Minister Qin is tall and unimpressed. 

“To what do we owe this…” He looks down at Zuko for several moments, and then over to Sokka. “Visit,” he eventually concludes. 

“I have business to discuss,” Zuko responds. Qin doesn’t bow, so Zuko doesn’t either. “This is Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, acting as a legal witness. My name is Fire Sage Zuko.” 

“We’ve met before,” Qin responds. “When you were a child. When I was meeting with your… ah, father, once upon a time, I suppose.” 

Zuko understands the slight for what it is, and thoroughly ignores it. 

“We have much to discuss. But first, I would like to lead your soldiers in public worship.” Zuko looks up at the sky. “We will give midday offerings. I will require candles. Afterwards, I will take tea with you in a private space. You may choose one or more witnesses.” Zuko turns to the soldier who first greeted him. “What is your name?” 

“Private Sayuri.”

“Are you related by blood or marriage to Minister Qin?” When Private Sayuri shakes her head, he continues: “Private Sayuri will accompany us. You may choose other witnesses who are not related to you by blood or marriage, Minister. But first, please gather everyone for offerings.”

Minister Qin stares at Zuko for a long moment. Zuko doesn’t allow his eye contact or his faint smile to waver. Eventually, Qin turns away to follow instructions.

“Is this really necessary?” Sokka asks quietly. “We’re kind of on a time-limit before the others assume we’ve been kidnapped.”

“It establishes good will,” Zuko explains. “Plus I don’t like Qin any more than he likes following my orders.” 

Sokka makes a strangled noise. “Katara is never going to believe me when I tell her you’re secretly funny.”

They give offerings outside under the open sky. It isn’t the most usual practice, but their indoor spaces are not the most appropriate places for offerings. The fact that nowhere is set up for this is concerning to Zuko, who worries for their emotional and spiritual health. He would like to stay here for days to help restructuring, but like with Gaipan, the issues here are created by deeper societal ills. 

Sokka sits off to one side while Zuko leads offerings. But he notices, every now and then, that Sokka is following Zuko’s instructions, is chanting and concentrating appropriately, and tends to his candle with the same care as the soldiers. 

They finish with long moments of private meditation. Zuko feels better than he has in days, feels like he is back in his natural habitat, almost like he’s back in the High Temple and about to walk from worship to offer counsel with High Sage Kenji a steady presence behind him. 

And then the structure of the service is complete, and Zuko allows only a few minutes to receive thanks from the soldiers before following Minister Qin to a private office. 

Minister Qin looks deeply unamused as he serves Zuko tea. Zuko takes a seat across from Qin. On Zuko’s side of the low table sit Sokka and Private Sayuri. On Qin’s side sit two men. Zuko asks their names, and is told by Qin and not the men themselves: “Privates Jurou and Shig.” 

Zuko frowns. “Private Jurou,” he requests, and one of them lifts his head. “And Private Shig,” he notes, turning to the other. Minister Qin had not bothered to differentiate between them. “It is my honour to make your acquaintance. I am Fire Sage Zuko, previously of the Temple of the Avatar. Do you understand that I am here to give legal counsel?” 

The men nod, and Zuko turns to Private Sayuri for the same. Then he turns back to Minister Qin.

Qin makes a good attempt to stare him down. Zuko doesn’t find it impressive. 

“I understand there are rumours about you, Fire Sage,” Qin states. “Are you aware?” 

“Why don’t you enlighten me,” Zuko suggests as he pulls his paperwork from his bag. 

Qin hums. “Some say you’re travelling with an enemy of the Fire Nation. Some say you’re a heretic.” 

“Are those the same ‘some’ or a different ‘some’?” Sokka asks. 

Qin only frowns in his direction. 

“Heresy is a technical term,” Zuko responds calmly. “I do not believe I have done anything to earn the title. And apparently neither does the High Temple, since I have been issued no such warning or invitation. I don’t expect you would claim to know better than the High Sage and the Fire Lord on this matter?” 

Qin remains silent. 

Sokka tries and fails to contain a burst of laughter. 

“I am here to discuss the matter of the Northern Air Temple,” Zuko explains, placing his pile of papers onto the low table and separating them appropriately. “I understand the mechanist who lives there, known as Tengfei, has been supplying you with weaponry. I have documentation about the amounts and dates here, should you like to see them. Do you deny this claim?”

“I do not,” Qin responds. “He is quite an asset.” 

“I should imagine,” Zuko agrees. “There is the small problem of his contract.” 

Qin hesitates for a long moment, then takes a drink from his cup of tea. “Problem of his contract?” 

“Yes, the problem is that he doesn’t seem to have one,” Zuko explains. “Perhaps you would like to make a statement of witness about your interactions with him in setting up this… system. I would also be interested in seeing any documentation you have, especially regarding signed written contracts and records of payment.” 

Qin does not move to find documentation. 

“We have an understanding,” he says after a brief pause. “Perhaps it’s the kind of understanding someone who lives in a temple would find distasteful.” 

Zuko shakes his head. “With all due respect, Minister, nobody cares what I find distasteful. What’s important here is what’s legal.” 

Zuko doesn’t bother to mention what is ethical. He knows, in a scenario like this, that he can use the law to defend what is ethical. He cannot demand that a man like Qin understands ethical responsibility by himself. It would be asking too much of him. 

“We’re in a time of war,” Qin declares.

Zuko smiles. It feels sharp on his face. “Ah, luckily for you, Minister, I am an expert in the leniencies allowed by a time of war. It’s a topic of special interest to me. Why don’t you start from the beginning. When did you first come to know that there were refugees residing in the Northern Air Temple?” 

Zuko has to do no prompting through the rest of the witness statement. He listens carefully, occasionally glancing down to take a note where a fact of the case does not align, but it is mostly the same story in gentler language. 

“And so I offered him and his people safe haven, as long as he worked for me.” 

“You understand this to be a verbal contract?” Zuko clarifies. When Qin agrees, Zuko nods. “Would you like to add anything to your statement of witness?” 

“No, I think we’re done here,” Qin replies.

“You are incorrect,” Zuko states. “On multiple matters, actually, but certainly on us being done here. We have barely opened this case. I would like to begin with the definition of a verbal contract.” 

Qin’s eyes narrow.

“A verbal contract occurs when two people of equal standing decide together, with mutual consent, that they will make a personal exchange of reasonably similar value. Privates Sayuri and Shig are of equal standing. If Private Shig asked to exchange a gold coin for Private Sayuri’s ring, this would be a valid legal contract. But if Private Shig were Private Sayuri’s superior, or he was asking to exchange her ring for one thousand gold coins, they would need a written, signed, and witnessed contract to bring it to validity. Otherwise someone like me might see the situation and… You see where this is going, Minister.” 

There is a long moment of silence.

Finally, Qin says: “I believe this weaponry to be of roughly similar value to their lives. Don’t you?”

Sokka snorts, but otherwise remains silent. 

“Minister Qin, I think it won’t surprise you that I do not consider this a valid verbal contract by your own admissions. You are not of equal standing to a refugee without employment or status. There was no mutual consent because there was a threat of violence. And restraining oneself from violence is not payment, therefore there was no reasonable assumption of equal value.” 

“The Fire Lord doesn’t seem to mind.” 

“And I outrank the Fire Lord in terms of legal counsel. Though if you have explicit written permission to do this from the Fire Lord himself, I would be happy to invite him to this table. Do you have explicit written permission, Minister Qin?” 

Minister Qin remains silent. 

Zuko nods. 

“Here is my permission to act as legal counsel without Tengfei’s physical presence,” Zuko says, gesturing to the correct page. “It was witnessed by Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. He is of legal age according to the customs of his people.” He turns to the next stack of paper. “Here is an itemised list of weapons handed over to you from Tengfei of the Northern Air Temple. You’re welcome to present your own list. This is a list of rough estimations of hours and materials. And finally,” Zuko says, turning to his equations, “here is the sum I have come to when putting together material prices on a regular market, and Tengfei’s time according to a regular charge of a trained blacksmith. All of these, you understand, are underestimations. Tengfei would remain at liberty to provide evidence that it is worth much more than this. He would also remain at liberty to make a claim that your actions affected his health and wellbeing.” 

Qin only stares at Zuko.

“But if you paid this, it would be seen as a deposit for the continuation of his work.” 

The silence settles once again, and then Qin says: “And if I don’t?”

“Ah. That’s the good news. Tengfei will agree to refrain from suing for back charges or for suffering on the basis that he and his people are left alone and at peace.” 

“Oh he will, will he.” 

Zuko smiles again. “I’ve written a letter with appropriate information to the sages of the Xibei Temple.” He hasn’t sent that letter, but Qin doesn’t need to know that. “I’m sure they will be glad to take over once I leave, if there are any complications. Great Sage Izumi is known for her fastidiousness, after all.” 

Qin sits back. “I’m sure the Fire Nation can handle the long process of being ‘sued’ by a nobody seeking refuge in the damned remains of a temple, even with Great Sage Izumi’s help.” 

Zuko tilts his head. “Oh? The Fire Nation? I’m sorry, Minister Qin, I must have been unclear. This is not a conflict between Tengfei and the Fire Nation. It’s a conflict between Tengfei and yourself.”

Qin’s hands twitch where he has laid them calmly on his lap. 

I win, Zuko thinks with a politely disinterested smile. 

“Of course, perhaps you imagine the Fire Lord will take time out of his busy schedule to defend you on your costly personal mistake in failing to secure a written contract,” he states. “I don’t know him very well anymore. It wasn’t the kind of thing he forgave when I was a child, but that was a long time ago. It’s only if he doesn’t decide to spend time and money defending you from the repercussions of your error that this could become a real problem.” 

That this could absolutely ruin you, Zuko doesn’t add. 

I win, Zuko doesn’t add. 

“So what will it be, Minister Qin?” Zuko asks when Qin does not respond. Qin’s face is going a little red. “We have all these witnesses here - we wouldn’t want to keep them too long. Will you be paying for Tengfei’s services, or retracting from involvement with him entirely?” 

Sokka reaches out and squeezes Zuko’s wrist. For a moment, Zuko thinks it might be a warning - that maybe surrounding themselves with witnesses hasn’t earned Zuko the safety he thought it would - but when he glances over, it’s just to see that Sokka looks like he’s going to burst with glee. 

Qin looks down at the amounts Zuko has written out. Zuko sees on his face what the answer is, even if Qin seems to be unwilling to say it. 

Finally, Qin sighs. “Fine.”

“I will need a verbal answer for our witnesses to hear.”

Qin’s glare is deep and intense as he says: “I will retract my involvement with Tengfei in exchange for a waiving of these fees,” he says through gritted teeth. 

I don’t trust you for a moment, Zuko thinks as he nods politely. “Then I will inform Great Sage Izumi and Tengfei of your decision, which has been witnessed by all those here. We’ll just get this in writing before we go. I shall leave a copy with you for your personal protection.” 

Zuko slides his glasses back on as he begins to write. Sokka releases Zuko’s wrist, but puts his hand on Zuko’s back instead. Zuko isn’t sure what the touch is supposed to mean - perhaps he is signalling that he will protect Zuko if anyone decides to attack. 

When he has collected the appropriate signatures, Zuko collects his papers and takes his leave. He does not say goodbye. 

It has been a long time since Zuko has been able to do this. Years, in fact. The last time Zuko won an in-person case, the last time he got to subtly talk down a man who thinks he is above the law, was when he was still in the High Temple. 

(The High Sage used to smile and shake his head, like he was pleased but also thought Zuko’s attitude unbecoming. But Zuko didn’t shout at anybody today, so maybe High Sage Kenji would have been proud.)

(High Sage Kenji didn’t respond to a single letter when Zuko was banished to Crescent Island. Zuko needs to stop wanting his validation.)

Zuko and Sokka watch their backs as they leave the outpost. 

When they’re far enough away that they no longer need to be concerned about taking an arrow to the back, Sokka throws an arm around Zuko’s shoulder, laughs wildly, and says: “I can’t… What? What? Zuko!” 

Zuko glances at him in confusion. “That’s what I do. This is literally my job.” 

“I can’t believe you cornered him like that. You were like: pow! What about the definition of a verbal contract?” Sokka’s miming somehow turns from punching into a swordfight. “Clash! Clash! I outrank the Fire Lord!” 

“Don’t be too excited,” Zuko points out. “If Qin is smart, he’ll back down at this point. But people don’t always react well to being cornered. We need to convince the refugees to destroy all possible ways to the temple by foot.”

Sokka grins. “So now you’re telling me my day gets to end in controlled explosions?” 

“And then we need to go to the Xibei Temple to ensure that Great Sage Izumi will actually back up my ruling if he goes to her,” Zuko continues. “This isn’t over. We need to ensure they’re protected.” 

“Zuko.” Sokka’s tone turns serious. Zuko looks over to him, and Sokka squeezes his shoulder. “You did good. Take the win.” 

Zuko’s smile is barely controllable. “I did win. I’ve missed doing that.” 

“If I knew the law was actually about finding ways to use rules to tell people to shut up, I might have been more interested!” 

Zuko tilts his head. “I didn’t find a way to use the law, Sokka,” he explains. “The law exists to protect people like Tengfei from people like Qin. And men like Qin always think they’re above the law. That’s why I have a job to do.” 

Sokka stops and tugs at Zuko’s sleeve. When Zuko turns to face him, it’s to find that Sokka’s grin has softened to something quiet, and Zuko finds himself suddenly seized with nerves. It’s nice, he thinks, having Sokka look at him like this. But it also feels awful, he feels like the attention is too much, and he’s somehow completely certain that Sokka is about to nonsensically call him stupid again.

Before they can get to that point in the conversation, a voice calls in the distance: “Sokka! Zuko!” 

Zuko turns his head to find Katara and Aang waving down the path to them. 

“Is everything okay?” Aang asks once they’re close enough. “What happened?”

“Zuko yelled at everyone and now we get to make things explode,” Sokka explains gleefully. 

“I didn’t yell,” Zuko corrects. There was a time in his life that he would have shouted at Qin, but it can be even more satisfying to calmly eviscerate men like him. “But Sokka’s right, we do need to make things explode.” He turns to Tengfei. “Qin has agreed to leave you alone. If he’s smart, he will protect himself from financial ruin and do so. But just in case, I suggest that every way to the temple on foot is obliterated, since you don’t need it.” 

“And we only just fixed your balloon problem, so the Fire Nation don’t have a way up,” Sokka continues. “Wow. We really do have the skies. We might just win this war.”

“Of course we’re going to win,” Katara insists, sharing a smile with Aang. 

Tengfei turns to get to work, and Sokka makes himself useful as an explosion assistant. When the plans are underway, Tengfei turns to Zuko and asks: “What do we owe you?”

“I will not accept payment,” Zuko responds immediately. “And I did not get you the best deal here. I focused entirely on having him leave you alone.” 

Teo shakes his head. “That is the best deal,” he insists. “Thank you, Zuko. Is there really nothing we can do?” 

“Taking payment for counsel would lead to corruption,” Zuko responds. 

Tengfei accepts this easily enough, distracted by controlled explosions, but Teo follows Zuko around quietly with a thoughtful frown on his face. Eventually, he asks: “Maybe we could…? It’s not payment. But since you saved us from the Fire Nation, and we’re living in this temple, maybe Aang could make requests for things we should leave alone?”

Zuko closes his eyes briefly. “That is between you and Aang,” he says. “But I think it would be an appropriate gesture to him.”

Aang ends up covered in soot, and Sokka and Katara have some kind of symbiotic laughing fit that leaves them both breathless, but the day isn’t over until they visit the Xibei Temple to ensure that Zuko’s ruling will be upheld. 

And so they pack up Appa and head in the wrong direction, with a promise to check on the refugees one last time before they leave the mainland to find the Northern Water Tribe. 

An hour southwest sits the Xibei Temple, nestled in the trees on the outskirts of a Fire Nation colony. 

“Is this a really bad idea?” Sokka asks belatedly as they approach the entrance. “I mean, you say the sages are meant to be peaceful, but we were definitely attacked immediately the last time we went to a Fire Temple.”

“You were believed to be invading the temple,” Zuko responds. “As long as we don’t enter uninvited, we should be fine.”

Zuko waits patiently at the entrance. 

It takes less than a minute for the huge doors to be open, and then Zuko is home. 

(He has never been to this temple before. But the colours, the heavy scent of candles and incense on the air, the flame carvings, the tiles on the floor… Zuko is home.)

Zuko offers a shallow bow to the figure in the doorway. “I am Fire Sage Zuko. I come to speak with the Great Sage.” 

The door opens further, and Zuko is greeted by a vaguely familiar face. 

“Well,” Fire Sage Miki says, her voice betraying surprise. “Haven’t you grown up, Fire Sage Zuko.” She offers her own gentle bow, and then her eyes dart over the others. “And you do not visit alone.”

“We’re his friends!” Aang introduces with a wave, and then jumps when Katara elbows him. “Um. We’re not his friends! But we’re travelling together. I’m Avatar Aang, and this is Katara and Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.” 

Miki offers the sign of the flame, and then turns back to Zuko. “I will find Great Sage Izumi. But you understand, I don’t know if I should invite you in, considering…” 

Zuko nods his head once, ignoring the bloom of disappointment in his chest. “Of course. Whatever you think is best, Fire Sage Miki.” 

Fire Sage Miki closes the door before she leaves, and Zuko stares at the flames as he waits for the Great Sage to appear. 

“How come you know each other?” Katara asks. 

“Fire Sage Miki was the former sister of a sage at the High Temple,” Zuko explains. “Her order came to visit when I lived there.” 

He doesn’t mention that Fire Sage Miki had ruffled his hair and taken him on a walk to visit the turtleducks. It all seems painfully childish now. 

Fire Sage Miki returns. “The Great Sage invites you inside,” she says, opening the door wide. Zuko tries not to allow the emotions welling up inside him show on his face. This temple is not laid out identically to the High Temple or the Temple of the Avatar, but it’s similar in all the right ways. Zuko itches to find the Room of the Broken and the library, to ask if any of their rooms need rededication, to simply sit and breathe in the incense. 

Three figures sweep into the main hall, and Zuko bows appropriately. 

“Fire Sage,” Great Sage Izumi greets him. “You understand that we will not provide refuge for you here, on expectation that the High Temple might soon be responding to your letter.”

“You got the letter!” Sokka says, excited. “What did you think?”

Great Sage Izumi doesn’t spare him a glance. She’s too busy looking at Zuko, who is suddenly very aware that he has not opted to wear his hat, that his hair is back in its now-regular hairstyle and not the regulation topknot, that atop his robes he’s wearing a heavy dark green coat. 

Zuko feels like he belongs here. But he clearly doesn’t appear that way to the Great Sage. 

“Of course,” Zuko responds. “I am not here to seek refuge. I have given counsel and issued a ruling on a nearby case, and I wished to share those details with you in case it appears on your doorstep.” 

Great Sage Izumi nods to the sages at her side, who leave wordlessly. “Of course. I will take tea with you in my office. Your travelling companions will be safe here, but I request they remain accompanied.” 

“I would prefer they come with me,” Zuko responds. 

The Great Sage hesitates. “I should like to discuss matters that are not for outside ears,” she states eventually.

“I trust them,” Zuko insists. “Anything that you wish to say to me can be said in their presence.” 

Great Sage Izumi finally looks at the others, and then nods. She turns to lead them to her office, and Katara tucks her hand into Zuko’s elbow as they walk. Zuko isn’t sure what it means, but he doesn’t shake her off. 

They sit in the Great Sage’s office, and the other sages turn up long enough to present them with tea, which Great Sage Izumi then pours. 

“First,” the Great Sage says when they are alone, “the case.” 

Zuko describes the situation between Qin and Tengfei, and the Great Sage remains utterly impassive as she listens and glances over Zuko’s paperwork. When Zuko’s explanation is complete, she follows the numbers with one finger before saying: “You have severely underestimated the worth of those weapons. Why?”

“I wanted to ensure it couldn’t be thrown out due to bias,” Zuko explains, “so I opted to find a very reasonable number for Minister Qin to pay as a deposit, with an understanding that Tengfei could get another appraisal for a more appropriate amount later.”

The Great Sage’s eyes cut up from the paper to Zuko. They both know that she is the person who might throw this case out based on Zuko’s bias. Finally, the corner of Great Sage Izumi’s mouth curls up. 

“I will uphold your ruling, Fire Sage Zuko,” she says. “It is eminently sensible, after all. But if the Fire Lord does decide to get involved, you understand this case would leave my hands and be tried at the High Temple instead.” At Zuko’s nod, she adds: “I’m sure they will rush this through, and the case could be overturned in… oh, half a year or so.” 

Sokka snorts from beside Zuko. “Oh man,” he says quietly, “are you all like this?”

“Well, we ruined any way to the Northern Air Temple without an air bison or an air glider,” Katara explains. “So even if it does get overturned, I think the refugees will be okay.” 

Great Sage Izumi ducks her head in a brief nod, and drinks more of her tea. 

“The other matter we might discuss, since you’re here already, is the letter you sent us.”

“Did you like it?” Aang asks with a grin. 

Zuko holds the Great Sage’s gaze. 

“You might not recall this, Fire Sage Zuko, but we met briefly when you were originally taken in,” she says. “I told High Sage Kenji it was a mistake.” 

Zuko does not wince. It takes effort. 

“You were very young,” the Great Sage continues. “It was not technically against the rules, but it was against the spirit of the law. I did not believe your consent could be properly given. And when I met you in person, it only solidified this fact for me. You were given to the temple under bad pretences and accepted naively.” 

The children are quiet. They agree with her, Zuko assumes. He holds his back straight and his head high, and does not offer a response because the Great Sage’s words do not call for one.

Finally, Great Sage Izumi continues: “I was wrong.”

Sokka lets out a long breath. “So you did like the letter?” he asks. 

Once again, the Great Sage acts like Zuko is the only person in the room with her. 

“Had he held off on your rebirth in the fires, your banishment to the Temple of the Avatar might never have occurred. I now think that the High Sage saved your life by having you take your vows, Fire Sage Zuko. Because what you did when you spoke with the Fire Lord, whatever it is you said to him in that room that had him get rid of you - that might have been much worse had you not been protected by your place among the sages.” 

“You think he would have killed me,” Zuko clarifies. 

“I don’t know for sure,” Great Sage Izumi admits. “But the fact that you were always to be held by the temple and never the palace… What could you do, if you disagreed, anyway?” She gestures to Zuko in his Earth Kingdom coat, surrounded by rebels from the Water Tribes and the Air Nomads. “I don’t think anyone foresaw this.” 

“Well,” Zuko responds, “I didn’t foresee it either.”

“No,” the Great Sage agrees. “But you also haven’t thought more than one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?” Katara interjects. 

“Did you know I have raised six boys to adulthood, Fire Sage Zuko? You may be a Fire Sage, but just like how you were an eleven-year-old when we met, and a thirteen-year-old when you argued with the Fire Lord and were fortunate to leave with your life intact, you are a sixteen-year-old now and you are acting like it.”

“Hey!” Aang bursts. “That isn’t fair. We’re trying to save the world!” 

Zuko holds out a hand. “Let her finish,” he requests. 

He doesn’t know Great Sage Izumi. He has a very blurry memory of her greying hair beneath her hat, of her looking down her nose at him when he was a child, but Zuko’s knowledge of this Great Sage is through her writing. And Great Sage Izumi is fastidious, and pays careful attention to detail, and is rarely wrong. 

“What was wrong in my letter?” he asks, ready to listen.

Great Sage Izumi smiles very momentarily, and then shakes her head. “Nothing, Fire Sage Zuko,” she says, her voice a little hushed. “Your logic was impeccable. The High Sage was right to speak highly of your understanding of our great tradition and your commitment to justice.”

“However?” Zuko prompts. 

“However,” Great Sage Izumi says, “just like that day that you spoke back to the Fire Lord, you have not planned ahead.” She turns, for the first time, to the children in the room. “What happens next? How do you imagine the Fire Nation should respond?”

“They need to rise up against Ozai and stop the war,” Sokka replies. 

“We can restore balance to the world,” Aang explains. “Not just me - but all of us, together.”

“Avatar, you speak of a goal, not a plan,” the Great Sage responds, and then turns to Sokka. “So let us say the High Sage removes the Fire Lord from his throne. Then who sits upon it? Fire Sage Zuko?” 

“What?” Sokka asks. 

“I have no claim to the throne,” Zuko reminds the Great Sage, confused about why she would suggest this. “If anyone outside of the royal family could make a claim, it would be the High Sage.”

“But if High Sage Kenji removes the Fire Lord from his throne, Kenji also loses his status as High Sage,” Great Sage Izumi counters. “So there is no Fire Lord and no High Sage. Will you take either of their places? Both of them? Because unless you have a High Sage ready to take us back to those days of old - unless you are willing to fight a war to make that happen - then the crown will naturally pass to the next in line.” 

Zuko sits back and shakes his head. “But Crown Princess Azula isn’t of age,” he notes. 

“Yes,” the Great Sage responds. “So unless you plan to have the Fire Lord and the High Sage mutually agree to change the age of ascension for her, before the High Sage removes the Fire Lord from his throne, we will have a Fire Lord unable to rule.” 

“A regency will be established,” Zuko says. “With whoever the Fire Lord has left in charge. Fire Prince Iroh?”

The Great Sage shrugs her shoulders. “The Dragon of the West, who once helped take over much of the Earth Kingdom… Do you think his rule would lead to much balance? Do you think the outside world could trust him? And even if they can… You know the Fire Princess better than most, Fire Sage Zuko. I understand you advised her before you left for Crescent Island. What do you think will happen when she is the Fire Lord?” 

“I haven’t spoken with Princess Azula in years,” Zuko responds. He feels suddenly foolish. Princess Azula never responded to his letters, either. “But when I left the High Temple… she was very much her father’s daughter.” 

The Great Sage nods. “Then your plan is to shake the foundation of the Fire Nation, with no plans about how to rebuild and restore justice,” she says. “You understand how this makes it difficult for anyone who believes in your cause.” 

Zuko thinks about standing before the Fire Lord and refusing to bow. He thinks about everything that occurred as a result. He still believes it was the right thing to do, still believes that with all his soul, but… 

“If we do set a plan,” Zuko tries, and looks up at the Great Sage without finishing his sentence.

The Great Sage smiles. “Then I shall be excited to hear it,” she responds, and it isn’t a promise, but Zuko understands. Zuko understands that she wouldn’t have taken him into this room to point to the flaws in the path forward if she didn’t want him to walk it safely. 

Great Sage Izumi stands, prompting the others to join her.

“I will not request that you stay the night,” Great Sage Izumi says, “because it would be a danger to us. But those outside the temple don’t know what we’re doing in here. And I should like to give offerings now, should you like to join us.”

“Yes please,” Zuko replies.

By the time they leave the Xibei Temple, it is with less paperwork, with a new set of heavy Fire Sage robes and boots for their journey north, with many more concerns about the future of the Fire Nation, and with a cautious sense of hope that Zuko might not be alone amongst the sages. 

The Northern Air Temple remains safe. They stay another night to ensure its safety and to prepare for the journey across the northern sea. It has been a long day. 

The next day is somehow even longer. 

Chapter Text

When High Sage Kenji leaves the throne room, it is to find Crown Princess Azula leaning casually against one of the pillars. 

“High Sage,” she says, flicking her eyes up at him before looking back to her nails. “I assume you’ve been talking about the, ah, particulars of Zuko’s love letter to our great nation.”

High Sage Kenji hesitates. What he wants is to go and find Tatsuya. He wants to talk out the Fire Lord’s response, the letter itself, and what might happen going forward now that everything is beginning to spin out of control.

Instead, he bows shallowly to the Fire Princess. “Princess Azula,” he greets her. “I was indeed engaged in conversation about Fire Sage Zuko. Your father remains inside, should you wish to request an update.” 

Princess Azula does not accept his careful attempt as a dismissal. Instead, she begins to walk alongside Kenji as he retreats to the High Temple. 

“I have a question for you, actually,” she says. “I read Zuko’s letter, which is of course dripping with heresy and ambition for my father’s throne. It is sickening. Are you not sickened, High Sage?” 

Kenji feels nauseous every time he thinks about the letter, but he imagines it’s not for the same reasons as Princess Azula. 

“What is your question, Princess?” 

Princess Azula watches Kenji for a long moment, and then nods once, decisively. “My father is understandably upset. Uncle Iroh says there must be a trial before execution. Is there any chance of… skipping that trial?” 

This is what the Fire Lord had suggested, too. It seems the powers in the palace are aligned.

High Sage Kenji stops walking so that he can face the Crown Princess properly. 

“Our tradition is clear on this matter,” he explains. “Fire Sage Zuko must be issued an invitation to court. There may only be one messenger - the invitation must go from the Fire Lord’s hand to the messenger, and from the messenger to the accused. Fire Sage Zuko will then be tried. Your father wishes to try him for high heresy, which - if he is found guilty - will be punished via execution.” 

“And if he doesn’t return for trial?” Princess Azula asks. 

“Then he can be found guilty in his absence, and he will have no chance to defend himself. Though, having met your former advisor, I doubt he will choose to remain absent from the court.” 

“He wasn’t much of an advisor anyway,” Princess Azula says with a dismissive turn of her head. “He never responded to any of my requests for counsel after he left.” 

They spend hours looking for the Northern Water Tribe, but in the end, the tribe finds them. 

There’s a story, deep in the history of the world, of a brief but bloody war between the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation. When Zuko was young and living another life, his teachers would ensure that he knew the ins and outs of each battle in Fire Nation history. As they’re being led through the ice fortress of the outer walls of the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko recalls reading about that battle when he was young, recalls Fire Sage Tatsuya using battle strategies to talk about ethics and situational decision-making. Zuko only now realises the only reason the Fire Nation struck such a significant blow in their battle at the North was because they had dragons. Any attack on the North now would be a much more significant and costly gamble. 

Frankly, it would take a madman to try. 

The fortress of carved ice is an incredible feat of waterbending, but even more beautiful are the expressions on Sokka and Katara’s faces. This is what they should have grown up with, Zuko realises; this is what was stolen from them long before they were born.

Zuko wonders about how the South might have flourished without the intervention of his own people. He pulls the hood of the Earth Kingdom jacket more tightly around his head, protecting himself from the cold of the frozen city. 

Appa stops his floating journey in front of what Zuko assumes is a palace. 

“Welcome,” greets one of the men, his voice booming in a way that tells Zuko his words aren’t only for their ears, “to the Northern Water Tribe.”

“We are so happy to be here,” Katara bursts. She grabs Sokka’s arm. “We’re from the Southern Water Tribe, and we grew up hearing stories about you, but--”

“It’s so big!” Sokka continues, and Katara laughs with nervous energy. 

“And there are so many waterbenders!” Katara adds. 

The man nods with a wide smile. “I am Chief Arnook. It is of course our pleasure to welcome visitors from our sister tribe, Tribeswoman…?”

“Katara,” Katara introduces herself, “and this is my brother Sokka, and Aang - Aang is the Avatar--” 

“The Avatar,” another man says from beside the chief. “We had heard you returned, but it is… Wow. We thought it might be an unsubstantiated rumour.” 

“Nope!” Aang replies. “Sorry I took so long. I was trapped in ice for a hundred years.” 

As per usual, Zuko is surprised by how casual Aang makes it sound. 

“We are glad to meet you, Avatar Aang,” Chief Arnook says, and then he turns to Zuko. 

Zuko reaches up to bring down his hood, with a vague memory of a northern tradition of uncovering their heads when greeting one another. Cold touches his cheeks when the hood is down, and he offers the chief a shallow bow with a sign of the flame. 

“I am Fire Sage Zuko. We are grateful for your invitation into the city.” 

There’s a long moment of quiet. Sokka shuffles closer to Zuko and places a hand on his elbow, clearly waiting for what is likely to be a less-than-warm welcome. 

The chief’s face seems to have set itself in stone as he watches Zuko. 

“There has been a misunderstanding,” Chief Arnook states, and Zuko breathes through the disappointment he has no right to feel. “We would not have invited you had you not been hiding your true identity.” 

Zuko glances down at the Fire Nation reds visible under his dark coat. “I am not hiding my identity,” he insists. “I am wearing a coat.” 

“The Fire Nation aren’t welcome here,” one of the men behind Chief Arnook states. 

Zuko sighs. This is all feeling very predictable. 

“Well, good thing he’s not the whole Fire Nation, then!” Sokka responds with false cheer. 

“Zuko’s on our side,” Aang insists. “I can vouch for him.” 

The chief continues to watch Zuko, and then his eyes flicker to where Sokka is still holding him by the arm. “We will discuss this inside,” he insists. He turns to enter the palace structure.

It does not escape Zuko’s notice that he is followed by men who look like guards. 

They walk, and Zuko considers his options. 

There’s no new information gleaned from being inside the city, except that it is near impossible for Zuko to leave. He had foolishly assumed there would be some passage to the Earth Kingdom, but the Northern Water Tribe is truly sealed off. Zuko would need Appa, and even if Appa could drop him somewhere, he would also need one of the others to join him on the journey in order to ensure that Appa and Aang are reunited.

It’s possible, but leaving is not a good option. Aang and Katara need to learn waterbending, and Aang is on a tight schedule. They cannot give that up for Zuko. Sokka could drop Zuko somewhere and return here with Appa, but having seen Sokka’s facial expression as they entered the city, Zuko is unwilling to tear him away from his heritage to correct Zuko’s mistake.

It looks like Zuko is staying in whatever fashion the Northern Water Tribe can put up with, assuming that they’re not hoping to put Zuko to death over this. 

Knowing his options makes it easier to stop in the large ice room and take a step in front of the children.

“Wait,” Sokka hisses, grabbing for Zuko again. His hand ends up on Zuko’s wrist this time, slipping up his sleeve to find skin, and Zuko glances at Sokka’s tense jaw before looking back to the Water Tribe leadership. “What are you thinking?” 

“There’s only one good option here,” Zuko responds in an equally quiet voice. “We need to let them imprison me, for either the duration of our stay or until they deem me trustworthy.” 

Sokka squeaks like he’s about to argue, then closes his eyes and knocks his head down against Zuko’s shoulder. “Do you have to always make those decisions by yourself?” he asks into the fur of Zuko’s coat. 

“Explain,” Chief Arnook insists.

Sokka lifts his head to face the leaders. 

“Look, it’s been a whole thing,” Sokka explains. “Aang has to fight the Fire Lord and restore balance to the world. To do that, he needs to learn all the elements. We’re his friends--” Sokka looks over at Zuko. “We’re his-- we’re helping him. Aang, that is. Zuko’s part of our group, and that’s not negotiable.” Sokka pauses, and then straightens his posture and adds: “Sir.” 

Chief Arnook hums. He continues to watch Zuko, and Zuko tries not to be too uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“They need to stay,” Zuko adds to Sokka’s speech. “Aang needs to learn waterbending. I am willing to be imprisoned if that’s what it takes to get him trained.”

“Zuko!” Katara hisses. 

“Nobody needs to be imprisoned!” Aang insists. “Can’t we just… Just because Zuko is from the Fire Nation doesn’t mean he’s bad, does it? He’s helping me.”

One of the chief’s advisors asks: “Are you saying that this boy is your firebending master, Avatar?” 

Sokka groans again and closes his eyes. 

“I am not a firebending master,” Zuko responds. “I am a Fire Sage, and therefore only permitted to use my firebending for fighting if I am defending myself or my temple.” 

“So he is a firebender,” another of the men says. “Chief, we really cannot let him walk the city.” 

“But you didn’t listen to the rest of what he said,” Katara insists. “He’s a firebender who can’t fight.”

“No,” the man responds, “he is a firebender who says he won’t fight. We have no reason to believe that.”

“Can’t you believe me, since I’m the Avatar?” Aang asks. “Can’t I just vouch for him?” 

Chief Arnook smiles. It isn’t a mean smile, but it isn’t a happy one, either. Zuko doesn’t know how to place it. “We are very happy to receive you as a guest, Avatar. But we cannot accept your friend as a guest without some guarantees.”

Zuko can offer a guarantee, he realises. “I can sign a contract,” he states. 

Chief Arnook blinks at him, and then frowns in confusion. “Why would that help us?” 

“Because you’ll have a guarantee,” Zuko reponds. “We can even send a copy to the nearest Fire Temple to ensure it’s enforceable.” 

Sokka lets go of Zuko’s wrist, but only to pat him gently on the shoulder. “You’re kind of a one-trick tiger seal,” he comments with a half-smile. “I don’t think that’s going to work here.” 

“There is no way to guarantee that he isn’t lying to you,” Chief Arnook says to the children. “We’ll need to take precautions.” 

“Maybe we can agree that one of us will always be with Zuko?” Sokka suggests. 

Katara huffs. “We shouldn’t need to do that.” She crosses her arms, and Zuko is glad that he isn’t the recipient of her expression, even if he’s the cause of it.

Chief Arnook shakes his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be enough. Perhaps we can come to an agreement about how to handle this, but until then, we shall keep him where we know he can do no harm.” 

Zuko nods and goes to step away from the others. 

“Wait, no,” Sokka says, snagging him by the hood. “This isn’t okay!” 

“It’s fine,” Zuko insists. “They won’t kill me.” 

“That’s not the-- Your bar is too low, Zuko.” Sokka closes his eyes and grunts in frustration again. The fact that he has frustrated Sokka is somehow much worse than the fact that he’s heading toward imprisonment. “Okay. Nope. This isn’t happening.”

“Sokka, they need to learn waterbending,” Zuko points out. “That’s not negotiable. And I would rather stay if I can.” 

There’s a long moment of quiet as Sokka stares at him. His eyes are very blue, a fact that is highlighted by their icy backdrop. And then finally, Sokka nods. 

“Okay,” Sokka says. “Then I’ll be staying with you.” 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

“Aang and Katara can be greeted like guests and learn waterbending,” Sokka declares. “I’ll go where Zuko goes. I’ll be imprisoned where he’s imprisoned, and I’ll be free when he’s free.” 

“Sokka, that’s unnecessary--” 

“That’s the deal,” Sokka insists. 

“Katara.” Zuko turns back to seek reason from her. “Tell Sokka--” 

“The only reason I’m not going with you is that I need to learn in order to help Aang later,” Katara says, and then she turns to her brother. “Stay safe.” 

“We’ll get you out of there,” Aang adds, and for a brief moment the four of them are standing in a circle and facing one another, like they’re a team. “Just stay safe. There has to be a way to convince them.” 

Sokka smiles. “Enjoy your freedom,” he suggests, and then he tugs Zuko away. 

The guards search Zuko more thoroughly than they search Sokka. Zuko doesn’t know if it’s because they’re more suspicious of Zuko, or if it’s simply because they keep managing to pull more items from his pockets.

“Will you keep my belongings safe?” Zuko asks. “I would like to retrieve them.” 

Sokka has three different items on his person that can be used as weapons. Zuko has zero. Nonetheless, it’s still Zuko who is glared at with mistrust when given the response: “We’ll see.” 

They try to take the cuffs from Zuko’s wrists when they find them, and Zuko has to explain that there is no way to remove them without special tools. 

Eventually, the pair are led to an icy prison. 

From the outside, it looks like a simple sheet of ice with the barest impression of white lines inside. But when the waterbender melts the ice to open a door, Zuko can see that it’s a kind of room, a cube of space in the midst of the ice. And trapped within that ice is a cage built from bone, working as another barrier against escape.

There’s nothing else in the room at all. It’s nothing like any prison Zuko has ever known.

“Will we not run out of air?” Zuko asks. 

“Well I suggest you don’t go burning any fires,” the first guard suggests gruffly. 

The second closes the bars of the prison behind them. Zuko lifts a hand to the bones, bared to them only in this space of the door, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch them. “I wouldn’t think about trying to break out,” the first guard warns Zuko, watching as his curious hands hover over the bars of their prison. “The spirit of the snow leopard caribou doesn’t look kindly on those who try to run.”

“We will pull down the ice to give you food twice a day,” the second guard adds. “You will be allowed out twice a day to use the bathroom, and I suggest you use it when you’re told, because we can’t hear you through the ice.” 

This doesn’t seem very safe, Zuko thinks as the thick sheet of ice is reformed around the bars. It’s dark in here without a light source, and Zuko doesn’t dare to use fire for fear of losing breathable air. He wonders if it’s even made for two people - it’s small, just enough room for both of them to lie down on the ice and sleep if necessary. 

The light from outside glows just barely through the ice. Zuko can see the barest shapes of their guards through it. 

It’s mostly dark, and very cold. 

“It’s not too late for you to change your mind,” Zuko points out. “The next time they open the ice, you can opt to leave.” 

Sokka scoffs. His facial expression isn’t really visible to Zuko, just the outline of his features, the cut of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbone. Zuko already misses seeing his face, but he supposes Sokka probably prefers not having to look at Zuko.

“Zuko, this place is designed to make you go crazy on your own,” Sokka explains. “Yeah, I’ll just leave you alone here, shall I?”

Sokka sits down on the ice and rubs his bare hands together. It’s cold enough that their breaths would probably be visible in better light.

“Here,” Zuko says, sitting next to him. “I can keep us warm without lighting a fire.” 

Zuko concentrates on his inner fire in order to raise his temperature, breathes warmth into his lungs, and carefully exhales into the air between them. He heats up his entire body, trying to keep himself warm enough to exude heat for Sokka to benefit, too. 

“What?” Sokka says in a high voice, and then tucks himself into Zuko’s side tightly. “Could you always do this? This is amazing. I’ll never be cold again. Can you do this every night? Because I am frankly offended that you never offered any cuddle sessions.” 

Zuko feels his mouth wanting to pull into a smile. “It takes a significant amount of energy,” he explains. “It should be fine if we aren’t in here for too long, but I can’t keep it up like this forever. Certainly not while I’m asleep.” 

“Don’t wear yourself out,” Sokka insists, and then he reaches out semi-blindly to pull Zuko’s hood over his head. “I assume this place isn’t designed to freeze us to death.” 

Zuko assumes the same, because they wouldn’t put Sokka in here if that was the case. 

“One day,” Sokka declares, somehow shifting even closer, “we’re going to go somewhere and be like ‘and this is our frie-- and this is Zuko’ and people are going to be normal about it.”

Zuko’s next breath stutters out as a heated laugh. “Considering the fact that we’re sending my letter to High Sage Kenji throughout the Fire Nation, I think that’s getting even less likely.” 

Sokka hums, and Zuko folds his arm around Sokka’s back to anchor himself more comfortably. 

“Maybe after the war,” Sokka suggests, and Zuko nods in response. “What do you want to do after the war?” 

Honestly, Zuko hasn’t really envisioned surviving the war. He expects Sokka won’t like that answer, so he goes with: “Whatever helps us rebuild the Fire Nation according to Agni’s will.” 

“Well yeah, obviously,” Sokka responds. “But your temple got splatted by Avatar Roku. Where will you go? Back to the temple in the royal city? You were there for a while, right?” 

“I was raised in Royal Caldera City,” Zuko explains. “I was reborn in the flames of Agni in the High Temple. It’s very close to the palace.” When Sokka is only quiet in response, Zuko adds: “I was there for two years. It wasn’t long, but I liked it there.”

“Did you like where you grew up?” Sokka asks, and he sounds oddly hesitant about it. 

Zuko thinks about being a child, in a life that no longer belongs to him. He thinks about tense dinners with the royal family, about burns gained because he was a slow learner with his firebending, about the woman who was his mother and her sudden, awful disappearance. 

Eventually, he shakes his head. “Not really,” he admits. “The woman who was my mother, she loved me. That was good, until she disappeared. And I had a sister. We didn’t always get along - she was always better than me at everything, and she liked pointing out my flaws. Once, she pushed me off the rooftop in the hanging gardens and I broke my wrist, because I beat her in a game of chase.” 

Sokka pulls away from him abruptly. “Okay, wow, wasn’t expecting your sister to be as bad as the people who sold you.” 

“She isn’t my sister anymore,” Zuko points out. “When I was reborn, I severed all prior familial ties. I have no parents, and no sister, and no claims to any ancestral rights.” 

Sokka pauses, and Zuko has never been good at reading faces, but he finds himself wishing he had the small clues involved in looking at Sokka properly. After a moment, he shivers and moves to be closer again. 

“That sucks,” he says after a long moment. “I lost my mom. I can’t imagine also losing being able to call her my mom.”

Zuko feels the same stab of guilt that he always does when Sokka and Katara’s mother comes up in conversation, but he knows to expect it now, and he knows how to ride it out.

“Will you tell me about her?” Zuko requests. 

Sokka is so close that Zuko imagines he can feel Sokka’s smile. “She was a lot like Katara,” he explains. “Or… I guess Katara is a lot like her. Sometimes, when I picture her, I see Katara’s face instead.” Sokka tenses minutely. “I suppose that’s not… I mean, it has been so long since I saw her face, you know? We don’t have any portraits of her.” 

There are portraits of the woman who was Zuko’s mother in the palace. Zuko didn’t have much reason to visit the palace once he was given to the temple, but he recalls walking past a family portrait from before everything changed. Zuko wonders if it was a comfort, to see her unmoving face staring back at him. He isn’t so sure. 

“I miss her,” Sokka adds eventually, and Zuko breathes warmth into the air again. 

“I’m sorry she was taken away from you,” Zuko tries. 

“She’d be proud of us,” Sokka declares. “Especially Katara. But all of us, really.” 

“I don’t think she’d be too impressed that I dragged you into an icy prison.”

Sokka snorts. “Okay, first, I followed you into this icy prison,” he points out. “And second, she definitely would have yelled at me if I hadn’t.” 

Zuko can’t quite believe that it’s true, but the idea that one of Sokka’s parents wouldn’t disapprove of Zuko on sight is warming. 

“What about you?” Zuko asks. “What do you want to do after the war?” 

Sokka’s pause is long enough that Zuko notices he’s trembling a little with the cold. Zuko concentrates on raising his temperature and radiating warmth until Sokka relaxes. 

“I don’t know,” Sokka admits, and Zuko wonders if Sokka also hasn’t envisioned surviving. “Keep travelling, but just for fun. I’d want to help you and Aang, obviously. And I want to go and see my Gran Gran again. She must be really worried.”

Zuko feels a rush of warmth at Sokka’s declaration that he would still want to be in Zuko’s life after the war. It will be for serving a goal, of course, but it’s still nice to hear. 

“Is heatbending going to make you more hungry, or just tired?” Sokka asks. 

“Both,” Zuko admits. 

“Then you should stop,” Sokka suggests. “We don’t know how much food they’ll bring us, and we don’t know how long it’ll take for Katara to yell them into submission.” 

Zuko chuckles. “Do you really think that’s what’s happening up there?”

“I would bet your hat on it.” 

“You can’t bet my hat. Only I can bet my hat. It belongs to me.” 

“Oh, is that your professional, legal opinion?” Sokka asks, and Zuko finds himself grinning. 

It grows steadily cooler without Zuko’s attempts to warm them, but between wearing fur and having Sokka this close, it isn’t really that bad. 

“Do you think this is where they put usual prisoners?” Zuko asks. “It seems a little…” He hesitates, aware that he might be about to cross over into insulting a foreign nation for not doing things his way.

“Dramatic?” Sokka prompts. “Unnecessary? Like they just put two kids into an unventilated block of ice with no heat or light source for no real reason?” 

“Dramatic,” Zuko goes with. “The bones thing - do you build prisons from bone in the south, too?” 

Zuko feels it as Sokka shakes his head. “Bone wouldn’t really be that good a cage,” he points out. “Not without all this ice, and we didn’t have any waterbenders left. They’re either using the bones for intimidation or for spiritual mumbo-jumbo.” 

“Sokka.”

“Not mumbo-jumbo, right,” Sokka admits, and then sighs. “We didn’t really have the resources for this kind of thing, even if we had waterbenders. We have to trust one another a lot more than they do, apparently.” 

Zuko’s mind turns back to the willingness of the southern tribesmen to test his trustworthiness in the waters. If Aang and Katara can’t find another way… 

“Can’t believe you’re defending my own culture to me after it imprisoned us both,” Sokka mumbles. 

“We can ask them more when they open the ice,” Zuko decides. 

“You can ask them whatever you want,” Sokka relents. “I’m just here for the ride. Oh hey, why don’t these come off?” His hand slips up Zuko’s sleeve to the metal cuff.

Sokka’s fingers are a little cold, but the skin-to-skin contact feels nice. This is probably the longest Zuko has been close to another person since… well, before he can remember. 

“They represent that I am bound to service of Agni,” Zuko explains. “They wouldn’t be much of a symbol if I could shed them whenever I like.” 

Sokka shifts, and Zuko can feel the weight of his gaze, even though he can’t see Sokka’s eyes. 

“Isn’t that its own kind of prison?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“That you just can’t leave, and you have to carry around the symbol of that forever?” 

“I chose this,” Zuko points out. “I made a vow.”

“You were a child,” Sokka responds, and his voice is low and quiet with it. Zuko would almost prefer it if he were shouting. “Your vows shouldn’t count for anything.”

“I was reborn in the fires and wasn’t a child anymore,” Zuko responds, trying and failing to keep his own volume down. “We’ve talked about this. You know this. What do you want me to say, Sokka?” 

“That’s just it,” Sokka says, withdrawing from Zuko. He makes some kind of gesture that Zuko can’t see. “What do you want, Zuko? It’s all ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ and ‘bound to service’, but what do you actually want?” 

Zuko sits back, stung. 

“I want to fulfill my duty,” he explains, much more quietly this time. “I want to be honourable, and to serve Agni. Why is that so hard to believe?” 

“It’s not--” Sokka hesitates, and then sighs loudly. “It’s not hard to believe that you want to be a good person, and a good sage, Zuko. I’m just…” 

Does Sokka find it hard to believe that Zuko wants to be a good person? Is that what this is about? Does he think that without being bound to his duty, Zuko wouldn’t care at all about this entire war?

Zuko wonders, suddenly, about what he would have been like as a prince instead of a sage. Without High Sage Kenji and Fire Sage Tatsuya, without the weight of their great tradition, without spending his days thinking of nothing but ethics and balance… Maybe Sokka is right. Maybe he would…

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Sokka insists, moving closer again. “I’m not angry at you.”

“You are angry,” Zuko points out.

“Not at you,” Sokka repeats. “I’m angry because you got thrown into a stupid ice block and we can’t see the really cool ice architecture up there. I’m angry because your stupid handcuffs are actually handcuffs, like you’re a prisoner. I’m angry because I don’t know how to explain to you that it’s really messed up that your entire life is dictated by the fact that you were sold when you were a kid.” 

“It’s better this way, though.” Zuko searches for a way to make Sokka understand. “If I hadn’t been sold, I would only be bound by different duties, and I wouldn’t have ended up here with you.” 

Sokka goes very still for a moment, and Zuko wonders what he said wrong. But then Sokka says a strangled, surprised, “Oh,” and fits himself back into the space next to Zuko. Maybe Zuko didn’t say anything wrong after all. 

Their guards melt the ice not long after, to allow Zuko and Sokka individual breaks to relieve themselves. When Zuko returns, there is food in their ice block. Sokka is using the light to rearrange food between the two bowls.

As Zuko passes through the bone door, he stops to hold a hand up to the bone, and says, “Thank you for your service, snow leopard caribou.” 

One of the guards splutters in response to this, but then Zuko is in the prison cell and the ice is reformed. 

Sokka chuckles.

“What’s funny?” Zuko asks as he sits down, carefully feeling for the food to avoid squashing it. 

“The way people can’t handle your sincerity,” Sokka explains. “Here. This one’s yours.” 

He guides Zuko’s hands, and the pair of them eat in the dark. Afterwards, Zuko works on radiating heat again, making up for the long break in their contact. 

After that, they move their bowls into a corner and resume their previous position of huddling for warmth. 

“Think Katara is still yelling?” Sokka asks. 

“Surely she’s tired by now,” Zuko suggests. “Maybe they’re learning waterbending as quickly as possible so that we can leave.” 

Sokka sighs. “Nah. I think she’s still yelling.”

They lapse into silence for a long while before Sokka asks: “Hey, want to play a game?” 

They struggle to find a game that will work with their surroundings. They cannot see and their movements are limited, and Zuko refuses point-blank to play word games that require lying for fun. There’s a moment in which Sokka draws a breath like he’s about to burst into an impassioned argument about why his lying game is fine, but then he pauses and says: “Wait, I’ve got it: thumb war!” 

This is how Zuko learns what thumb wrestling is, and how Sokka learns that it’s a different game when you can’t see one another’s thumbs. 

“No,” Zuko growls, failing to wrench his thumb out from Sokka’s grip as he counts to three and declares himself the victor. Their right hands are clasped, which has forced them to shift positioning to sit across from one another. Sokka is kneeling, which gives him extra height. Zuko is only now realising that this is a tactic. “You’re cheating!”

“No I’m not, you’re just bad at it,” Sokka insists. “Best of seven?” 

Zuko uses their clasped hands as leverage to push himself up to kneeling, taking away Sokka’s height advantage. “I declare war,” he states, and Sokka bursts into laughter.

“That’s not how you-- hey! We haven’t--” 

Zuko is going to win. He’s going to win. He’s going to-- 

Sokka uses his free hand to shove at Zuko’s shoulder. 

“Cheater!” Zuko snarls, losing his balance. He tugs their joint hands, freeing his thumb before Sokka can claim victory. “You’re such a cheater--”

Sokka tries to push him again, rambling about how they have set zero rules and therefore this is not cheating, and Zuko abruptly realises that Sokka is entirely correct. It is, in fact, not cheating. 

Zuko waits for the next shove, and instead of letting it distract him, he allows himself to overbalance and pulls Sokka down with him.

Sokka shouts as they land, and Zuko’s head knocks against the hard ice of the floor. But his thumb traps Sokka’s, and Zuko is shouting with glee as Sokka tries to regain his breath, and then Sokka has pulled his thumb free with a loud peal of laughter. 

Sokka plants his knees and one elbow in a clear attempt to recover balance, and Zuko swings up one of his legs to tug Sokka down. 

Sokka lands on Zuko with an oomph, and their hands get squished between their chests, but importantly: Zuko has trapped Sokka’s thumb.

Zuko intends to laugh meanly, intends to count to his victory, but something shifts in the air around them. Sokka is breathing heavily, and his face is very close, and Zuko finds himself suddenly mourning the fact that he can’t see him. What little light shines through the ice is catching on Sokka’s skin, just enough that Zuko can see the outline of his temple and cheekbone, but aside from that - nothing.

But Sokka is very warm, and very close, and the elbow propping him up is just far enough away that it’s giving him barely any height above Zuko. Zuko can’t see him at all, but he can tell that they’re too close, and after a moment he feels a brush of skin against his forehead. Zuko’s eyes close without his conscious permission, and he feels Sokka’s breath hitch. 

For a wild moment, Zuko imagines that Sokka is about to kiss him. 

(That would be crazy, Zuko knows it would be crazy, but the charged energy in the air, and Sokka’s forehead against his, and Sokka’s breath… It all leads some fierce, unchecked impulse to come to life within him. And somehow it isn’t just that Zuko thinks Sokka might kiss him, it’s that Zuko thinks he might want Sokka to kiss him.)

Then the ice around the door melts, and they are flooded with light. 

Sokka yelps as he jumps back as far as he can. It takes Zuko a moment to shake the daze of confusion from his mind. By the time he looks to their guards, it’s to find that both of them are glancing between Zuko and Sokka with raised eyebrows. 

“... Should have imprisoned them separately, I guess,” one of the guards mumbles, opening up the bone cage. “C’mon. You’ve been requested upstairs.” 

“I guess they finally got sick of Katara’s yelling,” Sokka responds, his voice reedy and shaky, and scrambles out the door without looking back at Zuko.

Zuko sits up carefully, his heart pounding uncomfortably against the cage of his ribs, and then goes to follow. 

Sokka wrings his hands and doesn’t look at Zuko on their way back up the stairs. Zuko feels a stab of concern that he messed up by dragging Sokka down on top of him, that it was inappropriate and has made Sokka uncomfortable, but he doesn’t have much time to worry about it before they have returned to the ground level. 

They end up in the same room that Chief Arnook led them to before. This time, however, the chief is seated behind a table. The same men as before are present, as are two women. One is barely out of girlhood - might be the same age as Zuko and Sokka - and is seated with folded hands and patient grace by the chief’s right hand. 

The second woman is standing beside the table. Her eyes don’t leave Zuko as he and Sokka walk into the centre of the room.

Katara and Aang rush to join them. 

“Finally,” Katara breathes. “We tried everything.” 

“Did you try yelling? Because we assumed you were just yelling the whole time we were down there,” Sokka explains. 

Aang nods. “Katara did try yelling.” 

Katara elbows him. “I mean it, we tried everything. But telling them why they were wrong didn’t help, and trying to tell your story, Zuko, that didn’t help either.” Katara’s shoulders straighten. “So then I thought: What would Zuko do?”

“We know what Zuko would do,” Sokka points out. “He would get himself imprisoned.” 

Katara rolls her eyes. “I mean, I started looking for flaws in their argument.” She catches Zuko’s eyes and grins, sudden and bright. “And I found one that worked. Remember Jinghua and the thief?” 

“What about them?” Zuko asks, confused. 

“Remember how that thief asked you what your authority was. And you didn’t actually have authority over them, but you knew who did, and you threatened to take their case to the Earth Kingdom courts instead?” 

“You threatened to take Zuko’s case elsewhere?” Sokka asks, sounding just as lost as Zuko feels. 

Katara shakes her head. “No. I asked where their authority over you comes from, and they tried to explain.” 

“Um, it doesn’t come from the fact that he’s in the Northern Water Tribe?” Sokka questions. 

“That’s what they said,” Aang agrees. “But it turns out that they might not actually have authority over Zuko.”  He grins. “There’s a whole other system for Zuko.” 

When Zuko and Sokka don’t catch on, Katara adds: “You’re a spiritual leader. You’re under the authority of their spiritual leadership, not their political leadership.” She turns back to the men behind the table, and the elderly woman standing calmly at the edge of the temple. “Zuko, meet Yagoda.” 

Yagoda only smiles, and then she turns her face to Chief Arnook. Yagoda raises one hand, palm up, and the chief nods. “Please, Yagoda, you are welcome to speak.” 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” she says, walking a few steps closer. “My name is Yagoda. I am the Elder Healer of the Northern Water Tribe. This is a most unusual circumstance. It has been questioned whether a Fire Sage is under my personal domain, rather than the domain of the chief.” 

Zuko pulls his hood down and offers her a bow. “With due respect, ma’am, why would that be the case?” 

“It may well not be the case,” Chief Arnook states. “However, we need your input to establish this. Can you tell us what sagehood consists of?” 

Zuko nods. “Of course. The Fire Nation is supposed to be built with a system of balance: a heart and a head; a palace and a temple. The temple is run by Fire Sages. We are concerned with the will of Agni and the upholding of our great tradition.” When the chief only gestures for him to continue, Zuko adds: “Our roles consist of running the temples, leading offerings to Agni, ruling over interpersonal legal cases, advising the court, officiating at rituals such as marriages and funerals, holding the knowledge of our great tradition, teaching our scriptures and history… Should I go on?”

The chief sits forward and places his hands on the table. 

“Curious,” he states. 

“He said himself: it is a political role,” says one of the men at his table. “They advise the court.” 

“The healers advise us on spiritual matters, do they not?” the chief asks, looking back to Yagoda. “Is the boy’s role to consult the spirits for their opinions?” 

Yagoda only looks to Zuko. 

“Well,” Zuko says, ignoring where Katara is tugging on his sleeve. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Agni has granted us with scriptures, and the sages have developed understandings from those scriptures which have moral and legal implications.” 

“With respect, chief,” one of the other men interjects, “this is an interesting thought exercise, but Fire Sage Zuko is not a woman.” 

“Huh?” Sokka asks from beside Zuko. “Why does that matter?”

The man who spoke looks over to Sokka. “Spiritual healers are women and girls. Yagoda leads them, and she has final say over their treatment unless they trespass into political activity. The girl,” he continues, flicking his gaze to Katara, “wishes to claim that Zuko is the equivalent of a spiritual healer, but that does not hold true.” 

“Only women can be spiritual leaders?” Zuko asks. 

Katara sighs. “It gets worse,” she tells him. “Only men can waterbend.” 

“Oh boy,” Sokka comments. 

Zuko is sure that his facial expression must be insulting. Yagoda hides a smile behind her hand. 

“Yagoda,” the chief says, and Zuko notes with suspicion that she does not appear to hold a title. “What is your impression?”

Yagoda peers at Zuko again. “He is a holder of sacred knowledge, who seeks aid and guidance from the spirits, and leads in ritual matters.” She looks away from Zuko at last and turns to face the men. “It appears that he is the equivalent of my girls, Chief Arnook.” 

“This is preposterous,” exclaims the man who had insulted Katara. 

“Master Pakku,” the chief says, “other traditions do not divide their leaders by gender. We must respect this. It appears that Fire Sage Zuko is, for all intents and purposes, a spiritual healer. Yagoda, I trust that you understand the dilemma? We had recommended imprisonment until we can find a way to ensure that he is safe.” 

Yagoda looks intently at Zuko. She has a warm face. It’s worn with age, but her wrinkles line up with smiling rather than scowling, and Zuko finds this comforting. 

He also knows what she’s about to suggest. 

“I don’t mind,” Zuko says quietly. “I’m already cold anyway.” 

A smile pulls at Yagoda’s mouth, though she tempers it quickly. “Your dilemma is a question of truth,” she declares, turning once again to the chief. “You wish to know the truth of why he is here and whether he will pose any danger to us. As Fire Sage Zuko is also a seeker of spiritual knowledge, it will be no surprise to him that my suggestion is to ask for the judgment of La.” 

Sokka’s hand scrambles for Zuko’s arm again, but he says nothing. When Zuko glances at him, his jaw is tense. “It’s not in a boat,” he explains, low and urgent. 

“I know,” Zuko replies, and then turns to Yagoda. “Due to my sagehood, I wear cuffs on my wrists and ankles. They’re not light. I would appreciate the lenience of not having my hands bound. You understand this would be an additional disadvantage.” 

Yagoda looks at Zuko with a puzzled frown. “Why would we bind your hands?” 

Zuko glances at Katara and Sokka, but they both look just as confused. “The men from your tribe said they would tie my hands together,” he explains. “When they were talking about a water trial - when I heard them at night?”

He’s looking at Katara’s face as he says it. There’s a brief moment in which she doesn’t react at all, features held unnaturally still, and then her eyes flash as she turns a glare to Zuko. “They said what?” 

Sokka knocks his forehead against Zuko’s shoulder. “Zuko. We really need to talk about relevant information.” 

Zuko looks at Aang for help, but Aang looks just as bewildered as Zuko feels. 

“You said they were discussing a water trial. Isn’t that how you do water trials?” he asks. 

“No,” Katara responds, her voice low and dangerous. “That is not how you do water ordeals.” 

Sokka lifts his head and looks at Zuko with wide eyes. “Oh no.” 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka’s expression crumples a little. “I yelled at you about that, didn’t I?” 

“Enough,” the chief declares, moving to stand. “If Yagoda wishes for the judgment of La, then so be it.” 

Sokka’s hand tightens on his arm. “Wait. I owe you an apology.” 

“It’s okay,” Zuko responds, still confused about why Sokka is reacting so much to this piece of information. “You said they probably wouldn’t do it.” 

“Yes, but I thought I was saying they probably wouldn’t dunk you in the ocean, not that they probably wouldn’t murder you,” Sokka responds urgently. 

When Zuko looks at Katara, she’s biting at her thumb and watching Zuko with a worried expression.

“Okay,” Zuko replies, off-balance by the sudden and very intense emotion being aimed in his direction. “I think I should go deal with this particular dunk in the ocean.” 

Yagoda gestures to Zuko to follow her. After a few moments, she realises that Zuko and the guards aren’t the only people who are behind her, and she adds: “I’m afraid you can’t accompany him on this journey, children.” 

“But--” Aang starts.

“You can watch the ordeal, but you cannot join us beforehand.” Yagoda’s voice is gentle as she explains, but her tone leaves no room for argument.

“I can take them to the viewing point, Elder Yagoda.” The young woman who was sitting by the chief has followed them, and she offers a faint smile to Sokka, Katara, and Aang. “I’m Princess Yue. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You mean aside from the whole imprisonment-and-water-trial part, right?” Sokka asks, and Princess Yue looks awkward for a moment before he adds: “I mean, maybe I am amazing enough that it’s a pleasure to meet me anyway!” 

Princess Yue hides a smile in her sleeve. “Please follow me to the boats,” she suggests, and then she leads them away. 

“Stay safe,” Katara says to Zuko.

Sokka squeezes his wrist. “And don’t let anyone tie up your hands.” 

“I’ll fly to you if there’s a problem,” Aang insists. 

And then they’re gone, and Zuko is following Yagoda and the guards alone. 

Yagoda doesn’t lead Zuko to the boats. They walk instead, winding through the paths toward the city walls. Zuko glances around, taking in the style of the city and the incredible use of waterbending, but it soon becomes apparent that this walk is intentional. 

“Am I supposed to be reflecting upon my intentions?” Zuko asks Yagoda. 

Yagoda smiles. “If you would like to. It’s traditional to go to a water ordeal by foot, where this is possible.” 

“Why is that? Is it a rule? Is there a lawbook about ordeals?” 

“There are traditions,” Yagoda explains, “but not books. Your walk is supposed to extend the time for long enough for you to change your mind, should you be lying. We would always prefer the truth to a failed ordeal.” 

“I’m not lying,” Zuko insists. “I don’t know exactly what Katara and Aang told you. But I have no intentions to harm anyone here.” 

Yagoda is clearly not willing to accept Zuko’s word without the judgment of La, but she nods politely nonetheless. 

They continue to walk for a long while, footsteps crunching on the ice, before Zuko says: “In the abbey we visited in the Earth Kingdom, they held their histories and sacred stories in stone. They were carved into the walls of the abbey by earthbenders. If you have no books, is it the same here?” 

“Would you like me to gag him?” one of the guards suggests. 

Yagoda waves the guard away. “There’s no reason he cannot ask questions as we walk,” she insists. “No, sage, we do not hold our stories in the ice. Our elders hold them in their hearts and pass them on.” 

They’re approaching the edge of the city now. Zuko frowns at the wall of ice before them. 

“Isn’t that… risky? What if you misremember, or if it doesn’t get passed on correctly?” 

“What if your libraries burn to the ground?” Yagoda responds, her voice betraying amusement. 

“We have other libraries,” Zuko responds. 

Yagoda nods. “And we have other elders.” She gestures to the men at the top of the wall of ice, and they waterbend an arch for Yagoda, Zuko, and the guards to pass through. 

Zuko shudders as a cold wind passes them. He pulls his hood up tightly over his head and breathes warmth into himself, trying not to imagine the stab of cold water that he’s about to be pushed into.

“What if--” Zuko starts, thinking about the dangers of an oral tradition, and then Yagoda silences him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Zuko stiffens, unused to being touched by strangers, and then follows Yagoda’s gaze. 

They have reached the top of a cliff of ice. Zuko walks forward to the edge and looks down and down and down. 

“What happens now?” he asks.

Yagoda turns to gesture to the guards to step away, so that it is only the two of them atop the cliff. The guards stand at a distance, hands raised like they're ready to use waterbending against Zuko at any moment.

Zuko’s eyes are dragged back to the water. Far below them and off to one side is a smaller shelf of ice, and Zuko can see now that there are people on it. 

“I have some questions for you to answer,” Yagoda explains, “and then you will jump.”

Zuko looks out to the water. It’s reasonably calm, he notices. They are no visible rocks nearby. 

“Okay,” he agrees. “And if I survive, then you will believe me?”

Yagoda blinks, and then frowns. “Sage, this is not a fight for your life. There are waterbenders below to retrieve you, should the waters not aid you.” Zuko glances down at the platform again. “I apologise. I am not used to needing to explain the basics of the trial, and you seemed to understand.” 

“I watched Sokka through his ice dodging ordeal,” Zuko explains.

Yagoda nods. The wind whistles by them again.

“The intention of this moment is to request the judgment of La,” she explains. “Should you be judged and found worthy, La will guide you to the surface of the waters. Should La find you unworthy, you will be held under. In such a case, our waterbenders will retrieve you, and you will be returned to your prison or exiled.” 

A sudden bolt of fear shoots through Zuko. “Could La find me unworthy for reasons other than me not telling the truth?” he asks. “What if I’m unworthy in a more general sense?” 

Zuko thinks of his letter to the High Sage spreading out throughout the world. It’s an underhanded method. Maybe it’s even disrespectful. 

Zuko thinks of how he ran away from the Temple of the Avatar and never returned to his own homeland, which he has sworn to give his life for. 

Zuko thinks of collapsing to his knees before the Fire Lord. 

“We ask for La’s judgment on specific questions,” Yagoda assures him. “You would have to be very deeply unrighteous for La to ignore our question and make a judgment against you anyway.” 

Zuko wraps his arms around himself. 

“It is not too late to refuse the ordeal,” Yagoda says, her voice so gentle that it’s almost lost in the cold wind. “If you wish, I can arrange for you to be released. I recommend that you never return to the Northern Water Tribe.” 

Zuko could go back to the Earth Kingdom and wait for the Water Tribe siblings and Aang to return. He would need to hide until their return, and would be unable to travel or be of much use, but how useful is he here, anyway? 

But if Zuko stays, then Zuko can ask Yagoda about their oral tradition and the concept of water ordeals, and can ensure that Aang and Katara are learning appropriately, and can help Sokka plan for whatever the next step will be.

All he needs to do is avoid angering La. 

“Do you know many stories of La and Agni?” Zuko asks, watching the ocean again. “We have stories in which Agni and Tui dance together as siblings. I don’t know much about Agni’s relationship with La.” 

“I will gladly sing the songs of the spirits for you, should you pass the ordeal,” Yagoda states. “The spirits are all entwined into one eternal story. There is no ill feeling between Ocean and Sun. La will not hold your devotion to Agni against you.”

Zuko is not a heretic. Zuko knows the laws of heresy well enough to be certain of this. Even if the entire Fire Nation calls for him to be tried, Zuko knows himself and he knows the law. Surely Agni cannot hold him to be a heretic, and La cannot judge Zuko guilty over this.

“I’ll jump,” Zuko agrees. “What do you need me to do first?” 

Yagoda nods. “You will wish to remove the heaviest items of clothing,” she suggests. “The water will be cold, and your muscles will want to seize up. You may find yourself unable to swim for a few moments. If your heart is true, then you can trust La to guide you.” She waits for Zuko to nod his understanding, and then continues: “Whether you reach the surface yourself, or fail the ordeal and do not, the waterbenders will then bring you back from the water. Can you use your firebending to warm yourself?” 

“Yes,” Zuko admits. “Would you prefer me not to do this?” 

“You should do all you can to remain safe and healthy,” Yagoda presses. “One of my healers, Asiaq, will ensure that you are unhurt. She will then pronounce your judgment. You will need to verbalise your acceptance of the positive judgment, should there be one.” 

“I understand.”

“Please remove your hood,” Yagoda requests as she removes her own. She takes them right to the edge. “I will ask you questions now, and I wish for you to answer in full sentences, and finish each statement by saying ‘this is true’.”

“I understand,” Zuko responds. It’s comforting, in a strange way; Zuko comprehends the necessity of legal formulae. 

“First, I need to call La to witness us. It is a sacred moment between us and La. Nothing you say here will be repeated, but I will give my judgment to the community based on what you say. If you refuse to make statements, I will not judge you favourably, even if La does. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Zuko responds.

Yagoda nods. “Good. We will enter into this sacred space now. We will need you to declare our presence by stating our names, and any other names we are known as. I will call myself Yagoda, Healer Yagoda, and Elder Healer Yagoda - do you understand?”

Zuko hesitates. “Do you mean to include names that we go by now, or that we have ever had?”

“You need not add childish nicknames or variants of Zuko,” Yagoda explains. “You will see from how I style my name that I will add ‘once known as’ - you may do so for any names you no longer go by.”

Zuko shifts uncomfortably. “I was reborn in fire when I was eleven. My previous familial ties have been destroyed, but I had a name and titles beforehand.” 

Yagoda stares at Zuko for a moment, then glances down at the water and the lower cliff-edge. Slowly, she pulls up her own hood. “I’m afraid I require more explanation.” 

“The process of becoming a sage includes the shedding of the previous life,” Zuko describes. “We do this by immersing ourselves in the fires of Agni.”

“Did your name change upon immersion?” Yagoda enquires.

Zuko shakes his head. “No. My name from birth was Zuko. But I had a title other than Fire Sage previously. It does not belong to me anymore.” 

Yagoda looks thoughtful. “I will admit, I am unsure on how to apply your system to ours,” she says. “I suppose I would request that you use all variants of your name and title, even if they no longer belong to you. There’s nothing to lose by adding them.”

Zuko nods his head, and Yagoda removes her hood once more.

“We call upon you, La, to witness this moment,” she begins. Her voice takes on a sing-song quality, low and haunting. “We call upon you, La, for judgment. I stand before you, Elder Healer of the Northern Water tribe. I stand before you, Yagoda of the Northern Water Tribe, Elder Yagoda, Elder Healer Yagoda, once known as Healer Yagoda.” 

She gestures to Zuko and mouths I stand before you. 

“I stand before you,” he says, “Zuko of the Fire Nation, Fire Sage Zuko, once known as Fire Prince Zuko, Prince Zuko, Heir Apparent to the Dragon Throne.” 

There is a long moment of quiet. 

The wind picks up Zuko’s hair, and he finally moves his eyes from the ocean toward Yagoda, only to find that she is staring at him with wide eyes. After a moment, she appears to catch herself, and continues: “La, I ask for judgment upon this child.” She pauses again, and then shakes her head before explaining: “I will now ask you questions. Answer in full sentences, and follow each statement with ‘this is true’.” When Zuko nods, she asks: “Why are you here, Zuko of the Fire Nation?” 

Zuko considers the question carefully. 

“The Avatar and I both wish to reestablish balance to the world. This is true. His mission as Avatar and mine as Fire Sage are parallel. This is true. I am here to be with my companions as they learn skills necessary for the Avatar’s training. This is true.”

“Do you have any intention to harm the Northern Water Tribe?”

“I have no intention to harm the Northern Water Tribe. This is true.”

“Is your loyalty with the Fire Nation?”

Zuko knows now to treat this as a trick question. His eyes narrow, but he answers nonetheless: “My loyalty is with the Fire Nation. This is true. I believe that this means I must restore balance to the world and right the Fire Nation’s wrongs. This is true.”

“Do you have any intention to allow Fire Nation subjects, soldiers, or leaders into the Northern Water Tribe?”

“I have no intention to allow Fire Nation subjects, soldiers, or leaders into the Northern Water Tribe. This is true.”

“Do you intend to harm any member of the Northern Water Tribe?”

“I do not intend to harm any member of the Northern Water Tribe. This is true.” 

"Do you intend to pass information about our tribe's defences to anyone outside the Northern Water Tribe?"

“I do not intend to pass information about the Northern Water Tribe’s defences to anyone. This is true.”

“Should the Fire Nation attack the Northern Water Tribe, would you aid their invasion?”

Zuko frowns. “Should the Fire Nation attack the Northern Water Tribe, I would not aid their invasion. This is true. Due to my vows, I am unable to participate in acts of violence that are not in defense of myself or my temple. This is true.” 

Yagoda watches him in silence. The seconds seem to extend out endlessly. Finally, she nods.

“Enough,” Yagoda declares. “Zuko of the Fire Nation, also known as Fire Sage Zuko, once known as-- once known as Fire Prince Zuko, Heir Apparent to the Dragon Throne, you are welcome to enter the waters. If you were telling the truth, may La be moved to act gently with you.” 

Zuko looks down at the water again. It’s late in the day, and while the light is still bright and Agni’s blessing still glitters upon the water, it is also getting progressively colder. 

This, Zuko realises, is going to be deeply unpleasant. 

He shrugs off the Earth Kingdom coat, then pulls off his heavy winter robes and his shoes. He’s left standing in only his trousers, feet stinging against the ice, skin bare and pebbled against the cold wind. Zuko breathes warmth through himself one last time, hoping that it will aid his descent and not make the shock of cold even worse. 

Zuko places his bare feet against the very edge of the cliff. His heart knocks against his ribs, and his entire body rails against the idea of moving forward. He glances back at Yagoda, whose smile and eyes are equally gentle. 

“When you are ready,” she says. 

Zuko draws in a deep breath, looks up to the sky, and steps off the edge. 

Zuko hits the water. 

Chapter Text

The last time High Sage Kenji saw Great Sage Sadao, he was changing Sadao’s cuffs. Great Sage Sadao had been silent through the motions, watching Kenji’s face with the hard eyes of someone who believed they were being terribly wronged, as Kenji swapped out his gold-and-red cuffs for black. 

Kenji has managed to put off a trial for this long, citing the need for Zuko to be brought to trial before the men who may or may not have been his accomplices. 

“Sadao,” Kenji greets him, bound by their tradition to refrain from using his title while he is in the between-state of the accused but not condemned. “I have some questions for you.” 

“High Sage,” Sadao responds. 

He looks tired and worn. It’s strange, Kenji notes, that being restricted to a small number of rooms and activities can make someone seem more tired. 

“My questions are about Fire Sage Zuko,” Kenji explains as he seats himself. 

Sadao’s eyes flicker up to Kenji’s, finally, and then they narrow. “You are collecting evidence,” he says after a moment, a note of satisfaction worming into his tone. 

“I am,” Kenji agrees. 

“Good,” Sadao responds. “I will answer any questions you have. And then you will not ask my permission to recall him, I imagine, even though I am clearly no accomplice.” 

If it were only Kenji and Tatsuya, Kenji would probably pinch the bridge of his nose. Sadao is of course correct; the next stage of recalling Zuko to the kind of trial the Fire Lord demands is to request the presence and permission of the Great Sages, of which Sadao is supposedly one. But here he is, in his between-state. 

“I will consider allowing you to appoint a representative to the court,” Kenji responds. “But for now, we need to collect evidence. If the majority of Great Sages reject a hearing based on lack of evidence, we won’t need to consider your standing.” 

Sadao’s eyebrows twitch upwards.

It is clear, at this point, that a trial will go ahead. Kenji is only buying time. It seems that time is the only thing Kenji can afford nowadays. 

Kenji readies himself to write. “Please tell me about Fire Sage Zuko’s time in the Temple of the Avatar.” 

Sadao huffs a breath, and then begins to speak, and Kenji diligently copies his words. And Kenji very pointedly refrains from reacting, even as he copies down undisciplined and slow to learn and rebellious and arrogant. 

Kenji’s hand does not stall over despite repeated enforced fasting, but it is a close call. 

Zuko inhales.

Zuko’s last letter to High Sage Kenji had been about the relationship between the spiritual and the physical. Without a teacher to inform him that he was prepared to enter into some of the more complex texts on the nature of reality, Zuko had to choose his own moment to begin the journey, and it left him with more questions than answers. 

The early sages of their tradition insisted that the duality of Spirit World and Physical World, of body and soul, were useful misnomers. Ultimately, they wrote, all parts of reality are connected into one unified whole. It did not escape Zuko’s notice that the further he delved into these texts, the more the scholars of his own tradition quoted the scholars of others, as if they were displaying this truth even in their educational methods. 

Later, sitting across from the Avatar and slowly dismantling barriers between himself and his fire, between his skin and the air, Zuko would come to understand this a little more.

But at age fourteen, Zuko knew that his essence and his body were indeed separate, and often at war with one another. Zuko knew this because his body betrayed him in the throne room. His heart and soul wanted nothing less than to bow at the feet of the Fire Lord, to betray his vows and participate in the corruption of his tradition, but when faced with the pain of fire sizzling his flesh…

When faced with pain, his body had betrayed him, and he bowed.

The shock of cold goes beyond pain. 

Zuko’s body reacts without his permission.

He gasps for a breath that doesn’t come.

Water fills his lungs, freezing and burning all at once, and Zuko does know - he does know that he needs to get to the surface and he needs to get there now, but his body betrays him. His chest spasms as he coughs, body trying desperately to get the liquid out of his lungs, only to pull in more frigid water.

Zuko’s entire focus narrows down to his throat and lungs and the water. He tries to push the water away, body acting with no ounce of logic for a long moment, before– 

Light.

There is light, which means there is the surface, and if Zuko can get his brain to latch onto anything other than the deep, clawing panic bursting through him, then he can get to the air again. 

It takes every measure of strength that Zuko has to kick one leg. 

And then, dread. 

Something warm and not-quite-physical encircles Zuko’s ankle… and pulls. 

The light above him fades to nothingness. 

Zuko has been judged.

There’s a moment with the bitter waters rushing by that the panic of drowning seems to wane, and Zuko is given an abrupt and crisp recollection of descending into the fires of Agni. 

The air had seemed impossible there, too. He was breathing flames into his lungs, but somehow, the fires did not harm him. They burned away the hair from his skin, but sat with scorching care against his skin, like Agni could choose to extinguish him at any moment but… didn’t choose that. 

That had been one of the calmest and clearest moments of Zuko’s life.

Nothing is calm or clear about La’s judgment. 

Zuko is dragged down and down and down, and the piercing cold of the water is overshadowed by the burning of Zuko’s lungs. It’s like he is on fire from the inside, but fire has never been so unwelcoming. 

How far down can Zuko possibly go? 

His consciousness becomes unmoored from time and reality, and suddenly it feels like Zuko has been dragged through his judgment for hours, and like the pain of his body is a loose and undefined thing. There is nothing but blackness around him, now; the light of the surface is so far away it might as well be unreal. 

There is a deep, primal panic in Zuko’s mind at facing the reality of his death. But it too is muted. 

Everything is so dulled that it takes Zuko several moments to realise that something is… wrong. 

He blinks his eyes against the water, and then there is no water at all. 

There is fire. 

Reds and oranges and golds surround him, but Zuko can feel nothing of their warmth. He breathes - he breathes? Wasn’t he unable to breathe? 

Zuko turns, trying to locate… someone. There was someone with him. 

And then the fires light up the water around Zuko, but he no longer feels oppressed by it. These waters are different, he realises; this is freshwater, no sting of salt to be found. And he is being encircled by two koi fish, dancing a lazy but purposeful orbit around him. He’s caught here between them. Wouldn’t they prefer Zuko leave them be?

As he has the thought, one of the fish looks up at him, as if just noticing that Zuko is here. 

Zuko would apologise for intruding, were he not drowning. 

Right. Drowning. Zuko is dying, and these are the last fitful images that his mind is gifting him with. They’re nice images. Zuko lifts a hand in the freshwater to touch the koi fish, and the fish snaps backwards out of its dancing circle.

And then the koi fish turns and swims away.

Wait, Zuko thinks with dull urgency, and goes to follow… 

Back toward the fire. 

It’s burning less brightly than before, Zuko thinks. And he somehow knows that these are not the blessed flames of Agni, even before he sees what is behind them.

It is the throne. Zuko is in the throne room at the palace. Fire burns around the empty throne, and Zuko finds himself getting lost in it. A wave of nostalgia flows through him, a low burn of pain for a life once lived. These, he recalls fondly, are the flames of High Sage Kenji. They have burned here since the last ascension. And while Zuko has no love left for the man who ascended, he will never be completely bereft of respect for the man whose fire burns at the throne. 

Zuko moves closer, reaching out a hand toward the fire of the throne. 

And just like that, the flames die.

One moment they are there, burning strongly, and the next… like an unfelt wind had passed through the throne room, they are gone. Smoke curls upwards.

The throne sits, empty and bare of fire. 

Dread settles heavy in the air.

Air? 

No, there is no air, there is– 

Zuko inhales water, and his body tries to reject it, and– 

The surface reappears. 

It rushes toward him, rushes rushes rushes, and Zuko reaches upwards until…

A hand closes around his.

The next time Zuko’s mind latches onto anything, it is the awful sensation of gagging. 

Water is being dragged up through his chest, and he vomits it onto the snow, where his hands are turning blue as they grasp onto nothing.

“It’s okay,” he can hear Sokka saying, one hand holding back Zuko’s loose, soaking hair. Sokka’s voice is shaking. “It’s okay, Zuko. You’re okay.” 

More water is drawn up from Zuko’s lungs. He can see now that strong hands are pressing against his bare skin and working the water out. Zuko gags again. 

Pink froth falls onto the white snow. 

Zuko shudders, and then he keeps shaking. His muscles feel like they have become the water. 

“It’s okay,” Sokka insists. He doesn’t sound like he believes it. 

Somewhere, Katara is yelling. 

And just like that, everything comes back to Zuko: where he is, why he almost drowned, what everyone out here watched occur. 

“I failed,” Zuko gasps out. The words burn in his throat.

Yagoda hushes him. “Do not attempt to speak,” she insists. “Healer Nauja, I need a pair of steady hands.” She guides Zuko down and calls for other healers to join her, and Zuko begins to lose the thread of what is happening again. 

Hadn’t Yagoda been on the ledge with him, far away from everyone else? How did she get down here so quickly? How long was Zuko in the water? 

Zuko is deeply, deeply tired. 

By the time his mind is ready to latch on again, Zuko has been surrounded with blankets. His lungs ache, and the pain stretches all the way up through his esophagus, but he is no longer retching. Yagoda’s eyes are narrow as she passes her hands over him, coated in glowing water, and then she nods decisively. 

“We can move him back to the city,” she declares. “I will want him observed overnight.” 

“What of the ordeal?” one of the men asks. 

“What of the ordeal?” Katara snaps, apparently not done with yelling. “He just almost died, can’t we–”

“Precisely,” someone interrupts her. “We need to know what happened.” 

“I failed,” Zuko repeats, unsure why it bears repetition. Didn’t they all see it? He’d been pulled out of the water by… Aang? Zuko looks around for him, and finds him watching the proceedings with wide eyes. “Doesn’t that mean…?”

“You didn’t fail,” Aang insists. “I came and got you, but… your hand came out of the water first. That’s not failing, right?” 

Zuko shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka says in his ear, and it’s only now that Zuko realises he’s fully leaning against Sokka, and Sokka is the only reason he’s upright. “You are not helping.”

“Now is not the time,” Yagoda insists. She stands up and gestures for Sokka to help Zuko. “Sage Zuko is currently my patient. We can resume the ordeal itself tomorrow.”

Zuko flinches. 

“She doesn’t mean you’re going back into the water,” Sokka insists, one arm firm around Zuko’s shoulders. And then, in a much more dangerous tone, he adds: “Does she?” 

“Of course not,” Yagoda responds. “We will speak of the… unusual circumstances tomorrow. For now, we must return to comfortable sleeping quarters, and Zuko must be attended by more healers.” 

It seems a waste of time, Zuko thinks, for them to heal him before exiling him. But he knows enough to refrain from complaining about this fact.

“What happened down there?” Katara asks eventually, in a rare lull between healers. 

Zuko’s heart sinks. 

“La judged me,” he explains, looking over at the ice wall, “and found me wanting.” 

The four of them sleep in one room together. There is a guard by the door, and a rotating sequence of healers who check that Zuko isn’t still drowning. Zuko wasn’t aware that a person was able to drown on dry land, but the healers seem to consider it a real and present danger. 

Katara and Aang tuck themselves on either side of Zuko, and Sokka stations himself between the three of them and the door. It occurs to Zuko that they’ve never slept this close to one another, but for some reason, the children seem unwilling to leave Zuko. They will have to, eventually; Zuko will be exiled tomorrow, and it will be fine as long as Aang agrees to drop Zuko somewhere on Appa, and then Zuko can wait for them. It will be an indeterminate period of time, but that’s okay. They will probably come back for him eventually. 

Zuko finds himself oddly unsettled over the idea of being alone. He shouldn’t have let himself get used to everyone’s presence. He shouldn’t have been so arrogant as to assume that he could keep this. 

Zuko should not have been so arrogant as to assume that he would be judged righteous by La. 

He shouldn’t have assumed this, but… he also doesn’t know why he was found so deeply wanting. All Zuko has ever done is try his best. 

Zuko closes his eyes and carefully buries the sting of rejection. He buries the memory of Yagoda explaining: you would have to be very deeply unrighteous for La to ignore our question and make a judgment against you anyway. There is no use in dwelling on what has already occurred. 

Morning dawns, as slow and sluggish as Zuko’s muscles feel, and Yagoda declares him healthy enough to face the leadership about his ordeal. The Water Tribe kids have formed an unlikely alliance to bully Zuko into wearing more than one coat, and he feels dwarfed and ridiculous in this many layers, but at least he’s warm. 

Zuko ties his heavy hair into a top knot in anticipation of donning his hat, because he thinks that it is proper to wear it for a ceremony such as this, but then he recalls the tribal custom to keep his head uncovered while greeting. He stands in his two coats staring at his hat for several long moments, tired and indecisive, before Sokka all but tugs him out of their room. 

They are followed by two guards. 

Zuko does not comment on how the chief is clearly underestimating the children. 

“So I’m thinking: stick to the facts, don’t add your own spin on anything,” Sokka suggests. He still has a hand tucked into Zuko’s elbow, like he thinks Zuko might break off and dive into the canal at any moment. “No moral judgments, no speaking for any spirits, just: I fell into the water. I came back to the surface.” 

“I’m not going to lie,” Zuko responds, exasperated. 

Sokka’s eyebrows draw in. “I’m not asking you to lie?” he points out. “That is what happened.”

“Which means that you’ve earned your place here,” Katara adds. Her mouth is tense, as are her shoulders; she seems to be approaching the palace with full intention to start shouting again. Zuko thinks it sounds very tiring; he doesn’t know where she draws the energy from.

They enter the palace structure, and are led to a large room. 

It’s more ostentatious than where the men were discussing Zuko’s fate yesterday. Chief Arnook sits beside his daughter before a waterfall, and the sound of rushing water makes Zuko shiver a little, even though he’s perfectly warm within his two coats. And there are more witnesses today; to the left of the leaders are a group of men, and to the right stands Yagoda with several women. 

The guards move away. 

Katara, Aang, and Sokka don’t. 

“Chief Arnook,” Zuko greets with a shallow bow. “I have come for judgment.” 

It doesn’t escape his notice that the Water Tribe siblings place themselves on either side of Zuko, or that Aang moves subtly forward. 

The chief watches Zuko for a long moment. 

“Yesterday was… unusual,” he says. “We have been patient as Yagoda insisted we prioritise your health. But I believe we are now owed an explanation.” 

Zuko looks over toward Yagoda, then to the men who are waiting on the other side of the room. 

“What do you want to know?” he asks, taking Sokka’s advice to offer no extra information. 

The chief hums. “What usually happens in an ordeal is that you are presented for judgment, jump into the waters, and then are either returned safely to the surface or… are not,” he explains. “In a case in which La’s judgment is against the accused, our waterbenders would aid in retrieving him.” 

That makes sense, Zuko thinks. He was dragged back to the surface in the end. 

“Then that’s what occurred,” Zuko admits. “Though I– if I may,” he says, stumbling over his words in court in a way he hasn’t for a long time, “I don’t know why. Everything I said before La and Elder Healer Yagoda was true.” When Chief Arnook’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, he adds: “I understand that you have to exile me–” 

“Zuko,” Katara hisses. 

“--but I would like to clarify that I was not dishonest.” He looks back to Yagoda. “Everything I said was true. If La judged against me anyway, it is because of a deeper wrong in me, like you said.” 

Sokka breathes out in a way that tells Zuko he’s misstepped. 

When Zuko looks back to Chief Arnook, it is to find the chief watching him with something like curiosity. “I suggest you withhold your tongue,” he starts.

“Yes, exactly,” Sokka adds quietly by Zuko’s side.

“I wish to hear from the waterbenders who were present yesterday.” 

One of the men steps forward. “Chief.” Chief Arnook nods at him to continue. “When the firebender disappeared beneath the waters, as you witnessed, my men and I waited an appropriate amount of time to see if he would resurface. He did not.” 

Zuko breathes very deeply to remind himself that air is abundant here. He thinks that the ache in his lungs is probably not real. 

“I then gave the signal that we should retrieve him,” the man continues. “And… Well, I was unable to locate him.” 

Sokka’s hand tightens on Zuko’s arm. 

“Unable to locate me?” Zuko asks, forgetting propriety in his surprise.

The man glances over, and then nods. “Yes, sir, it was… like you weren’t in the waters at all. We all experienced it,” he explains, gesturing to the men. “There was a moment of confusion as we tried to find you.” 

“The girl,” Pakku suggests. “She’s a waterbender, too. Was she doing something?” 

Katara huffs. “I don’t know how to look for someone in water that far away,” she explains, her voice tense, “because I have never had a teacher.” 

“Wait, are you saying that a whole bunch of waterbenders… lost Zuko?” Sokka asks, bewildered. “How can you lose a whole person? Why didn’t you tell us this?” 

“It was only for a few moments,” the waterbender insists. “We didn’t want to cause alarm.” 

“This was all of your experiences?” Chief Arnook clarifies, and receives affirmatives from the waterbenders. He looks back to Zuko. “I believe we are owed an explanation.”

Zuko squares his shoulders. “I declared before La and Elder Healer Yagoda–” 

Yagoda clears her throat, and Zuko stops and looks over. When Chief Arnook nods, Yagoda states: “Neither of us are to present the declarations you made before your ordeal,” she explains. “Those words are to… remain private. I can clarify only that I asked what was expected and was satisfied by the answers."

Zuko picks up Yagoda’s hesitation and does not understand it. Nonetheless, he nods his thanks before continuing: “I was drowning.” He shudders again, and frowns as he attempts to clamp down on his bodily reaction. For a wild moment, he’s inclined to tell them about how scared he was, about how much panic and pain comes with inhaling water, about how he couldn’t even think enough to find the surface - but surely they know this already. Surely, had he been more worthy, La would have found the surface for him. So instead, he says: “And then it got worse.” 

If he lets himself think about it, Zuko can almost feel that tendril of warmth worming around his ankle. 

“What got worse?” Aang asks, looking back at Zuko. 

And Aang always looks like a child to Zuko, who is constantly plagued by the fact that the world is putting all hope for peace onto a child who barely survived the obliteration of his own people, and Zuko doesn’t want to say that the spirits have judged him badly. He doesn’t want to say it in front of Aang because it will make him sad. Zuko understands him well enough to know this: Aang cares. 

But Zuko also won’t lie, and the other adults in the room have not made the children leave.

So he says: “La dragged me down into the waters.” 

There’s a collective indrawn breath, and Zuko clenches his jaw in response. He waits patiently for Chief Arnook’s response, but the chief only looks over to Yagoda. 

Yagoda catches the chief’s eye before looking back over to Zuko. “Please stick to describing what you saw and felt.” 

Zuko nods. He would probably tell a witness to do the same thing: that witness statements are about describing subjective experiences, not about coming to objective conclusions. But something about the waterfall behind the chief and recounting this story is making panic crawl up the back of his throat again. 

“I felt a, um. I was choking,” he explains, trying to explain only in terms of what he experienced. “And then I felt something on my ankle. It pulled me downwards.” The next question Zuko would have asked would be how far, so he continues: “It felt like I was going impossibly deep. And then I stopped panicking.”

“What do you mean, you stopped panicking?” Katara asks, and it’s only now that Zuko realises that he’s placed a hand at the base of his own throat. He lowers his hand and reminds himself that he can breathe just fine. “Were you conscious?” 

“I’m not sure,” Zuko admits. “That’s when I started seeing things.” 

Sudden movement makes Zuko look up. Yagoda has taken several steps forward, and the women behind her have all shifted in surprise.

“What did you see?” Aang asks. 

“First it was fire,” Zuko responds. “And then I was back in the water, and there were these two koi fish–” 

“Stop.” 

Yagoda’s voice cracks through the room, firmer than Zuko has heard from her. 

Yagoda stares at Zuko, her gaze piercing and blue, and then nods once. She looks back to Chief Arnook, who holds up a hand. “You have ongoing permission today, Yagoda.” 

“Sage Zuko cannot reveal the details of a vision in this setting,” Yagoda explains. 

Chief Arnook leans forward. “You think it was a vision.” 

“I recognise his description of being pulled down into the waters,” Yagoda explains. “This is not the act of La’s judgment. Fire Sage Zuko has been granted a vision.” 

“That’s preposterous,” one of the men behind Chief Arnook says. “He is a boy from the Fire Nation.” 

Yagoda only hums in response.

Chief Arnook looks between Yagoda and Zuko, and finally sits back. “You will not describe anything unusual that you saw in the waters,” he compromises. “Tell us what happened after the vision.”

“I don’t think it was a vision,” Zuko explains to Yagoda. “I think I was just dying.” 

Chief Arnook gestures for Zuko to continue. 

“That was all,” Zuko finishes. “Once I saw what I saw, then the waterbenders found me and dragged me to the surface.” 

The waterbenders murmur, which draws Chief Arnooks attention. “Yes?” 

One of them clears his throat. “Ah, Chief, I think I was the first to locate him. And I did drag him up when I found him, but…” 

“But?” Chief Arnook prompts. 

“Well, he was already on his way up, Chief.” 

“Ha!” Sokka interjects. “There you have it. In your face.” He points his index finger into Zuko’s face, who blinks in surprise. “You were not judged badly.” 

“Enough,” the chief says, silencing Sokka and the steady murmur building in the room. “Can we clarify that none of you aided Fire Sage Zuko before he was already ascending?” 

“This is ridiculous,” one of Chief Arnook’s advisors comments when none of the waterbenders will admit to being the first to aid Zuko. 

Katara has one hand on Zuko’s back, fist curled into his second coat. When Zuko glances at her, the tension in her face has shifted to something hopeful. 

Finally, Yagoda declares: “It is apparent to me that Fire Sage Zuko has passed his ordeal. Chief, you wished for me to determine whether he is safe here. My conclusion is that Zuko of the Fire Nation poses no particular risk or threat to us.”

“Chief,” one of the men starts.

“Enough,” Master Pakku interrupts him, voice low but still audible. “It’s not our place to question the word of Yagoda or the wisdom of La.”

“Wait,” Zuko says, because they’re wrong - Zuko knows what he felt, and he was dragged downward while drowning, that can’t be– 

“Nope, do not wait, declare us free now,” Sokka insists. 

The chief proclaims his freedom.

And suddenly, Zuko has freedom in the Northern Water Tribe. 

It’s clearly not something everyone is comfortable with, but no guards follow them out of the palace structure. Nobody leads him to the edge of the city for exile or tries to imprison him. 

It’s wrong. They shouldn’t be allowing him this freedom. Zuko failed, but he has somehow tricked everyone into thinking that he passed La’s test, all because of what his dying mind showed him. 

“What do you want to do first?” Aang asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Zuko sways a little. 

“Sleep,” Zuko suggests, and then loses his balance entirely.

Zuko dreams of the throne, empty of fire. 

It’s strange, Zuko thinks as he stands before the throne. The fire of the throne is supposed to go out between each Fire Lord, supposed to be lit again for the ascension of the new ruler, but it is not supposed to stand bare for longer than the rituals require. 

It’s a bad omen, Zuko thinks.

And then from behind him, Zuko hears: “Light the throne, brother.” 

He shakes himself awake, and then he keeps shaking. It takes Zuko a long while to realise that he’s feverish. 

Brother rings in his ears, in a voice that was once familiar. It sticks with him even as the image of the barren throne fades.

Fingers run through his hair. 

“Katara?” Zuko asks. 

“It’s okay,” Katara insists. “You can sleep as long as you need.”

Zuko thinks about offerings and proper times, and then about how if La has rejected him so thoroughly, then perhaps Agni doesn’t care for his offerings either.

He slips out of consciousness. 

The next time Zuko wakes up, he thinks he’s falling. 

He gasps a breath and then panics, thinking about inhaling water, before he realises that he’s lying on furs in a room made of ice. He’s already on the floor, so there’s nowhere to fall. 

When Zuko opens his eyes, it’s to find that all three of the children are still in the room. 

“Hey,” Zuko tries, clearing his throat. Katara is next to him in an instant, pressing a pseudo-kiss to his forehead to check his temperature. “How long have I been asleep?” 

“You lost a day,” Katara explains, guiding him to sit properly. “You should eat something.” 

Zuko shakes his head. “Am I sick?” 

“Actually…” Katara trails off for a moment and looks back at Aang and Sokka. Sokka is sitting by the door, unease still clear in his posture. He doesn’t trust his tribesmen yet, it seems. Aang is in the middle of the room, and there is a waterbending scroll across his lap. “The healers came by a few times. They said it wasn’t a physical sickness. Your spirit needed to work through something.”

“So have you worked through it?” Aang asks, sounding honestly curious. 

Zuko hesitates. He doesn’t know why his spirit would need this. All he remembers from his dreams are dragons, and the flameless throne, and the voice of the girl who was once his sister. 

“I am thirsty,” he admits, and Katara presents him with food and water. The tiredness returns, but Zuko makes himself satisfy his thirst and hunger in order to ease the concern in Katara’s eyes. “How is waterbending training going?” 

Katara’s face darkens.

Aang scratches the back of his head. “We, uh, haven’t started,” he says. When Zuko tilts his head, Aang continues: “Well, Pakku said he won’t teach Katara because she’s a girl!”

Katara sighs. “You still need to learn, Aang,” she states, and Zuko can tell from her tone that she’s said it many times before. “Even if Pakku is the worst.” 

Zuko nods in agreement. “I’m sorry that he won’t teach you, Katara. Have you looked for another teacher?”

“Actually,” Katara responds, glancing over at Sokka, “Sokka had this idea that Aang could teach me what Pakku teaches him.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Zuko admits. 

Sokka glances over at Zuko with a half-smile on his features. “Surprised to hear you say that, mister loves-every-rule-he’s-ever-met.” 

“Is there a rule saying that Avatars can’t teach girls? Or just saying that waterbending masters from the Northern Water Tribe can’t teach girls?” 

Sokka snorts in laughter. “Oh man, that’s my bad. I forgot you’re actually mister loves-every-loophole-he’s-ever-met.” 

Zuko shares a smile with Sokka, even though it feels like the energy is being quickly drained from his muscles. “Let me know how the waterbending goes,” he requests, and then pushes away the remainder of his meal. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

“But you just woke up,” Aang responds in a small voice, and that’s all Zuko hears for a while. 

Zuko dreams of High Sage Kenji, gently and devastatingly pulling apart everything incorrect in Zuko’s letter. By the time he reaches the end, the High Sage burns the letter in his first, and hisses: heresy. 

And then it isn’t High Sage Kenji at all, and Zuko is back in the waters.

Cold sweat clings to Zuko. If he were stronger, he might consider bathing; his hair is still crusted with salt from the ocean, and nothing about his physical existence feels comfortable. But not only does bathing require the strength to move, it also requires the strength to face water again. 

“Hey.” 

It’s early morning again, which means Zuko has lost most of another day. It also means that Zuko is not rising naturally with the sun. 

Zuko rubs at his eyes as he opens them, and finds that this time, Sokka is the only one in the room with him. 

“Hi,” Zuko responds, and his voice comes out very rough. He clears his throat. “Aang and Katara are waterbending?” 

“Aang is waterbending. Katara’s getting Yagoda. You were talking in your sleep.” His eyes narrow. “Zuko, quick question, just checking: do you still think you failed the ordeal?” 

Zuko shudders. He goes to sit up again, and tugs the furs around him, because he’s finally cold. “I know everyone was confused because I came back,” he explains, “but… La dragged me down into the ocean, Sokka. Great Healer Yagoda–” Zuko frowns, memory foggy, and tries again: “Elder Healer Yagoda said that La could still reject me, even if I told the truth. I did tell the truth,” he presses. 

Sokka sighs, and then nudges Zuko’s food toward him. “I know that, buddy. Trust me, I am not going to be doubting your honesty anytime soon.” 

“Oh.” Zuko smiles, surprised and pleased. 

“But,” Sokka continues, “you’re just wrong about the whole ordeal thing. You passed. Be happy.” 

The small burst of warmth at Sokka’s trust twists when he realises Sokka is putting his faith in the wrong place. “I don’t think I did,” he says again. “I really almost drowned, Sokka. It was…” Zuko forces himself not to touch his throat as he thinks about inhaling water. “A spirit who didn’t want to kill me wouldn’t do that.” 

“Okay,” Sokka admits all too easily. Zuko frowns at him, waiting for the catch. “But in that case, who cares?” 

“What?”

“So La might not be a fan. Not everyone’s going to be a fan, Zuko. And La’s not even the spirit you pledged yourself to! If you did fail, it could be any number of things. Maybe La isn’t such a fan of Agni. Maybe La’s actually a bit of a jerk.”

“You can’t say that about spirits, Sokka,” Zuko responds, and relaxes enough to eat something. 

Sokka sits across from him and shares the meal. Sokka goes quiet when eating, preoccupied with food which must remind him of home, and Zuko wonders if Sokka is right. Should it matter that La judged him unworthy, when Zuko has pledged his life and his loyalty to Agni? Is Zuko’s concern over his ordeal a sign of his lack of loyalty? 

Guilt curls in his gut, joining the leaden feeling of rejection. 

But the food and water make him feel stronger, and with Sokka’s indelicate encouragement, Zuko washes himself and changes into clean clothing. He feels more human, less like he’s floating above his body, but tiredness still pulls at him until Elder Yagoda walks through the door. 

Zuko scrambles to his feet to bow appropriately, and Sokka puts a hand under his elbow like he thinks Zuko might collapse again at any moment. Zuko wants to be annoyed by his hovering, but then he remembers that he had lost consciousness on their way out of the court. It’s been a long few days for Sokka, between imprisonment, ordeal, court, and Zuko passing out afterwards.

Zuko should probably be working on making this all easier for the others. 

“Elder Healer Yagoda,” Zuko greets. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Elder Yagoda responds. “Katara came to get me as she felt you may not understand the ordeal. Shall we talk?” 

Zuko throws a panicked look to the Water Tribe siblings, who are both carefully removing themselves from the room. 

“Of course,” Zuko responds. 

They kneel across from one another. Elder Yagoda watches him curiously. 

“You passed La’s ordeal,” she explains. 

Zuko shakes his head. 

“I’m… grateful that you think highly enough of me to assume that, Great Healer,” Zuko responds. There’s a sparkle in Elder Yagoda’s eye, a moment of amusement at his expense, but Zuko makes himself continue: “But I didn’t pass the ordeal. La tried to pull me under. I know that none of the waterbenders admitted to being the first to find me, but that’s just… miscommunication.” 

Elder Yagoda watches Zuko, endlessly patient, and says nothing.

When the silence starts to crawl up Zuko’s neck, he adds: “I’m not worthy.” 

“I’m sorry you think that,” Elder Yagoda responds. “But your sense of being unworthy is not shared by La.” 

“It’s–” Zuko clamps down on his temper. Why doesn’t she understand this? “La almost drowned me. It hurt. I’ve never felt anything like– I don’t know why you want to believe that I was judged well, Great Healer, but that’s not what happened.” 

Elder Yagoda hums and returns to silence.

Zuko has learned this lesson the hard way. He doesn’t allow the words to bubble up and pour out, and instead sits back and waits for Elder Yagoda to speak. 

She finally draws a deep breath and says: “It would aid our conversation if you would respect my position.” 

Zuko flinches in surprise. “I respect your position,” he insists, stung. “I jumped off a cliff because you told me that I was supposed to. How else am I supposed to…” 

Elder Yagoda remains silent. 

“Oh,” Zuko says, pieces fitting into place. “Because you’re the expert here, and I’m not listening to you.” 

“I was given to understand that Fire Sages were scholars,” Elder Yagoda states. “But being learned in books does not make you the authority on my people’s traditions and spirits.” 

“Of course.” A tendril of panic works through the guilt. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to imply that I knew more than you.” 

Elder Yagoda nods. She’s smiling, now; it seems to be natural on her face, like she smiles more often than anything else. “You are of course forgiven. I advise you to listen.” Zuko leans forward. “When La judges someone well, he guides them to the surface. When he judges them poorly, the waters become unruly, and the person is unable to guide themselves back to safety. That is why the waterbenders are there to aid them.” 

Zuko goes to respond, but Elder Yagoda’s eyes flash at him, and he hears: Listen. 

Zuko nods.

“What you describe is neither of those options. You experienced La pulling you down into the waters. You described being given a reprieve from the sensations and consequences of drowning. And you were granted a vision.” 

Zuko clenches his jaw against arguing. 

“Those are not the signs of failing an ordeal. They are not traditionally the signs of passing an ordeal, either, but it seems that what La wanted from you was more significant than judgment.” Elder Yagoda watches Zuko for another moment, and then says: “You may respond.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Zuko bursts. “What if– I don’t mean to disrespect you, I really don’t, but–” 

“Zuko.” Elder Yagoda leans in to place a hand over his. “I don’t know what La showed you down there. But I can assure you: you did not fail the ordeal.” 

The next breath Zuko draws comes in a little rough, and he has to close his eyes in order to gain control of himself again. After a few moments, when he’s able to breathe more fully, he nods in acceptance of Elder Yagoda’s words. 

“Good,” Elder Yagoda says, her voice gentle and kind. “If you are ready to leave this room, there is someone I would like you to meet. I think you will find you have much in common. And it is about time I begin teaching her, too.” 

Yagoda leads Zuko to an oasis. 

There is lush, green grass below Zuko’s boots. The air is damp and surprisingly warm. 

This is a holy place. Zuko can feel it in the air. It’s the same feeling that lived in the walls of the abbey and in the hallways of the temples. 

On the other side of a tranquil pond sits the princess. 

Zuko offers her a shallow bow from across the water. “Princess Yue.” He looks at Elder Yagoda with curiosity. “The princess is your student?” 

“Is it time already, Yagoda?” Princess Yue asks. 

Yagoda walks to the edge of the water and sits, placing herself between Zuko and Princess Yue. She gestures for Zuko to seat himself across the waters from Princess Yue. 

“My usual practice is to take girls who are born as waterbenders as my students,” Elder Yagoda explains to Zuko. “We learn together in classes. I teach them to heal and preserve the traditions of our people. Princess Yue was not born with the gift of waterbending.” She smiles at the princess. “But she will one day be the wife of the chief of our nation, so she needs to understand our customs.” 

Elder Yagoda intends to teach them together, Zuko realises. This is what she believes he and Princess Yue have in common: they are both non-waterbenders who wish to learn from her as outsiders. 

“It’s a great honour to be offered teaching,” Zuko says. “May I ask how you intend to teach us? How should I indicate I have questions? May I write notes?” 

Princess Yue hides her smile behind her sleeve. 

“There are only three of us here,” Elder Yagoda points out. “We may speak freely. It is not our usual practice to write - our traditions are written in our hearts, not on paper.” 

Zuko nods. “May I have permission to remove my coat? It is warm here.” 

“You don’t need to ask my permission,” Elder Yagoda presses. “If you misstep, I will tell you. You can relax, Zuko. We are here as friends.” 

Zuko’s muscles tense at the word ‘friends’, but he forces himself to breathe deeply through the moment. He looks away from Elder Yagoda, and his eyes catch on movement in the pond. 

It’s two koi fish, swimming around one another in perfect symmetry. 

“Oh,” Zuko says, leaning forward over the waters. “That’s what I saw.” At the lack of response, Zuko rebalances himself and says: “I’m sorry. You said I shouldn’t share what I saw down there.”

Elder Yagoda looks from Zuko to Princess Yue and back again. “It was an inappropriate setting for the revealing of a vision,” Elder Yagoda explains. “We were in a room of politics. We are now in a sacred space. You may reveal your visions, should you like to.” 

Zuko nods. His heart picks up, worried that this will be the moment that Elder Yagoda changes her mind about Zuko’s judgement. 

He clears his throat. 

“I felt this sort of… sense of calm,” he explains. “Like all the panic and pain was fading away. And then I saw fire.” Zuko closes his eyes, trying to recall the order of events in the water. “And then I was in the water, but it wasn’t seawater anymore. It was freshwater. And the koi fish were there, swimming around me.” He opens his eyes and looks at the fish and the way they dance around one another. “One of them broke off and looked at me, and then… then I wasn’t in the water anymore. I was in the throne room, back in the palace in Caldera, but the fire went out.” 

Princess Yue makes a questioning sound. 

Zuko looks up. Princess Yue’s expression is open and amazed, like Zuko is sharing something more than the dreams of a dying man. Like she really believes this was a vision from her spirit. 

“The Dragon Throne is surrounded by living flames,” Zuko explains. “I saw them, at first, but then they disappeared. The throne was bare.” He looks back to Elder Yagoda. “That was it. Then I was drowning again.” 

Elder Yagoda watches him for a moment, patient and quiet, and then says: “I have heard.” 

“I have heard,” Princess Yue echoes. 

“Did you understand any of it?” Zuko asks. 

Elder Yagoda smiles. “It sounds like La is telling you about your relationship with the throne,” she states. “But I do not know enough of dragons or thrones to help you to interpret the vision. I can tell you, however, of the koi fish… and the creation of this spirit oasis. Princess Yue, you have heard this song before, but never in this space. Allow me to sing you the song of the oasis.” 

Elder Yagoda sings the story of Tui and La in the mortal realm. 

The koi fish swim in a circle of push and pull. 

When she is done singing, a long and calm silence fills the oasis. Finally, Elder Yagoda says: “I have spoken.”

“I have heard,” responds Princess Yue.

“I have heard,” Zuko repeats. 

Princess Yue invites Zuko to dine with her, and Zuko knows better than to deny the request of a princess. 

It has been a long time since Zuko has sat at a royal table. His nerves immediately spike, because Zuko has never been good at dealing with the tension and verbal sparring of a meal with royalty. And while the consequences had been high for him once, they’re higher now; a suggestion of another ordeal might actually kill him. 

However, the princess almost immediately sends messengers for Aang, Sokka, and Katara to join them, and she leads Zuko to a private dining room. 

“Technically, we shouldn’t be alone in here without a guard or a servant in the room,” Princess Yue points out when the last servant ducks out to get tea for them. “Don’t worry, it will only be a moment,” she adds when her eyes catch on Zuko’s face. 

The servant returns with tea almost immediately, and Zuko is confused by why a few moments of solitude would make Princess Yue smile at him with a mixture of humour and guilt. 

“I don’t understand what’s amusing,” Zuko admits. 

“Oh, it’s just… My servants and guards know to never leave me alone with a boy, unless we’re outside. But I think they’ve decided not to classify you as a boy?” 

Zuko looks at her for a moment, alarmed, and then he finds himself chuckling. “Okay, I see why that’s funny,” he admits. “At least it means I can learn with Elder Healer Yagoda.” 

Princess Yue’s eyes sparkle at him. 

“I wasn’t going to start learning with her until my sixteenth birthday.” Princess Yue pours Zuko’s tea, her hands careful and steady. “It’s only a few days early, but it’s nice to not be alone for the lessons.” 

Zuko accepts tea from her. “Thank you for letting me intrude.” 

“It’s no intrusion,” Princess Yue insists. “I think Yagoda wants us to get to know each other because… because of your connection with La.” 

Zuko’s hands tighten around the warm cup. “What does that mean?” 

“I had my own experience with Tui, when I was a baby,” Princess Yue explains. “I was very sick. Our healers did everything they could, but it seemed like I was going to die.” She lifts her own cup and doesn’t meet Zuko’s eyes. “My parents placed me in the spirit waters under the light of the full moon. And Tui gave me the gift of life.” 

“That’s why your name is Yue,” Zuko concludes, and Princess Yue offers him a smile. “To honour the moon spirit.” 

Princess Yue nods her head. “That’s why Yagoda wants us to get to know one another. You were blessed by the spirit of the ocean, and I was blessed by the spirit of the moon.” 

“It did not feel like a blessing,” Zuko states. 

And then he rethinks the wisdom of defying a princess and tries to find a way to walk this back, but is interrupted by the arrival of the other children. 

Aang bursts in talking a mile a minute, and it appears that the lone guard on the door is unbothered by his entrance. “You’ll never guess what Master Pakku taught me to do!” he says instead of a greeting. Zuko winces a little, but Princess Yue seems nothing but amused. “Look!” 

Aang spins water around himself, pushing and pulling at it with relative ease. 

Katara isn’t smiling. 

“That’s very good, Aang,” Princess Yue says. “Won’t you come and sit with us? Dinner will arrive soon.” 

Sokka slots himself next to Zuko. “I was going to ask how learning with Yagoda was,” he says under his breath to Zuko, “but now I’ve got to ask: how exactly did you score a dinner invitation from the most beautiful girl in the world?” 

Zuko blinks, surprised, and then looks over to Princess Yue. She is still talking with Aang about his waterbending. Katara is smiling now, but it doesn’t look right on her face, like she’s forcing herself to be happy for Aang. 

Princess Yue is quite beautiful, Zuko realises. She has a pleasant, lilting voice, and a calm presence. Zuko can’t say he noticed before, but it makes sense that she would have caught Sokka’s eye. 

Zuko looks down at the table. “We were learning with Elder Yagoda together,” he tells Sokka. “She invited us afterwards. Elder Yagoda suggested that Princess Yue and I might have some things in common.” 

“Like what?” Sokka asks, sounding incredulous. Zuko glances up at him to find that Sokka is watching Princess Yue with narrowed eyes. 

“Princess Yue thinks that it’s because she has a special relationship with Tui, and… something happened between me and La yesterday.” 

Sokka hums and perks up, dropping an arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “Oh. Okay. Well, I am excited for dinner,” he says too loudly. 

Katara snickers. “Sokka is always excited for dinner.” 

“No offence to the Earth Kingdom - I had a lot of great meals there - but nothing beats Water Tribe food.” 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying our food,” Princess Yue says with an amused smile in Sokka’s direction. 

Zuko looks away. Sokka’s arm feels heavy on his shoulders. 

When the food arrives, Sokka is distracted from the conversation by trying to eat his body weight in fish. 

“Katara, will you be joining Yagoda’s healing classes?” Princess Yue asks. “I’m sure it will be a useful skill for you to have.”

“Oh,” Katara responds, her shoulders drooping. “Yeah, I guess I will. You’re right - it will be useful.” 

“Can I come with you?” Zuko requests. “If it’s appropriate? I know I can’t learn healing, but I would be interested in watching.” 

Princess Yue nods. “I’m sure it will be fine, considering your… new classification.” 

Zuko and Princess Yue share a smile. 

“I’ll teach you the new move I learned after dinner, Katara,” Aang adds cheerfully. 

Zuko’s eyes widen as he waits for Princess Yue to respond. Princess Yue looks over at Aang with confusion, but otherwise doesn’t seem overly offended. 

Katara sighs. “This is just so stupid,” she complains. “I do want to learn healing, I know that’s important, but I don’t see why Master Pakku won’t teach me! I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, and…” Katara clenches her jaw and looks up at Princess Yue. “Never mind. Sorry, Princess Yue.”

Princess Yue looks nothing but sympathetic. “You don’t need to apologise, Katara,” she insists. “I understand that our way is difficult for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t even get it,” Sokka adds. “I mean, we weren’t so different - the men were warriors and the women stayed with the children. But if there’s a woman who’s really good at hunting, why wouldn’t you let her, you know?”

Katara tosses him an unimpressed look. “Oh yeah, you were so forward-thinking about it, were you?”

Sokka screws up his nose, and then says to Zuko: “It may have taken me getting my butt kicked by a girl warrior before I really got it.” 

“It’s our way to separate the healers,” Princess Yue answers Sokka. “They keep our traditions and stories and songs alive, and they keep us in connection with the spirits. Learning to use their bending for fighting or for creating mundane things, that would impact them.”

Sokka snorts. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but Katara doesn’t have any of the spiritual purity mumbo-jumbo in the first place.” 

“Exactly,” Katara agrees, which seems to surprise Sokka. “No, Sokka’s right. I’m not a healer; I’m a fighter. So I should just fight Pakku.” 

“Wait, can we not say that in the same breath as ‘Sokka’s right’ - I am not suggesting that you fight a waterbending master, Katara.” 

“Yeah,” Aang agrees, fidgeting. “There’s got to be a peaceful way to get your point across.” 

Katara looks to the ceiling. “Right, I should just tell him that I’m a fighter. He’ll definitely listen to that.”

“Oh.” Zuko looks over at Katara. “You’re a fighter.” 

Katara drags her eyes away from the ceiling to level Zuko with an unimpressed look. “Yes?” 

“That’s it,” Zuko continues. “That’s your argument. You don’t need to fight him; you need to use the law against him.” 

“What?” 

“I’m your precedent,” Zuko explains. “They didn’t know how to classify me because I’m a man but I’m also a sage. You’re the one who pointed that out to them. So they reclassified me as a spiritual healer, even though it’s not quite right, so that I can fit into the system.” 

Sokka holds up a hand. “Wait. Wait, are you telling me that you are legally a girl right now?” 

“Kind of,” Zuko admits. “But I doubt that would hold up in court. The thing is, when people grow up here, the benders get filtered into the system when they’re just kids. Is that correct?” he asks Princess Yue. “A girl would only have learned healing since she was first bending?” 

Princess Yue nods. “Yes. We start the girls on healing and spiritual stories once they reveal their bending.” 

“So it’s not really ‘girls’ and ‘boys’, is it? We’ve proved that it’s actually ‘healers’ and ‘warriors’. But you didn’t grow up here, Katara,” Zuko continues. “You’ve already been fighting. So…” Zuko shrugs. “Have yourself reclassified.” 

Katara spends the morning with Zuko in Elder Yagoda’s healing hut. If all goes according to plan, she won’t have much opportunity to learn about healing once Master Pakku takes her as a student. And while the others might not consider this important, Zuko thinks that healing is likely to come in handy for Katara in the future. As long as she’s seen the basics, at least she can try to practice later. 

“That’s amazing,” Katara admits under her breath as they watch Elder Yagoda demonstrate the flow of energy through a mannequin. “I had no idea waterbending could do that.” 

“You didn’t know?” Zuko asks. 

Katara shakes her head. “There’s so much about my bending that I don’t know.” The corner of her mouth tilts downward, and Zuko squeezes her arm the way that the others sometimes do for him. Katara relaxes into him until their shoulders are touching, and they sit and observe the class together. 

When the session is complete, Elder Yagoda approaches them with a smile. 

“I hope you enjoyed the lesson,” she says. “Zuko, I have invited Princess Yue to join me daily before dinnertime, if you remain available.” 

Gratitude wells up in Zuko. “I am,” he says. “I would like to continue learning until we are ready to leave.” 

“Then you shall be welcome to do so,” Elder Yagoda assures him. She looks toward Katara. “Will you be continuing to join us for healing lessons?” 

“I would like to, but…” Katara glances at Zuko. “I’m going to suggest that Master Pakku take me as a student. If I can, I’d like to do both. But - I’m sorry, but if I have to choose one, I think I have to prioritise fighting.” 

Elder Yagoda’s face does not shift. Zuko wonders if she’s even surprised. 

“You are a child of war,” she says. “I understand why you would wish to prioritise fighting. But my healing lessons are ongoing, and you are still welcome to them.” 

Katara bows. “Thank you, Master Yagoda.” 

They walk back to the palace. 

(It’s far enough away that the normal practice seems to be to utilise the canal, but Zuko has managed to avoid needing to be on the water. He knows that it is likely shallow, and that outside of an ordeal La is unlikely to drag him down; La did nothing, after all, when Zuko jumped into the ocean by Zhao’s ships. But while Zuko’s mind knows this well, his heart has not yet forgiven the water.) 

“Okay,” Katara says, rolling her shoulders back once they spot Master Pakku and Aang. Sokka jogs over to them. “Okay. I can do this.” 

“How was the healing lesson?” Sokka asks, and then doesn’t give them a chance to answer. “Calming? I’m hoping for calming. Katara, just remember: you have a whole argument, and yelling is not going to help.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “I know. Zuko and I have been over this a million times.” 

“I never actually told you not to yell,” Zuko points out. “I have yelled many times in court. One time, High Sage Kenji said he was considering enshrining in law that we’re not allowed to call people ‘cowards’ while making a ruling.” 

Sokka takes hold of Zuko’s shoulders. “I want you to know how badly I need to hear that story, but I also need you to not encourage the shouting.” 

Zuko sighs and looks over at Katara. “Master Pakku will probably take you more seriously if you stay calm.” 

“I’m perfectly calm!” Katara shouts. 

Sokka gives Zuko a despairing look. 

“I’m perfectly calm,” Katara tries again at a more reasonable volume. 

“Just promise us you’ll stay that way,” Sokka suggests. 

Katara takes a deep, centering breath. “I will stay calm,” she says. “After all, the worst thing he can say is ‘no’, and there is always Plan B: learning from Aang.” 

Katara steps forward just as Master Pakku and Aang finish their session. 

As it turns out, the worst thing Master Pakku can say is not ‘no’. 

“I am a warrior,” Katara explains. Her voice is firm and angry, but it also isn’t overly loud; they are not attracting an audience. “You have two categories for waterbenders: spiritual healers and warriors. Zuko got classified as a healer despite being a boy, because what he does is closer to healing than to fighting. Well, I’m the same.” She holds her head high. “I’m a warrior.” 

“You’re a warrior,” Master Pakku responds in an amused voice. “Are you sure about that?” 

Katara doesn’t flinch. “Yes. I have fought Fire Nation soldiers. You haven’t even met Fire Nation soldiers. I learned what I could, but I will go out there and fight again, and I need a master to teach me.” 

Master Pakku glances up the steps to the palace. He doesn’t appear to be paying a great deal of attention. 

“You’ll learn plenty with Yagoda,” he insists. “I’m sure it will be useful. Now if you don’t mind–” 

“I do mind,” Katara responds, voice rising a little. “You reclassified Zuko! Because there are– there are two categories here, and they’re not ‘boys’ and ‘girls’. Can’t you see that?” 

Master Pakku sighs. “The Fire Sage was an unusual circumstance,” he explains in a tone that he probably intends to be patient, but falls closer to condescending. “He’s a foreigner who was trained by foreigners. We never would have allowed him to become a healer if he’d been born here.” 

“Katara wasn’t born here either,” Aang adds. 

But the problem isn’t that Master Pakku doesn’t understand, it’s that Master Pakku isn’t interested in listening. And while he might be more inclined to listen to this argument coming from Aang… isn’t that part of the problem?

Katara’s fists are clenched. “The system doesn’t make sense!” she insists. “This might be the way that you do it, but I wasn’t raised to be a healer. I wasn’t raised separated from war and fighting, and the North didn’t help us at all when we were being pillaged and our waterbenders were taken away, so–” 

“So I owe you?” Master Pakku asks. “Perhaps we do owe you instruction. And I am offering it to you. With Yagoda.” 

“I’m a warrior,” Katara repeats. 

“You,” Master Pakku responds, “are a little girl.” 

Katara draws in a loud breath. She seems ready to pounce, tension radiating from her shaking shoulders, but she desperately holds herself back.

… Because Sokka and Zuko made her promise to stay calm.

And just like that, everything shifts. 

“Oh,” Zuko says when the pieces land and the paradigm shifts. “Katara. I’m so sorry.” 

Master Pakku turns away from Katara. She makes an irritated sound as she turns and stomps the few steps to Zuko, Sokka, and Aang. The ice cracks a little under her feet. 

“We tried,” Sokka says as he lands a comforting pat on her shoulder. 

“No, I’m not sorry about that,” Zuko corrects. The others look up at him. “I’m sorry that I tried to convince you to argue with him. He’s not listening to you - and he wasn’t ever going to.” 

Katara swipes at her eyes. “Master Pakku is a sour old jerk,” she says. 

“Yes,” Zuko agrees, “and you should fight him.” 

After a moment of silence, Sokka says: “What.” 

“You were right, Katara,” Zuko presses. “We were wrong. I’m sorry. He wasn’t ever going to listen. You said it yourself: you’re going to have to show him.” 

“What,” Sokka says again, turning his head very slowly toward Zuko, “are you doing?” 

Zuko shrugs. “We were wrong.”

“I’m going to…” Katara points over her shoulder to where Master Pakku is making his way up the steps. 

“Good luck,” Zuko says. 

Katara slips away, and Zuko is left with both Sokka and Aang watching him with wide eyes. 

“Hey, Pakku!” Katara shouts. 

The Northern Water Tribe gains a female warrior. 

Princess Yue turns sixteen, and the Northern Water Tribe celebrates. 

(To Sokka’s delight, this includes food.)

Toward the end of the evening, Princess Yue joins them and offers them strange, sparkling drinks. The entertainment for the evening is over, and the music is mostly for the background of socialising. Zuko watches what’s left of the dancing with rapt eyes. It was banned in the Fire Nation when he was growing up. 

By his side, Sokka puts down the carving he was working on to try the sparkling drink. 

“I’m going to need sixteen more of these,” he says in a serious tone to Princess Yue, who chuckles in response. 

“What are you working on?” she asks, seating herself next to Katara. 

“Necklace,” Sokka responds, holding up the carving. Zuko can see now that it’s meant to be a pendant. It’s very rough. “I was trying to recreate what our mom’s looked like. … I’ll get it at some point.” 

“Oh,” Katara says, looking over. “For…?”

“Yeah, yeah, for you.” Sokka waves her off. “I know you miss having Mom’s necklace.” 

Zuko has never seen the necklace in question, but he doubts that Sokka’s rough carving is particularly close in design. Nonetheless, it’s… sweet. Sokka has a lot of potential to be kind, even when he’s covering it with jokes and volume. 

Fondness wells up from somewhere deep as Zuko watches Sokka. 

When the conversation is pulled in another direction, Zuko says: “Hey, did I ever thank you?” 

Sokka looks over. He has shamelessly stolen Zuko’s sparkling drink. “For what?” 

“For staying with me when they put me in the prison,” Zuko responds. His mind tugs at him to be embarrassed, to avoid reminding Sokka of the wild moment in which they were too close and Zuko wanted to be closer, but he pushes that away. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” 

Sokka blinks at him, and then he smiles. 

“... Betrothal necklace?” Katara asks, alarmed, and the moment is broken. 

“You’re not betrothed?” Princess Yue responds, confused. “But you were wearing a betrothal necklace?” 

“It was my mother’s,” Katara explains. “I didn’t know it was…” 

“Wait,” Sokka interrupts, and points at the princess. “Does that mean you’re engaged? Aren’t you a little young for that?” 

Princess Yue’s hand comes up to her necklace. “I’m betrothed. It’s important that I marry so that my father has an heir.”

“Can’t you be your father’s heir?” Katara asks, and then looks over at Zuko. “Can we get Yue reclassified? Who would she have to fight?” 

Sokka puts his head in his hand, and Zuko bites down on a laugh.

Aang leans in to look at Yue’s pendant and asks: “Who are you marrying? How come we haven’t met him? Is he nice?” 

Princess Yue’s smile slips. 

So does Zuko’s. 

“You don’t like him,” Zuko states. 

Princess Yue looks over at Zuko sharply. “I didn’t say that,” she insists, but Zuko spent years largely dealing with people in situations they didn’t want to be in. Zuko has overseen so many bad divorces. He might not be good with people, but Zuko knows that the princess isn’t supposed to look less happy when someone asks if her intended is nice. “My father believes he will make a good chief.” 

Arranged marriage. The fiancé isn’t nice, but Princess Yue’s father thinks he will make a good chief. And Zuko expects he only gets to remain chief as long as the princess doesn’t divorce him - if that’s even an option. 

“Did you get to choose who you’d marry?” Zuko asks. 

Princess Yue sighs. “I have a duty to my people,” is her only response.

Zuko translates that to ‘no’. He also recalls that Princess Yue is the only child of the chief, which is… just bad family planning for a royal family. The royal family of the Fire Nation had three heirs of Zuko’s generation and they lost two of them. 

“I understand duty,” Zuko allows. “But you should still be able to marry someone you think is nice.” 

“He’s an appropriate candidate for marriage,” Princess Yue says in a careful voice.

Sokka snorts. “Romantic,” he comments.

“If you don’t want to marry him, I’m sure we can find another way for you to fulfil your duty. There have to be other men who are appropriate. Maybe –” 

Sokka is the son of the chief of the Southern Water Tribe. Doesn’t that make him an equal status to Princess Yue? And it would be politically prudent to connect the two tribes again. 

Zuko feels a little sick. 

“Are you offering me a betrothal necklace, Fire Sage Zuko?” Princess Yue asks, her awkward propriety giving way to humour. “I don’t think you’d make a very appropriate chief.”

The others laugh, and Zuko relaxes a little. “It would make my mission more difficult.” 

“Are you even allowed to get married?” Katara asks, curious. “You’re not allowed families, right?” 

Princess Yue blinks. “You’re not allowed a family?” 

Zuko shakes his head. “Most sages take their vows when they’re older. They can reestablish marital bonds if they want to.” He turns to Princess Yue and explains: “All familial bonds are dissolved when someone becomes a sage. But that doesn’t mean you can’t create new ones. So yes, I could get married if I wanted. … But I think I probably still shouldn’t become the chief of the Northern Water Tribe.” 

Sokka snorts. “Yeah, I think we should work on Fire Lord instead of Water Chief,” he suggests. 

At Princess Yue’s raised eyebrows, Zuko explains: “I’m not going to be the Fire Lord either.”

“So,” Katara responds, her voice a little too loud to be natural. “Does this mean you can marry… whoever you want?” 

Zuko blinks, and then he catches Sokka making a motion in his peripheral vision. When he looks over, Sokka is smoothing a hand over his wolftail.

“Within… reason,” Zuko responds, confused. “I’d need to get the permission of my Great Sage.” 

Aang asks: “Even if they weren’t from the Fire Nation?” At Zuko’s shrug, he continues: “And… what if… it was a man not from the Fire Nation?” 

“Aang,” Sokka chastises in a harsh whisper.

“Oh,” Zuko replies, “that’s not legal.” 

A hush falls across their little group. 

Katara clears her throat. “Oh.” 

Zuko blinks, concerned by the change in atmosphere that he doesn’t understand. “I don’t agree with that,” he tries. “It should be legal. It was one of Fire Lord Sozin’s changes in the law.” 

Behind Katara and Princess Yue, the dancing has died down to nothing. The music is gone, too; only the bustle of people saying goodnight is still audible. 

“That’s sad,” Aang says, and he sounds like he means it. 

Zuko is inclined to agree. For a hundred years, the Fire Nation’s citizens have faced legislation aimed at hurting them. It’s emblematic of Sozin’s legal changes in general. 

“It’s worse than that,” Zuko adds. “Not only is it a bad law that didn’t pass through the temple the way it should have - it was also only put there because of Fire Lord Sozin’s sister.” He looks over at Princess Yue. “I suppose that’s the downside of royal siblings: you have the security of another heir, but there’s always the possibility of being usurped.” 

Out loud, consciousness barely aware of his words as he runs through royal lineage and Princess Yue’s duties, he says: “That’s the danger of the White Lotus.” 

Behind Princess Yue, Master Pakku comes to an abrupt stop. 

“What did you say?” 

Chapter Text

The process of collecting evidence concludes with a letter from Sergeant Kichiro, formerly of an outpost in the Earth Kingdom named Gaipan. 

It’s less damning than any other piece of evidence Kenji has collected, though Kenji privately thinks that none of it is particularly damning at all. According to the sergeant’s recollection of events, Fire Sage Zuko turned up at Gaipan, led offerings, corrected legal issues, married a couple to one another, and helped to rescue them from a flood. The cause of the flood is unstated. Sergeant Kichiro is terse and polite as he lays down the facts, but Kenji is no stranger to politeness masking judgement; he suspects that the sergeant is displeased with being contacted for this purpose. 

Kenji sighs and summarises the letter, hoping to keep it out of the Fire Lord’s hands by distilling it down to dispassionate facts. 

And then the process is complete, and the next step can begin. It is time to start asking for the blessing of the great sages. 

Kenji glances out the window and considers the time. It’s getting late. Not even Agni can judge him for choosing to postpone the continuation of this task until the morning. But Kenji is restless now, anticipation sitting under his skin and lighting him up from the inside, and he knows that sleep will not be kind to him.

But Tatsuya has always been a nightjar owl, late to sleep and slow in the morning, so Kenji knows he’ll be awake and reading at this moment. And Kenji is aware that he is relying too much on Tatsuya through this process, that Tatsuya was Zuko’s primary teacher and the accusation of heresy would be difficult for a teacher even if the accused wasn’t a child once in his care. 

Kenji uses his own flame to guide the way to Tatsuya’s quarters. 

The halls of the High Temple are silent at night. Kenji has been awake at night more often than not recently - more often than his body is really happy with - but he is getting strangely comfortable with the dark and quiet of the temple at night. 

A laugh bounces down the hall, low and amused, and Kenji freezes in place. 

Tatsuya is not alone. 

The door to Tatsuya’s meeting room is open. Standing in the doorway, back-lit by the full lighting of Tatsuya’s rooms, stands the Fire Prince. It’s such a confusing sight that it takes Kenji several moments to realise that he seems to be trespassing on a… late meeting? In Tatsuya's private chambers?

Kenji is an intelligent man. He was the youngest High Sage in all of history. He does not feel that way when the implications of meeting in one’s private chambers this late at night occur to him. For a wild moment, Kenji thinks that Ahmya would have laughed at him until her stomach hurt, and then she would have blamed him for the pain. 

“I shall see you tomorrow,” Tatsuya says to Prince Iroh, but his voice is already fading as Kenji makes his way back to his own rooms. 

It is best to pretend, even to himself, that he saw nothing. For a sage like Tatsuya, such an accusation would not bode well; for a prince, it could mean death. 

“What did you say?”

Zuko blinks, pulled from his thoughts of Princess Yue’s duties and lineage by Master Pakku’s alarmed tone.

“I said ‘that’s the danger of the White Lotus’?” Zuko responds. “I mean: it’s good to have more heirs for a throne, but there’s always a danger of there being contenders for that throne.” 

Master Pakku sits heavily in a nearby seat. Confused, Zuko glances at the children. They seem equally as perplexed by their sudden adult supervision. 

Master Pakku licks his lips and glares into the distance, and then turns that glare on Zuko. “What, precisely, is the…” 

“The White Lotus?” Zuko asks, confusion only mounting. “It’s a flower. And a Pai Sho tile.” 

Master Pakku’s mouth tightens. “I’m aware of that. I’m also assuming you weren’t referring to Pai Sho.” 

“Um.” Zuko glances at Sokka, hoping for him to step in and help. He doesn’t. “Well, it’s a particular term relating to royal lineage in the Fire Nation. I guess it’s not a thing here, since…” Zuko hesitates, glancing at Princess Yue, who is the logical next-in-line for her throne but disqualified due to her gender. “It’s what happens when you have a third-in-line who’s an older sister to the second-in-line.” 

Katara rolls her eyes. “Because the younger brother outranks her?” she asks, unimpressed. 

“Exactly,” Zuko responds, grateful that he can direct this to Katara and not Master Pakku or Princess Yue. “It’s a really antiquated rule. When a female heir is born, she’s an heir presumptive instead of an heir apparent. That’s because her place can be taken if a brother is born. So when there’s an heir presumptive who loses her place in line to a male, then she’s a White Lotus.” 

Fire Lord Ozai confused the royal line by ascending in place of Crown Prince Iroh. In a roundabout way, Fire Prince Iroh became a White Lotus, too. Zuko’s memories of Prince Iroh are worn with age, revisited too many times and turned a little sour with the years, but he thinks that Prince Iroh would be amused by the idea. 

“It’s the symbol they draw on the family trees, it’s like…” Zuko reaches for his pocket, intending to find paper, and then looks down at the ice. “It’s like this.” He uses his fire to draw it roughly into the ice below him. “It’s a common motif in Fire Nation art. And since the Pai Sho tile is rarely used, but important to keep in reserve, and there was a need for a symbol in the family tree, they got linked.”

“Ice art,” Sokka says, staring down at Zuko’s wobbly lotus symbol. “You should draw all over our rooms. Hey, do you think you could let me control the fire?”

Zuko looks at his hand, then at Sokka’s. “I don’t see why not,” he says, and reaches over to Sokka’s hand.

“Wait,” Master Pakku interrupts them. “The… problem of the White Lotus.” 

“Oh.” Zuko looks back up at Master Pakku. “Yes, there was a big political upheaval over the last White Lotus. Fire Princess Suzume. She was Fire Lord Sozin’s older sister. She was married to a woman, a general in the army.” Zuko shakes his head. “Fire Lord Sozin made same-sex relationships illegal halfway through his war so that she couldn’t try to claim the throne.” 

“That’s awful,” Princess Yue comments. 

Aang frowns in confusion. “Why would that stop her claiming the throne?” 

“Well, Princess Suzume ended up with three options: divorce her wife of twenty years for power, join the Fire Sages and renounce her titles, or suffer the death penalty.” 

“What?” Sokka asks, and it’s only when he pulls his hand away that Zuko realises he’d left his hand in Sokka’s. “Death penalty?”

“It’s only for royalty,” Zuko responds. “The regular punishments for same-sex relationships are imprisonment at worst.” 

Katara huffs an annoyed breath. “Of course he added in that it’s the death penalty for his own sister.” 

“So she got divorced?” Aang asks. “Even though she still loved her wife?” 

Zuko is suddenly very aware that the children watching him are hopeful about how this story ends. It makes it feel even worse to have to say: “No, she was put to death.” 

Katara gasps, and Aang says a simple: “Oh.” 

“So were the sages who were trying to make her claim,” Zuko continues. “The awful thing is: we don’t even know that Princess Suzume wanted the Dragon Throne. She never said anything to indicate that she did. But people were rallying behind her, and there was an underground international movement to get her on the throne.” 

Princess Yue sighs. “So she was just fought over until she was killed,” she summarises. “That’s so sad.” 

Zuko nods, looking off to one side as his mind works its way through history. “The Fire Nation has had three female High Sages,” he explains. “It’s not common, but it does happen. Four, if you count the Five-Day High Sage. But Crown Princess Azula would still be our first female Fire Lord, if she takes the throne.” 

“Because of a rule you guys don’t even agree with?” Sokka asks. “That’s so stupid.” 

Zuko catches Katara’s eye. She’s shaking her head at Sokka with a smile. 

There’s very little information available about Princess Suzume, and when Zuko was young and still privately thought of her as his great great aunt, he’d wondered why. In those simpler times, Zuko was taken by the fact that the White Lotus had a dragon familiar and a wife who broke barriers in the army, that she always looked gentle and kind in her surviving portraits. But that was before Zuko understood what she really represented: the idea that the people might choose their own Fire Lord. 

Master Pakku clears his throat. He’s scowling, and staring at Zuko like Zuko is failing a test, but Zuko doesn’t know what is wanted or expected of him. 

“That’s how the story ends,” he explains. “The White Lotus was killed, General Nao disappeared, and the sages who threw their lot in with Princess Suzume were executed for high heresy. It was the last organised effort against the Fire Lord from within the Fire Nation.” Zuko tries to suppress an annoyed sigh. “Everyone just… gave up at that point, I guess.” 

Aang adds, “Until now,” with a shaky smile that makes Zuko wonder if he’s also weighing the possibility that Zuko will also be executed for high heresy. 

“What I don’t get,” Sokka interjects, “is why he needed to change a bunch of rules to execute her. Didn’t he have the power to just… do that anyway?” 

Zuko does allow his sigh to slip through this time. “Not without declaring himself separate from the temple,” he explains. “It’s a farce. Better to keep the temple on your side with the threat of executing traitors than turn the whole institution against you.”

Sokka hums. “And the temple let it happen.” 

“Yes!” Zuko agrees. When he was fresh in sagehood and learning history from the temple’s perspective, this had been perplexing, but Zuko assumed the flaw was in his perspective. The confusion has been replaced by anger. “They did. The sages should have been on her side. There is no basis for making her marriage invalid, let alone illegal - it was a political move intended to harm a daughter of the throne, and ended up hurting our whole nation.” 

“And,” Katara adds, matching Zuko’s tone, “you’re telling us that the whole war would have been avoided if the succession went by age instead of gender!” 

Pakku stands. He’s scowling, but in a distracted way, like Katara’s words have barely landed. “That is coincidence,” he insists, eyes on the white lotus Zuko burnt into the ice. 

Zuko shakes his head. “What I’m saying is that the war could have been avoided if the temple did its job.” 

Sokka leans forward to catch Zuko’s eyes. “Didn’t you say a bunch of them were put to death for supporting the White Lotus?” 

“Yes,” Zuko agrees, “but they should have all stood up for her. If they did, the Fire Lord wouldn’t have been able to hold that much sway. It could have been different.” 

Sokka’s expression is very still for a long moment, and then he says: “You know, I want to agree with you for the most part, but… I also want to make sure you’re not going to talk yourself into dying for every single thing you believe.”

“If you won’t die for it, do you really believe it?” Zuko counters. 

Sokka hisses a breath in through his teeth. “Yeah, there’s no way you’re supposed to martyr yourself for everything you believe, Zuko,” he presses. “Some things? Especially when they’ll make a big difference? Sure. But a lot of - maybe even most situations are worth living to continue the fight later.” 

Zuko thinks about the princess’s wife, General Nao, who disappeared after the execution and was never heard from again. He thinks about how that’s what Princess Suzume would have wanted. She would have wanted her wife to find safety and live out her days, not follow her onto the pyre out of dedication. 

But Zuko went to a different kind of fire for dedication. Unlike Sokka, Zuko chose to make his life about serving Agni and the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t have the luxury to choose himself. And that should also have applied to the sages of Fire Lord Sozin’s time. 

“As much as I appreciate learning from him,” Katara says while Pakku is walking away, “I really cannot stand Pakku.” 

In all their time travelling together, Zuko and the children have been unable to fall into many habits. There are certainly some patterns (Katara cooks, sometimes with Zuko’s help; Sokka pours over maps; Aang and Katara attempt to waterbend; Zuko and Aang meditate), but things like timing and place are always up in the air, because they have rarely stayed in one place for long. Even in the abbey, the calmest moments of their travels, habitual behaviour largely only belonged to Zuko and the nuns. 

In the Northern Water Tribe, they begin to form habits. 

Zuko rises first, with the weakest rays of the sun. They have breakfast together before splitting up. Zuko goes with Elder Yagoda, to sit in the back during healing sessions and sit by the spirit waters with Princess Yue while learning from her. Princess Yue sometimes seeks out his company afterwards, and Zuko can see no reason to distrust her other than the obvious: she is a princess.

Katara and Aang learn with Master Pakku. Katara’s skills sharpen with what Zuko thinks is alarming speed; Zuko has always been slow to learn firebending and has suffered burns to show it, but every time he sees Katara practising, she seems to have improved yet again. How the children in Zuko’s life always end up being prodigies is beyond him.

Aang learns alongside Katara, but his attention is often caught elsewhere, by the snow and Momo and the merchants selling ribbons. Master Pakku attempts to convince him to stop acting like a child, but the fundamental issue is that Aang is, indeed, a child. 

Sokka has discovered the weaponry of the non-bending backup military and disappears for hours at a time to train with them. When he isn’t training, Zuko often finds him looking at maps or seeking information about the Earth Kingdom. He hasn’t relaxed into their present situation; he’s already planning for the next fight they will encounter.

That’s why Sokka is the plans guy. Just like Aang’s childishness, it sits bittersweet in Zuko’s heart. 

“You done for the day?” Sokka asks when Zuko returns from Elder Yagoda’s healing session. 

“For a few hours,” Zuko responds. He isn’t avoiding Princess Yue, exactly - her company is pleasant and calm - but he is certain that spending this much time with a princess is asking for trouble. “How was training?” 

Sokka flexes his arm, but he’s wearing a thick coat, so Zuko isn’t sure what he’s supposed to get from this gesture. “I’m getting better at hand-to-hand. We were covering how to get out of a chokehold today.”

“Well, I hope you never have to use it,” Zuko comments, “but I’m sure it’s good for you to know.” 

Sokka’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean ‘for me’? We should all know how to fight. Maybe you’re all too reliant on your woo-woo powers. I should be taking you all to training with me.”

“I learned to fight with swords because my firebending wasn’t strong enough,” Zuko responds. “I think it’s strong enough now that I shouldn’t need it.” 

“Yeah? And what if you can’t use it at some point? What if you’re having a fire-block and you need to get out of a chokehold - what then?” 

Zuko hesitates. Sokka does have a point. “Like an eclipse,” he muses, and then nods. “Okay. How would I do it?” 

“And–” Sokka starts, and then breaks off into a moment of quiet. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to agree with me.”

“You had a good point.”

Instead of helping Zuko learn, Sokka continues to stare. “What were you saying about an eclipse?”

“It’s where the positioning of the moon intersects with the positioning of the sun, and it blocks out light,” Zuko responds. 

Sokka’s eyebrows tilt upwards. He crosses his arms. “Are you saying that you sometimes lose your ability to firebend?” 

Zuko nods. “Yeah. There’s a lot of literature about it. The last time it happened was unexpected, and it ended… badly for the Fire Nation.” Sokka continues to look at Zuko with wide eyes, until Zuko realises he’s waiting for more information. “Um, it was… a long time before Sozin. They’re exceptionally rare.” 

“Are they trackable?” Sokka asks, eyes getting more intense. 

“Yeah, the Fire Sages track them,” Zuko explains. He thinks for a moment - Agni, does he miss books - and then concludes: “I’m pretty sure there’s one due soon.” 

Sokka lifts his hands, and for a moment Zuko thinks he’s about to be surprised with a chokehold, but Sokka just rests his hands on Zuko’s shoulders. “You know, bud, that’s really useful information that you could have given at any point before it happened to come up.” 

Zuko shakes his head. “I don't specialise in the calendar.” Memorising the leap months was unnecessarily tricky, in Zuko’s opinion; he’s not sure he could repeat the equations days after his testing was complete. “That was Fire Sage Kei’s specialty. I mostly dealt with interpersonal law and case law.” 

Sokka deflates. “So there’s going to be a day in which firebenders are useless, and the Fire Sages know when it is, but our Fire Sage doesn’t.” 

Zuko feels his shoulders tense under Sokka’s hands. “I’m sorry.” He sighs, thinking about how he can’t help Aang with firebending, and now he can’t help with this. “I guess this is the one time I could have been useful.” 

Sokka’s hands squeeze down. “Look, your sageliness, you once helped save a bunch of refugees through the power of contract law and staring really intensely. I think we’re a little beyond thinking you’re not useful. You just dropped a really important piece of information and I’m going to need to make, like, seventeen plans based on it.” 

Zuko finds himself smiling, overcome with relief that Sokka isn’t disappointed in him and affection over Sokka’s immediate jump to planning. In another life, Sokka would have made a good leader. Maybe later in this life, he still can. 

This train of thought leads Zuko back to the idea that Sokka would be an appropriate match for Princess Yue, and he feels the smile slip from his face. There’s no reason that the idea of a completely appropriate match should curdle in Zuko’s stomach like this, but it seems that this group of children have always pulled confusing emotions from him.

“So,” Sokka says, squeezing Zuko’s shoulders again. “Want me to show you that manoeuvre?” 

Zuko nods, grasping onto the excuse to focus on something else, and Sokka starts by closing his hands around Zuko’s throat. “I’m not going to trick you into sparring,” Sokka insists. “I just want to show you how it works.”

And once again, Zuko finds himself a little overwhelmed. Just a few moons ago, he can’t imagine that Sokka would think to ensure that he isn’t crossing Zuko’s boundaries; now, it seems like second nature to him. 

“Okay, so this only works well if you have room behind you,” Sokka explains. “You’re going to take a step back. This leg,” he explains, and nudges Zuko’s boot with his own. “Good. Twist a little, face the… yeah, like that. The point of this is that you now have leverage with your right arm.” 

Sokka talks him through using his arm to slam down on Sokka’s elbow, breaking his ability to keep his hands around Zuko’s neck. They run through it a few more times, which in Zuko’s opinion is more than necessary, but Zuko has proven to be a slow learner before. 

“There,” Sokka says after their fourth run-through. He tugs Zuko’s hood over his head in what Zuko has learned is a fond gesture, even though Sokka’s doesn’t seem particularly moved to do this to anyone else. “Now you’re safe from one particular move if you run out of firepower. Though, thinking about it, your best bet is probably finding two swords. Or sticks.” 

Zuko doesn’t like to be reminded of the day they spent with Jet, but if Zuko shied away from all unpleasant memories, he wouldn’t have many left. 

“I apologise for not knowing more about the eclipse,” he presses, and then huffs. “If we just had access to a library. My tradition isn’t an oral one; I’m supposed to be able to look things up.” 

Sokka sits down against one of their ice walls. It’s covered in faint patterns now, from the morning that Sokka insisted on helping Zuko to burn lines into the ice. They’re haphazard and messy, but it’s nice to sleep somewhere with a personal touch. Most people in the Northern Water Tribe mistrust Zuko, but aside from the general wariness of the locals and the way that Pakku has taken to watching him with a frown, this is the best place Zuko has been since the abbey. In some ways, it’s more pleasant; the tribe is well-protected from danger, and he’s staying with the children this time. 

It would be better if Zuko’s introduction to the Northern Water Tribe had included less imprisonment and drowning, but Zuko can’t expect to have everything. 

“Stop being sorry about nothing,” Sokka insists. Zuko sits next to him and stretches his legs out. “So this means different sages specialise in different things, right? How’d you end up with theft and contracts?” 

“I didn’t,” Zuko responds. “Not everyone specialises much. I ended up with interpersonal law because I wanted to be able to advise someone. I wasn’t going to be allowed to see her unless it was for legal counsel, so I studied for it, and then… I found I liked it.” Zuko shakes his hood down and rests his head against the wall as he thinks back. “The system makes sense. It holds people accountable and honourable, and it serves our people well. It was a way I could still serve our people.” 

An odd squeaking sound escapes Sokka, and Zuko throws him an alarmed glance. “I’m sorry, what? I did not imagine you had a love life.” 

“A love life?” Zuko asks, and then combs over what he told Sokka. “Oh! No, it wasn’t a girl, it was… She was my sister, before I went through the flames.”

“Right,” Sokka responds, something like wonder in his tone. “It's just so weird to think that you had a sister.”

Zuko frowns at him. “Plenty of people have sisters. You have a sister.”

“Yeah, but…” Sokka gestures to him. “I guess it always just seemed that, pre-family-selling-you, you were just… hatched from an egg.” 

“Hatched from an egg?” Zuko asks. “Like a dragon?”

“Like a penguinolin!” Sokka corrects. Zuko nudges him with his elbow, trying to unbalance him, but Sokka refuses to be budged. Sokka’s laughter makes Zuko smile. “Okay, so there were no eggs. There was a sister. And you kept seeing her once you… wait, did you say ‘went through the fire’?” 

“I told you about the flames of Agni,” Zuko reminds him. 

“Yeah, I just imagined it was metaphorical.” After a moment, Sokka’s eyebrows draw inward. “I’ve really gotta stop assuming anything you say is metaphorical.” 

“It was a fire pit,” Zuko explains. “It’s a deep, sunken pit, usually under a temple, with everlasting flames.” Zuko feels a dull pang as he considers how the flames under the Temple of the Avatar must have been extinguished as the temple fell into the sea. “When a person is to be reborn as a sage, they walk down into the flames. That’s how we know Agni accepts them.” 

Sokka tilts his head slowly. “And… if Agni rejects them?” 

“Well, the fire would hurt, so they wouldn’t be able to descend,” Zuko explains. “The fire didn’t hurt me. It was kind of…” He thinks back, remembering the sheer terror of the weight of Zuko’s vows and the process ahead, remembering the way that High Sage Kenji had loomed above him and the fires had roared beneath him. “It was scary, but by the time I was in the flames, it wasn’t scary anymore.”

Zuko has never told anyone about this. It makes him feel vulnerable, the way that new skin prickles against the air, raw and sore and healing. 

“I didn’t understand why my family didn’t want me anymore, and… there was a lot of death, right before I was sold. The boy who was my cousin died in the war, and then my paternal grandfather died, and my– the woman who was my mother–” Zuko shudders, suddenly cold, and Sokka shifts until their arms are pressed together. He can’t feel the heat of Sokka, not through their coats, but the pressure loosens something in Zuko, and he continues: “It wasn’t good, before I made my vows. But the fire felt right. It wasn’t so bad, afterwards.” Zuko almost smiles. “And High Sage Kenji said the fires accepted me particularly readily. The fire got really close to me, but it still didn’t hurt me at all.” 

When Zuko turns his head to look at Sokka again, it’s to find that Sokka is watching him with unexpected intensity. 

“What?” Zuko asks, his heart dropping as he wonders if he disclosed too much. 

After a moment, Sokka blinks and shakes his head. “It’s–” He sighs, a gust of unhappy air, and then says: “I’m glad your sister was still there for you, after. Don’t ever tell anyone I said this, but… I don’t know what I would have done without Katara.”

Zuko’s smile is pulled out of him by the absurdity of comparing Katara and Azula. “I don’t think anyone could really describe Azula as ‘there for me’, not the way Katara has been there for you,” he admits. “But it was nice to see her, before I had to leave again. It was good to know she was doing well.” 

“They didn’t consider selling her off, too?” 

“Heirs are important,” Zuko reminds him. “That’s why Princess Yue should have siblings.” Royal families should plan better when it comes to heirs, because the fate of their people depends on the stability of its leaders. But royals are, of course, generally obsessed with their own power, and too many contenders for a throne are a risk. 

Sokka blinks, and then his frown deepens a little. 

Zuko’s mind catches on the image of Princess Yue, diligently listening to Elder Yagoda singing the stories of their people, deliberately learning in order to be able to aid the eventual rule of her husband. And he thinks about Sokka and Katara, years ago, protecting one another in the Southern Water Tribe while their way of life was constantly under threat.

“You should come to sit with us sometime,” he finds himself saying, ignoring the nagging feeling that he shouldn’t invite Sokka to spend time with Princess Yue. “Some of the stories Elder Yagoda tells are your stories, too. I imagine you might have your own versions, in the Southern Water Tribe, but…” 

“They’re probably better-kept up here, without the threat of raids,” Sokka finishes for him. “Can’t you just save them for late-night stories when we’re travelling?” 

Zuko presses his lips together for a moment, thinking. “I’m not a book,” is what he lands on. At the quirk of Sokka’s eyebrow, he continues: “The thing about books and scrolls - the way I learned to work - the text is still there when you want to revisit it. We’re really careful about making copies and checking them for scribal errors. The precision and specificity - that’s all important to the law, right?” 

“Okay?”

“So if you want to hold a book for me, it’s the same book when you hand it over.” 

“Oh,” Sokka says, voice warming with recognition. “But with oral traditions, they go through elders for a reason. You’re right.” 

Zuko nods. “I wouldn’t want to taint your stories somehow. I– I would be trying really hard not to, but I’m still a person, and that’s the point, right? That it’s handed from person to person, that it moves through each generation and they get to pass it on. I don’t want to interrupt that for you.” 

Sokka swallows, and he looks a little overwhelmed for a moment, but then he offers Zuko a shaky smile. 

“What?” Zuko asks, perplexed by this reaction. It seems like every time he thinks he’s on the same page as Sokka, something in Sokka’s expression has to prove otherwise. 

Sokka nudges him again. “You’re smart sometimes,” he says, and then when Zuko is blinking with surprise, he continues: “I’ll come to one of your meetings. Maybe Katara can come too. We’ve been talking about how it’s kind of… weird, being here.”

“Weird?” Zuko repeats. 

“Yeah, it’s like… it’s great, because sometimes it’s the same, but it’s also so different to back home.” Sokka shrugs. “It’s like it’s everything we could have been, except… not quite. Because the North isn’t the South. Who knows if we were supposed to be divided the way we are? Or if we used to have the exact same stories and celebrations?” Sokka sits back, flat against the wall, and looks out across the room instead of at Zuko. “Gran Gran once said that the Southern Water Tribe used to travel more with the animals through the seasons, but this wasn’t possible forever because it’s harder to stay safe. But maybe that’s true for the North, too - are they fortified like this because they want to be, or because they had to adapt?” 

“Maybe Elder Yagoda can answer some of those questions for you,” Zuko suggests gently. “I know she can’t tell you everything, but…” 

“You’re right, we should try while we have the chance to,” Sokka agrees. He screws up his nose. “Ugh. I never thought I’d regret not listening to the elders droning on more. I guess I’ll listen better when I’m back.” Zuko smiles, and Sokka unceremoniously shoves at his shoulder. “How dare you be such a good influence on me? Gran Gran is going to love you, and it’s sickening.” 

Zuko and Princess Yue duck out of their meeting when the conversation turns personal, leaving Elder Yagoda to talk gently with Sokka and Katara about their grandmother and their dual heritage. 

This turn of events leaves them with unexpected free time, but Zuko knows enough about royalty to understand that free time is very quickly filled, so he expects Princess Yue to bow gently and take her leave. Instead, Princess Yue tucks her hands into her sleeves and asks: “Would you like to see the festival markets?” 

The festival markets, as it turns out, are tiny ice-built huts selling trinkets and incense and meats in preparation for the next monthly festival day. Elder Yagoda has bestowed enough stories and traditions upon them that Zuko understands the North keep their own calendar, which is tied more closely to the moon than the Fire Nation’s calendar. It seems, in Zuko’s opinion, to be even more unnecessarily complicated. However, it places a minor festival day at the beginning of every lunar cycle, including an official declaration of the new moon. 

The festival market is quiet now due to where they are in the lunar cycle, but it’s still nice to wander among the half-empty stalls.

“You must return sometime for the end of the winter darkness,” Princess Yue insists, leading Zuko past a stall selling ribbons for betrothal necklaces. Zuko makes a mental note to bring Sokka back here to find the right colour for Katara. “The blessing of the light is essentially a festival of Agni.” 

A festival of Agni in the Northern Water Tribe. Zuko smiles, contemplating how Agni’s blessing lights the whole world, and how sometimes the boundaries between nations are no true boundaries at all, just like how there is nothing real distinguishing between his skin and the air itself.

“I would like that,” Zuko responds. “Though I expect you don’t enact blessings the way I do.” 

Princess Yue turns her eyes toward Zuko, and her eyes glint with amusement. “You enact blessings with fire?” 

“I wrap people in fire,” Zuko explains. “It’s not harmful - I have control over my flames.” 

“You wrap them in fire?” Princess Yue asks. She stops walking, looking up at Zuko curiously. “How?” 

“It’s like this,” Zuko says, and then makes what he immediately recognises is a catastrophic error. 

His flame has barely met the air around Princess Yue before Zuko finds himself flung to one side by a solid wall of ice. He lands hard on the snow on his side, and then a spear at his front keeps him from moving. 

“Stop!” Princess Yue commands, her voice steady but overly loud. “He didn’t mean any harm!” 

“Hey,” a new voice says, too young to be a guard, and then there is a young man standing above him. He isn’t one of the guards who removed him from the princess, but he grabs the spear that’s being held to Zuko’s chest and the guard relinquishes it. “What in La’s name were you thinking, ashmaker?” 

“I apologise,” Zuko says, remaining calm. He is fully aware that this is his error alone. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Hahn.” Princess Yue appears at Hahn’s side. From this angle, Zuko can’t see much but them, the spear, and the sky. His heart thuds heavily in his chest. “It’s okay. Zuko didn’t mean any harm. It was an honest mistake.” 

Hahn shifts the spear upward so the sharp tip hovers at the bare base of Zuko’s throat. Zuko curls his hands into fists, well aware that any attempt to protect himself will be understood by the guards as aggression. He stays very still.

“You,” Hahn says in a low, dangerous tone, “are going to leave my betrothed alone from now on, you hear? Nobody here trusts you. Not one of us. So don’t go thinking you have some sort of leeway, ashmaker, just because the simpletons from the Southern Tribe can’t see through you.” 

Zuko narrows his eyes. He presses up against the spear, forcing Hahn to choose to injure him or to relent. Hahn pulls back just slightly - not enough to be visible, but enough to tell Zuko that he isn’t going to follow through on a threat. 

“They are not simpletons,” Zuko corrects him as calmly as he can manage. “Katara is the last waterbender of her tribe, and she is a prodigy. Just ask Master Pakku. And Sokka is one of the smartest people I know.” 

“Then everyone you know must be an idiot,” Hahn responds. Zuko doesn’t think he’s even met Sokka - he knows this attitude is all bluff and bluster - but it still makes anger curdle in his stomach.

“Well,” Zuko responds, a sharp tip of a spear near his throat and fury in his veins, “I have met you.” 

There’s a distinct moment of hesitation before Hahn seems to realise he’s been insulted. “Say another word and see what I’ll do,” he hisses, stepping closer.

“Hahn,” Princess Yue says again. 

Hahn looks to one side, and then shrugs. And with that, Hahn drops the spear and turns his back. Zuko knows that this is meant to illustrate that he doesn’t consider Zuko a threat in the slightest, but the insult doesn’t land, because Zuko would never attack him anyway. 

Princess Yue glances back at Zuko as she’s led away. 

Later that night, the Water Tribe kids are still on a high from learning about their grandmother’s heritage. They have family here in the Northern Water Tribe, people to meet and learn from, and Zuko doesn’t have it in his heart to mention anything unsavoury that occurred during the day. 

Aang looks a little out-of-sorts as Katara and Sokka talk about their family and all the potential there. It pulls Zuko back to the abbey, where Aang had felt left out by Katara and Sokka meeting up with Bato. But even beyond that mess, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that Aang is just never going to have this: a deep-dive into the elements of his culture that have been mysterious to him, the discovery of long-lost family to invite him into their homes, and someone to share the experience with. 

Zuko is happy for Katara and Sokka, and he’s shaken from his own stupid mistake with a princess, of all people, and he’s concerned for Aang. In searching for a distraction, Zuko finds himself saying: “Do you want to hear about healing?” 

Katara and Aang flock to him, and Zuko shepherds Sokka to lie down between them all. He undoes his coat so that they have more access, and Zuko subtly warms the air around him to compensate. 

“I would like to say for the record that I do not like this,” Sokka says from his place on the floor. 

“Would you like me to note that in writing?” Zuko asks, and Sokka laughs. Zuko can see the movement in his chest and stomach, and his eyes catch there for no apparent reason.

“You’re so weird,” Sokka insists, but his voice is warm. “Okay. Heal me.” 

Katara rolls her eyes. “I would say ‘there’s nothing wrong with you’, but I’ve met you.” 

“Ouch,” Sokka responds. “Well, now you can heal me from that wound, Katara.” 

Aang snickers unhelpfully. 

“Okay,” Zuko says, trying to call them back for attention. “I obviously can’t do this, so all I can do is repeat what Elder Yagoda says. The process of healing is about redirecting chi, so the first thing you need to do is learn how to recognise it.” 

Sokka complains the entire time, which Zuko imagines makes the process more difficult. Katara and Aang concentrate on finding his chi paths, and Zuko recreates a map of the paths into the ice to aid them.

Katara is the first to feel anything. “I think I can feel his chi paths. The energy seems to be flowing healthily.”

“Oh, good,” Sokka quips. “Please don’t do anything to ruin that.” 

“That’s great, Katara,” Zuko says, impressed by her speed. “So to heal, one directs energy into the place with the wound.” 

“Hey, how come this is a thing only waterbenders can do?” Sokka asks, ignoring Katara’s attempts to hush him as she concentrates. “Chi isn’t water. … Is it?” 

Zuko hesitates in his brief search for a useful tool. “I’m not sure why,” he admits. 

“Well, get over here and try, then,” Sokka says, reaching out his arm to snag on Zuko’s sleeve. 

Zuko locates Sokka’s boomerang and pulls it closer, then gives into Sokka’s insistent tugging and places his hands like Katara’s and Aang’s. “You know they’re using water to do this, right? I’m not going to use fire on you, so I don’t know how you expect me to feel anything.” 

“It doesn’t make any sense that only waterbenders can chi-bend,” Sokka insists. 

Zuko sighs and closes his eyes, trying to feel deeper than the cloth and the warmth of Sokka’s skin below. As expected, nothing happens. 

“I think I’ve got something!” Aang insists, and then hesitates. “Oh, it’s gone. Maybe it was just Sokka’s stomach gurgling.” 

Sokka laughs, and Zuko squeezes his arm in reprimand. Katara’s frown flattens out as she gets more used to feeling the paths of energy, and eventually, Aang claims that he can feel something, too. 

Zuko, of course, feels nothing at all. 

“Okay, you got it,” Zuko encourages, pleased that this is going well. He pulls back from Sokka and shrugs off his own coat, then reaches for Sokka’s boomerang. “So the next step is like this,” Zuko says, and then pulls the sharp edge of the boomerang against his skin enough to create a small cut. 

“Hey!” Sokka says, bursting up from his place on the floor. “What are you doing?” 

Zuko looks up, startled. “Sorry, should I have asked for permission before using your weapon?”

“Should you have–!” Sokka makes a high-pitched, wordless noise. “You shouldn’t have hurt yourself, Zuko!” 

“It’s a tiny cut,” Zuko responds, confused and a little offended by this response. “It’s so that Katara and Aang can try healing.” 

Katara sighs. “Oh, Zuko,” she says in a tone that only causes Zuko’s confusion to mount. 

Sokka points a finger at him. “New rule,” he insists. “No hurting ourselves for educational purposes.” 

“Isn’t it already a rule that nobody’s allowed to touch the Fire Sages?” Aang asks. 

“Yeah!” Sokka says, moving his hand to point to Aang. “That!”

“There’s no rule against this,” Zuko insists, and then holds up his arm toward Katara. “Do you want to try healing?” 

Katara bites her lip and looks toward Sokka. 

Sokka shakes his head, and Zuko is ready to argue for his cause until Sokka says: “Whatever. He’s already hurt; you might as well make it better. But I’m serious about the new rule.” 

Katara sits forward and places her hands against Zuko’s skin, holding the water there. 

“You can’t just declare a rule,” Zuko informs him. “That’s not how it works. We would need mutual assent, conditions, and contract.” 

“Hold on,” Katara says in a quiet tone. “Aang, can you feel that?” 

It takes Aang a while longer, but then he says: “Oh, right. You’re hurt elsewhere.” 

“What?” Zuko asks. “No, I’m not.” 

Katara’s expression is deeply unimpressed. She reaches to move Zuko’s other sleeve, and Zuko remembers being thrown into the snow by the princess’s guards hours beforehand. 

“Oh right,” Zuko says when the bruising is revealed. “That.” 

“That,” Katara agrees drily, and then places her water against the bruising. 

Sokka clears his throat. “Got a story to tell, there?” 

“What happened?” Aang asks, his voice much gentler than either of the Water Tribe children.

Zuko watches in fascination as the bruise starts to fade. Katara’s talent is beyond imagination. 

“It was my fault,” Zuko admits. 

Katara glares up at him briefly. “What, exactly, was your fault?” 

Zuko feels his face growing hot with embarrassment. “I may have alarmed the guards,” he admits. “I was talking to Princess Yue, and I…” Zuko has rarely felt as unintelligent as he does right now. And Zuko has felt stupid plenty of times before. “I used my firebending.” 

“At someone?” Katara clarifies. 

“No, just… near the princess,” Zuko explains. “It wasn’t violent or anything, I just got my fire out.” 

“And they hit you for that?” Sokka asks, voice unduly loud in indignation. “They know you’re a firebender. They can’t have been surprised.” 

Zuko frowns over at him. “No, but it was near the princess.” 

Aang shakes his head and adds: “But you weren’t threatening anyone with it. Nobody’s hurt me for airbending.” 

“That’s different,” Zuko insists. “They’re already on-edge around me, and they haven’t seen nonviolent firebending before. It’s my fault.” 

Katara leans back when the bruising is gone, and then returns to Zuko’s self-inflicted cut. 

Aang still looks troubled. He watches Zuko with wide eyes. “You don’t think they were looking for an excuse to hurt you?” he asks. 

Sokka mumbles darkly, and Zuko glances at him before looking back toward Aang. “I think I need to be more careful with my bending,” he says. “That’s all.” 

“You telling us when you’re hurt, or when someone threatens you, is also a rule,” Sokka presses. “Write it down.” 

“Mutual assent,” Zuko reminds Sokka as he watches Katara trying to guide Aang through healing. “Conditions. Contract.” 

When he looks up at Sokka again, it’s to find Sokka is staring back at him, eyes clouded with thought.

One day, when Zuko is watching Aang and Katara practising waterbending moves, Master Pakku comes to stand next to where Zuko is seated. It makes him loom uncomfortably, and Zuko assumes this is deliberate. Powerful men do enjoy their symbolism. 

“I have received a letter,” Master Pakku informs him, not looking away from where his students are practising, “from an old friend. Your name was mentioned.” 

Zuko’s muscles tighten. “Is the High Temple trying to invite me to court?” he asks. 

Master Pakku finally deigns to glance down at Zuko. He looks away before he says: “There is some danger of this, yes.” 

Zuko makes himself take a deep breath and release it slowly. This is not unexpected, but the High Sage can’t do anything about this invitation until a messenger can get to Zuko. He’s safe here, for now. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Zuko says.

Master Pakku doesn’t leave. 

“Can I help you with something else?” Zuko asks, trying to remain polite. He would prefer to be alone with this information.

Master Pakku is frowning over at his students, but Zuko identifies that he is the reason for the expression. 

“I have also come upon the information that…” Master Pakku glances around them subtly, and then nods before continuing: “Well. That the woman you spoke of before, upon whom the title White Lotus was bestowed, was an ancestor of yours.” 

Zuko continues to watch Master Pakku. He is clearly uncomfortable right now, and Zuko cannot locate why. 

“I have no ancestors,” Zuko reminds him. “Fire Sages retain no familial relationships from prior to rebirth. We can make no claims on inheritance or other titles.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Master Pakku responds, and Zuko wonders how he is aware. When they arrived, the people of this tribe seemed to have no information on Fire Sages. Where has Master Pakku found it, if not by asking Zuko directly? “Nonetheless, my people will not respond well to this information.” 

Oh. Now Zuko understands. “If you’re threatening me,” he suggests, “it’s better to tell me directly. I’ve been told I’m bad at taking hints.”

Master Pakku sighs. 

“I’m not threatening you, boy - I’m warning you. Keep it to yourself if you don’t want to find yourself in danger here.” 

With that, Master Pakku walks away, leaving Zuko unbalanced in his puzzlement. 

“You don’t like oral contracts,” Sokka says completely out of the blue. They’re walking by the canal, which doesn’t make Zuko’s heart pick up anymore the way that being near deep water had before. “You think they’re messy. Right?” 

“I know that in real life, people don’t put everything to writing,” Zuko explains, “but verbal contracts are so often exploitative, and people don’t understand their rights or responsibilities. I’ve rarely upheld a verbal contract, unless both parties are willing to admit it occurred and they still consent to the terms.” 

“Hmm,” Sokka responds, looking out into the distance. “And… friendship. That’s like a verbal contract, right?” 

Zuko spots Princess Yue across the canal. He turns away as best he can, pretending not to notice her. 

Properly stated terms and conditions might have helped stop Zuko from making as bad a mistake as he did with the princess, but even a well-planned contract can’t account for stupidity. 

“I suppose,” Zuko responds, trying to ignore the weight of Princess Yue’s gaze on his back. 

“Zuko!” 

Zuko looks up as he ducks out of the spirit oasis, moving quickly so that he doesn’t need to make casual conversation with Princess Yue. Aang is approaching with Appa and a wide grin. 

“Hi, Aang,” Zuko greets. 

“Wanna go flying?” Aang offers. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling cooped up. It’s been ages since Appa’s had some good exercise!” 

“Sure,” Zuko agrees. It might be nice to be in the sky again after all this time on the ground. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Aang suggests, and then waves behind Zuko. Zuko shuts his eyes for a moment and accepts his fate. “Hi, Princess Yue! Do you want to come on an Appa ride with us?” 

Zuko turns to face Princess Yue, arranging his features into a neutral expression as best he can. Princess Yue looks at him for a long moment, and then bows her head. “That sounds nice, Aang, but I’m actually here to apologise.”

“Apologise?” Zuko asks, surprised. 

“Of course,” Princess Yue responds. “The way my guards responded - they can be a little protective. But the way Hahn treated you was not acceptable. I’ve spoken with my father about it, and he agrees with me.”

“The chief agrees with you… that Hahn shouldn’t have spoken to me like that?” Zuko asks. The princess isn’t making any sense at all. 

“You should have been released as soon as it was clear that you weren’t a threat,” Princess Yue states. The corner of her mouth pulls down. “And you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that.” 

Zuko shakes his head. “But it was my fault,” he reminds her, and his eyes catch on a dark flake falling onto Yue’s white hair. 

“Um,” Aang interrupts. “Who’s Hahn? And what did he say to you?” 

Princess Yue’s eyebrows draw into a frown, as gently as everything else she does. Zuko has the distinct feeling that he’s about to be told off for lack of communication yet again. And then another dark flake falls there, and another, and the three of them look upwards. 

Zuko meets Master Pakku’s eyes as he enters into the Northern Water Tribe’s version of a throne room. The room with the waterfall is of the same significance; though Chief Arnook sits on no throne, some things are universal. 

Zuko sees Master Pakku, and thinks about the confirmation that he will be called back to the Caldera to answer for the accusation of heresy, and he sees how this entire battle might play out. 

“Zuko?” Aang asks from where he is sitting with Sokka and Katara. Princess Yue has long since left them to join her father, but she’s also staring back at Zuko now. 

“They’re here for me,” Zuko says as he realises it. He wasn’t intending to speak to anyone else, but a hush seems to fall across the room as more eyes turn towards him. Zuko clears his throat. “I request a boat, or some kind of transport out of the city.” 

“Going to join your people?” Hahn snarls from across the room, but Zuko doesn’t take his eyes off Chief Arnook. 

He watches as the chief throws a quelling glance in Hahn’s direction, and then looks back to Zuko. “Why do you believe they are here for you?” the chief asks. 

Sokka scrambles to stand beside him. “They’re not,” Sokka insists, tugging at Zuko’s arm. “Come on, Zuko. If they’re here for anyone, it’s Aang.” 

Zuko wets his lips. He doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes. “Either they’re here for me, or they’re here for Aang - but they would be distracted by wanting to bring me back to Caldera either way,” he explains. “The best way to avoid war right now is to give them something they want.”

“You’re not a thing,” Sokka insists. 

“Enough,” Chief Arnook interjects. “We are wasting time. Nobody is sacrificing a child at the altar of the Fire Nation, whether the child is one of ours or not.” 

Katara tugs at Zuko’s coat. “Sit down, Zuko,” she urges. 

Zuko sits, numb and confused, and Sokka clutches Zuko’s arm as if he imagines Zuko might disappear otherwise. 

He wasn’t expecting to be shot down so readily. It’s the obvious solution. The other option is for the Northern Water Tribe to try to hold off against battle - and while Zuko cannot imagine anyone getting through the tribe’s defences, he also couldn’t imagine anyone finding them without aid. 

“I really think they might be here for me,” Zuko says to Sokka, desperate for someone to believe him. 

Sokka’s expression darkens. “Zuko, if you’re going out there to meet them, I am coming with you.” 

And it’s like Zuko is in the icy water again, because… that’s true, isn’t it? If Zuko needs to go back for trial, these children are either going to try to strongarm him into ignoring his duty to return, or they will go back with him and walk into the belly of the beast. 

What has Zuko done? 

How has he made this terrible a mistake, to let the people most important to the war begin to care about his safety? How can he possibly undo this damage? 

As the men of the tribe go forward to receive a mark of war from Chief Arnook, Sokka turns to Katara and says: “I’m sticking with Zuko. I don’t trust him not to try to swim out of here.” 

“Hey,” Zuko complains weakly. 

(He had been considering whether there was a way to escape via the tunnels he’s seen the turtle seals use.)

“We should stick together,” Katara suggests. 

Aang shakes his head. “I don’t think I can sit this one out, guys.” His shoulders come up to his ears. “I wasn’t there when the Fire Nation attacked my people. I need to make a difference this time.” 

Zuko is once again a prisoner of the Northern Water Tribe. 

Aang leaves on Appa, which Zuko thinks is deeply unjust. They won’t allow Zuko to return to his own people, but they will allow a twelve-year-old to fight their battle for them. It makes no sense. However, any attempt to highlight this logical error has led to both Water Tribe children glaring at him, so Zuko eventually gives up trying. 

Before long, Princess Yue joins them. There’s a tightness around her eyes and her mouth that speaks to her anxiety. Zuko can’t imagine what it must be like to grow up believing that the location of her people was unfindable, only to have it undermined by the arrival of an enemy fleet. At least Zuko grew up knowing the war was only around the corner. 

With Princess Yue, Sokka, and Katara refusing to let him out of their sight, and with Chief Arnook’s declaration that they’re not giving Zuko up, Zuko has no allies and many obstacles. But this is a bad decision. It is a poor ethical choice to let everyone in the Northern Water Tribe suffer for his sake, when there is a good chance that Zhao has Zuko’s invitation to trial. 

If Zhao has that letter, then their next actions are already decided. Zhao is obligated to hand over the invitation. Zuko is obligated to accept it. And they have to turn to fulfil the duty to return to the Caldera immediately. At the very least, the leader of this battle will be indisposed; it’s entirely possible that the entire fleet might be stopped. 

And all it would take is for Zuko to face Zhao. 

“This is so stupid,” Zuko comments yet again, hands curling into fists, “if you would just let me–”

“No,” Sokka interrupts. There’s no force in his voice anymore; he sounds, if anything, bored with Zuko’s insistence. “Not happening.” 

Sokka reaches out and grabs one of Zuko’s hands, and then carefully prises his fist open. Zuko looks over, confused and more than a little irritated, and then Sokka slots their fingers together. “What are you doing?”

“Not letting you go anywhere,” Sokka responds, and then looks back to where they can see smoke rising from beyond the city walls.

Zuko is once again a prisoner. There is no cage of ice and bone this time, and there is no ally accompanying him. Zuko is trapped here by the fact that he has allowed other people to care more for his safety than for making the ethically sound decision. He’s trapped here not with handcuffs but with a hand in his. Somehow, it feels much worse, because it feels like escape would be betrayal. 

And so he stands there with Sokka’s palm against his own, and he waits.

The smoke rises and the sun begins to set. 

Aang returns. 

Katara rushes toward him immediately, her hair flying out behind her, and the others are quick to follow. Sokka’s hand doesn’t stop acting as Zuko’s anchor and leash. 

Aang airbends from Appa’s back to the ground, and then crumples. “I can’t do it,” he insists, despondent. “I… I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

Katara crouches next to him and places a hand on his back. “What happened out there?”

Aang shakes his head. “There are too many of them,” he explains. “I must have taken out a dozen Fire Nation navy ships, but there’s just… there’s too many.” 

Zuko breathes very deeply. “It’s not your job to fight all of them,” he says, looking down at the child who’s been told the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. 

Princess Yue shifts to look out toward the horizon again. The ships seem to have stopped firing for now. “Then we’ll have to fight back,” she says quietly. 

Aang buries his head in his arms, and Katara looks up at the rest of them with a request in her eyes, but Zuko doesn’t know what could comfort him. He doesn’t know how words could make any of this better.

But he does know what action could make any of this better. 

Zuko tugs away from Sokka and goes to sit down next to Aang. Sokka lets him go, thankfully, and when Zuko gestures for the rest of them to step back, they do so. 

“Aang,” Zuko says, quietly enough that the others won’t hear him. “You know what we need to do.”

Aang looks up, colour high on his cheeks from where he’s trying to starve off tears. “Huh?”

Zuko licks his lips. “You can’t do this alone, because there are too many of them? We know what would make at least Zhao turn back.” 

Aang’s eyes flash with a deeper anger than Zuko is used to seeing from him. “We said no,” he insists. 

Zuko sighs. “Aang. Please just consider it. They’re not going to hurt me - you’ve seen how the Fire Nation soldiers won’t lay a hand on me. I’ll be safe.” For now, Zuko doesn’t add. “And the Northern Water Tribe will be safer. It’s the only decision.” 

Aang watches Zuko for long enough that Zuko is forced to break eye contact. Finally, Aang shakes his head. “Guys,” he says, raising his voice, “Zuko is still trying to convince me to let him go.” 

“Oh, for–” Sokka starts, and flings his arms outwards in an exasperated gesture. “Are you kidding me? We don’t have time for–” And then he cuts himself off, drags in a deep breath, and says: “Zuko, I swear to every spirit you care so much about, I have no idea how you can be so self-sacrificing and so self-centred at the same time. You are not going out there. Let it go.” 

Everything in Zuko stills. It’s like the world quietens around him, and Zuko can only hear self-centred and let it go, and he nods sharply and looks away. 

He hears Sokka’s breath again, this time released on a sigh. “Zuko, I’m, I didn’t mean– We just, we need to focus on solutions.” 

That’s what Zuko thought he was doing. He doesn’t point this out. 

Aang stands again, leaving Zuko by himself on the ground. Momo settles on Zuko’s lap. Zuko places a hand on Momo’s back and watches him instead of the children. 

“There has to be a way I can still help,” Aang agrees. “Maybe I should ask the chief.” 

“I don’t think my father will have any suggestions for us,” Princess Yue adds. “Not if you and Appa can’t stop them out there.” 

“Oh!” Aang suddenly perks up. “Then I know who I should ask: the spirits!”

Katara claps her hands together. “That’s a great idea, Aang. Maybe they will have some wise advice for you.” 

“Or maybe they will unleash a big spirit attack on the Fire Nation ships for us,” Aang insists. Zuko cuts an unimpressed glance up at Aang, who then scratches at the back of his head. “Right, or… wisdom.” 

“Here,” Sokka says, reaching a hand out to help Zuko up. Zuko accepts his hand, even knowing that Sokka might not trust him enough to let it go again. When he’s upright, Sokka steps close and says: “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“You didn’t yell,” Zuko corrects him. 

The corner of Sokka’s mouth turns down. “You’re not self-centred,” he says, his voice quiet and serious. “I didn’t mean that.” 

He did. But part of Zuko understands what he meant, even if Zuko doesn’t know how to let go of the idea that he could ease the weight pressing against the Northern Water Tribe right now. 

Princess Yue leads them to the spirit oasis so that Aang can meditate and seek advice from the spirits. 

The oasis is warm and calm, and Zuko has many good memories in this place, but he has never been here in the dark before. The moon is almost full tonight, shining brightly into the oasis. Zuko sits in his usual place by the edge of the water and shrugs off his coat. The gentle sound of the waterfall doesn’t even bother him anymore. 

“I’ll say hi for you if I see Roku, Zuko,” Aang offers as he sits in Elder Yagoda’s usual place, facing out toward the ice palace. 

“... What?” Princess Yue asks. 

Katara pulls Momo away from the edge of the water and explains: “Avatar Roku was Zuko’s ancestor. Aang is going to try to go to the Spirit World for advice, and he’s run into his previous self there before.”

“We’re family,” Aang adds, pleased, and Zuko doesn’t have the energy to argue with him. “Now everyone be quiet so I can meditate.” 

Zuko watches the koi fish circle. “Tui and La are here in the mortal realm,” he says to Aang. “Should you need to go to the Spirit World? Can’t you just… connect with them here?”

“They are?” Aang asks, and then follows Zuko’s gesture. “Oh! They’re… fish?” 

Princess Yue hides a smile behind her sleeve, but Zuko catches it. “Oh, Zuko, I think… I think that Elder Yagoda’s song of the spirits meant that metaphorically.” 

Zuko blinks up at her, and then frowns. “Oh.” 

Katara smiles and sits next to Zuko. “Zuko’s not always the best at understanding metaphors,” she explains to Princess Yue. 

Zuko crosses his arms and looks away. 

But… 

“No, I don’t think it is,” Zuko tries, looking back at the children. “I saw them, when… when I was drowning.” 

“In your vision?” Princess Yue asks. 

“Yes,” Zuko confirms. And then: “No. I don’t know that it was a vision. But I definitely… saw them before I came here.” 

Sokka rubs at his forehead, and then points a finger at Zuko. “If we assume the fish are really the spirits, it’s easier than sending Aang on a disembodied adventure, right?” He turns to Aang. “So why don’t you start here, and if it doesn’t work, you can go to the Spirit World and find them there.”

“Yeah,” Aang agrees, looking down at the fish. “Yeah, okay. Um. Hi!” He waves at the pond. “Hi Tui, hi La. Or is that one…? Well I’m Aang, and I’m the Avatar, and we really need your help.” 

Silence. The fish keep swimming.

“There’s a war,” Aang continues. “The Fire Nation are here and we need help protecting the tribe. Please, we really need you.”

Silence.

“So I’m thinking the fish aren’t actually spirits,” Sokka concludes. 

Aang shrugs. “It was worth a try!” he insists, and then settles back to meditate. 

“Maybe that’s not how you’re supposed to talk to them,” Zuko says quietly, and Katara pats his back in what it probably supposed to be a dismissive gesture. 

They settle in to wait. 

They try to sleep in shifts through the night, but Zuko is sure that nobody actually falls asleep. 

Princess Yue’s guards change. 

The moon rises in a great arc through the sky, and then falls again. 

And finally, the first rays of light pour in from over the horizon, and the blessing on Agni is upon them again. 

The Fire Nation ships begin firing again. 

“If we’re lucky, they won’t make it in before nightfall,” Sokka comments from where he’s nervously picking at the grass. “They don’t want to fight us without the sun.” 

“Luck is fickle,” Zuko comments, standing and stretching. It’s time to give morning offerings. “I’ve never wanted it.” 

“How can you not want luck?” Sokka argues. 

Zuko hesitates. “The girl who was my sister was always lucky,” he explains. “Our father said she was born lucky. And that I was lucky to be born.” 

Sokka groans and leans backwards until he’s lying by the side of the water. 

“One day, I am going to find that guy and punch him in the face,” he promises. 

Zuko almost smiles.

Night fades in, and the Fire Nation does not stop.

“What do we do?” Katara asks. “We can’t leave Aang here, and we can’t move him.” 

“We’re no safer anywhere else,” Sokka responds. 

The ground shakes under them as the battle rages beyond the oasis. 

The Fire Nation has breached the walls. 

Aang finally opens his eyes again. 

“Oh, thank the spirits,” Katara comments. “Aang, the Fire Nation are here.” 

“So are the spirits!” Aang says. “Zuko was right. Sorry, Yue. It wasn’t a metaphor - Tui and La really gave up their immortality so they could exist here in the Physical World.” 

Sokka sits up and glares at the pond. “Has anyone ever told you that this was a stupid idea?” he asks. 

“Sokka.” Zuko glares. “Don’t talk to spirits like that.” 

Sokka raises both of his hands in an exasperated gesture. 

“They’re in danger,” Aang insists. “Koh said– this spirit I met, he said that someone’s coming to kill them. I don’t think they’re here for me or for you, Zuko. I think they’re here for the spirits.”

Zuko freezes. 

He looks over at Princess Yue. 

“I’ll have more guards stationed,” Princess Yue insists, dusting off her coat and rushing toward the edge of the oasis. 

“The Fire Nation needs the moon and the ocean, too,” Zuko says, shaking his head as he looks out at the dark sky and the full moon. “This can’t possibly be an acceptable plan. Surely the Fire Lord doesn’t know this is happening.” 

“And what, you’re going to tell him?” Sokka asks. “It might be a bit late to do your contract magic.” 

Zuko shakes his head. Sokka is right; anyone who thinks attacking the spirits is an acceptable plan won’t be listening to reason anytime soon, even if Zuko could get to the Fire Lord and High Sage. 

When Princess Yue returns, it’s with another guard at her side. “We’ll have more support soon,” she explains. “My guards want to move me out of here, since we now believe it is an area of interest.”

“Of course,” Zuko responds. “Stay safe. We’ll see you when the battle is over.”

“They also want all of you out of here,” the princess continues. “You can all come to my rooms. We’ll be well-guarded there.”

Aang shakes his head. “I can’t,” he insists. “I’m sorry, Yue, but I need to protect the spirits. It’s my job.”

“And mine,” Zuko adds. He steps away from the princess. 

Katara and Sokka look at one another. “We’re staying too,” Katara adds. “We’ll see you soon though, okay? Stay safe.” 

Princess Yue glances from one of them to the other, biting her lip. Finally, she says: “Then I’ll stay, too.”

“Princess,” her guard says. “We have orders.” 

“I don’t want to leave my friends.” 

“You’re not a fighter, Princess Yue.” The guard gestures for Princess Yue to follow him.

Sokka shrugs. “Neither is Zuko.” When the guard looks over at him, he points at Zuko: “Fire Sage. Anti-fighting. His only move is to look very serious. He once stood on top of a house to stop people setting it on fire; it was pretty cool.” 

The guard turns to Princess Yue, apparently giving up on listening to Sokka. “Princess, we have a duty to keep you safe. You have a duty to remain safe for the sake of your people.” 

“I have a duty to protect the spirits so that they can protect our people,” Princess Yue responds. “If I’m here, more guards will remain here to protect me. If I go back to my room, we’ll have to split up. The spirits are safer if I stay here.”

And then it is too late to argue at all. 

Fire and water clash in the spirit oasis. 

Katara fights harder than Zuko has ever seen. She is ice and storm in the midst of the oasis, quick and sharp, and the full moon aids her bending. 

Sokka runs out after her, darting around her attacks to add his own, and Princess Yue’s guards block fire from coming too close.

“Stay with me!” Zuko insists, pulling Princess Yue toward him. “They won’t attack me.” 

They only need to hold them off. Princess Yue has called for backup. The children and the guards only need to keep Zhao and his men away for long enough for them to arrive. 

Zuko stands by the water, safe even as the battle closes in, and spots Zhao across the way. 

“Zhao!” Zuko shouts, taking a few steps forward. “You will stop this!” 

Zhao snarls at him, but even he won’t throw fire in Zuko’s direction. 

“I am inevitable,” Zhao insists, blocking Katara’s attack. “They will call me Zhao, the Moon Slayer!” 

Zuko burns with anger. He’s incandescent. He’s made of fire and flame and fury, but if Zuko is right– if he’s right, then Zhao has come here not only with a desire to murder a spirit, but also with an invitation to Zuko’s destiny.

And if Zhao has been entrusted with that invitation, then he needs to stop and issue it, and they need to turn around and leave. 

This could be over. 

“Stay back,” Zuko says to Princess Yue. Then he squares his shoulders, braces himself, and walks. 

“Zuko!” Aang calls from where he is holding back two of Zhao’s men. “Stop - stay behind us!” 

Zuko continues to press forward. Every step he takes brings him toward the attacking fire, toward the soldiers in the oasis who are here to do something far more sacrilegious than hurt a Fire Sage, and yet. 

And yet, the fires part around him. 

Ice forms around his feet where Katara attempts to stop him, but he melts it away easily and continues to walk. Even through his indignation, an odd sense of tranquillity falls over Zuko as the fires continue to avoid him. He doesn’t raise a hand in self-defence, and he does not need it.

“Zhao,” he says again, this time close enough that he hardly raises his voice over the roar of battle. “Do you come with an invitation for me?” 

Zhao pauses for a moment, and then turns to Katara for another attack. The both of them avoid Zuko, who stands like the calm in the centre of a storm. 

After a moment, Zhao snickers. “I didn’t come by way of Caldera, Fire Sage,” he says, and Zuko’s heart sinks. Who would have thought this dread could be caused by not being called back on charges of heresy? “But don’t you worry. Your letter is on its way.” 

It’s the worst of both scenarios. Zuko is being called back to Caldera, but not soon enough to be a distraction in battle.

So Zuko will have to create his own distraction. 

“You imagine,” he says, standing as tall as he can, “that this will solidify your place in Fire Nation history.” 

If he can get Zhao’s attention on him instead of the oasis, then he can buy time. Zhao’s hatred for him is currently Zuko’s only currency. 

Zhao snarls. “I will be remembered better than you, heretic!” 

“You may be remembered,” Zuko agrees, his voice loud enough for the other Fire Nation soldiers to hear him, “but if you are, your memory will be spat on by children throughout our lands for generations.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka calls from farther back. A glance tells Zuko that he has fallen back to better protect Princess Yue. 

Sokka doesn’t understand. Zuko is doing this entirely on purpose. 

“They will call me Zhao the Conqueror,” Zhao insists, and then yelps as a wave pushes him backwards and freezes there. 

Zuko steps backwards, away from the edge of Katara’s ice, and one of Zhao’s men turns to aid him in melting it. 

“You will be remembered as Zhao the Coward,” Zuko responds, keeping Zhao’s attention on himself. Zhao falls to the ground and blocks another ice attack. “If you are remembered at all.” 

“And why should I care about what you think?” Zhao asks Zuko, turning to Katara. 

Katara is doing well, and is aided by Yue’s guards and the full moon, but she can’t keep this up forever.

Zhao's back is to Zuko now. If Zuko were a different person, he might attack. 

Zuko takes three steps to put himself back in Zhao’s eyeline. 

Zuko knows exactly who he is, and he knows exactly who Zhao is, too. He’s known that since the day they met.

“I know you, Zhao,” Zuko insists. “And your men do, too. They’ve known who you are since you ordered them to harm a Fire Sage and wouldn’t do it yourself.” 

Zhao snarls at him. “Is that what you want?” he asks. “You want me to take you out before the Fire Lord does?” 

Zuko smiles. “I know you wouldn’t dare,” he taunts, because this is good. As long as Zhao is paying attention to Zuko, he isn’t closing in on the spirits. “You’re a coward, Zhao. You’re worse than a coward: you’re nothing. You were born nothing, and you will die nothing, and nobody will remember your name.”

Zhao’s attention is snatched by one of the guards, and he kicks a powerful blast of fire to protect himself. One of Zhao’s men aids him with another blast, which is carefully aimed to arc around Zuko. 

And all at once, Zuko realises that distracting Zhao from progress is good, but convincing Zhao to attack Zuko might shake the loyalty of Zhao’s men. 

He can do this. He can really do this. It is unquestionably unethical to goad Zhao into doing something illegal, but times of war sometimes call for situational decision-making. And this is in aid of a spirit. Zuko can do this. 

“Tell me, Zhao,” Zuko starts, his heart picking up even more, “do you think Sachiko always knew you would amount to nothing, too?” 

Zhao roars, fire on his breath, and turns to Zuko. 

Zuko raises his arms to protect himself as the full force of Zhao’s fire comes his way. He doesn’t fight back, holding out to make it as clear as the moon is full that Zhao has decided to attack him, and lets Zhao’s fire push him backwards. 

“Zhao!” he hears above the rush of the flames, the horrified tones of a soldier witnessing treason. 

Eventually the fire stops and Zuko uncrosses his arms, unfolding from his defensive posture. 

It’s quieter now, in the spirit oasis, as Zhao’s men process the vision of a man in Fire Sage robes appearing from within the flames of a military senior. Zhao seems to realise this, too, and Zuko opens his mouth to issue his own orders, hoping at least one of the soldiers will follow in the confused mess of this battle. 

He’s caught off-guard by the next eruption of flame, and he barely lifts his arms in time to protect himself– 

And as he shifts his stance, it’s to find there is no more ground behind him.

Zuko falls backwards into the spirit waters.

And sinks down, and down, and down.

Chapter Text

There was a day, when Fire Sage Zuko was only a few scant years into sagehood and High Sage Kenji was still overseeing his development, that gave Kenji a headache that lasted three days. A military official had previously been in court for an accusation made by a servant girl, and Zuko ruled the way he was beginning to perfect: with precision, and with creativity, and with contempt for powerful people who attempted to abuse the vulnerable. 

The next day, in a whirlwind of sweeping robes and fierce glares, Fire Sage Zuko stood before Agni and the assembled masses and declared that he’d been asked to reopen the case. 

“I believe I have found adequate precedent to revisit your case,” Zuko had declared, a boy of twelve in newly-resized cuffs which were too large for him, his ceremonial hat askew on his head, and colour high on his cheeks.

“Uh oh,” Tatsuya had commented from Kenji’s side with clear amusement.

“You see,” Zuko continued, his chin high and his eyes bright, “here in the Fire Nation, we are a people of sacred law. And according to our sacred law, all parties involved in litigation must be human, and not pond scum in the shape of a man.”

“Uh oh,” Tatsuya repeated, voice dropping to genuine concern, and rushed forward to disappear Zuko from the Chamber of Counsel while Kenji handled the explosive response from Lieutenant Zhao. 

Kenji finds himself replaying this moment as he rereads Great Sage Izumi’s assent to the formation of trial and declaration that she will be joining them in person. He sits at his desk, moonlight pouring in the window, and spends long minutes stewing in an emotion he does not understand. 

Great Sage Izumi has long been known for being precise and scrupulous. Kenji has wondered on multiple occasions if her meticulous attention to detail is the reason that the other Great Sages did not see fit to cast their votes for her as High Sage all those years ago. There’s something dangerous about a sage whose perspective on the law is so crisp, and whose view of things which intervene is so honest. 

Kenji had not previously recognised that he was gambling on her postponing trial. Now that she has given her assent, the reality of what is to come truly dawns on Kenji. 

They had never managed to teach Zuko to compose himself properly in a legal setting. Kenji and Tatsuya tried to remind him to maintain composure, but Zuko was a popular choice for legal cases despite his temper, and they just didn’t have enough years with him to make a significant improvement. And since then, Zuko has spent years without giving counsel face-to-face, and months since travelling with children. If anything, his composure will have deteriorated further.

It would, Kenji recognises, be in Zuko’s favour not to turn up to this trial. 

But Kenji remembers Fire Sage Zuko with enough clarity to know that this will not be considered an option.

And down, and down, and down. 

Zuko is not drowning. The freshwater surrounds him along with an undercurrent of calm, like the battle above is on another plane of reality. Zuko opens his eyes underwater and gets lost in the push and pull of yin and yang. 

And then, between one blink and the next, Zuko is no longer in the water. 

He kneels, instead, amidst smoke and silence. When Zuko stands, a shawl flutters from his shoulders, and he knows what he will see: the Dragon Throne, still bare of flame, standing solemn and sombre. 

This, Zuko thinks, is not like the last time. When La had last pulled him down into the waters, Zuko had been drowning in both water and panic.

Now, Zuko knows there is a battle raging overhead, but the reality of it is muted. He knows in his heart that it is important, but the emotions attached to the battle are tucked into a quiet corner of his mind.

“Why am I here?” Zuko calls out into the empty throne room. 

And finally, there is movement. Two dragons swim around Zuko, weaving and twisting around his body. The black dragon makes brief contact with Zuko, skimming across his chest, and Zuko is suddenly less certain that these are dragons at all. 

“You’re in danger,” Zuko informs them. “Someone knows who and what you are, and he has broken into the spirit oasis to harm you. Do you understand me?” 

They continue to swim, around and around and around, and Zuko gets dizzy trying to watch them. He isn’t sure, anymore, where he is or what he is doing here. His head swims with the koi fish, and he presses his palms to his temples to try and maintain consciousness. 

“I don’t know how to help you,” Zuko says, dragging himself back to reality. Reality? “I will do whatever you need, but I don’t know what that is. How do we protect you? How do…?”

And with a thump of pressure like a heartbeat, the throne bursts into flame.

No– Zuko blinks, rattled by the roar of fire. It isn’t the throne which is burning.

Tui screams. 

And Zuko opens his eyes, back in the burning spirit waters.

Zuko loses the thread of what is real and what exists only in vision.

He doesn’t know whether he hears the words let me in or whether he only imagines them, but Zuko turns his heart to La and thinks: Yes. 

Zuko stands in the pond. 

The water somehow only reaches his waist, but there is no time to wonder at the discrepancy in Zuko’s reality. In La’s reality, Tui is lying at the surface of the waters of home with a burn scarring her mortal flesh. 

Zuko and La look up toward the moon. It is half-dark now, waning not due to the shadow of the world but due to the dying of the spirit. 

As Zuko watches the moon, water pours down his face. For a moment, he thinks he is crying, but the water that drips from his eyes and blurs his vision is not tears. It is La at the surface of him, unable to truly enter Zuko’s body without tearing him apart piece by piece. Zuko is only human. His body is frail and his spirit is ordinary. La can either take him over entirely and kill him, or flutter here at the edges of him.

(This is not something Zuko understood about spirit possession before this moment, but La’s presence sits at the fringes of his mind; La’s knowledge of the universe is as far from Zuko’s mind as the air is from Zuko’s blood, and La seeps into Zuko, gentle and devastating.)

Zuko’s eyes look back to the earth, toward Zhao the Murderer, and then all the noise of battle rushes back. 

“I suggest,” Zuko says, and his words are his own but they boom from him with otherworldly volume, “that you run.”

Zuko watches from his dripping eyes with polite interest as Zhao’s face turns ashen, and a grin of victory turns into a grimace of sheer terror. 

Zuko steps up from the pond, and Zhao takes his advice. 

La and Zuko follow. Rain pounds against Zuko’s body and the ground, but Zuko can’t really feel anything anymore.

It takes effort for Zuko to remain attached to reality. His mind wants to pull away, wants to allow La to take control, but some part of him that might really be La knows that the moment he does so, it’s all over. He won’t come back. So he hangs on with every ounce of his strength. 

Zuko sees Zhao in the street, attempting to order his soldiers to protect him. They do their best, but they won’t be able to stop Zuko from approaching. He almost feels sorry for them. 

Don’t hurt the soldiers, Zuko requests, and all he feels in response is sheer, utter fury. 

The rain only intensifies, and between the harsh sheets of the rain and the water still pouring from his eyes, Zuko feels that he may as well be back in the ocean. 

La raises Zuko’s hands. 

Zuko reaches for his fire. 

The fire is Zuko’s, he thinks; the rain is La’s, the water in the canal is La’s, the snow and ice are La’s, perhaps even somehow Zuko’s blood is La’s - but the fire, the fire belongs to Zuko.

Fire erupts in Zuko’s cupped palms, warm and real and strong, and… 

And in Zuko’s blurred vision, it appears to be made of every colour imaginable. 

But there is no time for wonder. 

“ Zhao ,” calls Zuko - or La, or perhaps it is somehow the both of them. His voice rings out over the raging rain, loud enough that Zuko thinks it will burst his eardrums, but La does not allow him to hold back. “ I find you guilty of crimes against the spirits .” 

Zuko is sure that he can hear Zhao’s voice through the cascade. But he doesn’t even try to catch the words. 

Instead, he looks to the soldiers. And this time, it is certainly Zuko who says: “Surrender or flee.”

The soldiers step aside, slipping on the wet ice below their feet. 

Zhao is still shouting something, either at Zuko or at his soldiers, but it doesn’t matter. Why should it matter? Zhao attempts to throw fire in their direction, and La laughs in Zuko’s mind, cruel and fierce and loud. 

Zuko’s fire and La’s water burst out together, aimed at Zhao with strength beyond Zuko’s imagination, and together they force Zhao into the canal. 

Zuko can feel Zhao there, deep in the water. And he holds him there.

No, not– not Zuko. La holds him there. It is so simple, when declaring someone guilty, to simply hold them until they are no longer. And it is not enough. The murderer will not be given the gift of a usual death. Not when–

Not when– 

Tui, Zuko thinks. What are they doing out here? What is the use of a storm and a single dead nobody when Tui is hurt? The moonlight is weakening, but it is still there; they need to–

Stop, Zuko thinks, scraping control of his body back from the spirit. Stop. Stop. 

La bats his thoughts away like an irritating insect, and Zuko closes his drowning eyes and refuses to give up. 

Tui, he thinks instead, pushing the image of the moon to the forefront of their shared consciousness. Tui. We need to go back to Tui. 

La finally releases Zhao. 

They don’t stay to see what becomes of him. 

They walk through a self-made storm to the spirit oasis. 

“ Tui, ” he says aloud as they enter, but Tui is not alone; amongst the various faceless soldiers stands the Elder Healer of the Northern Water Tribe, her hands wrapped in spirit water and around Tui’s mortal body. 

Zuko walks back into the pond and reaches out for the healer and the patient, and Elder Yagoda somehow understands. She, too, walks into the pond. 

“Katara,” Elder Yagoda calls back, “we need all the help we can get.”

La places Zuko’s hands on the moon spirit. 

She is weak. He should never have left, he realises; in his wrath - in La’s wrath? - he prioritised revenge. 

“ Live, ” La says with Zuko’s mouth. 

Elder Yagoda, Katara, and Zuko stand around Tui, their hands on her body, water and will entwined around her, and she barely holds on.

“It isn’t working,” Katara says, tears in her voice.

Zuko looks up, scanning through blurred vision to find Princess Yue. And he doesn’t know why La wants to look at her, but he does - and Princess Yue seems to understand.

The princess wades into the water. 

“I know what to do,” she says and reaches out her own hands.

Only half of the people circled around Tui are healers. For a moment, Zuko’s confusion clashes with La’s certainty, a sickening discordance, and then Princess Yue breathes out and her energy moves. 

Zuko might not have been able to see this, were his eyes only his. But in that moment, Zuko can see what keeps Princess Yue alive, her chi, her lifeforce, and he sees it begin to move away from her.

Horror rises like bile.

No, he thinks, but La is not listening. 

Zuko wrests a hands away from Tui and catches Princess Yue around the waist just before she begins to lose her balance. Yue leans into him, and Zuko can feel everything - he can feel her heartbeat, and Tui’s lifeforce, and he can feel every drop of water on Yue’s eyelashes. 

No, Zuko thinks again, but this time it is not desperation; it is determination. 

“ Live, ” Zuko says, and focuses himself entirely on Yue. 

He can feel the movement of her chi, flowing like water, burning like fire, and if he can feel it, then– 

Then he can– 

Zuko’s reality is one pinpoint: the movement of life through and out of a human body. He cannot stop it from happening; La would not let him, even if he was able to override Yue’s willpower. But he can move the chi through her, he can focus it on the streaks of weakness as they appear in her body, he can keep her alive. He’s sure of it. He’s sure of nothing else.

And when his body starts to tremble, Zuko only holds on tighter. He buries his face in Yue’s darkening hair, and he thinks live, and a cry rises up out of his mouth. Zuko’s body wants to fail. Zuko will not fail.

He’s forced down when his body deteriorates, and lands hard on one knee. The water is spinning around them, he realises, but then he needs to focus on the spirit in his left hand and the princess tucked against his chin. 

The tides are turning. Strength is running through them both, even as the last threads of it leave Zuko. 

The moon shines at her brightest, and La lowers Tui back to the waters. 

She swims a circle around them, and then La leaves Zuko entirely to return home. 

Zuko grasps Yue tight enough to bruise them both.

Zuko doesn’t know how long passes before Princess Yue is removed gently from his arms. She is unconscious. Her hair is newly dark. 

She is breathing. 

“Hey,” Sokka is saying as Zuko’s arms are emptied. “She’s okay. She’s okay, you can… Is it just… You?”

Zuko looks up at Sokka, and then he wobbles dangerously. 

“Okay,” Sokka says, arranging himself under one of Zuko’s arms. Aang tucks himself under the other, and the pair of them stand and lead Zuko out of the spirit pond. “You’re okay.” 

Zuko shivers hard enough to rattle his teeth. He looks up to the bare sky. The rain has stopped. The moon is bright. 

“Yue?” Zuko asks. 

“She’s alive,” Aang assures him. “Look.” 

Zuko looks over to where Princess Yue is lying on the grass. Katara and Elder Yagoda are gently manoeuvring her to sit up. 

Relief crashes into Zuko. 

“I thought,” he says, stumbling through the words, “I thought she– I thought she–” 

He can’t get the thought out. Zuko’s mind is scrambled, and his vision is only just starting to focus. His eyes hurt. Everything hurts. He feels like he’s been drowned again a hundred times over. 

Drowned. 

“Zhao,” Zuko says, his voice scaping roughly through his throat. “Zhao is– Did I kill him?” 

The corner of Aang’s mouth pulls down. “Um. Maybe? We didn’t stick around to–”

Zuko tears himself out of their hold and tries to run, but his body won’t allow him to. He pauses, dizzy and nauseated, and then forces himself forward. Every step is its own battle, but Zuko charges on. 

When he is back at the canal, Zuko reaches out to see if he can feel Zhao in the water, and then remembers that this is not an ability he usually has. 

“I need,” he says, turning and looking for a waterbender. He finds Aang and Katara behind him. “Can you feel him, in there? Is he in there? Is he– Did I–”

“I’ll look for him,” Katara insists, and then she kneels by the water's edge and holds her hands out.

Zuko shakes again, this time with the sick realisation that he might have just murdered someone. 

“Um,” Sokka says, his voice pitched a little high with concern. “I think we might have… bigger worries right now.”

Zuko doesn’t have room for other concerns. Not when Princess Yue is safe and Katara is about to fish the drowned body of Zuko’s victim from the canal. 

Katara shakes her head. “He’s not in here,” she insists, looking up at Zuko. “I’m sorry, but he isn’t here. I can’t find him.” 

Zuko nods in acknowledgment, even as he fails to make sense of Katara’s conclusion.

“Uhh, guys?” Aang tries. “You really might want to look up.” 

Zuko closes his sore eyes for a moment and braces himself. And then he looks around. 

The battle has stopped.

But Fire Nation soldiers still line the streets. Their weapons sit on the snow before them. 

“What?” This doesn’t make any sense.

He stumbles away from the canal and toward the stairs by the palace, and begins to climb the slippery steps. Every time he turns back, it is only to see more soldiers. There must be a hundred of them, he thinks, and continues to climb. When he turns back at the top of the steps, he thinks: 

That… is more than a hundred. 

“What is happening?” Zuko asks, his body still trembling with exhaustion and pain. 

“They didn’t leave,” Aang explains, and it’s only then that Zuko realises the three children have followed him up the steps. Katara is refreezing the ice below their feet. “They just… surrendered.” 

Surrender or flee, Zuko had ordered. 

And then things get worse:

The soldiers at the bottom of the palace steps bow, each falling to the snow in prostration. Zuko’s mind can’t capture what this means until the movement fans out. One by one, the soldiers drop down into an inappropriate bow, and they’re bowing… 

They’re bowing to Zuko. For a wild moment, Zuko hopes they’re bowing to Aang instead, but he had been the one to burst out onto their battlefield with the power of a spirit, hadn’t he? He had been the one to end this fight and possibly their superior’s life. Zuko was the one who wrote and distributed a letter defaming the Fire Lord and calling for revolution. 

“Oh no,” Zuko says, watching with mounting trepidation. “This is bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Sokka asks. “This is good. This is great! You have an army! And if this many people prefer the idea of bowing to you than to Fire Lord Ozai or Crown Princess What's-Her-Name–” 

“Azula,” Zuko corrects faintly, his eyes sweeping over what is left of the military forces. 

“Azu–” Sokka starts, and then abruptly cuts himself off. He’s quiet for long enough that Zuko thinks he’s done talking, and Zuko lets himself be folded into the panic at the thought of what happens next. “Wait, did you… Wait.” 

Zuko glances at Sokka, pulled in by the tone of his voice: caught between confusion and alarm. Zuko looks to Katara and Aang for help in understanding, but they both look as bewildered by Sokka’s reaction as Zuko is. 

Sokka’s eyes dart from Zuko to the soldiers, and then back again, and then the frown creasing his brow smooths out and his eyes widen.

“Oh,” Sokka says, staring at Zuko with something like dismay. “Oh, fuck.” 

Everything in the Northern Water Tribe is built from ice. 

The flurry of activity is so overwhelming that for a moment, it feels like the battle isn’t really over. Waterbenders are desperately trying to fix weak points in buildings and freeze over the pathways. Fire nation soldiers are being rounded up into a blank area of ice and surrounded, and Zuko finds himself hovering there, concerned for what might happen next. 

Luckily, La’s storm was centralised to the area immediately surrounding Zuko. They certainly contributed to the destruction, but it could have been a lot worse. 

Katara and Aang are swept away to help with maintaining the structures.

“I need your help with how to talk to the chief,” Zuko says to Sokka. “What are we going to do about the soldiers?” 

But Sokka just stares back at Zuko with wide eyes and a grey complexion. 

“I…” he says, voice coming out high and reedy. “I need to go and… help with the reconstruction.”

Zuko stays with the Fire Nation soldiers overnight. 

Master Pakku leads them to a room adjacent to the palace. Zuko has very little fight left in him, but he was ready to square off with Master Pakku over the question of imprisonment up until the moment that he realised this wasn’t much of a prison at all. 

They’re heavily guarded, and there isn’t anything in this room but a flat area to sleep, but it’s more than Zuko was expecting. 

The others don’t join him. Zuko hasn’t seen them since they left to help ensure that none of the ice structures were about to collapse thanks to Zuko’s accidental storm. There’s a strange part of Zuko that remains certain they will turn up at any moment, and Zuko isn’t sure how that part of him hasn’t been extinguished yet. 

Zuko sits against a wall, warms himself with firebending, and watches the guards. 

The truth is this: Zuko should not have told these soldiers to surrender. 

In the Fire Nation, there are rules about how to treat prisoners of war. Zuko is as certain as he can be that those rules have been ignored for a hundred years, but at least he knows they exist; he knows what he would do now in the Fire Nation, how he would argue, what protections they would argue to claim. 

For all his time in the Northern Water Tribe, for Zuko’s time learning from Elder Yagoda, it turns out that Zuko really doesn’t know anything.

“Great Teacher.” 

Zuko looks up. Commander Hisashi has a stern expression and a large bruise across his cheekbone. For a wild moment, Zuko’s tired mind tells him to offer to heal the commander’s bruise, before he remembers that his bout of healing was La’s power and not Zuko’s. 

“You don’t need to call me that,” Zuko insists. “‘Zuko’ is fine.” 

Commander Hisashi sits next to Zuko and frowns into the distance. “Can we compromise on ‘Fire Sage Zuko’?”

The breath rushes out of Zuko’s lungs. He thinks of Zhao saying your letter is on its way. He thinks of how he may well have murdered Zhao, in the end. 

“Caldera is going to recall me,” Zuko explains to the commander. “You must realise this?” 

Commander Hisashi snorts. “You know your letter is spreading like wildfire, Fire Sage,” he says with a shrug. “We would all have denied reading it if asked. But we all have. And obviously the High Temple and the Fire Lord can’t let that stand. Nobody’s expecting you to get away with it.” 

Zuko turns to face him properly, leaving the guarded door in his peripheral vision. “Then why would you surrender and stay here? Why would you cast your lot with a hopeless cause?” 

Commander Hisashi rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me. I had no plans to do this.” He glances at Zuko’s face, and whatever confused expression he sees there prompts him to continue. “Look, it’s like… I know what the smart move is, even if I know you’re kind of right. But that all goes out the window when you see what we just saw.” He nods his head toward the soldiers, half of whom are sleeping on the cold floor. “And it helps when you’re not the only one sticking your neck out.” 

Not being alone might help Commander Hisashi, but it feels a thousand times worse to Zuko. He can feel the weight of all of their lives pressing on his shoulders. 

“We’ll need to establish safety for you before my letter arrives.” 

Commander Hisashi shakes his head. “We barely got in after mounting a full attack, even if our attack was really just a distraction for Admiral Zhao. I doubt you need to pick up any letters you don’t want to read here.” When Zuko stifles a yawn, the commander adds: “You should get some sleep. We’re keeping watch just fine without you, Great Teacher.”

Sleep rushes up and pulls Zuko down. 

When Zuko goes to give offerings at sunrise, his fire bursts forth unexpectedly strong, and filled with a rainbow array of colours. The soldiers watch with wide eyes, but Zuko has no worldly explanation. 

To Zuko’s surprise, the chief calls on him before he can request an audience. 

Zuko takes Commander Hisashi with him to face the council. Commander Hisashi removes his armour begrudgingly, but Zuko is aware that the Northern Water Tribe consider uncovered heads and faces to be respectful, and he is not concerned for their physical safety when in discussion with the chief. 

To Zuko’s greater surprise, Princess Yue is waiting outside the council chambers. It takes Zuko a moment to focus on anything but how her hair is dark now, pitch black where it was once dazzlingly white. 

The princess walks steadily toward Zuko, and then continues right into Zuko’s personal space and throws her arms around him. 

“Are you all right?” Zuko asks, pulling away just enough to look her in the face. “Did Elder Yagoda heal you?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Princess Yue assures him. “Thanks to you.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I didn’t–” 

“You did,” Yue presses. She cups both hands around Zuko’s cheeks. “I don’t know how you did it, exactly. But I know what I felt.” 

Zuko allows himself to breathe for a few moments. They came so close to losing last night. Without La’s involvement, today could have seen much more bloodshed. It could have ended with the death of Tui, and the whole world would have been in danger. 

As awful as Zuko feels right now, this might be the best case scenario.

Yue releases him reluctantly, and then tucks a piece of Zuko’s hair behind his ear. “Come in,” she says. “My father is waiting for you. Both of you.” She offers a soft smile to Commander Hisashi, who nods in response. 

Entering with Princess Yue makes this all feel more surmountable. 

“Chief Arnook,” Zuko says, focusing on the chief rather than his councilmen. “May I introduce to you Commander Hisashi, formerly of the Fire Nation navy.” 

“Chief,” Commander Hisashi greets with a bow. “I thank you for your hospitality last night.” 

Princess Yue squeezes Zuko’s arm once before walking to join her father. 

Chief Arnook watches Commander Hisashi with a careful gaze. 

“Now that the injured are healed and our walls rebuilt, it is time to discuss our… unexpected guests,” he says, remaining seated before the waterfall. “Fire Sage Zuko. Would you like to begin?” 

Zuko straightens his posture. 

This is not so dissimilar to giving rulings and council back at the High Temple, he tells himself. It’s only that Zuko is unused to defending a case rather than arbitrating. 

“Yes. Thank you for your invitation, Chief Arnook.” He glances at the councilmen and Princess Yue before refocusing. While Zuko has spent much time with Elder Yagoda and the myths and traditions of the tribe, he doesn’t actually know how power is weighted in the council. “I would like to begin with a conversation I once had with your brothers in the Southern Water Tribe.”

One of the chief’s advisors snorts. “This is stalling,” he insists, shaking his head. “We need to make decisions based on the enemy soldiers within our gates now, not listen to a story.” 

“Anik,” the chief responds, “Fire Sage Zuko has earned good will from this council. He has been tried by La. Yesterday, he stopped the battle and caused the offending army to flee and surrender, with the aid of the spirits, and saved us from losing the spirit of the moon. Not to mention, he saved my daughter.” 

The council is quiet in response. 

“La saved Princess Yue,” Zuko corrects him. “I was simply a vessel. And it was Elder Yagoda and Katara who deserve the good will for their healing.” 

“I think,” the chief presses on, “that we can agree that Zuko has earned the right to speak here.” 

Anik does not argue. 

Zuko nods, accepting the right to speak even if the good will is misplaced. 

“When I met the men of the Southern Water Tribe, I was unimpressed by their decision to join the war,” Zuko explains. “I have… a relationship with two of the tribe’s children. I could not imagine what would lead these men to choose to join a hopeless war when that choice came at the expense of their children’s safety.” 

Chief Arnook continues to watch wordlessly. 

“I understand why you have chosen to avoid the war. You made the opposite choice to the Southern Tribe. Maybe because you had more resources. Maybe because the Fire Nation attacked the south first and you had the chance to protect yourselves. Or maybe they chose to fight back and you did not. Whatever it was, I understand it.”

“But?” Chief Arnook prompts him.

“However,” Zuko continues, “Chief Hakoda said to me that if everyone thinks only about whether their fighting can change the tides of the war, then nobody would fight at all. That’s how we guarantee that everyone loses eventually.” Zuko shakes his head, looking over to Commander Hisashi, whose eyes are intense as he gazes back. “The war is here,” Zuko continues, facing the chief again. “Whether you want it to be or not. And for the first time in a hundred years, the Fire Nation itself might be starting to turn.” 

“We’re never going to have a chance like this again,” a new voice adds, and Zuko turns to Sokka with a smile. He walks through the doors with Katara and Aang behind him. “The whole world could be united against the Fire Lord.”

Zuko smiles in relief, and tries to meet Sokka’s eyes. Sokka stares straight ahead at Chief Arnook.

“The Fire Nation are who we need to fight,” another of the chief’s advisors argues.

“Are they?” Master Pakku asks. “It seems to me that we began this discussion by agreeing that at least one person from the Fire Nation is an ally.” 

Anik shakes his head. “These soldiers are not our allies. They came here to attack us.” 

“And they abandoned that mission,” Zuko continues. “They are officially deserters of the Fire Nation forces. Our options are to consider them allies, or to consider them prisoners of war, or to abandon them to their deaths.” 

Sokka comes to stand beside Zuko. “And if we abandon them or imprison them, we’re just making our side weaker. Plus, think of the things they can teach us about fighting the Fire Nation.”

“They came here as invaders,” Anik points out. 

“Anik isn’t wrong,” Master Pakku adds. 

Katara huffs. “Which side is he on?” she whispers to the children.

“Sometimes an idea can be a good strategy in theory, but still prove an unacceptable risk,” Master Pakku continues. “What if just one of them isn’t so sure about their new loyalties? What if some of them stayed behind for precisely this reason?” Master Pakku meets Zuko’s eyes. “These are questions we need answers for if you want us to ally with an invading force. Yesterday could have been a lot worse, if the battle didn’t prove to be a distraction, and if you hadn’t found a way to end it when you did. But we still lost good men at their hands. So why should we trust them?”

Zuko looks from Master Pakku to Commander Hisashi. The commander has been politely quiet through this conversation, hands clasped behind his back and head high.

If they were back in the Fire Nation, Zuko would create a contract. But they aren’t in the Fire Nation anymore. 

“Well, why don’t you try asking them about their intentions?” Katara asks. 

“Quiet,” one of the tribesmen says. “You are here out of respect to the Avatar, not to speak to the council, girl.” 

Master Pakku pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t bother trying that,” he suggests. 

“Commander,” the chief says. “Can you shed some light on the situation for us?”

Commander Hisashi slides his eyes over to Zuko, and then looks back to the chief.

“There is a letter,” the commander explains, “making its way through the Fire Nation military.” 

“Hah!” Sokka bursts out. “I am so smart.”

“It was my idea to copy the letter first,” Katara insists. “And Zuko wrote it.” 

“I helped too!” Aang insists. “Somehow. I was moral support.”

Katara pats him on the head. 

“A letter?” the chief asks.

“It’s considered an act of disobedience to be found with it,” Commander Hisashi continues. “Maybe even treason, if you’re unlucky. So of course everyone has read it.” 

“I wrote a letter to the High Sage,” Zuko explains to the chief, “some time ago, outlining the problems with the war and why I believe the sages need to restrict the power of the palace. And Katara had me make copies of it. We sent it to the outposts, and to villages and towns… anywhere we could.” 

“You’re starting a revolution,” Chief Arnook concludes. “And these soldiers are joining it.” 

Commander Hisashi draws an audible breath. “I can’t say I planned to.” He glances over at Zuko once more. “But there’s an obvious choice when you see a sage starting a revolution and he’s actually able to commune with the spirits like that.” 

Zuko feels his expression drop. “You can’t make this choice because you think I’m powerful,” he insists. “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. You need to follow what is right , not what is threatening.” 

The commander stares at him for a moment, and then the lines by his eyes crease as he smiles. “Well, it may have been a sudden decision, but I don’t think it was a bad one.” 

Altogether, it takes the full day to come to any decisions. 

They work through multiple difficulties, massaging the practical obstacles until they are surmountable, making lists of potential strategies for if things go wrong. 

In the midst of the negotiations, Zuko is as comfortable as he has ever been. 

“I believe their loyalty is to Fire Sage Zuko,” Tulok states. Aside from Anik, he has been the most difficult to win over. “So what happens when he isn’t here anymore? Who will they take orders from then?” 

“I’ve already thought of this, actually,” Zuko suggests, scribbling the idea onto the notes he’s been taking. “I think I need to set a backup for the soldiers. If I’m not available, then in my absence, their loyalty should be to Princess Yue.”

Princess Yue looks up from her place next to her father. “I’m sorry?” 

Chief Arnook’s eyebrows rise slowly. 

Zuko gestures with his writing brush to Commander Hisashi. “It’s in their best interest to have a point person in the Northern Water Tribe,” he explains. “And I don’t think it would be appropriate for that to be the leader of a foreign nation, even if I will usually defer to your judgement.”

“Usually,” Anik repeats, unimpressed. 

“Princess Yue has a personal relationship with me, and I trust her to consider what my wishes would be as well as what is in the Northern Water Tribe’s best interests.” 

“Fire Sage,” Commander Hisashi says, “if the princess is the chief’s daughter, then we could still be put in a position where she is the political leader of the tribe. What should we do then?” 

“Princess Yue is not in line for the crown,” Zuko explains. 

Chief Arnook clears his throat. “It is worth having a backup, in case,” he states.

Quiet falls through the room. 

Princess Yue looks up at her father with wide, confused eyes. “Father?” she asks, and it’s only now that it becomes so painfully clear to Zuko that she has been silent all day. 

“In case,” Chief Arnook pushes. 

Katara grabs onto Zuko’s hand so hard that it hurts. 

Anik suggests that they try the soldiers in the waters. “La’s acceptance would go far,” he says.

Commander Hisashi doesn’t understand what this means at first, but when the water ordeal is explained to him, the colour drains from his face.

“What?” Commander Hisashi asks. “What kind of insane person would agree to that?” 

For the first time all day, Anik cracks a smile. 

“Where were you last night?” Katara asks as they leave the palace. She clutches at Zuko’s arm. “We thought you would just be out late, but when we woke up, you still weren’t there.”

“I was with the soldiers,” Zuko explains. “I wanted to ensure they were safe.” 

Aang blows Momo’s ear away from his face as they walk. “Can we do something fun? Today has been so boring!” 

“Oh, deciding the future of the Northern Water Tribe wasn’t fun enough for you?” Sokka asks. 

(He hasn’t looked at Zuko once all day. Zuko doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this information. With the chaos of battle behind them, Zuko can’t even pinpoint when Sokka stopped looking at him.)

“It’s okay, Aang,” Katara says, releasing Zuko’s arm. “Do you want to practice some waterbending?” 

Zuko and Sokka trudge to their room alone. Sokka doesn’t say a word all the way there, so Zuko doesn’t, either. 

And then they’re inside, and Sokka still isn’t looking at Zuko. Zuko can practically feel the tension in the air, feel the way that Sokka is agitated and maybe even angry, and Zuko is at a total loss for what he’s done wrong this time.

(Once, Zuko was used to long stretches of quiet. He even sometimes sought it out himself. The Room of the Broken in the High Temple was always a still and silent place, except when Zuko was being visited, and it was his favourite place in the temple for years. Now, however, Zuko has allowed himself to settle into routine with the children, who are loud and boisterous and often talking without saying anything of substance.)

“I’m going to…” Zuko starts, and then realises that Sokka doesn’t care. 

Zuko finally washes the battle from his body and out of his hair. 

If this had been even a few days ago, Zuko would have wandered out into their rooms while combing his hair, to listen to the children talking or to accept help with detangling. 

Today, Zuko takes as long as he reasonably can and hopes that Sokka will be gone by the time he returns to the room, or that Katara and Aang will have returned to fill the space with something other than awful, stilted silence. 

But Zuko walks into the rooms with detangled hair and clean skin, and Sokka is leaning against the wall they decorated with scorch marks. He glances up when Zuko enters, and then looks away again quickly.

And Zuko loses his patience. 

“Okay,” Zuko says, voice rasping out over his hurt and annoyance. “I need you to explain.” 

“Explain what?” Sokka asks. He crosses his arms against his chest and looks pointedly away from Zuko.

Zuko’s frown deepens. “I don’t know what I did this time,” he tries. “Can you just tell me what I did wrong?” 

If Zuko was smarter, he would let this fester. Zuko needs to leave the children so that he can accept his invitation to Caldera without causing an issue. But while Zuko knows what a smarter person would do, he can’t stand it. He just can’t stand it. 

“Please,” Zuko adds when Sokka doesn’t reply. “Just tell me what I did.”

Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not something you did,” he explains. “Or, I guess it is, kind of. But it’s not something you can change, and I’m still trying to… figure out what to… do with it.” 

If it isn’t something Zuko did, then maybe it’s something Zuko is. Chief Arnook said earlier that Zuko had earned good will from the Northern Water Tribe. The way he spoke about it was like currency; Zuko earned something that he could then spend. 

He wonders, now, if he’s overspent his good will with Sokka. If it isn’t just one action Zuko took which was a misstep, but rather that the total sum of who Zuko is has stopped being worth the time and energy. 

(Sokka once felt good enough about Zuko to draw him a map of an abbey and give it as a gift. He told Zuko that friends give and accept gifts. But they’re not friends anymore, and Zuko gave the gift back, and Sokka hasn’t tried to hand it over again since.)

Zuko folds in on himself a little, hands fidgeting with the heavy cuffs which are starting to get too tight. 

“Okay,” he says, and now Zuko is avoiding looking at Sokka, too. “If… Okay. I’ll stop bothering you.” 

He doesn’t mean it to sound bitter, but Zuko has never been good at concealing his emotions. 

Sokka winces. “It’s not like that,” he insists. “I like you, Zuko. You know that, right? I think you’re… I mean.” He clears his throat. 

Zuko forces his face into a smile. It takes a lot of strength to keep it up. 

“It’s okay,” Zuko says, and he isn’t sure how he ended up comforting Sokka , when all he really wants is for Sokka to tell him that it’s okay. “There are no expectations here.” 

“What?” Sokka asks. “No. Don’t do that.” He closes his eyes and huffs an annoyed breath, then says: “Okay. Okay, I guess it’s time to do this, then. Please remember that I did not want to!” 

Anxiety hits Zuko hard. 

He hated the idea of not knowing why Sokka is mad at him, but somehow, it’s worse to wait for Sokka to tell him. He stands up very straight and holds his head up, waiting for the blow. 

“Okay.” Zuko makes himself look over at Sokka. “What did I do?” 

Sokka appears to be steeling himself too. 

“So here’s the thing,” Sokka says in a low, serious tone. “I think I know something I’m not supposed to know. About you. Or… I think something.”

“Something bad?” Zuko asks, internally checking through everything he can imagine would make Sokka this upset. “I don’t have any secrets. Just ask me.” 

Is it about Zuko being recalled to Caldera? Zuko isn’t keeping it a secret, exactly, but he isn’t offering that information. Not when knowing it might endanger his companions. Not when it’s possible that they would follow him right into the Fire Lord’s power instead of let him go. 

Zuko watches Sokka’s eyes narrow in thought, and thinks: no. If that were the problem, Sokka would be shouting, like he did about Zuko’s decision to stay in the barn with Appa during the storm. 

What would make Sokka go quiet and thoughtful and unsettled, instead of loud and agitated? 

Sokka breathes in audibly, and then says: “Remember when we were in the ice jail?” 

Zuko blinks, thrown by the question, and wonders what happened when they were imprisoned that might have made Sokka so–

Oh. 

Zuko feels himself flush so suddenly and so forcefully that it makes him a little lightheaded. 

Sokka and Zuko had been fine in the snow leopard caribou. They spoke about their pasts in a way that made Zuko feel closer to Sokka, and they had played a stupid game about war with their hands, and then Zuko had gone and ruined everything in just one split moment.

Zuko thought he’d gotten away without giving away what he was thinking. But Sokka has always been good with people. He probably looked right through Zuko in that moment and has been increasingly uncomfortable around him ever since. 

Zuko closes his eyes and wills his face to stop burning. “Oh no,” he mutters. And then, more loudly: “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It was… temporary insanity.” 

“... Come again?” 

He wants the ice to swallow him whole. At this rate, if he keeps burning up like this, it just might. 

“I’m so sorry.” Zuko swallows down his humiliation as well as he can. “I know you weren’t really about to kiss me. I swear I haven’t just been… thinking about it, or anything. Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?” 

(Zuko hopes he will say yes so that he can get out of here. Zuko hopes he will say no, because the idea of Sokka being that disgusted with him makes Zuko feel like he could lock himself back inside the snow leopard caribou and never leave.)

“Um,” is Sokka’s high-pitched response. “Um. Okay, that’s not what– Let’s. Put a pin in this conversation for a… Kiss you?” 

Zuko forces himself to breathe deeply, and to open his eyes. 

Sokka’s face is about as red as Zuko’s feels. Which is just great, because it’s proof that Zuko should never have pushed for this conversation. He’s making Sokka uncomfortable all over again. 

Zuko crosses his arms tightly. “It was just… a crazy moment.” As an attempt at comfort, he knows it’s lacking. “I just thought…”

And just like that, Sokka is inches from him. Zuko blinks up at him. Intense blue eyes watch him up close, and then Sokka asks: “Are you– Are you saying you thought I was going to, or you wanted me to?” 

Zuko grits his teeth and chooses not to answer. But his face gets warmer, and he watches Sokka’s eyes catch this fact, and that’s probably answer enough. 

His shoulders rise of their own accord, trying to protect himself, but then Sokka’s hands are there. Warm hands smooth down his arms until they encourage Zuko’s arms to drop from their defensive hold. 

Zuko has no idea what is happening. Sokka is too close - is Zuko supposed to be the one who steps away now?

(Back in the abbey, Sokka had held him close, and Zuko isn’t sure he’s ever felt anything like it. Would it still be like that now?)

Is this another moment of insanity?

“Zuko,” Sokka says, his voice hushed and trembling slightly. “Look at me?” 

Zuko looks up again, catching Sokka’s bright eyes and his freckles and the blush across his cheekbones. He watches the knot of Sokka’s throat as he swallows. 

And then Sokka’s hand is at Zuko’s neck, tilting his head a little as Sokka starts to lean in.

Zuko’s heart picks up speed, and one of his hands comes up automatically to grab at Sokka’s coat, and his eyes fall closed of their own accord. 

The door slams open. 

Sokka wrenches himself away so suddenly that it feels like part of Zuko has been taken with him. 

Zuko swallows, eyes still closed and hand still in the air from where it was curling into the warm fur of Sokka’s coat. 

“Um, hi Katara! How was… waterbending practice?” 

Zuko finally gets a hold of himself enough to open his eyes. 

“... Fine,” Katara says, glancing between the boys with wide eyes. A smile tugs at her mouth, like this is amusing to her. “In fact, it was so good I’m going to go straight back out and continue.”

Sokka looks over at Zuko for a split second, and then his expression twists in a way that has Zuko’s heart twisting along with it. It’s like Sokka winces slowly - he closes his eyes and his face goes pinched, and Zuko doesn’t know what that means, exactly, but he knows it involves regret. 

He wants to be angry. This isn’t fair, and Zuko knows it; this part isn’t his fault. But no amount of throwing blame is going to change the way that Sokka feels, and right now, it clearly isn’t positive. 

Sokka clears his throat. “I’ll come with you,” he insists, making a break for the door.

Katara blinks, clearly surprised by Sokka’s reaction. “Really?” 

“Yup,” Sokka responds. “You know me. Love the waterbending. Going to come and… observe.” 

Sokka pushes past his sister out the door, and Zuko looks away so that he doesn’t need to see the pity in Katara’s eyes. 

So much for communication making things better. 

Zuko finds Princess Yue. 

Everything about Yue is calming, with the sole exception of the fact that she is a princess. Her facial expressions, the cadence of her voice, her soft hands - everything about her is like a cool balm on a burn. 

Even though Yue is as agitated as Zuko has ever seen her, even though she is only one day removed from almost dying and her father just publicly declared that he might want her to inherit his position as chief, being with Yue manages to be calming.

They lie on the floor of her bedchambers, flat on their backs on the soft fur, with their heads close and their feet facing opposite directions. 

“If I don’t need a husband to secure the next-in-line,” Yue wonders aloud, “does that mean I could… not be betrothed?” 

“Family planning is important to royal lines,” Zuko reminds her. “But you don’t need to do that right now, and you certainly don’t need to marry Hahn.” 

Zuko thinks about the fact that Sokka is probably Yue’s best prospect, and then he thinks about how Sokka really almost kissed him this time before running away and looking disgusted by it. The reality of it washes over him, cold and sickly, and he closes his eyes. 

“I could be chief,” Yue says in a small, gentle voice.

“You would be a good chief,” Zuko assures her.

Yue shakes her head. “But I don’t know anything about being a chief.”

“You’ve been learning the traditions from Elder Yagoda,” Zuko reminds her. “And you sit with your father in council all the time.” 

“There’s so much to learn.”

“And what, Hahn knows so much about being chief?” Zuko asks. Unexpectedly, it makes Yue stifle a laugh. “You’ll learn. And… well, hopefully you won’t be chief for a long time, anyway.” 

A moment of comfortable quiet passes over them, and Zuko wants to stay here forever. How can one silence be so different from another?

“Okay, Zuko,” Yue says. “What’s your thing?” 

Zuko screws up his nose. “I don’t want to talk about my thing,” he admits. “Let’s talk about your thing some more.”

Yue turns her head so she’s facing him. Zuko looks over at her. Even upside-down with her hair dark and loose, Yue looks poised in a way that Zuko has never managed. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

“Not really,” Zuko admits. “Are you?”

Yue shakes her head. “Not really.” 

It would be improper for Zuko to stay in Yue’s rooms overnight. When she walks him back, it is under the light of a bright moon. Yue turns her face up to it with a smile, and Zuko is briefly overcome with how differently that night could have ended.

They stand on the reconstructed bridge for long enough that Zuko finds himself looking down at the water. 

The battle may have ended without widespread bloodshed, and the spirits may have survived the night, but Zuko is not without regrets. 

“In the Fire Nation, drowning is seen to be the worst kind of death,” Zuko says, leaning his elbows against the ice. “We have multiple forms of death penalty, but drowning is outlawed entirely. I don’t know if it’s because of our relationship with the Water Tribes, but… it’s considered the most dishonourable thing you can do to someone.” 

Yue shifts to stand beside him and they watch the water passing gently through the canal. 

“I don’t think the council knew that when they suggested your trial,” she explains in a quiet voice.

Zuko shakes his head. “I wasn’t thinking about that,” he explains, and then pushes away from the bridge. Yue doesn’t need to share the weight of what Zuko and La did to Zhao. “It’s worth you knowing that, though, if you’re going to be in charge of the soldiers.” 

“Do you think they would actually listen to me?” Yue asks. 

Zuko frowns. “It’s hard to tell,” he admits. “It’s still so early. I hope that when I’m not here, they won’t start to waver on their loyalties, and that publicly declaring my trust in you will give them somewhere to focus.” 

“I meant because I’m a girl,” Yue corrects. 

They’re steps from the rooms now, and Zuko’s stomach is churning from the anxiety of seeing the other children - and especially of seeing Sokka - but Yue’s question still pulls up a smile. 

“Have I told you about the girl who was my sister? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the palace by now, and she’s younger than you. These soldiers know to take princesses seriously.” 

Yue’s steps falter. 

Zuko turns back to ask what is wrong, but the ice door opens at that moment, and Katara faces him with crossed arms. 

“Wait,” Yue says. 

“Sokka!” Katara shouts behind her, and then reaches to pull Zuko inside by his sleeve. “Zuko is back. And I think you two need to talk.” 

Zuko feels himself going hot again, embarrassment sticky and uncomfortable on his skin. “Katara, it’s fine, we don’t need to–”

“Sokka!” Katara snaps again, and then Sokka rounds the corner with his shoulders raised and his eyes lowered. 

Yue steps in behind Zuko, and Zuko thinks to ask her if she’s sure that it would be inappropriate for Zuko to just curl up in the corner of her room under the fur rugs and stay there until Sokka leaves the north. 

“Katara,” Sokka grits out, clearly annoyed. “Can we just leave this alone for now, please?”

It’s clear that Sokka doesn’t want him here anymore.

Zuko tries not to react. Every muscle in his face feels so tense that a headache starts to build. When Katara looks over and catches whatever expression he’s wearing, her face goes from determined to furious.

“No,” she says, her voice dangerous. “We cannot just leave this alone. You do not get to treat Zuko like this.” She points a finger at Sokka. “Fix it. Now.”

Aang flies around the corner. 

“Zuko!” he greets. “Yue! Are we having a sleepover?” After a moment of quiet, he glances through the entire room, and says: “Uhh… Did I miss something?”

Katara isn’t going to let them get away with pretending nothing happened. As much as Zuko is hoping to just retreat into his shell like a turtleduck, it is not going to happen.

“I apologise,” Zuko states as firmly as he can. “Can we move on now? Please?”

Sokka finally meets his eyes, blinking repeatedly. “You apologise?” he asks. “Wait, which thing are you apologising for?” 

Are there multiple things Zuko should be apologising for? 

“Zuko is not apologising,” Katara insists, which is blatantly untrue. “Sokka.” She waits expectantly with her arms crossed. 

Sokka gestures widely with his arms, and then says: “Fine! You all want me to talk so much, fine. But I’m going to sound like a crazy person if I’m wrong, and I’m going to become a crazy person if I’m right, so…!” He stretches out his muscles like he’s about to go in for a physical fight, takes a deep breath, and says: “Zuko, before you were a Fire Sage, were you the crown prince?” 

Surprise settles quietly into the room. 

Zuko blinks. This is so far from the direction he thought the conversation that it takes him a few moments to answer: “No.” 

Sokka visibly deflates. “Okay, thank–”

“There’s a ceremony for becoming crown prince,” Zuko explains. “By the time Fire Lord Ozai ascended, it was already known that I would take vows. I suppose I was technically the heir apparent for… eight days.” He thinks back, narrowing his eyes. “Actually, I think it was nine.” 

Nobody responds for long enough that it prompts Zuko to look around for a clue. Sokka is grey in complexion again. Katara is so still that she seems to be made of ice, her eyes wide and unseeing. Yue is the only person moving, and it’s to place her face in her palm.

“Um,” Aang starts. “You… didn’t mention that.”

“Didn’t I?” Zuko asks, and then shrugs. 

“What?” Sokka asks, voice overly loud. “No, you don’t get to shrug about the fact that you hid from us that– that you’re the Fire Lord’s kid!” 

“I didn’t hide anything,” Zuko insists, stung by the implication. “It isn’t relevant.”

“Not relevant– Zuko, you are killing me.” Sokka collapses onto the ground, back against the wall, like he’s a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

Zuko frowns and looks over to Katara, who remains eerily still. 

“It was a lifetime ago,” Zuko explains. “I am not legally or spiritually the Fire Lord’s child. He certainly doesn’t consider himself my father.” 

Sokka thumps his head against the ice behind him. “I thought Ozai was top-tier evil before finding out he sold his kid to the temple and then burned him for not bowing.”

“Hey,” Aang says, and he’s the only person in the room smiling. “Doesn’t that mean you’re a White Lotus?” 

Zuko blinks. A White Lotus is usually someone who loses the status of heir presumed, but… Zuko had privately thought that Fire Prince Iroh was a White Lotus of a sort. “There isn’t really a title for losing the heir apparent status,” he admits, “but it’s similar.” 

“So,” Aang goes on, “there’s an army rallying behind a White Lotus, right? It’s kind of like before, with Sozin’s sister!” 

Sokka huffs out something like a laugh. “Let’s hope it doesn’t end like before,” he adds. 

“I need to go,” Katara states, and then she walks away. She closes the door carefully behind her, but to Zuko, she might as well have slammed it. 

“I’ll go after her,” Yue suggests, and she touches Zuko’s arm briefly before leaving. 

Zuko closes his eyes. “I didn’t realise it was something I should have mentioned,” he explains, guilt churning with the confusion in his gut. “And people do know already. Master Pakku knows. Mother Superior knew.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us have been in the South Pole for our entire lives, or for the last hundred years,” Sokka explains. “We don’t exactly get Fire Nation royal portraits down there.” 

“It has nothing to do with what I’m doing or why I’m here,” Zuko insists. “I don’t see how it could be relevant.” 

Sokka just grabs at his own hair with both hands.

Aang looks uncomfortable. “Well, it’s kind of a big thing about you. And you just… didn’t say anything to us.” 

“I knew letting us go on with the ‘we’re not friends’ thing was going to bite us in the butts,” Sokka says. “This is a friendship thing, Zuko.” 

“If we were friends, you would be owed a more complete life story?” Zuko suggests. 

“Well when you say it like that,” Sokka says in an eerily calm voice, “it sounds really stupid.” 

Zuko looks at the door. “Should I talk to Katara? She seems mad.” 

Sokka sighs. “To be clear, we’re all mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Aang corrects, and then thinks about it. “I guess I’m a little hurt? It feels like the kind of thing you don’t talk about because you don’t trust us.”

“But,” Sokka continues, “we won’t be mad forever.” 

If Sokka is still talking to him like this, even though he’s angry and even after… what happened earlier, then there’s hope. 

But Zuko shouldn’t be seeking hope, should he? His concern right now is that if the children are here when Zuko receives the letter recalling him to Caldera City, they’re going to either try to strongarm him into refusing his duty, or they’re going to try to come with him and put themselves in danger.

As much as the idea of hurting Aang, of angering Katara, and of whatever is happening with Sokka prickles at him, this is actually the best case scenario for right now. 

“I’ll go and stay with the soldiers again,” Zuko offers. 

Sokka’s head snaps up. “No, you don’t need to go.” 

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Zuko states, because it’s probably true, and then leaves. 

Just days ago, everything here felt calm and secure. Zuko should have known better than to pretend it might stay that way.

“We have questions,” Katara says the next morning, over a breakfast the children have forced their way into.

They’re eating in the guarded hall the Fire Nation soldiers are staying in. The rest of the soldiers look more than a little bewildered that they have been joined by two Southern Water Tribe children, the Avatar, and the Northern Princess. 

Zuko squares his shoulders. “How may I be of assistance?” 

Sokka points food at Zuko, which is terrible table manners. “Nuh-uh. Don’t do the ninety-year-old man thing.”

“You grew up in a palace,” Katara continues. “What was that like?”

Zuko looks over at Yue, because she could respond to this question just as easily as Zuko. Yue just watches Zuko with a polite smile. 

“There were a lot of rules,” Zuko explains. “My firebending came late, and I was never very good at it. The girl who was my sister was a prodigy, so I was compared to her a lot.” There were periods of time in which he was covered in burn marks from inadequate bending in his classes. Azula always managed to evade getting hurt. 

“Born lucky,” Sokka mumbles, looking down at his food.

Zuko glances over at him, and thinks about what Sokka and Katara went through in their dwindling village, constantly waiting for the next raid. Zuko was lucky to have grown up with the comfort he did. And it was, to a certain extent, at their expense. 

“What can you tell us about them?” Katara asks. “Why do they think this is okay?” 

Zuko twists one of his cuffs. He thinks about being a child, worrying about falling behind Azula and disappointing the man who was their father, and not thinking about much outside the palace walls. 

“They told us that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilisation in history,” he explains. “The war was our way of spreading our greatness, and it was only a war because the other nations were stubborn and didn’t want to be civilised.” 

Katara huffs. “Wow.” 

“And they taught us the Air Nomads had an army,” Zuko says to Aang. 

Aang frowns. “The Air Nomads were peaceful.” 

“I know,” Zuko assures him. “It was a lie. That one was obvious just from the temple libraries. The Fire Lord tried to hide a lot of information - there are a lot of books and scrolls referenced that aren’t there anymore - but you can’t erase information entirely from a library. Information is too interconnected.”

Aang nods sadly. “I don’t like that people don’t know the truth about my people.” 

“Well,” Sokka responds, “there’s a reason they hid all that information, right? Because when people know better, they’re more likely to make better decisions. So we’ve got to make sure everyone knows. Even if only one in fifty of them act on the information, that’s still a lot for changing the course of the war.” 

Zuko looks over to find Katara watching him. She looks away as soon as their eyes meet. Just yesterday, she was ready to shout at her brother in Zuko’s defence. 

“I have a question,” Yue interjects. She smiles at Zuko. “Do you miss it?” 

Zuko sits back in surprise. 

He thinks about the cold halls of the palace, the looming presence of his superiors, the burns on his arms from training, the way that he could never seem to do anything correctly and how he was always desperate to catch up to Azula.

And then he thinks about his former mother, who always seemed a little sad, but always had time and warmth for Zuko. He thinks about how he and Azula used to follow around Lu Ten, and how Fire Prince Iroh would tell them stories they wouldn’t understand and would make Lu Ten roll his eyes. 

There are pleasant memories there, buried deep in the stress of needing to be better. 

“No,” Zuko says eventually. “I miss some of the people sometimes. But I wasn’t good at being a prince. It was better for me, when I was in the temple.” He remembers Fire Lord Ozai looming over him, saying you are nothing, and you will learn to act that way. “At first, I believed that there was some meaning in my being given to the temple. But I know now that the Fire Lord just wanted to get rid of me.” 

Sokka’s voice sits on the edge of laughter as he says, “Well, he didn’t manage that, did he?” 

Zuko looks up to smile at him, because it is funny, in a way. The farther the Fire Lord has tried to push him, the more of a thorn in his side Zuko has proven to be. Sokka’s eyes sparkle at him, and it feels normal again - it feels like they can talk about this thing which has made Sokka feel so disgusted by him - and then Sokka reaches out to Zuko’s wrist. 

Zuko sees the exact moment it happens. He sees Sokka realise that he’s about to touch Zuko, one of those half-conscious touches that have become normal, and then he watches as Sokka changes his mind and retreats. 

This is okay, Zuko tells himself. It’s better this way. 

It takes the children another day to organically bring up their need to leave. 

The timing makes sense. The north feels strong again. The Fire Nation soldiers are settling into their status as semi-trusted allies. Master Pakku is planning to journey south, which leaves Aang and Katara without their waterbending teacher. 

“It’s time to find Aang an earthbending instructor,” Sokka declares. “We should make arrangements to leave. I’m sure Appa’s dying to get some good flying time in.” He offers a smile to Yue. “What do you think, Yue? Want to join us?” 

“I have duties here to my tribe,” Yue responds, her voice kind but firm. “But I’m sure we will meet again.”

“Actually,” Zuko adds, “I have something to tell you.” 

They say goodbye in the early morning light. 

“Are you sure?” Katara asks. She grasps Zuko’s forearms tightly. The reality of splitting up seems to have thawed her reaction to him, but she has tilted too far in the wrong direction; now, Katara is looking at Zuko with glassy eyes, like the idea of leaving him behind is unimaginable. “I know I was upset and confused, but…”

“It isn’t about that,” Zuko assures her. “I have duties here. I’m needed here more than I am with you.” 

Katara draws a shaky breath, and then hugs him tightly. 

“We’ll come back when we’ve found Aang an earthbending master,” she insists. 

Zuko shakes his head. “And practice with what earth?” he asks. “You’ll return when Aang has mastered earthbending.”

“The point,” Sokka insists from behind his sister, “is that we’re coming back. We’ll see you again soon.” 

“Yeah, Zuko - it can’t be that long,” Aang insists. He beams up at Zuko, and then rushes in for his own embrace. “I need to master all the elements by the summer. We’ll be back before then.” 

Yue says, “I’ll look forward to that,” and Zuko does nothing but smile. 

Any other response would have to be a lie. Zuko won’t be here anymore when they return. 

“You look after them out there,” Zuko says, because he knows he’s supposed to say something. 

Sokka smiles a little. “You look after yourself in here,” he responds, and then rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you, too,” Zuko says, and tries not to sound too emotional about it, because he knows what the rest of them don’t: this is probably the last time they will see one another. 

And yes, Zuko knows that the issues in his relationship with Sokka are real, and that Sokka doesn’t want to be anywhere near him. Zuko knows that he could pinpoint the exact fissures in his relationship with Sokka if he looked for them, and that his temporary insanity in the ice prison is just one of many moments when Zuko emotionally overstepped. And yes, Zuko didn’t even really know what those moments meant until he stumbled into a confession by accident, and he didn’t know why it was such a problem until Sokka recoiled from him.

But right now, none of that really matters. Because here they are, in the weak morning sunlight, saying goodbye. 

This is Zuko’s last memory of Sokka. And he got one last hug from Aang and from Katara, so he knows he will regret it if he doesn’t try. 

“Goodbye, Sokka,” Zuko says, and steps forward. 

Sokka doesn’t recoil this time, though he does startle when Zuko hugs him. Zuko closes his eyes and wills Sokka not to push him away, and by some miracle, he doesn’t; Sokka’s arms fold around him firmly, and Zuko drops his head to Sokka’s shoulder and lets himself feel this. 

They’re so close that Zuko can feel Sokka’s chest rise and fall with his breaths. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to notice this, but it hardly matters anymore, does it? 

Eventually, Katara clears her throat. 

“Not that this isn’t sweet,” she says, and Zuko reluctantly pulls away. Sokka’s cheeks are faintly pink. Zuko lets himself continue to look. “But don’t we have somewhere to be?” 

“Bye,” Sokka says again, apparently ignoring his sister. 

And then he darts forward and presses a kiss to Zuko’s cheek. 

He’s gone a split second later. Zuko’s hand comes up to touch the ghost of warmth on his face. 

“Well,” Yue says, “I didn’t realise that was the thing you didn’t want to talk about.”

It takes days for Zuko’s subconscious to accept that the others are gone. Zuko keeps finding reasons to seek one of them out, and then remembers that he can’t. Sokka isn’t around to help with a communication issue between the Fire Nation soldiers and the Water Tribe council. Katara isn’t there to share a healing technique. Aang isn’t nearby to provide insight on how the world worked when the nations weren’t so separate. 

But Zuko is used to change. He has had to adapt before, even when it has meant leaving behind everything he knew and loved. This time will be no different. 

Zuko is taking lunch with Commander Hisashi when word arrives. 

Chief Arnook is already walking down the ice staircase when Zuko comes to meet him.

“A Fire Nation ship is at our walls,” Chief Arnook explains, looking past Zuko to the pillar of smoke rising on the other side of the city wall. “They sent us a request for you.” 

Chief Arnook hands over a scroll, and Zuko glances down at it. 

It doesn’t refer to anyone by name. Either the writer didn’t know the chief’s name or chose not to use it. Zuko is referred to only as ‘our Fire Sage’. The note itself remains unsigned. These factors would seem careless if it weren’t for the meticulous nature of each line of ink. Every slight given here is deliberate. 

The years away from Royal Caldera City have turned many memories hazy around the edges. 

Zuko would recognise the precision of these brushstrokes anywhere. 

Chapter Text

High Sage Kenji has known Great Sage Izumi since he was relatively new to service. It was common knowledge that Fire Sage Izumi would likely be appointed as a Great Sage when an appropriate placement opened up, and she was staying in his temple to learn from Kenji’s Great Sage. 

Kenji isn’t sure he can swear to having liked Fire Sage Izumi at the time. She was precise in a manner that was admirable from a distance, but her sharpness was intimidating up close. 

This was all a very long time ago. It feels to Kenji like a lifetime has passed since those days. Back then, Kenji had not yet felt his age in his bones. His hair had yet to turn entirely grey. The wounds of his grief had not yet begun to heal into hardened, aching scar tissue. Izumi was still rumoured to be en route to High Sage someday. The idea of a sage who had not yet reached puberty would have been unfathomable. 

When Great Sage Izumi arrives early for the trial, Kenji’s senses go on high alert. Kenji learned a lifetime ago that Izumi only ever arrives at precisely the moment she intends. 

Zuko leaves the Northern Water Tribe with empty pockets, because there is nothing he will be able to take with him that he will be allowed to keep. He leaves wearing his usual sagely robes instead of the heavy set he received from the Xibei temple, because there is no need to prompt questions he would prefer to refrain from answering. And he leaves with a bead braided into his hair, because there have been many late nights with Princess Yue since the children left, and because he doesn’t have the heart to remove it.

Zuko leaves behind: a small army, several slowly-earned allies, an unlikely waterbending teacher, one carefully-written letter, and Yue. In another lifetime, Yue might have insisted on joining Zuko, but she has duties to her people. In another lifetime, Yue might have stopped him from approaching the Fire Nation ship, but Yue understands that Zuko has duties, too.

And yes, the unsavoury truth is that Yue probably does not understand the breadth and depth of Zuko’s decision, but it would only hurt her for it to be explained. 

Zuko spent three days crafting his first letter on Crescent Island. He had to spend time healing before he had the physical and mental energy to consider writing, and then there were other sages and duties and a temple to get to know, but when Zuko was ready to write, it still took him three days. 

He wrote four different versions of his letter. The first was bleak and harrowing, mostly consisting of an account of his interaction with the Fire Lord, and some of the ink was blurred with Zuko’s tears. The second letter was restrained; he explained his conversation with Fire Lord Ozai in as cold a tone as he could imagine, as if he were a historian recording events and not a person living through them. The third letter ignored the Fire Lord entirely, and simply explained the layout of the Temple of the Avatar and Zuko’s duties here. 

The fourth version, the version Zuko sent, was simple. 

Dear Crown Princess Azula, 

Please let me know if you require counsel. I will remain available for you. 

Sincerely, 

Fire Sage Zuko of the Temple of the Avatar, Crescent Island 

This letter, like all those to follow addressed to Princess Azula and Zuko’s brothers in the High Temple, never received a response.

They meet on the ice. 

It works as neutral ground between Zuko’s small boat and the looming Fire Nation ship. The waterbenders raise the boat so that Zuko can step onto the ice smoothly. Zuko keeps his shoulders square and his chin high. 

Across the ice, wearing royal armour and half a smile, stands Crown Princess Azula.

The last time Zuko saw Princess Azula, they were still technically on a first name basis. Azula only called him ‘Fire Sage Zuko’ when she was mocking him, and Zuko only called her ‘Princess Azula’ when there were people around to hear. Aside from that, when they were spending time in the Room of the Broken or crawling through the narrow secret passageways of the temple, they were only Zuko and Azula. 

The last time Zuko saw Princess Azula was the beginning of the end. Azula was brushing cobwebs from her hair while Zuko read scrolls by the light of his own fire. They barely even spoke that day, aside from when Zuko would try to tell her not to climb into a skull in an attempt to remove a giant fang and when Azula snapped that Zuko had no authority over her. 

“I’m not even your sister anymore,” she reminded him in a sing-song voice.

“I counsel you,” Zuko reminded her, glancing up from the scroll. “I’m advising you not to get yourself stuck in a dragon skull.”

“As if I would get stuck. I’m not you, dum dum.” 

Zuko handed the scroll over to Azula eventually. Azula passed over the dagger that had once been Zuko’s to free her hand, and Zuko held it up to the firelight to look at an old, familiar engraving, and then Azula had put the scroll away with a declaration that it was boring. 

“What do you think the sages were doing,” Zuko asked, gaze still affixed to never give up without a fight, “when Fire Lord Sozin was making these decisions?”

“I don’t know, Zuzu, maybe minding their own business?” Azula suggested. “If they knew what was good for them.”

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Princess Azula greets him for the first time in three years. Her voice curls around his name with something like amusement.

Zuko offers her a shallow bow and the sign of the flame. “Princess Azula. I understand you have a letter for me.” 

Princess Azula raises an eyebrow. “So to-the-point, Zuko,” she says with an inappropriately casual air. “You’re not going to ask how my journey was? I’ve been assigned as a temple messenger, you know - I had to come all this way.” 

Ah. Zuko remembers this. Conversations with Princess Azula never exist only on one level, and Zuko can never understand what she wants or what she means. It used to leave him feeling wrong-footed and frustrated; now, reliving this reality with Princess Azula leaves Zuko’s chest aching with familiarity. 

“My apologies,” he responds. “How was your journey, Princess Azula?” 

Princess Azula doesn’t answer. This is part of a game that Zuko has never learned the rules for. Instead, she reaches into her armour and pulls out a scroll. 

“High Sage Kenji entrusted me with this,” she explains. “It was supposed to go from his hands to mine and to yours. I’m guessing you know what’s in it?” 

“Yes.”

Zuko walks forward across the ice toward Princess Azula. The sound of his footsteps crunching on the snow is inexplicably loud. The princess’s eyes move as she tracks him, but she remains otherwise entirely still, like she’s carved from the ice around them. 

Zuko takes the scroll from Princess Azula’s hand. It strikes him as absurd that something so light carries the weight of Zuko’s future. 

He breaks the High Sage’s seal.

The letter is exactly as Zuko knew to expect. Not a line is out of place. There are only two pieces of information that he looks for specifically:

The first is that he is promised safe passage back to Caldera. Zuko does not trust the Fire Lord with his safety without this, and he does not trust Crown Princess Azula to deny the orders of her father. This is the closest he has to an assurance that he will make his trial at all. 

The second is that he is being called to trial for high heresy. Not mere heresy. This means that the punishment, should he be found guilty, is death. 

Zuko draws in a deep breath of cold air, and then turns to face his waterbending companions. 

“I have been recalled by the High Sage,” he explains. “I will be leaving with this ship, which has promised me safe passage. Please extend my apologies to the chief and to Princess Yue. The soldiers are now under her care.” 

With that, Zuko turns back to Princess Azula. 

She watches him for a long moment, her eyes very slightly narrowed. “You don’t need to consider your options?” 

“I have no options,” Zuko responds. They’re standing close enough that he thinks the Fire Nation soldiers probably can’t hear them. “If High Sage Kenji requests my presence, I am not at liberty to deny him.” 

Princess Azula’s eyes narrow further, but she does not respond. She turns toward the ship and walks away, apparently assuming that Zuko will follow her without question.

He does. 

Zuko is not marched to the brig as expected, but instead to what appears to be a perfectly normal room. It’s only when the door clicks multiple times after being shut that he recognises that it doesn’t matter what the room looks like; a prison is a prison. 

The guards seem to have been instructed not to speak with Zuko. They also don’t respond to his requests for paper or an appropriate candle for offerings. Zuko finds himself missing Sokka’s incessant chattering. The last time he’d been in prison had been less physically comfortable, but at least he had never been bored. 

He tells himself that the silence is good. He has time to prepare for trial now, with nothing else to distract him. But without a library for research, Zuko is left with only hazy memories of how these procedures unfold. Zuko has never had a particular interest in internal conflicts within the temple, outside of the obvious cracks in how councils have avoided needing to do their jobs and stand against the temple. 

Without much else to do, Zuko spends his days giving offerings and running through arguments in his mind to sand down the edges. He greets everyone who brings him food and requests an audience with the princess, which is never acknowledged. He washes his hair every day without anyone bothering him about how it’s a waste of time and going to be bad for him somehow. 

Mostly, Zuko thinks about High Sage Kenji. 

Here’s what Zuko does know about the process of trial: it is ultimately the temple that tries him. The place of the palace is secondary until any sentencing needs to be seen through. High Sage Kenji had to get permission from the Great Sages to request Zuko come to trial, and High Sage Kenji and the Great Sages will be the ultimate deciders of Zuko’s fate. 

This is a good thing. Zuko does not trust Fire Lord Ozai’s motives. But he does trust High Sage Kenji’s. 

At least, Zuko thinks he trusts High Sage Kenji’s motives. It has been a long time. 

High Sage Kenji has seen much of this war through, despite its illegality. High Sage Kenji once used the words “bow to the will of the Fire Lord” in conversation with Zuko, a slip of the tongue that confused Zuko at the time and now pulls anxiously at the edges of his mind. High Sage Kenji sent Zuko away for questioning Fire Lord Ozai and then ignored his existence until Zuko made himself too much of an annoyance to ignore. 

Zuko isn’t sure there is anyone in the Fire Nation he can put trust in.

Days pass in a quiet blur. And then, as suddenly as he was shut away, Zuko is led up to the deck.

He turns his face up to the direct sunlight as soon as he steps into it. There’s a distinctly cold bite to the air, a reminder that a few days from the north pole is inadequate distance for proper warmth, but the sunlight nourishes Zuko’s inner flame nonetheless. 

On the deck, Princess Azula is poised in a firebending form. As she turns into an elegant and controlled spin, the fire that bursts forth from her is blue.

Zuko has to stop himself from mentally cataloguing the changes the last three years have brought to her alongside the change in her fire. He stops himself from noting her height and her face and the last traces of baby fat in her cheeks, because this assumes a familiarity they’re not supposed to have. Instead, Zuko leans against the railing and allows the cold breeze to tousle his hair, and looks out to the whisper of land at the edge of the horizon. 

“Well?” Princess Azula asks, dragging Zuko’s attention back to the ship. “It’s been some time since we’ve sparred.” 

The corner of Zuko’s mouth quirks up entirely without his permission. 

“I don’t fight,” he responds. “You know that.”

Princess Azula moves closer. Her eyes narrow. “That’s not what I hear.” 

After a pause, Zuko responds: “I assume you’re going to tell me what you ‘hear’.”

Azula’s breath huffs out gently. She stops walking once she reaches his side. “Reports were made that you killed Admiral Zhao. Apparently you drowned him.” 

The whisper of fond amusement disappears, and Zuko finds himself wondering why he felt it in the first place. He swallows, looking out at the ocean again instead of at Princess Azula. 

Every now and then, when he’s trying to sleep, Zuko feels that tug on his ankle dragging him down into the water. He wonders if Zhao felt that same piercing terror. 

“I couldn’t find him afterwards,” Zuko admits. “I thought maybe he got away.”

Princess Azula hesitates, and it’s enough to make Zuko meet her eyes and witness the spark of surprise there before it is smothered. “So you do fight,” she concludes, “but only against the Fire Nation.” 

Zuko goes to deny this, but then he checks over the moments in which he has engaged in combat. He fought to defend the Temple of the Avatar against Zhao; he fought Fire Nation soldiers in the forest outside Gaipan, because they attacked first and Zuko understood it as his right to defend himself. 

“That is not intentional,” he insists with distinct discomfort. “And it wasn’t me who fought Zhao. I was– It’s complicated.” 

Princess Azula watches him for a moment, and then lifts her eyes to the heavens in something like exasperation. “You haven’t trained since you were eleven, and you weren’t much of an opponent then. It wouldn’t be worth the energy to spar with you.”

“Probably not.” 

Zuko looks away from the princess again and out to the water. Drowning is an awful death. It might be the worst Zuko can imagine. He knows how to defend against the accusation of his fighting in court, but that doesn’t mean it will ever be scrubbed from his conscience. 

“Come with me,” the princess demands.

Princess Azula does not glance over her shoulder at him. She seems assured that Zuko will follow. The crewmembers don’t look directly at Zuko, either; they avert their eyes whenever Zuko looks over. 

“You’ve ordered them to have no contact with me.”

“Were you expecting free rein to spread your treason?” 

Zuko shrugs. “It won’t be better from talking to me than it was in the letter.”

She looks over, finally. Zuko has rarely trusted an emotion on Azula’s face, and he doesn’t believe the curl of amusement at her mouth for a moment. 

They sit for tea in what seems like Azula’s office. Zuko pauses to look at the Fire Nation flag hanging on the wall. It’s been some time since the Fire Nation’s symbols have boded well for him. 

“Sit,” Princess Azula invites, and Zuko knows it is a demand. 

And then, to Zuko’s deep surprise, she begins to pour tea. She’s quiet as she does it, face still in a way that doesn’t seem natural to Zuko. 

Zuko smiles as he accepts the teacup. He has never been a big fan of tea, as much as Fire Sage Matsu would make him drink in his early years of sagehood, but he likes the way the cup will warm his palms. 

“Tell me about the Avatar.” 

Zuko looks up at Princess Azula. He picks around the important information, and goes with: “He’s good. People like him. I like him.”

“How many elements has he mastered?” 

“Enough. When did your fire become blue?” Zuko asks, stepping around the question the princess must know he won’t answer properly. “That takes a lot of control.” 

“Two years ago,” Princess Azula responds. “What are his weaknesses?” 

“Doesn’t understand personal space. Why did you bring the letter instead of Admiral Zhao?”

“I was already at the Caldera. Where is the Avatar now?”

“Travelling. How have you been?” 

This one makes Princess Azula hesitate. She sips from her cup, eyes intense as she watches Zuko. “Lacking counsel. And yourself?” 

Zuko isn’t sure if it’s a joke or a statement of fact. Princess Azula didn’t really seek Zuko’s counsel, even when he was supposed to be available to her. 

“Missing libraries,” he admits. The corners of Azula’s mouth pinch a little. It’s an old tell, one that Zuko had forgotten to look for. “I don’t suppose you have one on board.” 

“I wouldn’t help you prepare for your trial even if I did,” the princess responds. She sits back in her chair. “The least you can do is give me relevant information about the greatest threat to the Fire Nation.”

Zuko drinks his surprisingly good tea. 

“You’ve been lacking counsel.” He places the teacup back down. “Well, I’m here now, and I haven’t been declared a heretic yet.”

“You can counsel me on how to capture the Avatar,” Princess Azula allows. 

“The greatest threat to the Fire Nation is not Aang,” Zuko states. “It’s the Fire Nation.” 

The princess sighs. “I did read your letter, you know.” She looks at Zuko like she’s disappointed to find he is this uninteresting. “It’s like you said: the argument isn’t going to be any better coming from you. So why try?” 

Zuko nods his head in acknowledgement. She has a good point. If Zuko’s impassioned plea to the High Sage is not enough to convince her, then Zuko himself is unlikely to manage. 

But this doesn’t mean he’s at liberty to stop trying. 

“I won’t tell you about the Avatar.” Zuko’s eyes catch on the candles to their left. He hasn’t been allowed any for worship, but the light is beginning to dim in the office as the sun touches the horizon. “I can tell you about my travels, though. I can tell you about what I’ve learned.” 

“You think you’re a lot more interesting than you are,” Princess Azula responds. 

“May I?” Zuko asks, gesturing at the candles. Princess Azula waves her fingers in disinterest, and Zuko stands to light the wicks, bringing warm light into the office. “What we learned about the Air Nomads–” 

Azula’s hand slams down on the table, causing Zuko to falter. He looks away from the candles and back to Azula, preparing for an argument about the Air Nomads to begin, only to find she’s looking past him. 

Zuko glances at the candles and then back to the princess.

“Princess?” 

“What has happened to your fire?” Princess Azula asks, her voice tight with apparent annoyance. 

Zuko frowns and cups fire into his palm, displaying the unusual colours to both of them. 

“It started happening a while back,” he admits, watching the small flickers of multiple colours jumping in the flames. “Uh, the whole… situation with the ocean spirit seems to have made it worse.” 

When Zuko looks over at Princess Azula again, it’s to find her scowling at his fire. Zuko extinguishes it, feeling unbalanced by her response, and Princess Azula’s eyes meet his instead. 

“It just started happening?” she asks, as if he has insulted her. 

Zuko thinks back. “I think it started when I was in the Earth Kingdom,” he admits. “Maybe before? I thought it was just–” 

The princess sweeps up out of her seat and toward the door.

“Escort the prisoner to the brig,” she orders, and then exits. 

The brig is technically worse than being locked in sleeping chambers. 

For one thing, his hygienic needs are… less cared for. He also has less privacy, which makes the fact that the people guarding him won’t interact with him more obvious. The brig also has no windows, and while Zuko can still feel the sun rise and set, the lack of sunlight feels like a personal slight. 

Zuko’s best assumption is that the kinder imprisonment was an attempt to have Zuko cooperate with giving information on Aang. Princess Azula can’t actually have him harmed en route to the trial, because she is bound by the rules of safe passage; all she can do is make him uncomfortable, and Zuko has plenty of experience with being uncomfortable.

All Zuko can do with his time is think and give offerings. He does both in excess. 

High heresy is more difficult to prove than heresy. Their burden of proof is more significant, because they need to prove intent for treason. Zuko was so careful in the wording of his letter. He should have avoided the accusation of treason there, shouldn’t he? 

How many Great Sages are required to support an accusation of high heresy? Zuko doesn’t remember. Who are the Great Sages, and who is likely to accuse him? Great Sage Sadao has no love for Zuko. His testimony as a Great Sage will work against Zuko significantly. Will Great Sage Izumi admit that they’ve spoken? 

Crown Princess Azula does not allow Zuko any proper implements for offerings, but Zuko has spent enough time without candles or incense to find this bare-bones type of offering comfortable now. Even if he should have the right to proper worship upon this ship. 

Time passes. Princess Azula does not call him back to converse with her.

Until she does. 

Princess Azula pours tea again. Zuko is worse for wear this time. 

“Tell me about the Avatar.” 

Zuko clears his throat. “Aang likes people,” he says again, opting for the kind of information that won’t be helpful. He doesn’t know where this need to needle Princess Azula is coming from, but he knows she will find useless information more irritating than nothing at all. “He grew up in a temple.”

“All Air Nomads grew up in temples,” Princess Azula snaps. “Has he mastered waterbending?” 

“He likes water.” Zuko drinks again. “I once caught him doing a cannonball into the water up north, even though it’s so cold that I almost drowned because I gasped when I jumped in.” 

Princess Azula blinks. “Why would you…? Never mind.” 

“It was a trial,” Zuko explains. “The Northern Water Tribe is not exactly trusting of outsiders, for obvious reasons. I had to prove myself to stay there.” 

“I said ‘never mind’ because I’m not interested.” Princess Azula pours herself another cup. “How many of our soldiers defected to your side?” 

“More than three,” Zuko responds honestly. Princess Azula’s expression is so unimpressed that it makes Zuko want to smile. “The people of the Water Tribes are adaptable. They learned how to handle having me there, even though I didn’t fit their traditions. They adapted for–” Zuko cuts himself off before mentioning Katara learning waterbending or Yue being in the line of succession. “They will figure out how to protect and work with our people. You don’t need to worry about them.” 

“Worry about them?” Princess Azula asks, leaning forward slightly. “They’re traitors to our nation. Why would I worry about them?”

Zuko leans forward to mirror her. “Because they are your people, and you will one day be their Fire Lord. Even if they don’t believe in you, even if they hate you, you still have a responsibility to them. That is what it means to lead.” 

“They’ll be dead long before I take the throne.” 

“How they affect the world won’t be. You want me to counsel you, Princess Azula?”

“No, not really,” Princess Azula responds with amusement. 

Zuko continues anyway. “Be a better Fire Lord than your father, and you won’t be facing a civil war.” 

Princess Azula’s eyebrows raise slowly. “I hope you have a better argument than this for your trial.” 

Zuko shrugs. “I’m not a traitor. I want the Fire Nation to be what we’re supposed to be. It can’t be treason to demand that we follow our rules and traditions, that we act ethically and responsibly. My argument is the truth.” 

Princess Azula takes a delicate sip from her tea. 

She concludes: “You’re going to be put to death.” 

It goes like this for a long time: days of isolation followed by tea with Princess Azula. She tries to corner him into answers, and Zuko tries to find ways to tell her about the world. Zuko doesn’t answer and Princess Azula doesn’t listen. 

“Do you like Pai Sho?” Zuko asks one day, in response to ‘who are the Avatar’s companions’. There is a board in the corner of Azula’s office, closed and tucked away, but visible nonetheless. 

“Uncle is fond of it,” Princess Azula responds. 

“That wasn’t an answer,” Zuko points out, embracing his own hypocrisy. 

Azula’s eyes narrow. “It takes planning, skill, and outsmarting your opponent,” she explains. “I can’t imagine you’re any good at it.” 

Zuko, who has only ever really been good at memorisation and legal arguments, chooses not to take the insult personally. He’s never liked Pai Sho, after all. 

“Do you want to play?” he suggests, standing to retrieve the board. “It’ll be an easy win for you. I hate it.” 

To Zuko’s surprise, Princess Azula acquiesces. They set up the pieces between them, and Zuko thinks about Fire Prince Iroh and Fire Sage Youta. They would probably both be delighted by the idea that Zuko is willingly playing. 

Princess Azula allows Zuko to go first after a casual glance at his starting position. Zuko assumes this means she does not consider him a threat, which, to be fair, he isn’t. He takes a foxglove out of the southern open plot and moves it into the adjacent red plot. 

Judging by the princess’s expression, it’s a bad move. 

A week later, Zuko develops a new strategy: chaos. 

Princess Azula seems to map out options for how a game might go before they’ve even started playing, but she can’t predict Zuko’s gameplay if Zuko doesn’t make plans, and she expends an unnecessary amount of effort trying to work out why he’s making the decisions he is. 

Azula is so enraged when she works this out that, just for a moment, Zuko thinks she’s going to upend the board. 

When they stop for supplies, the security around Zuko is tightened. 

He asks questions as the handcuffs are clipped around his wrists, above the metal Fire Sage cuffs which are becoming too tight as Zuko grows. As per usual, none of his questions are answered, and Zuko is left to the silence. 

Relearning silence has been complicated. Until this journey, Zuko has failed to realise just how many people have been in his life in recent months. Even in those moments without the children, there has always been someone. 

When did Zuko get so bad at being alone?

A long time passes, and then Zuko hears footsteps leading down to the brig. There’s no reason for his guards to come down here now, not unless they’re finally bringing him water to wash his hair, so it’s probably the princess.

“If this is a plan to get me talking,” he calls out, “it’s working, but not in the way you want it to work.”

He’s ready to burst into the lecture he has been saving from their last interaction, only to be interrupted by a suspicious thud.

“Azula?” Zuko asks, sitting up. And then, remembering himself: “Princess?” 

The person who peers down the stairs is certainly not the Fire Nation princess. 

For a moment, Zuko is so surprised that he just sits and stares. And then, finally putting the pieces together of where he knows this face from, he asks:

“Pipsqueak?” 

“C’mon.” Pipsqueak shuffles over to the door and opens it with the keys he must have taken from the unconscious guard. 

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asks. 

“The Duke and our friends are clearing the way out,” Pipsqueak explains. The door slams open, and Zuko continues to stare. “Come on. Now.” 

In his surprise, Zuko allows himself to be all but hauled out of the brig. 

It’s the sunlight on his face that brings him back to reality. After weeks of seeing nothing but the brig, Princess Azula’s workroom, and the space between, the sunlight feels almost too bright. Zuko blinks and looks down to refocus his eyes, only to spot one of his guards on the floor. 

Zuko wrenches his arm out of Pipsqueak’s firm hold and drops to his knees. 

“He’s alive,” Zuko breathes once he realises, and then sits back on his heels. “What are you doing here, Pipsqueak?”

“We don’t have time for this!” another kid shouts. This time, it isn’t one Zuko recognises. The kid reaches his hands back toward the dock and rips out rocks to build a hasty, makeshift wall. It will take the skeleton crew of Princess Azula’s ship mere seconds to knock it down again. 

They’re outnumbered and outmatched. 

“We’re going to need to see some fire,” another kid requests, pulling Zuko up to standing. “There’s a place we can go–” 

Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave,” he insists, and then steps in front of the child so that the crewmen can’t attack her. “I’m responding to a summons–” 

“But we’re rescuing you?” Pipsqueak says, sounding unsure, and Zuko’s heart falls. 

These children have risked their lives to get Zuko away from this ship. 

“I’m so sorry,” Zuko insists, and does his best to be a human shield to as many of the children as he can manage. “You should jump - go that way - swim to shore; I’ll distract the crew.” 

“You’re not coming with us?” 

This is another child Zuko recognises from his time in the forests by Gaipan. The youngest one. Zuko wouldn’t have remembered his name if Pipsqueak hadn’t mentioned the Duke being here. 

“I’m sorry,” is all Zuko can manage to say. “You need to–”

“Well, well, well.” Zuko freezes all over, even under the warm sunlight, at Princess Azula’s voice cutting through. Any possibility of the children escaping has slipped through their fingers like so much water. “What do we have here?”

Stupidly, one of the children attempts to bend at her. Azula blasts it away with a casual sweep of her arm.

“Trying to escape, Fire Sage?” the princess asks. 

“No,” Zuko responds with complete honesty. “I wouldn’t have left. This is just…” 

“An attack on a royal vessel,” Princess Azula finishes with a sharp grin. 

And then she ends the fight. 

In seconds, the group of children has been rounded up and disarmed. Pipsqueak was the most difficult to take down, even by armed soldiers, even as a non-bender. He’s an impressive kid. 

And if Princess Azula has anything to say about it, all that potential is about to be snuffed out. 

“I suppose the brig is going to be full now,” Princess Azula notes. She taps a long, painted nail against her jaw as if deep in thought. “If this was a scheme to get your old room back, it might have just worked.”

Zuko frowns. Nobody has bothered to restrain him, which tells him that deep down, they know he’s no threat. 

“Why would they go in the brig?” Zuko asks. “You can’t take them back to the Caldera.”

Princess Azula’s eyes flash. “Oh, I can’t, can’t I?” 

“Of course not.” He turns to the children. “How old are you?” 

The Duke answers first, with a defiant, “Eight.” 

Zuko looks pointedly at the princess. The children continue to answer. There are seven of them; the oldest is seventeen, which is fortunate for them and unfortunate for the princess. 

“See?” Zuko responds, and Princess Azula’s eyes narrow. “They’re too young. Even for criminal proceedings, you can’t take them out of their hometown for trial until they reach the age of majority. They need to be dealt with by the ruler of their jurisdiction.”

“We don’t have–” the Duke starts. 

“And,” Zuko continues, speaking over the Duke before he can throw another spanner into the works, “that’s before we even ask the question of where we are, exactly.” 

Princess Azula’s mouth twitches downwards. 

She doesn’t answer, which means the answer isn’t good for her. Zuko looks out to the docks, to the flags and the clothing, and concludes: “This is an occupied territory. Yu Dao?” Yu Dao would make sense for their journey, but it hardly matters. “There’s a Fire Nation authority here to take care of them. They’re children by the Fire Nation’s rules, so if the Fire Nation wants to try them, they have to be tried as children.” 

Princess Azula almost looks amused. “You’ve been spending too much time with peasants, Fire Sage. You’ve forgotten that other people might know a thing or two.” The princess spreads her hands. “The age of majority in this area of the Earth Kingdom is fifteen. And don’t these look like Earth rats to you?” 

Zuko’s answering smile seems to be unexpected. Azula’s eyes narrow again. 

“A good point, Your Highness,” Zuko replies, and glances briefly over to the children and soldiers. “You could have some of them tried as adults, should you so wish. By an Earth Kingdom authority. Which will it be? Will we take them there ourselves?” 

Princess Azula’s face remains carefully blank for a long moment.

“You forget yourself,” Princess Azula responds. “You are a disgraced sage. Unfit for dictating the law.” 

“Not yet,” Zuko responds. He imagines, for a moment, that they’re sitting in Azula’s office on the ship, moving pieces between them on a board. Except this time, Zuko knows exactly what he’s doing. This is Zuko’s game. “I remain a sage in good standing until I either fail my trial or deny my summons.”

“You were trying to escape.”

“He wasn’t!” one of the children interjects, only to fall quiet at the force of Princess Azula’s glare. 

Zuko glances over the still soldiers. None of them will meet his eyes, but they all witnessed Zuko not leaving, surely. 

Zuko purses his lips for a moment. 

“May I request a sidebar?” 

Princess Azula blinks. “A sidebar?”

Right. As good as Princess Azula is at Pai Sho, she has never been a party or a litigant in a legal case. 

“A private conversation before continuation,” Zuko explains. 

Princess Azula sighs, glances to the sky, and then says: “Fine. Hold them here,” she tells the crew. 

Zuko leads them several steps away, where they can be witnessed but not easily overheard.

“Well?” 

Zuko has put them farther from the port in an attempt to avoid looking like he’s planning to escape. Seeing the ocean again pulls Zuko’s mind back to La, back to the fundamental push and pull of justice and mercy. 

“I know you didn’t respond to my letters,” Zuko explains, eyes still on the water, “but I never technically stopped being your legal counsel, so I’m going to offer you counsel right now.”

“I don’t,” Princess Azula starts, and then she freezes all over. Her posture even shifts with it, stiffening in a way Zuko wouldn’t have assumed possible. “I didn’t respond to what letters?” 

Thrown by this question, Zuko blinks several times in the sunlight. “The letters I sent you when I went to Crescent Island,” he clarifies. “When I was trying to stay– It doesn’t matter. What matters is–”

“You sent me letters,” Princess Azula interrupts. And Zuko has never really been able to read her, but she looks like she is barely containing anger right now, and that doesn’t fit with her words at all. “You sent…” she trails off, hands balling into fists.

This is not going well and Zuko doesn’t know why.

“I remain your legal counsel,” Zuko charges ahead, not allowing himself to be shaken by her strange response. “And I believe taking these children illegally to Royal Caldera City would be a mistake on your part.” 

Princess Azula draws a deep breath, which gets let out in an irritated sigh. 

“Do you imagine I’m surprised by your pathetic attempt to save them?”

“I think it is a mistake for your sake,” Zuko presses on. “You are going to be the Fire Lord one day. There is nobody else in the line of succession until you have your own children. You are the only option for continuing the royal line, and there is currently… um, stirring.” 

“Stirring that you have caused.” 

“Yes,” Zuko admits. “And currently, your riskiest areas are places where the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom interact the most significantly. Yu Dao is the Fire Nation’s first colony. The people here have been mixed for generations. If you show them right now that you will treat their people with disdain, outside the rule of law, and against the advice of the sages, what do you think that will tell them?” 

“That they should not break the law,” the princess responds. 

“That they cannot and should not trust you,” Zuko responds. “That I was right. That the current leadership of the Fire Nation is against our great tradition and will only protect them and their children as long as it benefits you.” 

Princess Azula watches him in silence. Zuko tries not to think about what he looks like, unwashed, hair loose and greasy, the barest impression of a Fire Sage. 

“Take the wind out of their sails,” Zuko advises. “If the people think you’re a fair ruler, they’re less likely to listen to… stirring.” 

And finally, the corner of Princess Azula’s mouth twitches. “Are you actually advising me on how to beat you?” 

“I was your counsel before anyone else’s,” Zuko responds. “The first letter I sent back to Caldera was to tell you that I would remain available to you, remember? I’m a man of my word.” 

Princess Azula’s face draws in again before it’s covered by deliberate impassivity. 

“The sidebar is over,” Princess Azula states.

“Fine,” Zuko responds, feeding an unusual urge to take the last word. 

The princess rolls her eyes before she strides back to the crew and prisoners with her head high. 

“We will hand them over to the relevant authorities,” Princess Azula declares. 

Zuko lets out a shaking breath. He nods at the children as they are escorted off the ship, and the earthbending child winks in return. 

“Best of luck,” Zuko says, and he’s sure they understand that he means ‘best of luck with your plans to escape’. 

For the first time since coming aboard the ship, Zuko finds hope. 

Until now, his days have been filled with silent planning and hasty offerings, and the occasional moment with Princess Azula. And in their brief time together, both have worn their motivations on their sleeves. The princess wants information on the Avatar, and Zuko wants to spend time with her without giving anything important away. 

Now, Zuko has a new motivation.

Princess Azula can be reasoned with. This changes everything.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” the princess asks one day, stepping out onto the deck. 

This is a new freedom, and Zuko isn’t sure how he earned it, but he isn’t complaining. The air is cool on his bare forearms and calves, but it isn’t unpleasant. Zuko has been watching the line between the sea and the sky disappear as the light has receded. 

“I’m thinking about the High Temple,” he admits. “It’s been a long time since we were there. Has it changed? Or maybe I’ve changed so much that it will just feel like it’s changed.” 

Princess Azula approaches the railing. 

“I don’t think they’ve changed anything about that place for a hundred years, at least,” she states. “Remember those dusty old hidden passages we would find?” 

Zuko’s breath rushes out of him in something like a laugh. “Remember that time we almost got stuck in the wall, and the High Sage was on the other side?” 

He watches the princess cringe gently at the memory. “I thought they would put us both to death if they found us.”

The silence that falls is uncomfortable. Princess Azula probably didn’t mean to bring up being put to death, but it lingers in the air anyway. 

(Should Zuko be found guilty, it will probably be a death administered via poison. Even a heretic sage is a sage, and while they could starve him or suffocate him, they won’t be able to directly harm his body. But it’s not a mercy, to die at one’s own hand, or to die through deliberate neglect.)

Zuko takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking,” he says. 

“What a surprise,” the princess responds, and it sounds like an insult, but Zuko doesn’t understand it. 

But Zuko has done very little except think, since being onboard Princess Azula’s vessel. He hasn’t had any opportunity to write or read, and nobody but the princess has spoken to him, with the sole exception of Pipsqueak and his team. 

“You read my letter to the High Sage,” Zuko says, turning to lean against the rail so he can see her. The ocean breeze whistles past them, and maybe Zuko is a little cold, after all. 

“Everyone has read your letter,” Princess Azula responds. She doesn’t look at Zuko, eyes out toward the stars, and it feels deliberate. 

Zuko straightens his shoulders. “You must know I’m right.” 

The princess does not respond. 

“This war was wrong from the start,” he continues, watching her expression avidly as if he’s ever been able to read it. “We knew that the day we read Fire Lord Sozin’s account. The Air Nomads didn’t have an army, Princess Azula. They were peaceful. Sozin only attacked because he wanted to take over the world without the Avatar being able to maintain balance. You must know that.”

“I don’t see how it makes any difference,” Princess Azula responds. “We’re winning the war. That’s what matters.”

“At what cost?” Desperation claws at Zuko’s chest. “At the cost of our souls?” 

The princess rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“We have the power to stop the war. To stop the senseless killing, to stop sending our people to their deaths.”

“So do they,” Princess Azula insists, finally looking at him. Zuko watches as her eyes flicker up to Zuko’s hair, where there’s a single blue bead carefully woven in by Princess Yue. “Your little friends in the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom could stop this war if they just submitted. It’s just as much their fault.” 

Anger flares.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t believe you’re stupid enough to believe that.” 

“Watch it,” the princess warns. “I have every power to put you back into the brig right now.”

Zuko scowls. “So do it. I’m on my way to life imprisonment or death. I don’t… I don’t care about that. But I care about you, and I care about our country, and I care about the world. You keep asking me about the Avatar, Azula - you want to know about Aang?” 

Princess Azula turns fully towards him, her face set and determined. “Yes.” 

“Aang is the best person I have ever met. He is hopeful, and powerful, and he loves so… so much, even though everything has been taken away from him. That’s who he is. And yes, I’m not going to see it, I know that, but Aang is going to win this war.” Zuko doesn’t even realise he believes this until he says it, until hope and determination fill the space that was just moments ago brimming with frustration. “He’s going to win. And you need to decide which side you’re going to be on when your father is taken down.” 

Zuko walks himself down to the brig.

Princess Azula doesn’t call for him for days.

She also doesn’t stop him coming onto the deck anymore, so Zuko assumes that whatever offence he has caused is not insurmountable. He spends his days thinking while staring out to the sea and the sliver of land in the distance, or giving offerings without candles, or talking at the closest available crew member while being abjectly ignored. 

Whether it’s death or sequestering awaiting him, he will not be able to sit in the light of Agni for much longer, so he grasps onto these last days and considers them precious.

The next time the princess approaches him, Zuko is in the midst of thinking about his travelling companions. Very little went well in their time together, but for now, Zuko has decided to focus on the positive. He remembers Sokka’s easy smile and careful planning, and sets aside how Sokka looked in the moment that Zuko gave the map back or how he looked in the moments after Zuko thought they were going to kiss. He recalls Katara’s determination and her compassion, and not how she had shouted about Zuko’s stupid list or how she had fled when he talked about being former royalty. He thinks back to the moment that Aang had explained the important fiction of the line between Zuko’s skin and the air, and how Aang had chosen kindness even when it was illogical, and gently wills away his fears about Aang’s future because he is out of options for affecting it. 

It’s not the most honest thing Zuko has ever done. But Zuko gives himself permission anyway. 

And then, in the midst of this, Princess Azula comes to stand beside him, placing Zuko in her shadow. 

Zuko has a palmful of fire as he thinks, letting his eyes focus on the dance of multicoloured flame. He lets it die out when the princess joins him, because Princess Azula doesn’t like looking at his strange fire. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, not politely enough for interacting with a person of the princess’s station. 

“No,” Princess Azula responds. And then, apropos of nothing: “We are three days from making port.” 

Zuko nods. “Okay.” 

The princess doesn’t leave. 

Zuko clears his throat. “I’ve been thinking about friendship.” 

The princess raises an eyebrow, which Zuko interprets as a gentle encouragement to continue. And for a moment, Zuko gives his memories of Azula the same treatment as his memories of Aang, Sokka, and Katara. He focuses on everything she gave him in those years in the High Temple. He remembers how she refused to stop attempting to visit until the High Sage let them speak. He recalls how they would explore through the secret passages and hastily dust themselves off afterwards. He thinks about how she would make fun of him the same way she always did, how she would upset him the same way she always did, how she was the only person from his former life who made any attempt with him at all. 

“You know,” Zuko says, voice quiet enough that he isn’t certain it will carry over the sounds of the ship around them, “I think you were my best friend.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Those two years when I lived in the High Temple,” Zuko explains. “I never really had a friend before. And I… haven’t been great at it, even when I met more people. But when you and I spent time together… it wasn’t easy. You upset me a lot, actually.” 

“Well, you’ve always been fragile.” 

“It wasn’t easy, but it meant a lot to me. So I wanted to thank you. For… being my friend.”

Zuko looks up at Princess Azula, only to find that she’s watching the ocean instead of paying any attention to him. He doesn’t have it in him to be surprised. 

Princess Azula doesn’t respond for so long that Zuko wonders if he is being deliberately ignored. But before Zuko can decide on whether he’s going to leave her alone or deliberately annoy her, the princess says: “You like spirit stories. I have one for you.”

Her voice holds the falsely casual air that usually means an insult is on its way. 

Zuko holds his fire in his palm again, giving him something else to watch while Azula decides how to pull him apart in the wake of his vulnerability. “Go on,” he invites, because it’s coming either way. 

“Father told me when I was a child about how malicious spirits sometimes trade children. They would find a child, usually around the time of its first steps and first speech, and trade it out for one of their own spirit children.” 

“Which spirits have children?” Zuko asks, confused. 

Princess Azula slants an unimpressed glance in his direction. 

“They would take the human child and leave the wrong child behind. But the parents could always tell. People can always tell when a child has been replaced.”

Zuko’s confusion deepens. “Why wouldn’t they be able to tell?” 

“The children were identical,” Azula explains.

This doesn’t seem like much of an answer at all. “Why would the children be identical?”

“I don’t know, Zuko. They were made to look identical to the original child.”

Zuko nods. “Okay, so what did the spirits do with the human child?”

“You know there’s something wrong with you, right?”

It’s such an abrupt change in topics that all Zuko can ask is: “What?”

“There’s always been something wrong with you. All my life, at least. Apparently you were normal enough as a baby, but when you grew up, everyone knew you weren’t normal.”

Zuko finds himself scowling as he puts the pieces together. “Are you saying I’m the spirit baby? You know that story is complete nonsense, right?” 

Azula huffs a laugh. “There you go again, proving my point.” 

“Your point doesn’t make any sense, Your Highness.” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” the princess pushes. “You’re not right. That’s why the Fire Lord was so intent on getting rid of you. And people might think you have a point in your little letter, but trust me, if they ever tried to hold a conversation with you, they would see what everyone else sees.”

Zuko tries not to react, but a hot wash of anger tightens his jaw and makes his heart thud painfully in his chest. He pulls himself to his feet, no longer content to sit and look up at the princess. She stares back at him, her eyes like bright copper in the light of Agni’s blessing.

Princess Azula has always been blessed. She has always been lucky. And Zuko has struggled every step of the way, even when he’s been out of the shadow of his little sister, and he’s tired of it. 

“Then why won’t you let any of your crew talk to me?” Zuko asks, knowing he’s needling her in a way that he shouldn’t. 

This isn’t  benign irritation over tea. The princess being genuinely angry with him is hazardous. But for a moment, Zuko just doesn’t care. What difference does it make now, on his way to trial, with his life hanging in the balance? What difference does it make, when Princess Azula is bound by a promise of safe passage?

Azula’s eyes flash. “I’m not your friend, Zuko. I’ve never been your friend. I’ve been your sister, and your princess, and nothing else.” 

She turns on her heel to leave, and Zuko is so sick of being left behind. He’s so sick of constantly reaching out to Azula and getting nothing in return.

“Azula,” he finds himself saying as his resentment reaches boiling point.

Azula pauses and looks over her shoulder, like she can’t even be bothered to give Zuko her full attention. “Yes, Fire Sage?” 

Zuko grits his teeth against asking, and then gives up and does it anyway: “Haven’t you ever wondered? If there’s something wrong with you, too, and you’re just better at hiding it?” 

It only lasts a split second, but Zuko sees Azula freeze all over, still and stiff as a statue, before she continues walking away. 

“I won’t tell you about the Avatar.” 

Zuko sits opposite Princess Azula on the very last night on the ship. He’s surprised to see that the princess has laid out the game board again. After their last argument, Zuko hadn’t expected to be brought back here, but… Zuko supposes he was more affected by their disagreement than the princess was. 

Princess Azula meets his eyes. Zuko is the first to look away. 

“I won’t ask you. You’ve given me plenty to work with.”

“I don’t think ‘the Avatar likes butterflies’ is going to serve you well,” Zuko responds. 

Princess Azula shakes her head. “And people think you’re smart. Please. Any information is helpful information, Fire Sage. You’ve been giving away your friends’ safety piece by piece every time we’ve talked.” 

Zuko’s hands curl into fists. 

Is she correct? Has Zuko been betraying them every time he’s given Azula seemingly useless information? 

The princess sets up her side of the board. Every movement is precise. 

Zuko barely pays attention as he chooses his pieces. 

“Then I’m not talking about them at all tonight.” 

Princess Azula rolls her eyes. “I would hardly say that and then expect you to, Zuko. Do try to keep up.” 

The princess makes the first move. Her black orchid clicks against the board with a sense of finality. 

“Then why am I here?” Zuko asks. He decides to mimic her move with his parallel zinnia. 

Azula doesn’t answer, focusing on her game, and Zuko stops trying to understand her. He’ll never succeed anyway. These weeks onboard have highlighted this fact entirely. Whoever Princess Azula was, whatever she meant to him once, doesn’t matter to her anymore. It’s beyond time to let go.

“How are Mai and Ty Lee?” Zuko asks instead. 

Princess Azula looks up at him, and then back to the board. “Ty Lee joined the circus. So I imagine she’s blissfully happy.” 

Zuko finds himself smiling, and then they are on safer ground. He asks about her lessons and her responsibilities in the royal court, and finds with no surprise that Azula has excelled and exceeded all expectations.

The princess has mastered bending lightning, which is a bending form most come nowhere close to. Zuko knows enough about the royal family to know that Fire Lord Ozai was twice Princess Azula’s age when he mastered the form. 

“Do you think abilities like that run in families?” Zuko asks, shuffling pieces on the board to make a prettier pattern. 

“Uncle hasn’t managed to create lightning,” Princess Azula notes with derision. “I tried to walk him through the form, but he says he ‘doesn’t have the temperament for it’.” After a moment, she adds: “Though he has been able to do other things with lightning. Perhaps it does run in families. Have you ever tried?” 

“Bending lightning? No, of course not. I don’t use my bending much aside from offerings.” 

Princess Azula hums, and for a little while, the quiet is surprisingly comfortable.

Zuko doesn’t understand Princess Azula at all. He doesn’t understand how she can make his blood boil one day, and then provide a pleasant distraction soon afterwards. 

“The thing in your hair.” The princess moves another piece, capturing one of Zuko’s orchids. “That’s from the Water Tribe girl who travels with the Avatar?” 

“No.” Zuko moves a piece entirely at random, just to give his hands something to do. 

He’s pierced through with the way he misses Yue. Things with Yue were easy in a way they never are for Zuko, in a way that Zuko didn’t know relationships could be easy. Yue is like a balm in a world that is constantly injuring him. 

It’s inappropriate to touch hair in the Fire Nation, unless it’s for a purpose or by a close family member. It’s overly intimate to weave jewellery into the hair of a companion the way Yue did for him, but Zuko didn’t stop her, and now he’s wearing the evidence. But he can’t find it in himself to mind.

It’s interesting how travelling toward what is likely your death puts things into perspective.

Azula’s gaze turns sharp. “Zuko,” she says with a curl of amusement, watching his face instead of his move on the board. “Is that from the Water Tribe boy who travels with the Avatar?” 

It’s not, it’s from a foreign princess - which is probably worse - but Azula’s implication makes Zuko feel hot and humiliated anyway. “No,” he responds, too harshly. 

“Oh, well this is interesting,” Azula comments, and Zuko is both impressed and irritated with how easily she’s found her prey. “I suppose you wouldn’t have been much use to the royal line after all.” 

Zuko’s mouth twists wryly. “Congratulations, Azula,” he says, and it’s improper and disrespectful and he doesn’t care. “If I wasn’t given to the temple and executed for high heresy, I would have stayed in the palace and been executed for– for–” 

Zuko stumbles, unable to really formulate it with any more solidity than the way that Sokka can hurt him more easily than anyone else, than the fact that Zuko just wants to be as close to him as possible, than the way that the space between the two of them now feels cold and empty. He doesn’t have words for it. Not really. 

But this, like so many other things, does not matter. 

“There you are,” Azula responds in an even tone, “always giving away useful information.”

The princess doesn’t press him any further. She takes her turn in the game they’ve both stopped paying attention to. 

Princess Azula never gives away information unless she means to. 

Zuko taps his game piece against the desk, not even sure which token he has in his hand, and then sets it down somewhere legal and waits for Azula’s move. Azula only gives away information when she means to. But there’s a question that Zuko has wondered about for years now, and wasn’t brave enough to ask her when he lived in the High Temple. 

“Princess.” Zuko selects another token and wavers. “I want to ask you something. I understand you might be unable or unwilling to answer.” 

Azula’s sharp fingernails tap against the desk rhythmically. It only serves to highlight Zuko’s nervous fumbling with his ginseng token. He places the piece on the board, and then finally looks up at her.

The princess’s eyes are narrow with suspicion. “If you think I won’t answer, maybe you shouldn’t ask.” 

“Well.” Zuko shrugs. “I don’t exactly have anything to lose.” 

Azula banishes another of Zuko’s tokens from the board. With a rush of mild annoyance, Zuko focuses in long enough to force the piece she’s relying on most heavily back through the eastern gate. 

“You just can’t stop making things worse for yourself, can you?” The princess pulls off a complicated manoeuvre that Zuko only belatedly realises is to free her wheel. “You can’t help yourself.”

Why is Azula annoyed? She doesn’t even know what Zuko is about to ask.

Does she?

Can Azula just look at Zuko and know instinctively that he’s about to bring up the woman who birthed them? Does this fact somehow matter to her, even though she’s never indicated that she had her own questions about what happened to her mother? 

Zuko brings his dragon tile into play. 

“You don’t have to answer.” 

“You don’t have to ask,” Princess Azula responds, and tries another complex gambit. Zuko recognises what it is this time; he uses his wheel to block her. 

For a moment, Princess Azula just stares at the board. 

“I just want to know–” 

“No.” Princess Azula moves another piece, but Zuko has stopped paying attention. “Do not ask me. Unless you want to…”

Zuko moves his dragon tile again. 

The princess falls silent. 

“Unless I want to…?” Zuko prompts.

Whatever the end of the threat was supposed to be, it never comes. Azula picks up her own dragon tile, and then places it back down in the same spot. She goes for her iris next, but doesn’t even bother picking it up. Her hand even hovers over the white lotus tile. 

Finally, Azula’s eyes flash up at Zuko.

“You won.”

“What?” Zuko asks, looking down at what is clearly an incomplete game. “No, I haven’t. We’re not done.” 

It takes a few moments of looking at the board for Zuko to see what Azula sees. It doesn’t matter what move she makes. There’s no escape anymore. Somehow, the two of them have walked themselves into what might otherwise have looked like a strategic plan. Somehow, when paying more attention to arguing than the board, Zuko has walked Azula into a corner, and Azula has allowed it. 

“Oh. I won.” 

Azula looks as surprised as Zuko feels. 

“Is this really necessary?”

As expected, there’s no answer to Zuko’s very good question. 

The shackles push uncomfortably at Zuko’s Fire Sage cuffs. The chain hangs heavy between his wrists. But it’s only for the walk into the Caldera and to his sequestering, so after a brief moment of exasperation, Zuko accepts his fate. 

And then the soldier before him fastens a lead to the chain between Zuko’s wrists, like Zuko is an animal to be led, and his temper flares. 

“I’m not going to run away,” Zuko insists. “I came here willingly, remember?” 

It’s when the soldier kneels to attach a length of chain around Zuko’s ankles that he really begins to recognise what is happening here. 

They all know Zuko has no intention of trying to leave. He left the safety of the Northern Water Tribe, accepted the High Sage’s letter, and walked onto the princess’s ship. He refused to leave when Pipsqueak and the Duke attempted a rescue mission. He’s here now, willingly, allowing his wrists to be bound for the walk into the city.

They know he isn’t going to attempt to run. And even if he did, he would be easy to retrieve. 

This isn’t an attempt to restrain him. It’s an attempt to demean him. 

Zuko’s stomach clenches unpleasantly. He makes himself stand as motionless as he can manage, and keeps his eyes on the front of the group, where the princess is issuing orders to her soldiers. 

The chain between his ankles weighs him down and will shorten his steps. Zuko doesn’t test it out. He waits and watches, because he has no power to change this, anyway. 

The soldier before him clears his throat. Zuko refuses to move, refuses to give them any of the emotional response they’re looking for. He only moves his eyes to glance at the soldier’s mask, at the shadowed eyes behind them.

“I’m sorry, Great Teacher,” the soldier says, hushed and urgent. 

Zuko blinks, surprised by both the words and the sentiment, and then his eyes catch on what the soldier is holding in his hands. 

“Azula!” Zuko calls out. It’s ill-advised, but it bursts out of him. “Azula. I’m not going to say anything.”

“You’re saying something right now, Fire Sage,” the princess calls back. Her voice is raised, but it still sounds casual, like Zuko’s anger isn’t even worth responding to. 

To Zuko’s horror, he feels a tremble in his jaw like he’s a toddler about to have a tantrum. He clamps down on it all - on his muscles and his emotions - and lets his eyes go out of focus as the soldier lifts the gag to his mouth. 

Zuko keeps his eyes unfocused as he’s led into the city. He knows what this kind of show of public humiliation is for. He knows to expect people to watch. He knows to expect the rushing sound of the city to turn to shouting. They shouldn’t throw anything at him - he’s still a sage - but it’s unlikely that anyone will be punished for it today. 

He bites down on the leather strap in his mouth and waits it out. All he needs to do is walk until they arrive at the High Temple. 

(It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what anyone sees or what they say. It doesn’t make a difference to the war and it doesn’t make a difference to Zuko’s fate. But it still sits in his belly, burning and squirming and nauseating.)

One foot in front of the other. His strides are shortened uncomfortably. Zuko looks down at his feet, at his bare and dirty calves. He wishes he hadn’t tucked his hair into a proper topknot for wearing his stupid ceremonial hat, because his greasy hair could have been a barrier between Zuko and the city. 

All he needs to do is walk.

Zuko focuses so much on his shoes against the ground that it takes him too long to realise what is missing. 

He shifts his eyes just slightly, just enough to see the feet of the people lining the street. His heart rate picks up, because… there are so many people. So many people have stopped going about their lives to watch the spectacle of Zuko being paraded through the city. Zuko’s eyes sting with it, making everything blur. 

But. 

But there’s no sound. 

Zuko can hear the rattle of chains. He can hear his feet against the path and his own heartbeat and ragged breathing. He can hear the shuffling of the crowd, the sounds of the living city in the distance. But here, where the people are gathered to stare at a bound and gagged Fire Sage being led through Royal Caldera City… here, the people are silent. 

Leather pinches at his cheeks. His arms hurt where his cuffs have been forced too high on his forearms. His throat aches with the force of holding back tears. 

The hush continues to fall as Zuko walks. 

Finally finding the courage and fortitude within himself, Zuko looks up. 

The first person his eyes catch on is an elderly woman leaning heavily on a cane. She meets his eyes and nods shallowly, barely perceptible, and doesn’t look away. 

Zuko glances across the silent crowd. They’re unafraid to look back at him, faces grim and set, and Zuko doesn’t know how to name the emotion that wells up within him. It’s confusion and dread and, somehow, despite everything, hope. 

Far ahead, Princess Azula leads the march of triumph. Zuko catches a glimpse of her face as she glares at the crowd, her eyes a dangerous flash of amber. 

He worries, for a moment, that the princess will act out in some way. But she only continues their journey, occasionally offering a withering glance at the quiet crowd. 

Just once, near the end of the walk, Azula meets Zuko’s eyes. 

Zuko has never had a talent for reading faces, and Azula is particularly difficult to understand. But Zuko thinks, for a moment, that he sees a flash of fear. 

They take him into the High Temple. 

The walls and hallways have not changed in the three years Zuko has been banished. It smells the same: incense and stone and old books. The ceilings are still high and imposing. The every edge of the flame carvings is familiar.

They lead Zuko past the turning that would lead to the Room of the Broken, and his chest aches. 

Zuko can’t see far in front of him due to the soldiers, but when he spots a sweep of red material, his heart seizes with expectation. 

It isn’t the High Sage. 

Zuko can’t seem to slow his heart rate. Fire Sage Matsu meets Zuko’s eyes only briefly before looking away. Zuko can’t imagine how he appears in the other sage’s eyes. Three years absent, unwashed, restrained like a dangerous animal. 

Welcome back, Fire Sage Zuko, he thinks to himself. 

“I have a room set up for sequestering,” Fire Sage Matsu explains. “You may leave the Fire Sage with me.”

“We’ll see him all the way to imprisonment,” Princess Azula insists, and she does just that. She walks alongside Fire Sage Matsu, and neither of them glance back at Zuko again. 

(Fire Sage Matsu used to be kind to Zuko. He isn’t sure he recognised it as kindness when he was fresh into sagehood, but that’s what it was. Fire Sage Matsu would wake him gently every morning, would ensure that Zuko’s needs were met, would occasionally go on walks with him.)

After the countless eyes witnessing Zuko’s shame in Caldera, it should be a relief. It’s not. 

When the door to the new prison is opened, Zuko accepts the gentle nudge and walks inside. He’s unleashed, but nobody moves to relieve him of his restraints. 

“Fire Princess,” Fire Sage Matsu prompts. “It would be appropriate to remove the chains and the… gag.” 

Princess Azula looks over, her face void of emotion, and says: “I see no issue with leaving him like this.” 

Fire Sage Matsu hesitates. “He will need to eat, and to bear witness at trial,” he reminds her. 

“Fine.” Princess Azula turns to leave. “Do whatever you want. He’s your problem now.”

They swap out the Fire Sage cuffs on his wrists and ankles.

The new cuffs are black. 

He is not to be trusted by the Fire Nation. 

Chapter Text

According to records, the throne room was not always this dark. Large windows would allow sunlight to pour into the space, gracing the chamber with the blessing of Agni. After the former Avatar destroyed this section of the palace, it was rebuilt with careful changes to the design. The Fire Lord’s throne sits higher above the floor, allowing him to look down upon his people. The windows are covered in beautiful, ornate shutters, allowing only hints of sunlight through. 

And the chamber is lit almost solely by the light of the throne and torches. 

High Sage Kenji finds himself looking at the flames of the throne as he waits. Those are Kenji’s flames, lit when Fire Lord Ozai ascended. The symbolic fire of the High Sage used to be just a candle sitting at the base of the throne, and now they provide most of the light for the room. It’s an awful irony that the light of the High Sage’s fire in the throne room has been directly paralleled by his decreasing power here.

The sages wait in formation. The Great Sages stand at the pillars in rows, facing the large open space that is saved for the accused. Kenji’s sages are farther back with the witnesses, and Fire Sage Tatsuya meets High Sage Kenji’s eyes when he looks over. 

Kenji folds his hands behind his back. 

The doors finally open. Kenji’s heartbeat thuds hard in his chest.

Fire Sage Zuko walks with even steps to the centre of the room, making eye contact with nobody, and then lifts his hands for them to be untied. When he is freed, Zuko reaches up to loosen the gag himself, and then holds it up until a guard takes it. 

Gagging him was a poor idea. It sends an unwise message to the masses. But Kenji was unable to convince the Fire Lord of this.

Zuko finally looks up.

The child is almost a man. He would look uncomfortably akin to the Fire Lord, were it not for his Fire Sage robes and hat, and were it not for the uncertain and tense set of his shoulders. 

He might be as tall as Kenji one day, if he’s gifted the years to continue growing.

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Kenji says, because this is his cue and he cannot allow himself to get lost in wonder at how three years can change a child. “You have been recalled to be tried for high heresy. Do you understand?”

“I have heard,” Zuko responds, with a curl of something like amusement in his voice. 

It is not a good start. The correct response should be ‘I understand’. Kenji can technically accept this response, but worry settles in his stomach at Zuko’s decision to begin this way. 

Kenji’s traitorous eyes dip to sight of the hand-shaped scar sitting stark against the boy’s forearm. He doesn’t allow himself to linger here.

“I am led to understand that you will be representing yourself. This is acceptable, since you are educated in legal counsel. Is this correct?” 

“It is–” 

“Actually, High Sage,” Great Sage Izumi interrupts, stepping out of the line of Great Sages to Zuko’s left. “If I may offer my assistance.” 

Nobody is allowed to converse with Zuko outside meeting his technical needs. Fire Sage Matsu stands in the doorway, in clear earshot of the guards, to take requests for materials and to drop off food. 

It is not uncomfortable here. This room is much like the one he lived in when he was a sage of the High Temple, and not unlike his room in the Temple of the Avatar. It is simple and plain, but in a way that is familiar to Zuko. He can bathe whenever he wishes, unlike on the ship, and he can sleep without concern for being attacked at night, unlike his journeys. Fire Sage Matsu will bring him candles and incense for offerings, and will retrieve any book he requests. 

Zuko spends his days in clean robes, giving offerings and meditating and reading, and it is not uncomfortable here. 

Zuko despises every moment. 

He reads over the rules of court and memorises what he can. Zuko has always dealt better with books than people, has always managed to sort information from a page better than audible information, and he knows this is his best chance. 

He also reads over the stories of other sages condemned to death for high heresy. 

The first he reads about are the supporters of Fire Princess Suzume. There must be court documents somewhere, but Zuko is denied access to them, and so he reads about them in the history books. 

There were seven of them. Three of them were Great Sages, a fact that causes Zuko to blink repeatedly as he tries to process it. Three Great Sages died for Fire Princess Suzume. What does that mean for the Fire Sages in their temples? Were they aware? Could there have been more supporters, quieter supporters, who remained in the temples? 

Zuko supposes that if there were, they must have learned their lessons when seven sages went to the funeral pyre. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Fire Sage Matsu says from the doorway. Zuko looks up from the book, squinting due to his lack of glasses. “The last of the Great Sages are arriving today. I am to inform you that you have an opportunity for counsel, should you choose it. I can have anyone from the Caldera come to visit you today. They must stay in earshot of the guards.”

Zuko’s first thought is to ask for High Sage Kenji. He’s already taken the breath to make the request before he thinks: is it safe for the High Sage to visit him?

Zuko sits back and thinks. The High Sage will be trying him. The High Sage holds the most weight in declaring Zuko’s guilt or innocence. But if High Sage Kenji declared him innocent after meeting with Zuko, would that give the Fire Lord reason to doubt his ability to judge? 

Are any of the Great Sages safe? 

“Anyone from the Caldera?” Zuko confirms. “It doesn’t have to be a Great Sage?”

Fire Sage Matsu nods. “You have the right to request anyone. As long as they are within a reasonable distance, they are bound to your request.”

For a moment, Zuko allows himself the whimsy of a truly ridiculous idea. “So I could make Fire Princess Azula counsel me?”

The moment of quiet stretches out enough that Zuko begins to frown.

“Ah.” Fire Sage Matsu shakes his head. “I’m afraid the princess has begun her journey to retrieve the Avatar.” 

“Oh.” The sound slips past Zuko’s lips, and he sits still for a moment, processing the fact that Princess Azula hasn’t stayed for Zuko’s trial. He had imagined her sitting at her father’s right hand. 

Zuko shouldn’t be surprised. Azula has more important things to do. 

(It probably won’t take Azula long to find Aang, Sokka, and Katara. Zuko doesn’t know whether to hope they manage to avoid her entirely, or to hope they manage to reach her in a way Zuko couldn’t.)

“Is there someone else?” Fire Sage Matsu asks in a gentle tone. 

It would have been a bad idea anyway. 

“Yes,” Zuko responds.

Fire Sage Tatsuya arrives the following day. 

Two palace guards accompany him, like Zuko is a wild animal who might attack at any moment. Fire Sage Tatsuya sits opposite Zuko and spends a long time just looking at him. 

(Long ago, Zuko had spent a lot of time with Fire Sage Tatsuya. He was Zuko’s primary educator in his years at the High Temple. He’d been patient and firm with Zuko, encouraging and expecting, and when he had caught Zuko brushing dust from his robes outside one of the secret passages, he’d only chuckled and walked away.)

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Fire Sage Tatsuya greets him. “It has been some time.” 

(Zuko had always been intimidated by the High Sage, as much as he’d been inclined to follow him around and ask questions. But Fire Sage Tatsuya had long been a comfortable presence.)

“Thank you for coming.” 

“I had no choice in the matter,” Fire Sage Tatsuya responds in a pleasant tone, and Zuko flinches a little. “Thank you for requesting me. I’m here to answer any questions you have about the trial.” 

The candle between them counts down their time together. 

“The proceedings will begin with occurrences and witnessing,” Fire Sage Tatsuya explains. “You will be given opportunities to respond and add your own statements about those occurrences. It’s only after we’re done with the practical elements of your potential heresy that we will turn to questioning you on your beliefs.”

“I’ve read about the trial,” Zuko states. “I– What I wanted to ask you here for is– I understand that I have the right to be represented and advised during the trial itself.” Zuko hesitates and gathers his strength. “Would you be able to assist me?”

The moment stretches thin between them. Fire Sage Tatsuya’s cheekbones are more prominent than they used to be, Zuko thinks; the man was always stout, soft everywhere except his piercing eyes, but he seems to have dropped weight since Zuko last saw him. 

A corner of Fire Sage Tatsuya’s mouth pulls downward, and Zuko knows what answer awaits him.

“I apologise, Fire Sage Zuko,” he says. He sounds like he regrets having to say this, but it can’t be as much as Zuko regrets asking. “I cannot do that for you.” 

(The last time Zuko saw Fire Sage Tatsuya was a scant hour before he had confronted the Fire Lord. It was Fire Sage Tatsuya who had given Zuko the information about the war plans, and Zuko could tell by the set of his brow that he disapproved, even if he wouldn’t dare voice it. Zuko remembers the feeling that welled up in him at that moment, the feeling that had carried his feet all the way into the throne room to present his unwanted counsel to the Fire Lord.)

“I understand,” Zuko insists. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

Fire Sage Tatsuya moves his hand closer to Zuko, but does not attempt to touch him. 

“Then,” Zuko goes on, desperate to claw the two of them out of this horribly awkward hole Zuko has dug for them, “do you have any advice for me?”

Fire Sage Tatsuya nods his head. “They will offer you an opportunity to recant,” he reminds Zuko, his voice firm again. “If you did recant your position, there is a possibility that you could be found guilty only of heresy.” 

“Why should I recant?” Zuko pushes back on a flare of irritation.

Fire Sage Tatsuya smiles at him then, just briefly, with a huff of breath that sounds almost amused. 

“Why indeed,” he comments, which means nothing. 

“If I may offer my assistance,” Great Sage Izumi says, and lays her hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

Zuko is surprised into silence. 

Great Sage Izumi doesn’t look at him, instead gazing straight forward to the High Sage. The lines of her aged face make her look severe, but her eyes are calm and her hand is gentle. 

Zuko looks back to High Sage Kenji, who is backlit by his own flames around the throne. 

(Zuko does not look at the throne. The Fire Lord sits silently, watching, and Zuko refuses to give him anything at all.)

“Of course,” the High Sage responds. “Fire Sage Zuko, do you accept Great Sage Izumi as counsel?”

Zuko turns back to Great Sage Izumi, moving enough that her hand drops from his shoulder. “Why would you do this?” he asks, pitching his voice low. 

Great Sage Izumi only offers him a brief glance. “‘And Great Sage Akira replied: Are you alone wise?’” 

For a moment, Zuko feels as if he cannot breathe. 

Are you alone wise? 

Is Great Sage Izumi asking Zuko to consider that if it is him against every sage in his generation, perhaps it is Zuko who is in the wrong? Or is she suggesting that she supports his case? 

Great Sage Izumi was careful, when they met in her temple, to declare no position. 

“I accept,” Zuko responds.

Whatever the Great Sage’s perspective is on the war, Zuko trusts that she respects their tradition enough for this to be a genuine attempt at assistance. 

“Very well.” The High Sage meets Zuko’s eyes. “Then we shall begin.”

The High Sage was not a young man when Zuko arrived at the temple. Zuko recalls looking up at him after returning from the fires of immersion and thinking that High Sage Kenji looked ancient, but not in the way that frail old people look ancient; he looked ancient the way the scriptural texts were ancient, holding strong through the years and weathering every storm.

Here in the throne room, backlit by the throne, the High Sage looks older in a way that three years cannot account for. Zuko wonders how much damage he has done to High Sage Kenji’s health over these last months, and he swallows against the rising guilt. 

High Sage Kenji unrolls a piece of paper.

“The incidents in question are as follows,” he states in a grave tone. “Your initial rebellion against the Fire Lord, which led to your relocation. The incident at the Temple of the Avatar, culminating in your decision to flee with the Avatar. Entering into violent conflict with the Fire Nation in the Earth Kingdom when our soldiers located the Avatar on orders of the Fire Lord.”

“I did not –”

“Not now,” Great Sage Izumi insists in a whisper, tilting her head to glare at Zuko. “Control your temper, Fire Sage.” 

(For the first time, Zuko recognises that Great Sage Izumi has to look up at Zuko. Somehow, he always imagines her looking down upon him.)

Zuko nods in acknowledgement, and then looks back to the front of the room. High Sage Kenji clears his throat, and for a moment, Zuko imagines he sees a flash of concern on his face. 

“The contents of your letter, addressed to myself, about the legality of the war. Your choice to spread this letter across the world. And finally, the battle of the Northern Water Tribe, during which you are accused of convening with foreign spirits, committing acts of violence against the Fire Nation, fighting on behalf of a foreign nation, and encouraging defection from our soldiers. Do you object to the admittance of these occurrences into evidence?”

Zuko goes to respond, and Great Sage Izumi lifts a hand to his elbow. He turns to her instead. 

“What do you wish to object to?” she asks in a low voice. 

“They didn’t mention Gaipan,” Zuko responds, and watches the Great Sage’s expression as she briefly closes her eyes. 

After a moment, Great Sage Izumi orders him: “Do not hand them more evidence.”

In his surprise, Zuko only nods. 

“I have one objection,” Great Sage Izumi informs the High Sage. “Convening with spirits is not an act of heresy. I submit that it should be withdrawn from the record.” 

High Sage Kenji looks upward, a tic that Zuko remembers from his time in the High Temple. He’d once thought it was like the High Sage kept a library in his mind, and when he looked upward, he was rifling through the papers to find an answer. 

Finally, he nods. “I accept,” he responds. “Fire Sage Youta, please note that the question of whether Fire Sage Zuko had an unusual connection with foreign spirits is not at hand in the question of high heresy.” 

“Yes, High Sage.”

The Fire Lord sighs. 

The sound carries across the room and causes Zuko’s muscles to seize. He finds himself looking up toward the throne against his better judgement.

Fire Lord Ozai is staring right back at him. Zuko finds himself touching the handprint scar, and when Fire Lord Ozai’s eyes flicker to follow the movement, Zuko looks abruptly away. He catches the gaze of Fire Prince Iroh briefly, sitting at the Fire Lord’s left hand. 

(This only serves to highlight the empty space reserved for the Crown Princess, had she deemed this trial important enough for her attention.)

“We will begin with the day you were relocated to Crescent Island,” High Sage Kenji declares. “Fire Lord Ozai’s place in this trial is to oversee until a verdict has been reached. However, as the Fire Lord is also a witness to this event, the temple calls on him to give testimony. Fire Lord, if you could recount the events of that day.” 

“Of course,” Fire Lord Ozai says, his voice curling around the words like smoke. Zuko looks up with narrowed eyes. “I remember it well. Fire Sage Zuko burst into this very room, declaring that he was here to present counsel. He was, as you know, not qualified to do so. He also failed to follow procedure by requesting permission to speak with me from the High Sage. Isn’t that right, Kenji?”

This is where Great Sage Izumi should intervene. The Fire Lord is not supposed to bring other people into his statement like this. But the Great Sage stays silent, and Zuko understands that interrupting the Fire Lord is probably not worth it. 

“You are correct, Fire Lord,” High Sage Kenji responds. 

“Hmm. He spoke to me out of turn and quite impertinently. He sought to give me orders on war. Naturally, I stopped him and told him to leave my throne room, but he refused.” 

Zuko frowns. He leans toward Great Sage Izumi and whispers, “That’s not what happened.”

Great Sage Izumi only holds up a hand to silence him. 

“At this point, Fire Sage Zuko told me that he plans to become the Fire Lord one day.” 

A murmur bursts out among the sages. 

“I did not!” Zuko responds, and Great Sage Izumi’s hand grasps his wrist. 

“Quiet,” the High Sage demands, and the sages fall silent. “Great Sage Izumi, do you need a moment to offer advice to Fire Sage Zuko?”

Zuko feels his face grow hot. He’s being treated not only as a person on trial, but as an uneducated person on trial. 

Great Sage Izumi turns to Zuko and says: “You will have your turn. You must keep silent when statements of witness are being offered.” 

“I know. I apologise.” 

“As I said,” the Fire Lord continues, “Fire Sage Zuko claimed he would usurp me. He claimed that because he was once a member of the royal family, he would have the support of the temple and the people. I of course denied this and, you understand, made clear that I was unhappy with this turn of events. This,” the Fire Lord says, his eyes flashing in the light of the throne, “is when he attempted to strike me.” 

Great Sage Izumi’s hand tightens on Zuko’s wrist. 

Fury bubbles up in Zuko. He stays quiet, but he is certain that everyone in this room can read his utter indignation. The Fire Lord is lying in a trial for high heresy. He is trying to manipulate the Great Sages into thinking that Zuko had some kind of plan, that Zuko leaving with Aang was calculated, that Zuko’s letters were attempts to undermine Fire Lord Ozai’s place for his own ambitions instead of genuine protestations. 

High Sage Kenji does not look surprised by this. Does the High Sage believe the Fire Lord? He knew Zuko, once; he responded to Zuko’s questions, he allowed Zuko to give counsel in the High Temple, to the Fire Princess, even. 

He also never responded to any of Zuko’s letters. Is this why? Is this the legacy that Zuko left behind? 

(Zuko thinks of the record of this trial being written by Fire Sage Youta. This might be the story Zuko leaves behind in the world.)

“I caught his arm in the air and tried to manoeuvre him away from me, but the Fire Sage attempted to firebend, and I did so in kind. Of course, my hand was on his skin at the time, and I left some… damage, in self-defence. Then to my surprise, the sage fainted. Perhaps I should have expected it; he was always weak.” 

“Does this conclude your statement?” the High Sage asks. 

“It does,” the Fire Lord responds. 

“Fire Sage, Great Sage,” High Sage Kenji invites. 

Zuko turns to look at High Sage Kenji so quickly that it pulls something painful in his neck. 

Is that all? The High Sage is supposed to ask questions to ascertain the truth of the matter. The station of the Fire Lord should not override the need to question a statement of witness. 

Great Sage Izumi looks at Zuko as she responds: “We have no questions.”

For the first time, Zuko begins to question the wisdom of accepting Great Sage Izumi’s help. 

“Very well,” the High Sage responds. 

High Sage Kenji calls a guard to give testimony backing up the Fire Lord’s false account, and Zuko keeps his eyes on Great Sage Izumi.

What is her motive? 

Zuko has no opportunity to speak with anyone in private, because his presence is considered a danger for as long as he wears these black cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He cannot ask for Great Sage Izumi’s honesty here, and he doesn’t know if he should expect it anyway. 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” the High Sage says eventually. “The temple now calls on you for your recollection.” 

Zuko straightens his posture and keeps his eyes on the High Sage. 

“I was told of a plan to sacrifice a troop of new soldiers in an attempt to distract Earth Kingdom forces. The 41st Division.” Zuko’s eyes dart to the Fire Lord, but he makes himself look away immediately. “I brought this to the Fire Lord. It was, as he said, out of turn. It was also necessary.” Zuko glances at the line of Great Sages to his left. “As no other sages were offering such counsel, I brought it to the Fire Lord myself. He responded by telling me that the Fire Sages answer to the Fire Lord, and that since the Fire Lord is Agni’s flame made mortal in this world, we should be worshipping him.”

A ripple spreads through the room. There are no words spoken, and therefore nothing for the High Sage to silence, but the sound of shifting stances and audible breaths changes the room. 

Zuko clears his throat. “He ordered me to bow at his feet. This is, of course, inappropriate. The situations in which a Fire Sage may bow low are rare. The only case it could occur with a Fire Lord would be the unlikely event that the Fire Lord was declared the Avatar. I am led to understand this is not the case for Fire Lord Ozai.”

“Zuko,” Great Sage Izumi scolds quietly. 

“I refused to bow. As a result, the Fire Lord lifted his arm as if to strike me, and I…” Zuko lifts his forearm over his face in demonstration.

“They need it in words,” Great Sage Izumi prompts. 

“I lifted my arm over my face. The Fire Lord then grabbed my arm instead and began to firebend. He, um.” Zuko remembers the sound of his flesh sizzling under the Fire Lord’s palm. “The burn went quite deep, as you can see. I eventually collapsed.” Zuko takes a deep breath. “This concludes my statement.” 

The High Sage is quiet for a moment. “Your statement differs from the Fire Lord’s in some areas of import.” 

“Yes,” Zuko responds, uncertain if this was intended as a question. “The Fire Lord is lying.” 

Great Sage Izumi outright flinches. 

“You see,” the Fire Lord says out of turn, “why this trial was so necessary.” 

Zuko curls his hands into fists. 

“I have no questions,” the High Sage declares, which is not how this is supposed to go. Why aren’t they questioning Zuko’s account? Why isn’t High Sage Kenji trying to verify the truth?

Zuko looks to Great Sage Izumi. Her eyes are on the scar on Zuko’s arm. 

“I have no questions,” Great Sage Izumi echoes. 

They call Great Sage Sadao to describe the last day of the Temple of the Avatar. 

Zuko watches him emerge from the shadows, his jaw set and his eyes angry, and notices the black cuffs on the Great Sage’s wrists and ankles. 

“Were they all sequestered?” Zuko asks Great Sage Izumi, who nods. 

A confusing mixture of guilt and relief floods Zuko. Guilt, because most of the sages are being sequestered and awaiting trial for heresy they did not commit. Relief, because Fire Sage Shyu fought on the side of the Avatar, and being sequestered is awful but at least it’s safe. 

Great Sage Sadao does not like Zuko. He never has. But he speaks plainly anyway, accuses Zuko only in ways that match Zuko’s behaviour, and Zuko finds himself grateful for the truth. 

When Zuko is asked for his own statement, he says: “Great Sage Sadao told the story accurately. All he is missing is my motivation.” 

Zuko remembers being outside, feeding the songbirds; he remembers seeing Aang for the first time and being struck by how the Avatar was only a child; he remembers Fire Sage Shyu’s insistence that this was the Temple of the Avatar, not the Temple of the Fire Lord.

“And what was your motivation?” the High Sage prompts. 

“I was defending my temple,” Zuko explains. “At first, I was defending it from its own sages. Our temple was built for the Avatar. It was Aang’s right to come there.” Zuko looks over to Great Sage Sadao. “Though I apologise if I hurt you at all in our altercation, Great Sage.” 

Great Sage Sadao only glares in response. Zuko probably deserves that. He is the reason the Great Sage is currently under suspicion. 

“And then soldiers arrived and attacked us. I understand that I’m permitted, and perhaps even required, to fight in defence of myself or my temple. That’s what I did.” Zuko licks his lips. “My statement is complete.” 

When the High Sage questions Zuko’s sources, Zuko finds himself relaxing. He can handle a discussion on sources about defence much easier than he can handle false statements being allowed in trial.

“And then you decided to flee with the Avatar,” the High Sage says when he has exhausted that line of questioning. “Why did you make this decision?”

“I don’t think it was really a decision,” Zuko answers. “The temple was collapsing and I found myself with the children. When the flying bison arrived, I naturally joined them in their escape.” 

“You could have returned to the Fire Nation,” High Sage Kenji continues. “Why did you not?” 

Zuko frowns. “Could I have returned?” 

Great Sage Izumi ducks her head. “You’re not here to question the High Sage.”

“Of course.” Zuko folds his arms. “I didn’t know where to go. But my– my travelling companions were attempting to fix a balance in the world, and I saw myself as having a parallel mission. I wanted to find a way to help the Fire Nation to heal. I wanted to find a way for the temple and the palace to work together again. And as I travelled in the Earth Kingdom–” 

“You,” the Fire Lord interrupts, “are not here to make speeches.” 

Zuko halts, and the whole room goes quiet.

The Fire Lord is not supposed to address him directly. 

Zuko looks to the High Sage, waiting for a reprimand that never comes. Eventually, he tightens his posture and says: “I believe I have answered your question.”

“Yes,” High Sage Kenji responds, as if nothing has happened at all. 

The next incident in question should be the altercation at Jinghua’s house. 

It isn’t. 

“And finally, regarding the destruction of the Temple of the Avatar, the temple calls on Admiral Zhao.”

Zuko’s breath catches in his chest, and then it stays there, like his entire body is trying to keep completely still.

A man walks out of the shadows of the edge of the room. 

Admiral Zhao turns an unpleasant smile on Zuko. 

And just like that, Zuko’s body remembers how to breathe. But it remembers wrong, and Zuko is gasping for breath and somehow feeling like he’s drowning again, lungs burning, but it was Zhao who drowned, wasn’t it?

It was Zhao who drowned while Zuko held him under. Zuko had no control over his body, was wrestling at the edges of his own existence, but he could feel Zhao there under the water, could feel the drowning– 

“Fire Sage Zuko,” Great Sage Izumi’s voice swims in. 

Who was drowning? Zuko was drowning, Zuko is– is so deep in the waters, watching the surface disappear as a tendril wraps its way around his ankle and pulls him down down down down– 

“Zuko.”

Zuko is murderer and murdered all at once, drowner and drowned, and he can’t breathe. 

“Look at me.” 

Zuko blinks the water out of his eyes, and his pinpoint vision darts to a face and away again, until warm fingers tilt his face upwards. A steady gaze meets his. 

“Look at me,” Great Sage Izumi presses, “and breathe.”

By the time Zuko feels like he’s back in his mind, it is with the sickly humiliation of realising that he lost control of himself in the middle of his own trial. Zuko doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he allows Great Sage Izumi to help him back to his feet. Zuko’s hands are trembling and his knees feel just as shaky, and he doesn’t want anyone to mistake this for fear of the trial. 

“I apologise,” Zuko says, eyes on the ground. He tucks his hands under his armpits, a childish stature that will do nothing for his case but will at least hide the tremor.

Zhao snorts. “Thought I was dead, did you?” he asks, and he’s not supposed to address Zuko. 

Zuko sends Zhao a glare before he can think better of it.

“I suggest we take a break, High Sage,” Great Sage Izumi suggests. 

High Sage Kenji nods once, and then is interrupted by the Fire Lord: “We will do no such thing. We should not spend more time on this case than necessary.” 

This isn’t supposed to be the Fire Lord’s call. Zuko looks at Great Sage Izumi, but the grim set of her jaw tells Zuko that there’s no hope here. 

Zuko clears his throat. “I’m fine. We can continue.”

“Well,” the Fire Lord says, “if we have your permission.” 

Zuko closes his eyes. 

“I have much to report on,” Zhao drawls. “Do you really wish me to only speak of the heretic’s betrayal at Crescent Island?”

“For now,” the High Sage responds. 

Attempted murder is a separate crime, Zuko tells himself; it would require a different trial. But it certainly won’t help his case here. The truth won’t help his case here. 

Zuko keeps his eyes closed and listens as Zhao tells his version of events on Crescent Island. Ultimately, it isn’t too far from the truth. Zhao clearly doesn’t understand why or how the temple collapsed, a fact that Zuko has to clarify afterwards, but this could be worse. He holds onto this fact. It could be worse. 

And then High Sage Kenji turns to question Zhao on the altercation at Jinghua’s house, and Zuko’s eyes snap open. 

“We were following orders to retrieve the Avatar,” Zhao drawls. “And we almost had him, too. We tracked him down to where he was hiding. But then the, ah, Fire Sage decided to attack us.” 

Zuko shakes his head. He looks to his side, gathering strength from Great Sage Izumi as he bites back a response. 

“He stood on the roof of the house where the Avatar cowered, knowing that a pious man like myself could never fight against a sage.” 

Zuko scoffs before he’s even fully registered the words. Zhao turns a glare on him for a moment, before looking back toward the High Sage. 

“Fire Sage Zuko stood there, on the roof, attacking my soldiers while knowing they wouldn’t dare fight back. It was a truly disgraceful use of his station. The Avatar joined him in the fight and they escaped.” 

Zuko shakes his head as he listens to Zhao’s lies. Aang actually fighting instead of defending and deflecting is almost as ridiculous an idea as Zuko attacking Zhao. 

The High Sage questions him only on the practical elements of the story: where was Zuko standing, when did the Avatar join the fight, how did they get away. Zhao mentions the Avatar’s companions without noting that Sokka and Katara are children themselves, and Zuko’s jaw tightens when he uses the word savages. 

And then it is Great Sage Izumi’s turn to ask questions.

“I have some questions,” Zuko states before she can turn down the opportunity. “You said I - what was it - attacked you and your men? And you didn’t fight back, because I’m a sage.” 

Great Sage Izumi ducks her head to say quietly, “You cannot use questioning the witness to give your own testimony.”

“I won’t,” Zuko promises her. “Did I recall that correctly, Commander Zhao?” 

“Admiral Zhao,” Zhao corrects him. “And yes, you do recall those events correctly.” 

Zuko very carefully refrains from rolling his eyes. He privately blames Princess Azula for the urge. 

“And then we were joined by the Avatar, who is twelve years old. Is that correct?”

Zhao raises his eyebrows. “I believe he’s over a hundred.” 

“He’s twelve,” Zuko corrects him. “And two Water Tribe people. How old are they, do you think?” When Zhao doesn’t respond, Zuko continues: “That’s okay, I can help you. They are fourteen and fifteen years old. So that makes,” he says, lifting up one finger, “one Fire Sage whose firebending combat training was halted when he was eleven.” A second finger. “One twelve-year-old airbender. And two Water Tribe children. Against…” Zuko hesitates. “How many soldiers did you bring with you?”

Zhao bares his teeth. 

“It was more than four, wasn’t it?” Zuko asks, and then raises a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, you don’t really need to answer that. My question is this: in your… ah, recollection of events, how exactly did you lose?” 

“You know exactly what happened, you little brat,” Zhao growls. 

The High Sage clears his throat. “Admiral Zhao, we do not use such language in trial.” 

Zuko smiles, feeling the ground under him for the first time since arriving in the Caldera. “My legal counsel informs me that I cannot testify during questioning. Unless the Great Sage has more questions for you, I will call this to a close.” 

“I have no questions,” Great Sage Izumi states, looking at Zuko with a new light in her eyes. 

“High Sage, with your permission?” When it is granted, Zuko starts: “Admiral Zhao approached us at night, the night of the storm, when we had found shelter and were sleeping. I stood upon the house that was sheltering us to protect it, as I believed that Admiral Zhao and his soldiers were less likely to attempt to burn it to the ground if I was there.”

The wind had been rushing around Zuko at such a rate that he felt like he would be knocked off the roof at any moment. His hair had been loose, Zuko remembers, whipping at his face and obscuring his vision. And Zhao’s voice had carried through the air, furious and frustrated, and Zuko hated him. 

“Admiral Zhao ordered his soldiers to burn the house with me there, but they refused, which angered him. This is when the children awoke and joined the fight to defend the house. The children and I eventually escaped.” 

Zuko concludes his statement, eyes still on Zhao’s snarling face. 

“How is it,” the High Sage asks, “that you found yourself on the roof before the Avatar and his other companions were awake?”

Zuko hesitates. Zhao’s face shifts, something pleased slipping into his features. 

“I was not in the house,” Zuko admits. “I was in the barn.”

The High Sage pauses for a moment. “Did you not state this was the night of a storm?” 

Zuko’s eyes dart to Great Sage Izumi and then back to the High Sage. “Yes, it– it was.” 

“And did you not state that you were sheltered and it was night?”

“I was in the barn,” Zuko explains, “because the owners did not wish for me to be in their house.” Before High Sage Kenji can ask, he clarifies: “Many people of the Earth Kingdom do not trust citizens of the Fire Nation, let alone those of us in positions of authority.” 

“And yet you chose to protect the house they did not allow you shelter in?” 

“Yes.” Zuko’s brow pulls into a frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

High Sage Kenji watches him, and then something strange happens on his face, almost like his mouth is trying to smile. “I see.” He clears his throat. “We have one other witness to this event. Come forward, Lieutenant Jee.”

Zuko watches the lieutenant walk to the front of the room, and prepares himself to wait through another set of lies. He gives himself the opportunity to look around the room again, at the rows of patient Great Sages, at the shadows beyond them because the throne room is absurdly dark, at Fire Sage Youta who is sitting at a desk and dutifully writing. 

And then Lieutenant Jee begins to speak, and a creeping sense of fear dawns on Zuko.

“When the Fire Sage stood on the house, he and Admiral Zhao were shouting back and forth,” he explains. “Admiral Zhao ordered us to set the house aflame. We refused. Nobody wanted to anger Agni, you see, we… And anyway, I didn’t believe Admiral Zhao really wanted us to attack a Fire Sage. We figured he was just angry.” Lieutenant Jee winces a little. “And then he threatened me. He said, ‘if you value your life, you’ll do it’. I didn’t. It looked like Admiral Zhao was going to attack him himself, but that’s when the Avatar arrived.” 

No witnesses have been called to speak for Zuko, and Zuko wouldn’t dare find one. He knows what kind of danger anyone speaking for Zuko in this trial would be placing themselves in. He knows this puts a target on Lieutenant Jee’s back. 

Lieutenant Jee did not need to be here. There was no letter of retrieval for him. 

Why is he here? 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” the lieutenant finishes, and then nods once to Zuko. 

Zuko feels honoured and nauseated. 

The letter is next. 

High Sage Kenji reads it aloud for the sake of the Great Sages, and Zuko uses the time to look around at them, unsure what he’s hoping to see. 

“Our great nation,” reads the High Sage, “is a palace built around a stolen beam.”

Please listen, Zuko thinks, glancing around at the lines of Great Sages. Please listen. 

“For now,” the High Sage declares, “we shall discuss the writing and dispersing of this letter. Can you confirm that you wrote this?” 

“I did.”

“These are your words, and nobody else's?”

“I quote extensively from our sacred literature,” Zuko responds. “But aside from that, yes, those are my words and I stand by them.” 

Great Sage Izumi cuts him a pointed glance, and Zuko nods at her. For now, this is not about the content, it is about the action. 

“You then chose to make copies of this letter to send elsewhere?” 

“I did.”

“Why?”

Zuko thinks about Katara reading his letter and then going right back to the beginning to read it again before asking him to make copies. He thinks about sitting over the pile of letters and discussing where to send them, and Sokka’s expression as he said you were just waiting for us to turn up, huh? 

His chest aches. 

“A long time ago,” he answers, thinking about being young and burned in the Temple of the Avatar, “I thought about sending this letter to the High Temple. Only to you. But you weren’t responding to my letters at the time, and… High Sage, with all due respect, you already knew my protestations and it didn’t seem to change anything.”

High Sage Kenji’s brow folds inward. “I do not recall receiving correspondence from you outside your responses to counsel letters.” 

Zuko blinks, but then he disregards the issue. It doesn’t matter if the High Sage cares to remember his letters, not in the grand scheme of things. 

“That’s why I didn’t write it to you then. When I was travelling with the Avatar and his friends, I was encouraged to try anew to correct the imbalance at the heart of our great nation. This is when I wrote the letter to you. And we decided together to send it elsewhere in order to encourage the people of the Fire Nation to recognise this imbalance.” 

“What do you say to the claim that you were encouraging treason?” 

Zuko straightens his shoulders. “Truth cannot be treason.”

And finally, they turn to the issue of the battle. 

“Using the battle raging outside as a distraction, we snuck into the Northern Water Tribe. The savages have built high walls,” Zhao explains, “but they are hardly sophisticated enough to stop us.” 

They did stop you, Zuko thinks, and his fingernails dig into his palms as he clenches his fists. 

“I sought glory through destruction of their venerated spirit, the Moon Spirit.” 

A sound scatters through the room, the scuff of shoes against the floor as the Great Sages shift uncomfortably. 

Zhao does not seem to notice. 

“The heretic sage was there, trying to protect the Water Tribe,” he explains. “He fought me yet again. And then, when I got past him and to the spirit, the Fire Sage had some kind of… disgusting partnership with the ocean spirit. It was repulsive. He used it to slaughter our people, to drown them in the canals, and he almost managed to drown me, too. We would have won that battle, were it not for what he did. And when our people were dying, he told them to stay behind and fight for him. Some did. Traitors.” Zhao glares and shakes his head. “But I can only blame them so much, after what he did to inspire terror in them.” 

The High Sage takes a long time to come up with a question. When he does, it is simply:

“Admiral Zhao, you say your intention was to destroy the spirit of the moon. Why?” 

Zhao looks bewildered. “It’s their spirit.” 

There’s a long moment of quiet at this, and Zuko finally brings himself to look up at the Fire Lord. Fire Lord Ozai is glancing around at the Great Sages, his eyes narrowed. 

“You understand that the moon controls the tides?” High Sage Kenji asks. 

“I’m not an idiot,” Zhao spits. 

High Sage Kenji watches Zhao for a moment, and then he too glances around at the Great Sages. “I have no more questions.” 

“I have many,” Great Sage Izumi begins. “Admiral Zhao, had you succeeded, how many Fire Nation lives do you believe you would have cost us?”

“Our military–”

“Not of our military,” Great Sage Izumi interrupts. “I apologise. To clarify my question: how many Fire Nation towns would have been destroyed?”

Admiral Zhao does not respond. 

The High Sage turns his head. “You must answer the Great Sage’s question, Admiral.” 

“I do not know the answer to your question.” 

“Since you spend your time on the waters, I imagine you’re aware that we’re a nation of islands. The tides depend on the moon.”

Zhao curls his lip back. “Was there a question there, Fire Sage?”

“Great Sage,” Great Sage Izumi corrects him. “So you do not know how many of our citizens would have died as a result of your actions. From where did you get your orders to attack a spirit on whom we depend?”

“From the Fire Lord himself,” Zhao declares.

This time, the quiet that spreads in the room is unnaturally still. 

Zuko looks at Great Sage Izumi, and Great Sage Izumi turns her face toward the throne. 

After an uncomfortably long silence, Great Sage Izumi declares: “I have no more questions.” 

What?

“I do,” Zuko responds. “How in Agni’s light did you think this was a good idea?” 

Great Sage Izumi catches Zuko’s eye and shakes her head sharply. 

“I follow the word of our Fire Lord. Don’t you?” Zhao asks. 

Zuko keeps looking at Great Sage Izumi, whose eyes are bright as she stares him down.

And finally, Zuko sighs. “I have no more questions.” 

When the High Sage invites Zuko to share his testimony, Zuko keeps his eyes on High Sage Kenji and away from Zhao. 

“We heard the Fire Nation was attacking, and some of us non-combatants went to the sacred area. The Avatar joined us there to speak with the spirits. The princess was with us, so we had some of her guards. When Admiral Zhao and his soldiers came through, there was a conflict. I asked Princess Yue to stay behind me, because I knew and trusted the Fire Nation fighters not to harm me. That’s when I saw Zhao.”

Zuko ignores a stab of guilt as he thinks about the plan to stay with Princess Yue. If he hadn’t broken off to confront Zhao, she might have been safe. 

“We had a verbal confrontation. I of course did not attack him, as I am not permitted to. Eventually, Zhao turned his fire on me and forced me backwards. This is when I fell into the spirit waters.” Zuko’s heart has been beating too fast all day, but it picks up here, light and sickening in his throat. “I experienced a vision there. It was similar to the one I’d had before. La - the ocean spirit - is… well, we have a history.” 

It’s only when Great Sage Izumi backs up from Zuko by a step that Zuko recognises the shift in atmosphere. Her eyes are wide as she watches him. But she doesn’t say anything, because it is not her turn to speak. 

Zuko clears his throat. “In the midst of my vision–”

“This is nonsense,” Zhao interrupts. “Are we really going to let this heretic stand here and speak of spirit visions?” 

The High Sage responds: “Admiral Zhao, you’ve had your chance to speak.”

“He is not wrong,” the Fire Lord adds, his voice curling in the air like smoke. “It is a disgrace to this court and all the sages herein that such lies be spread.” 

“My visions are not important,” Zuko states, muscles tensing. “I will avoid speaking of them in this trial if it makes you more comfortable, Fire Lord Ozai.” 

The Fire Lord does not respond. Neither does anybody else.

Zuko looks back to High Sage Kenji.

“Admiral Zhao attacked the moon spirit in her mortal form. When I rose from the water, the spirit of the ocean came with me. I was not entirely in control.” 

“An interesting defence,” Zhao comments. 

The High Sage turns fully toward Zhao. “Admiral Zhao, if you interrupt testimony again, I will have you removed from this throne room.” 

Zhao smiles, which Zuko doesn’t understand at all, but at least he’s quiet. 

“La was angry and attacked Zhao. I think I told him to run - it’s unclear to me what was me and what was the spirit. We chased him outside, and– and yes, there was a moment in which we almost drowned him. But we harmed nobody else. The last thing we said to the Fire Nation navy was that they should either surrender or flee. Then we returned to the moon spirit.”

Zuko blinks repeatedly as his body remembers water pouring from his eyes, water pounding down around him, and he feels a little unsteady at the memory of it all. 

And then there was Yue. 

“Their elder healer did her best, but could not heal Tui. And the princess, she… she tried to give her life to revive the moon spirit. The more of her lifeforce she gave, the stronger Tui became, but the princess was dying. I really thought she would…” Zuko swallows. “I’m not sure how, exactly, but La gave us a gift in that moment. The ocean spirit listened to me and healed Princess Yue.” 

Zuko focuses on not losing his breath again, and reminds himself that Princess Yue is safe behind the walls of the Northern Water Tribe. He reminds himself that she has since been granted the potential to inherit chiefdom from her father, that she has since laughed with him and woven a single blue bead into his hair, that she smiled sadly at Zuko as he blessed her before saying goodbye. 

“When Tui and La were back in their rightful place, I returned to where I thought Zhao might be. But he wasn’t there anymore. I feared we had killed him.” Zuko licks his lips. “This is when I realised that some of Zhao’s forces had stayed behind.” 

He doesn’t mention how they bowed. 

“That is my statement,” Zuko concludes. 

High Sage Kenji takes a long time to ask a question. 

“How did you come into relation with the ocean spirit?” he asks eventually. 

Great Sage Izumi interjects: “We have clarified that this is not an illegal act.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko allows. “I know it might seem weird. And I would rather not divulge information about the Northern Water Tribe. All it really comes down to is that La asked and I said yes.” 

“And when you did this,” the High Sage continues, “you were granted waterbending abilities?”

Zuko nods, and then stops and shakes his head. “It’s kind of hard to describe. I wasn’t waterbending. It was just… my body.” 

High Sage Kenji’s eyes are very sharp. Zuko doesn’t know what it means. 

“You didn’t harm any of our people?”

“I don’t think so,” Zuko replies. “I… I don’t want to pretend. I didn’t have control and my memory is hazy. But I think we only went for Admiral Zhao for his desecration of holy space and attempt to murder the moon spirit.”

The High Sage waits. Admiral Zhao does not interrupt this time.

“And what happened to those who defected?” 

“They’re still in the Northern Water Tribe. They are safe,” he promises. “I left them under good leadership.” 

Zuko thinks again of Princess Yue’s face, lit gently with Zuko’s multicoloured fire as he blessed her in his goodbye, her features downcast but determined. 

With the witness accounts completed, the High Sage declares that they must take a break. Fire Lord Ozai does not seem happy about this. 

The Great Sages file from the room. Several guards stay close to Zuko to ensure that he doesn’t spread heresy in this small moment of quiet.

Zuko sits down against one of the pillars and closes his eyes. 

In a ridiculous moment of whimsy, Zuko tries to imagine what it would be like if he wasn’t alone. 

Aang would be hopeful, he thinks; he would tell Zuko to stay optimistic, and he would almost make Zuko think it’s worth trying. He would also probably suggest they escape together if things go south. It would be something distracting, something that would probably make Aang laugh as they left. 

Katara, on the other hand, would be spitting fury. She would have personally challenged the Fire Lord to an Agni Kai by now, Zuko thinks with a hint of a smile. And in this kind of quiet moment, she would hug him in a way that would feel violent in nature. 

And Yue. Yue would have held Zuko’s hand quietly through all of this, would have been a source of gentle strength, calm and firm and everlasting. She would understand the technicalities of this court better than anyone else, and her advice would have been rare, but it would always be right. 

Zuko isn’t sure he wants to think about what Sokka would be like here. The second he turns to the idea, his throat closes up and his eyes burn, and he shoves the whole idea to one side and tries to relearn breathing. 

“Fire Sage Zuko.” 

Zuko opens his eyes and blinks away the wetness, and then looks upwards.

To his surprise, Fire Prince Iroh is gesturing for a servant to place tea and food next to Zuko. 

“I thought you might be hungry,” Prince Iroh states, and Zuko is immediately deeply suspicious.

Don’t eat that, Sokka would have said, nudging it away. It doesn’t matter how good poison smells if it’s poison. 

Zuko stares upward, and the Fire Prince fidgets with his hands. It’s such an unusual gesture that it pulls at Zuko’s consciousness until he finds something to say.

“You should be sitting at the Fire Lord’s right, not his left,” Zuko states. 

Prince Iroh looks surprised, and then he laughs. It’s a full belly laugh, hands on his stomach and head thrown back, and Zuko blinks in surprise. 

“Always such a stickler for propriety!” Prince Iroh comments. 

And then he walks away, like that was a perfectly normal interaction.

Zuko glances at the tea and the food. It probably isn’t poisoned, right? Prince Iroh isn’t the type to attack in such an underhanded way. But that might have changed in the years since Zuko last saw him.

Zuko is still staring at the rapidly cooling tea when Great Sage Izumi returns. 

He asks, “How do you think it’s going?” and tries not to feel too disheartened at the grim expression on her face. 

“When we get to the questioning of your beliefs,” she says, in full hearing of the guards, “be honest, but also consider how your words will be heard.” 

“I am not a heretic,” Zuko insists. 

Great Sage Izumi looks down. “You should eat,” she says, and then turns to speak with Fire Sage Youta. 

When the trial resumes, High Sage Kenji begins by repeating sections of Zuko’s letter. 

“The contents of this letter, your choice to ally yourself with the Avatar, your decisions to fight against the Fire Nation, and the leadership of those who have defected from our forces. Those are the factors at play in this case, as we determine whether you are guilty of the crime of high heresy.” 

Zuko squares his shoulders. 

“The statements in this letter have been determined to go against the teachings of the temple. How do you defend this?” 

“I do not believe your assessment to be correct, High Sage,” Zuko responds. “I have only ever followed my vows and the teachings of our great tradition.”

“How do you understand this to be so?” 

“I believe my letter speaks for itself,” Zuko responds. “I am of the opinion that these last hundred years of war have been based on faulty reasoning, have been circular and unreasonable and pressured from the palace. The temple has lost its place at the heart of this nation and been overpowered by the station of the Fire Lord. We are unbalanced. This has spilled out into the world, and we have– we have done unimaginably awful things. All I want,” Zuko says, and his voice catches embarrassingly. He clears his throat. “All I want is for us to hold ourselves accountable to one another and to Agni.”

“It is your belief that we do not hold ourselves accountable to Agni.”

Zuko bites his lip and tries to contain his temper. 

“High Sage Kenji,” he says as calmly as he can manage, “you have been the High Sage for decades now. Tell me, how many councils have you called?” 

“I am not on trial, Fire Sage Zuko.”

“And how many have you called correctly?” Zuko continues. 

It’s quiet in the throne room. The High Sage’s fires, held at the throne and gifted to the Fire Lord, crackle dangerously. 

“Twelve councils,” Zuko answers for him. “Zero called correctly. Your predecessor: nineteen councils, twenty if you count the Fourth Council of Elders in 57AG. Zero called correctly. Am I the only one who sees this?” 

Zuko glances at the line of Great Sages to his right, and then beyond them to where the guards stand.

“In case it is not clear, allow me to explain: if a council is called correctly, the sages of that council would be forced to either stop the Fire Lord’s war or break fully from our tradition and betray their vows.” 

Someone hisses a breath between their teeth. 

“All I want,” Zuko states, pouring all of his desperation into his voice, “is to be able to fulfil my vows.” 

“Enough.” 

The Fire Lord’s voice rings throughout the room. 

Zuko straightens. He’s done anyway. He’s more than answered the question. He meets the High Sage’s eyes and waits. 

The High Sage nods. “It is appropriate, at this juncture, that I give you opportunity to recant.” 

“If you show me where I have erred - if you show me from our tradition, and not from the heritage of a hundred years of illegal war - then yes, High Sage, I will recant.” 

High Sage Kenji closes his eyes for a moment. “I need a simple answer, Fire Sage Zuko. Will you recant?” 

The strength leaves Zuko just as quickly as it had come. He shakes his head.

“I cannot without breaking my vows, High Sage. No. I will not recant.” Zuko takes a deep breath, and concludes: “I have spoken.” 

If Elder Yagoda had been here, she would have replied: I have heard. 

Zuko waits patiently as High Sage Kenji considers his words.

(Maybe Zuko should have considered his own words more carefully. Maybe, when given the opportunity to defend his stance beyond the contents of the letter, Zuko should not have chosen to insult the man who is about to declare his fate.)

Zuko can’t watch the High Sage’s face and stay sane, so he looks instead toward Great Sage Izumi. She has stepped back into formation with the other Great Sages, her hands clasped behind her back and her chin high. She’s the only person in this room that it doesn’t hurt Zuko to look at right now. 

Finally, the High Sage requests their attention. 

“I have come to a conclusion,” High Sage Kenji states. “I have a recommendation to make. I will then hear whether the Great Sages of this court find Fire Sage Zuko guilty.” 

Zuko shifts his stance. He realises too late that his body is preparing for a physical blow. 

“It is my recommendation,” announces the High Sage, the highest authority of their great tradition, the man Zuko followed around in his early days as a sage, “that Fire Sage Zuko be found guilty of heresy.” 

Zuko is so busy listening to the word guilty that he almost doesn’t catch heresy. 

Heresy. Not high heresy. 

The breath rushes out of Zuko’s lungs like it’s being dragged out by an airbender. 

His head goes a little light as he considers. Zuko is not a heretic. But heresy is not punishable by the palace, it’s punishable by the temple, and not by death. 

Zuko is going to live. He’s going to live. He might even see the end of this war, if Aang manages it. He might see the children again one day, long from now. 

The relief is dizzying. It makes him want to laugh and cry in equal measure, but he cannot, because this remains a place of trial. 

“I will now hear from each of the Great Sages,” High Sage Kenji begins. 

“Ah, just a moment, Kenji,” the Fire Lord interrupts. “We’re not… quite done.” 

The Fire Lord walks down from his throne to join them, and suddenly, Zuko is thirteen and refusing to bow again. He takes one small step backwards, but Fire Lord Ozai does not approach Zuko. He doesn’t even look at Zuko.

He walks to the space the witnesses have been using. 

But Fire Lord Ozai has already given his statement, and he did so from his throne. 

“There is one last matter for us to clear up,” the Fire Lord says with an air of false casualness. 

(Zuko privately thinks he doesn’t wear this tone nearly as well as his daughter.)

“And… What is that, Fire Lord?” the High Sage asks, clearly as confused as Zuko. 

Fire Lord Ozai gestures to a guard, who approaches them. The Fire Lord is smiling, which… which makes no sense. 

“You see, High Sage, there have been some questions about your… allegiances, shall we say. Questions I thought were quite offensive, myself. But if you taught me anything in the long weeks we waited to gather evidence on the heretic sage, it’s that one must be thorough.” 

Zuko doesn’t know what is happening. He glances toward the Great Sages on his left to find unnatural stillness and wide eyes. This is not a planned part of the trial. Someone should stop the Fire Lord, but it can’t be Zuko, who wears black cuffs because he is not to be trusted. 

“Please forgive me, High Sage, but when we entered into this trial, I had the guards search your office.” The Fire Lord shakes his head. “It was only intended to be precautionary. To prove your innocence, if anything.” 

High Sage Kenji is standing tall and calm. 

Zuko’s fear is piercing.

“Then I assume you found nothing of interest,” the High Sage states. 

“Not quite,” the Fire Lord responds. He holds out his hand to the guard, who passes– 

Zuko blinks hard, feeling for a moment that he must be imagining it. 

“You see,” Fire Lord Ozai declares, holding up a familiar pearl-handled dagger, “I remember this dagger from when it was gifted to the boy.” 

Zuko’s pearl-handled dagger. Or at least– the dagger that had once belonged to Zuko, before he shrugged off his former life. 

Was it planted in the High Sage’s possession?

“How, exactly, did you come to be in possession of the Fire Sage’s most beloved object?”

High Sage Kenji is frowning. “I was not aware it belonged to Fire Sage Zuko.” 

“That is not an answer to my question.” 

High Sage Kenji looks somewhere behind the Great Sages, and then back to the Fire Lord. “I found it many weeks ago, in the Room of the Broken. I knew it didn’t belong there, because it bore no name of Agni, so I held onto it in case someone came looking for it.”

Fire Lord Ozai sends him a cloyingly pitying glance. “Oh, Kenji. Do you really expect us to believe that Fire Sage Zuko left his most prized possession in the temple three years ago, and you just happened to find it recently?” 

The Room of the Broken? Zuko spent a lot of time there, once - it was his favourite place to study, quiet and away from people and surrounded by holy, broken shards - but he didn’t leave the dagger there. He left it behind when he became a sage. He left everything behind. 

“I do not know how it came to be there,” the High Sage responds. 

The Fire Lord sighs dramatically and insincerely. “You see what a bind I am in, High Sage.” 

High Sage Kenji’s eyes narrow. 

And Zuko remembers where he last saw the dagger. 

(“What do you think the sages were doing,” Zuko asked Azula, gaze affixed to her pearl-handled dagger as he held it to free up her hands, “when Fire Lord Sozin was making these decisions?”) 

Princess Azula had taken the dagger when Zuko left the palace. 

Zuko opens his mouth to enter this information to the discussion, and then finds himself caught on the idea that the Fire Lord knows. The Fire Lord knows that this was not truly an action of the High Sage’s.

“I see no bind,” the High Sage responds. “I am still in charge of this trial, Fire Lord Ozai. If you would like to discuss this matter, I suggest we do it after closing.” 

“I’m afraid I disagree,” Fire Lord Ozai replies. Zuko’s heart sinks as he finally registers what is happening. “High Sage Kenji, this piece of evidence is just too damning to leave you in charge of a matter of heresy.” 

The High Sage turns to face the Fire Lord more fully. 

“That is not up to you, Fire Lord.” 

“I’ve been informed that, provided there is significant evidence to the matter, the next step is to hold you sequestered until we can convene a court of Great Sages to try you for heresy, Kenji,” Fire Lord Ozai states. 

High Sage Kenji shakes his head, looking bewildered. “Then my duty will only pass to the next in line. This isn’t going to do what you think it will.” 

“Guards,” the Fire Lord ordered, “seize the High Sage.”

“No,” Zuko finds himself saying. 

This doesn’t– it doesn’t make any sense. The Fire Lord can’t just sequester the High Sage. If he finds the High Sage guilty of heresy, it would mean the Fire Lord has to step down, too. It’s mutually assured destruction. Why would he do this?

Two guards step forward. High Sage Kenji holds his wrists up to be restrained, and he doesn’t take his eyes off the Fire Lord. “I will go peaceably,” he says. “But this is a mistake.” 

“Oh, you needn’t go anywhere,” Fire Lord Ozai insists. “We have a trial to finish. I wouldn’t want you to miss it, Kenji, don’t worry. Now, as you said… your next in line. The sage you’ve stated is in charge of your affairs if you’re, ah, incapacitated. That would be…?”

“That would be me,” says Fire Sage Tatsuya.

The Great Sages part for him to pass through, and Fire Sage Tatsuya walks by Zuko to reach the Fire Lord. 

He doesn’t look at Zuko. 

But this is okay, Zuko tells himself; this is okay. The Fire Lord is only proving to the Great Sages the lengths he will go to in order to snatch power from the temple. This is all proving Zuko’s case.

“Are you in agreement, Kenji, or should we find the paperwork?”

Everyone knows Fire Sage Tatsuya is in charge of the High Sage’s work whenever he isn’t able to fulfil his duties. 

“I am in agreement,” says the High Sage. “Should you truly be sequestering me on suspicion of heresy, that would make Fire Sage Tatsuya the acting High Sage.” 

“Well then.” The Fire Lord smiles. “Acting High Sage Tatsuya. Shall we continue?”

Fire Sage Tatsuya turns to face the Great Sages. 

“Of course. It is my honour and duty to be taking the place of High Sage today, and until High Sage Kenji is declared fit to continue in his esteemed role. Does anyone question this?”

Silence follows. 

Fire Sage Tatsuya glances across the lines of Great Sages, and then nods his head. 

“In that case, we shall continue. I have been in this trial all day, and have heard the witness statements and responses, have read the Fire Sage’s letter, and have listened to his defence and refusal of recanting. I have a recommendation to make. I will then hear whether the Great Sages of this court find Fire Sage Zuko guilty.” 

Zuko can hardly believe they are back in this moment. 

“It is my recommendation,” announces the Acting High Sage, “that Fire Sage Zuko be found guilty of high heresy.”

The world disappears from under Zuko. 

He stays standing, somehow, even when he feels like he’s falling. Zuko stares ahead at Acting High Sage Tatsuya, at a man who once sat across from him and helped him parse sentences of scripture, who told him he had a mind for law, who placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder before his immersion in the flames and said you are strong, you can do this, and feels the weight of his words. 

Guilty of high heresy rings in his ears.

Zuko feels tears on his cheeks before he recognises that he has had any outward reaction at all. 

“Great Sages,” Acting High Sage Tatsuya says, and turns to where the first row of Great Sages begins, on his left and Zuko’s right.

“Guilty,” says the first Great Sage.

“Guilty,” says the second.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. 

Zuko affixes his gaze to the floor in front of him and focuses solely on remaining standing.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. 

The tears continue to come. 

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. 

The voices curl back around toward Zuko’s left, where Great Sage Izumi stands. Zuko looks up and meets her eyes, and finds Great Sage Izumi looking right back at him, her mouth tilted downwards and her eyes filled with compassion. 

And then finally, the verdicts reach her, and Great Sage Izumi opens her mouth. “Guilty,” she declares. 

Zuko looks away from her, and is truly, entirely alone. 

Maybe not alone. Zuko glances up, once, at High Sage Kenji. The High Sage, whose hands are bound before him, with a guard over each shoulder, because he dared to find Zuko guilty of mere heresy.

The one person who left Zuko not entirely alone has been dragged down with him. 

“It is unanimous,” the Acting High Sage begins. 

Zuko breathes. 

“Fire Sage Zuko is guilty of high heresy,” the Acting High Sage continues.

Zuko breathes.

“I will now hand over sentencing to the palace,” the Acting High Sage concludes.

Zuko breathes. 

“It is with no great pleasure that I oversee this sentencing,” states the Fire Lord, back in his rightful place on his throne, with Fire Prince Iroh wrongly seated to his left. “But in cases like these, we do what we must.” 

Zuko breathes in as deeply as he can, filling his lungs with air, air that is the same inside his body as it is outside his body. The boundaries that seem so apparent to the human mind are truly fictional, he remembers. There is no difference between his skin and the air, between him and the space around him and the flames of Ozai’s throne. 

There is no true boundary between life and death. 

“I sentence you, Fire Sage Zuko, to death by live burial.”

Zuko breathes.

And the fire of the throne dies, throwing the room into darkness. 

Chapter Text

Acting High Sage Tatsuya stands in the darkness of the throne room, eyes turned toward the bare throne and seeing almost nothing. 

The rush of surprise stops all movement in the throne room. And then, one by one, the sages begin to light their own flames. Tatsuya hold his up, searching for the Fire Lord, and finds the Fire Lord’s face twisted in anger.

“Relight the throne,” he spits at Tatsuya.

Tatsuya draws a fortifying breath. “Of course.”

And then they are both distracted by another light, this one bearing many colours. It’s a pinpoint in a room filled with fire cupped in palms, but it stands out nonetheless: a touch of dragon fire in their midst. 

Tatsuya only has long enough to think you must be kidding me before the Fire Lord is sweeping toward the source of the unusual flame. 

Fire Sage Zuko looks up at him, flames dancing in rainbows, and then takes a hesitant step backwards. 

“Did you think this little trick would impress us?” 

Fire Sage Zuko looks beyond the Fire Lord. Tatsuya looks away when the boy attempts to catch his gaze. 

“I didn’t–” 

But Fire Sage Zuko isn’t gifted time to respond before Fire Lord Ozai is pulling back a fist of flame. 

There’s a split second in which Zuko’s mind is pulled in two directions, like the cat owl grasping two clever snow mice: meet fire with fire, or let the Fire Lord finish what he started all those years ago. 

It’s only the briefest of moments, but Zuko feels the fight fade from his core, because death here at the hands of the Fire Lord is no worse than live burial, is it? 

And then Zuko is not alone. 

In a flash of movement, he finds himself behind a broad back, and a blast of defensive flame knocks Ozai’s fire off to the side. 

Prince Iroh is quiet as the flames disappear into smoke. 

Zuko looks over his shoulder to the Fire Lord. Of all the weight of guilt and indignation and desperation that has settled in his stomach, it’s only now that a curl of fear arrives. Zuko will walk to his death if that is what the court decrees. But Zuko doesn’t want to be responsible for what might happen now. 

“You dare defy me, Iroh?” the Fire Lord asks. There’s barely enough light for Zuko to see the edges of his face, but his eyes manage to glint dangerously anyway. 

Prince Iroh falls slowly out of his defensive stance. 

“Of course not, Fire Lord,” he responds, his tone much too airy. “Should you ask me to step aside now, I shall. But there is a sentence to carry out. I wouldn’t want poor Fire Sage Youta to need to end his account so, ah, abruptly.” 

Fire Prince Iroh chuckles like he said something amusing, like the Fire Lord is in on the joke. 

Zuko waits with bated breath in the near-silence. 

(Without the sound of High Sage Kenji’s flames crackling in the background of the throne room, it feels eerily still. The thud of Zuko’s heart in his chest is too loud.)

After a short eternity, the Fire Lord keeps his eyes on Prince Iroh as he says: “Tatsuya. Light the throne.” 

The three of them stand there, unnaturally still, as Acting High Sage Tatsuya walks toward the dark throne. 

Prince Iroh turns his head a little toward Zuko and whispers, “Did you do that?” 

“No!” Zuko responds immediately, and then wonders. He’d been breathing, hadn’t he; he’d been thinking about the flames, and how there was no such thing as the boundary between himself and the air and the fire. Had he somehow reached out to the throne?

(This is what La had tried to show him, hadn’t it? This vision of his death sentence? Why did La want him to live this moment before it arrived at his door naturally?) 

“I don’t think so,” Zuko amends. 

Prince Iroh turns his head a little more toward Zuko, but Zuko has no time to pay him any attention, because Acting High Sage Tatsuya has reached the throne. 

Zuko watches as Acting High Sage Tatsuya lifts his hand in the near-darkness, cupping flame in his palm. 

(The High Sage’s role of lighting the fires of the throne usually occurs in two circumstances: a change of Fire Lord or a change of High Sage. A small part of Zuko’s mind latches onto the idea that this is appropriate. After all, the rightful High Sage is in chains. Is that what La had wanted to communicate - that Zuko’s actions would lead to High Sage Kenji’s downfall?)

The Acting High Sage passes his fire to the throne with gentle grace. 

It does not catch. 

Zuko watches with wide eyes and deep dread as Acting High Sage Tatsuya tries again, and a third time, but the throne refuses to accept the flame. 

It’s like the throne is coated in water, Zuko thinks with a note of hysteria. There is no precedent for this. There is no reason for the Acting High Sage’s kindling to come to nothing. 

Even beneath the anger at what the Acting High Sage has allowed to happen to High Sage Kenji, Zuko feels the steady process of growing fear for him. 

“Enough!” Ozai barks, turning his back on Zuko and Prince Iroh to stalk back to his throne. He lifts his own arm, and for a moment Zuko thinks he’s planning to strike the Acting High Sage, but instead he pours a stream of fire toward the throne. 

It’s unorthodox, but this Fire Lord clearly does not care to follow the customs of their great nation. 

Zuko almost looks away, ready to turn to High Sage Kenji to see him one last time in the light of the throne, but–

When Ozai is done, the room fades to darkness again.

The flame still does not catch.

“What,” the Fire Lord grits out, “have you done?”

This is bad, Zuko realises with a spark of hope: this is terrible for the Fire Lord. Should anyone be made aware of the state of the throne, word would spread, and Zuko has already sown enough discord that will hopefully continue to bloom after his death. Ozai’s options are to accept that people will see this bare throne or to refuse anyone entrance to the throne room, and both of these options are terrible for him.

Zuko thinks about the Avatar and his friends, thinks about their plans and their training and their strategy. This war started long before him and it will continue when he is gone. The tides are turning, even if Zuko cannot be here to witness them.

“Zuko,” Prince Iroh prompts. “Your Fire Lord asked you a question.”

Zuko blinks. “Do you think I somehow stopped you from being able to light the throne?” he asks, because this seems even more ridiculous than Zuko managing to catch control of the flames in the first place. “You overestimate my abilities, Fire Lord.” 

“I won’t need to estimate your abilities at all for long,” the Fire Lord snarls. “Take him away. Lock him up. We will bury him in the morning.” 

When Zuko walked here earlier today, it was under the watchful eyes of silent citizens. Now, the area is entirely empty. Zuko can see people in the far distance, behind rope and guards, but he does not look to them. As best he can, Zuko keeps his head up and his eyes forward. 

Acting High Sage Tatsuya joins him in his sequestering room. 

Zuko kneels and removes his hat. He’s studied enough of the historical records to understand what happens now. He places his hat in front of his knees and keeps his eyes there, because the idea of looking at the Acting High Sage is– 

(This is a man who had once been a comfortable and comforting presence. And then he stood next to the Fire Lord and said guilty of high heresy. Zuko has always been terrible at reading people, but Fire Sage Tatsuya might be the worst example of them all.)

“Fire Sage Zuko,” the Acting High Sage says, moving to stand behind Zuko. Zuko doesn’t like having him out of his field of vision. “You have been found guilty of high heresy. Do you understand?”

Zuko nods once, shakily. “I understand.” 

“Your counsel may return to offer wisdom. Fire Sage Matsu will come by for your physical needs. You will speak with nobody else in the time between now and the time of your execution. You may receive no visitors and you may not communicate with the guards. Do you understand?” 

Zuko almost wants to ask or what, because surely when faced with being buried alive, there isn’t much they could do to him. But he tamps down on his temper and states: “I understand.” 

“You have been declared by an authentic gathering of our tradition’s Great Sages to be without honour. Do you understand?” 

Zuko’s eyes dart up toward the guards at the door. They’re not truly alone, and Zuko has no freedom to speak with them, but… 

“I understand,” Zuko responds, “that a dishonourable court has declared me dishonourable.”

Acting High Sage Tatsuya pauses for a long time. Tension hangs in the air between them. 

Finally, the Acting High Sage continues: “It is our obligation to defend ourselves when those who would commit treason against our nation are within our midst. The palace has decreed that your execution will take place via live burial. Your body will be unharmed, as befits your status as a sage. You will be placed in a casket and buried outside the city. Do you understand?”

Zuko’s entire body is going numb. The words are no longer important, and he tries his best to tune them out.

“I understand.”

“You will be guarded day and night. After three sunsets, your body will be retrieved. On the fourth day, you will be placed on a private funeral pyre, without honours. Do you understand?” 

Three sunsets is a long time to keep Zuko in the coffin. It suddenly occurs to Zuko that he doesn’t know how long it will take him to die. Will he be down there in the dark, waiting to die, for hours? For days? 

Zuko’s hands shake once, hard. He balls them into fists to maintain control.

“Fire Sage Zuko. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Zuko responds, forcing the words past his lips. 

A part of him wishes they would just take him to the coffin now. The anticipation is awful, is cloying and clawing, is more than he can hold. 

“Then it is time.”

Zuko closes his eyes and holds his posture as he feels the Acting High Sage’s hand settle on his hair. Acting High Sage Tatsuya’s fingers dig under his topknot, tugging it gently away from his head for safety, and then he feels the weight of the blade settle. 

In one smooth action, he pulls the blade through Zuko’s hair. 

Zuko feels nothing as he watches his hair tumble to the ground. What’s left of it, short and choppy and representative of his lack of honour, drops around his face. His head feels light.

Zuko’s hair was longer than standard for his station. For some reason, this is where his mind goes as he stares at his topknot and loose strands on the ground: he’d grown his hair because nobody ever saw it in the Temple of the Avatar anyway. It was a private rebellion in a stifling place. And then he’d started to wear it mostly down in his time away, aside from a symbolic topknot; he’d liked the weight of it against his shoulders. It had been something just for him, something untouched by his station.

And now it is gone, just like everything else. 

In the grand scheme of things, it is a small change. But it is more concrete than the impending loss of his life, more reachable than his utter loneliness and dread, and so Zuko allows himself to feel this smaller grief. 

And then, sitting among his shorn hair, Zuko spots the tiny bead Yue had painstakingly woven in. It’s somehow that bead, the physical reminder of a friend Zuko will never see again, that prompts the tears. 

“Why are you here?” 

The words are out before Zuko can think to control himself.

Great Sage Izumi does not hesitate. 

“I am your legal counsel,” she responds in a measured tone.

Zuko scoffs. “Are you?” 

Great Sage Izumi’s mouth tightens a little.

“You must understand, Fire Sage, that you were never going to be found innocent. Not after the Fire Lord’s testimony.”

“Then why did you offer me counsel?” Zuko asks, temper rising from below the exhaustion and anxiety. “Why did you even bother with me?”

Great Sage Izumi waits a moment, and Zuko wonders if she’s refusing to speak openly because of the presence of the guards. But eventually, she breathes a sigh and says: “I had thought you should not be alone.” 

Zuko turns his head against the cool wall. Great Sage Izumi had pitied him, he realises. It’s a kindness of a sort. Perhaps it would have been worse to stand through his trial without someone at his side. Perhaps she’s right. 

“Well,” Zuko responds, the anger having drained and left him with nothing but aching eyes. “I’m alone now.” 

Great Sage Izumi kneels gracefully in the middle of the floor. Zuko should probably join her instead of leaning against the wall. He should probably attempt to look less of a mess. But nothing matters anymore. 

“I have appealed for grace, as is your right,” Great Sage Izumi informs him. 

“I don’t want that,” Zuko insists. “It’s not going to make a difference. They will refuse grace.”

“Even if that’s the case, it buys you time.” 

Zuko runs a hand through his uneven hair and tugs it down over his eyes. He doesn’t want time; he wants it to be over. 

Zuko knows he should want mercy, knows that dying by his own hand is preferable to live burial, but he’s finding it difficult to find the desire within himself. He has a hard time finding much of anything within himself.

When Great Sage Izumi returns, it is with a troubled frown.

Zuko guesses: “They rejected the appeal?” 

“They disagreed on it,” Great Sage Izumi responds. “It requires a majority of the royal family. Fire Princess Azula is of the age of reason, so will be called upon to be the final decider.” 

Something comes to life within Zuko at that. 

He’d assumed he would not be given the opportunity to die by drinking poison. But if Fire Prince Iroh cast his vote that Zuko should be able to avoid burial, then perhaps Azula will give him the same mercy. It’s not a good death, but… the idea of waiting to die in the dark, surrounded by earth, is… 

Poison would be better. And it might be a possibility.

“We have written to her,” Great Sage Izumi informs him. “We expect the response to take some time. And time can make a difference, Fire Sage.” 

Time can make a difference. 

Zuko’s heart comes back to life. 

He requests the ability to write, and then he sits and pens a letter to Azula that she will never see. His mind latches onto their conversations, onto the inkling that she could be reasoned with in some capacity, and onto the bare throne that currently sits as a testament to the Fire Lord’s illegal and immoral rule.

Sloppy with emotion and the fact that this letter will never be read, Zuko begins to write. 

To the attention of Crown Princess Azula, Bearer of the Blue Flame, only daughter of Fire Lord Ozai, only remaining grandchild of Fire Lord Azulon, daughter of Ursa and the legacy of Avatar Roku, Rightful Heir to the Empty Throne, 

What amazing lies we were told. 

Zuko spends his next days writing. 

He’s utterly powerless. This letter will go nowhere, and he cannot affect the war anymore. But he writes feverishly, stops and starts again, and puts all of his hope in the possibility of a Fire Lord Azula who is better for the world than her father. 

It’s not over yet, he writes. These might be my last days, but the world has many sunrises to come. 

Every day, Great Sage Izumi sweeps into his room with no news. 

The wait starts to make Zuko feel unmoored. 

… High Sage Kenji will never be given a trial, for should he be found guilty, Ozai would no longer be the Fire Lord. This is a clear breach of Ozai’s relationship with the temple and with the people. His rule is no longer legally valid, if it ever was… 

Zuko waits and writes and tries not to hope too much. The sun rises and sets. He gives offerings and meditates and the passage of time stops being meaningful. 

And then finally, the Great Sage walks into the room and declares:

“I am sorry, Fire Sage Zuko. The Crown Princess has refused the request for grace.” 

Zuko’s letter has gone through many forms. 

Once Azula refuses the mercy of poison and condemns him to the live burial her father decreed, the fight leaves Zuko in increments. 

With the last of his energy, he closes the final draft: 

May we meet again in the next life, 

the Heretic Sage. 

Dawn breaks on his final day. 

Zuko gives mandatory and optional offerings, his heart beating jackrabbit-fast and aching with the knowledge that he will never give offerings again. He tries to pour everything he can into them: his hope for the future of the world, his acceptance of his fate, his unending devotion to his vows. 

And then Fire Sage Matsu arrives with clothing, and it is time. 

Zuko removes his Fire Sage robes for the final time. By the time he’s dressed in the loose black robes he’ll wear on the pyre, there’s nothing left on Zuko to indicate that he was ever a Fire Sage, except the heavy black cuffs on his wrists and ankles. 

(His cuffs probably won’t burn on the pyre, Zuko thinks.) 

When Zuko is ready to be led out of the High Temple, the Acting High Sage approaches with a long black cloak draped over his arm. Acting High Sage Tatsuya does not meet Zuko’s eyes as he shakes out the cloak once and then sweeps it over Zuko’s shoulders. He ties it deftly at Zuko’s throat in a few quick motions and then steps back. 

There’s a heavy hood left hanging over Zuko’s back, and the cloak is much too long for him - it pools a little at his bare feet. 

It’s when Zuko is staring at the material by his feet that he realises this isn’t a cloak at all.