Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zuko takes a deep breath in and exhales even slower. The sun is burning down on him relentlessly, and sweat runs down his neck. The air is humid and filled with the far away noises of tropical beasts. His knees are hurting from the forced kneeling position and he gave up holding his head high a long time ago.

At least they haven’t sent him away. At least they haven’t washed him out of the Western Air Temple, over the cliff, down to his impending death, to let him shatter on the earth below. At least he had called off the assassin when he had still been in the Fire Nation. At least they had waited his whole speech out. He had made it worse with every word, but at least they had listened. At least they hadn’t outright attacked him.

Zuko takes another breath in and lets the air leave his lounge in a long sigh. Thinking positive is getting harder the longer he kneels on the hard temple flood, arms and legs bound by earth shackles.

Agreeing to take him prisoner has been one thing, agreeing on what to do afterwards seems to be a totally different ordeal. The shouting that has been a backdrop for an hour finally dies away. Zuko had stopped eavesdropping after the third go around of “we can’t trust him” from the Water Tribe siblings. Seems like the Avatar and his friends finally reached a conclusion.

The Water Tribe warrior is in front of the little group as they return to Zuko. His stride is determined, and he waves his hands expressively. He had started out as ‘peasant’ and ‘odd nuicance’ in Zuko’s mind, and Zuko briefly wonders when he had promoted the other boy to warrior.

“See, he’s still there, he hasn’t tried to escape!”

The warrior’s fake enthusiasm is so blatantly obvious that even Zuko catches it. He doesn’t know what to do with it and looks at the rest of the group for clues.

The Avatar is right behind the warrior, a ball of nervous energy. The earthbender’s expression is unreadable and half hidden under her bangs. And the waterbender… the waterbender is glaring daggers at him with vicious fury. Zuko can’t fault her for that.

He quickly looks back to the warrior who now stops at a respectful distance, or rather a careful distance. Out of reach for Zuko to grab him if his hands were free. Not quite out of reach of his breath of fire, but they don’t need to know that.

Zuko cranes his neck to look up at him and watches as the warrior’s face does something complicated. It looks as if he tries to smile but it is somehow too painful? Zuko keeps his face carefully blank.

“It is a good plan!” the Water Tribe boy suddenly exclaims, loud and rash. Zuko almost winces. It sounds uncertain, at least to Zuko’s ears. His face is still doing that painful thing.

The waterbender snorts. “What if he  tries to ruin Aang’s firebending. Then what, hmm?”

The warrior turns to her. This time he does look pained. “Would you just… please give this idea a chance, okay?”

She harrumphs and crosses her arms but does not say another word.

The Avatar fidgets. “I still don’t think this is going to work.”

The warrior groans in exasperation. It is a long and frustrated sound, and Zuko feels for him. He knows exactly what it is like to be questioned, by his crew, his uncle – who had had a point – then Azula and Mai and Ty Lee once he had been back ho—back at the Fire Nation. It is strange to sympathize with the Water Tribe boy whose upbringing and circumstances couldn’t be further from Zuko’s own.

“Oi, jerkbender,” Water Tribe calls, startling Zuko out of his musings, and Zuko stiffens. “You said you’re here because you’ve changed and all that yadda-yadda nonsense, right?”

Zuko nodds carefully, unsure where this is going. “I am here to teach the Avatar firebending,” he confirms.

“Right, that one. You can do it without bending yourself, can’t you?” Is that boldness or uncertainty in his voice? Zuko really wishes he was better at reading people, like his sister. “I bet you can teach him without moving at all, can’t you?”

Understanding dawns upon Zuko, and he blinks. Slowly. “You want me to teach the Avatar? Like this?” Zuko is stunned, and his chest is tight. He doesn’t know what to feel. Is he elated by euphoria because they are letting him fulfill his destiny or is he frozen by dread that he will have to remain like this to do so? Distrusted, scorned, bound by the earth.

The warrior doesn’t elaborate further, and Zuko swallows around a dry lump in his throat. “I can teach him the basics like this.” He will definitely try to.

His words are followed by a sagely nod, as if the warrior hadn’t expected anything else, as if Zuko can’t see his shoulders sag as the tension bleeds out of the other boy’s body.

Chapter Text

Zuko is still kneeling on the temple ground, still bound by earth. But now the Avatar is sitting in front of him, legs crossed and visibly consumed by nerves – it is almost painful to watch.

Zuko wants to shout at him to get a grip! Because if anyone deserved to be nervous it is him. He is the one kneeling between all of them, being stared at, being judged. Because of course the Water Tribe warrior demanded that he starts his first training session right away. As if Zuko has any idea what he is doing, as if he has a whole training plan ready.

For a moment, Zuko considers asking for a candle or another small fire source. But the Avatar is so obviously nervous that the flame might react violently. And then they’d blame him, and then… no. No fire for now. Zuko isn’t thinking about what they might do if he messes up. He’ll start simple. As simple as it gets.

“Firebending,” he says, focusing on the Avatar and only the Avatar, “comes from the breath.” That was what his uncle had been preaching for the last three years anyway.

The Avatar groans. And that is… not the reaction Zuko has expected? At least the Avatar loses some of his tension, so that is a win. Isn’t it? Zuko is unsure. He hates being unsure.

“I already know how to breathe. Why do firebenders insist that I need to learn how to breathe?”

“It’s an important part of our bending,” Zuko says, because it is.

The Avatar is back on his feet, scowling at everyone. “Maybe I don’t want to learn firebending, especially not from someone like him! I only want to stop fire from hurting others!”

And wow, Zuko is so glad that he didn’t insist on a fire source. He doesn’t want to imagine a flame reacting to the Avatar’s volatile emotions while Zuko is unable to control and soothe the flame properly because he is still bound to the earth.

“Aang,” the warrior tries to calm him.

“This isn’t going to work,” the Avatar cuts him off. “I am not going to waste another full day by climbing a mountain to breath.”

It sounds so much like one of his own complaints that Zuko almost snorts. Then again, that also sounds as if someone has been teaching the Avatar, and hold on a minute—

“If you already have a firebending teacher, why even bother with me?”

The temperature drops, and the expressions around him darken. Zuko cringes. Okay, maybe he should have phrased that differently.

It is the Avatar who answers, or rather tries to. “He—I… I didn’t—” He fumbles. Very unhelpful.

Zuko frowns, his own frustration rising. “Actually, if you have a teacher, why haven’t you started proper firebending yet? You should already know about the importance of breathing.”

The Avatar looks like he wants to answer, then pales.

“It didn’t work out,” the waterbender interrupts, sharp as broken shards of ice. “And now we are here.”

The Avatar’s shoulders sag in relief.

It is clear as Agni’s light that he does not want to talk about his reasons. Which is fine by Zuko. There is definitely a story there, and Zuko would love to pinch the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that he feels coming on, but he is not going to ask about it.

Zuko takes a steadying breath and only speaks once he is certain that he can keep the irritation out of his voice. “If you are unwilling to do breathing exercises and meditate, I honestly don’t know what you expect me to do. I mean it is not like I can show you any punches or kicks like this.” He jerks his head to his hands and knees.

The waterbender rounds up on him immediately. It is not even a surprise anymore at this point. “Don’t you dare think we will let you walk free. You are our prisoner.”

The Avatar shrinks into himself at the last word, but Zuko simply shrugs and keeps his voice leveled.

“And I don’t expect you to. You have made it very clear that you don’t trust me. Really. Message received. Still, there is only so much I can do like this.”

The waterbender sneers, and Zuko is suddenly very worried what she or the warrior might say or do if they decide he isn’t of any use to them. The Water Tribe doesn’t take prisoners, or so the saying goes. He quickly focuses on the Avatar and continues.

“But—but! Maybe you can show me what you know so far, and we can work from there. Give me your best fire punch!”

Zuko wants to grimace at his own, fake enthusiasm.

The Avatar looks uncertain, the waterbender looks ready to punch something, the warrior has a calculating gleam in his eyes that reminds Zuko of Azula, and the earthbender is still unreadable. The three of them share a Look. With a capital L, because there is definitely some communication going on there. They are leaving the earthbender out for obvious reasons, and Zuko just sits it out.

Eventually, the Avatar gets up, settles into a ready stance, throws a punch, and… a meek little puff of smoke forms in front of his knuckles.

Zuko hums. “That was on par with the most pathetic firebending I have ever seen.”

There is the distinct sound of a cork popping out of a water skin that has Zuko tense up on instinct, and then the waterbender is standing in his face, all ice-cold fury and sharp edges, water coating her arms. “You will not speak to him like that!” she hisses.

And Zuko’s own temper flares to match hers. “Would you JUST LISTEN!” She takes a surprised step back, and her face darkens even further. “All I’m saying is that my firebending was just as bad. Now, if you could stop pestering me for A SINGLE MOMENT, I might actually be able to think of a solution! You hate me. I GET IT. But right now, you are not helping anyone. So. Just. Shut. It!”

She bristles, and Zuko straightens his back, bracing for impact. He will not back down or cower before them. He surrendered himself but he will never surrender his spirit! Every second that ticks by he grows more defiant, holding himself up proud, challenging, holding her gaze.

It is her brother that prevents further escalation by placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder and saying a quiet but decisive “Katara.”

And she still looks ready to drown him in her element. But she guides the water into water skin and takes half a step back.

Zuko notes, that it is still uncorked. He takes a decisive breath of air.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know who he is thanking, really. The warrior, for stepping in, or her for stepping back. He is still agitated and angry.

And he still has to figure out the Avatar’s problem with firebending. Because obviously he is the only one around who can!

What is the Avatar’s problem with firebending? If he didn’t know any better Zuko would think the boy is afraid of fire. Like Zuko had been. But surely the Avatar has no reason to fear…. Zuko cringes inwardly. Being chased around the world by an angry prince who throws fire at him, after learning that his whole culture and people have been burned away by the nation of said prince? Yeah, okay, there might actually be a very reasonable source of such a fear. Zuko searches the Avatar’s face. The boy had never looked that scared though.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says. He means it, but it’s not like they are going to accept his apology any more now than they did before. After a beat, he continues, “I’m going to think of something.”

“Okay,” the Avatar agrees far too easily and grasp the waterbender’s hand. “Come, Katara, I still want to show you the echo chamber.” And off they go.

Startled by the sudden and unexpected retreat Zuko follows them with his eyes until they disappear in the temple. He refrains from scoffing. Instead, he closes his eyes and evens out his breathing in hopes that meditation will provide a solution, or at least a clear mind with which he will think up a solution.

The other two will leave soon enough, probably, once they realize that he is not doing anything interesting.

Chapter Text

Sokka is walking up and down in front of the fountain while Toph is dangling her feet in the crystal-clear water. He is worried. He is just as much worried about Prince Jerkface as he is worried for him. It’s been hours since the prince started his silent meditation – or whatever the jerkbender is doing – and it has to be uncomfortable.

It certainly looks painful, and Sokka really doesn’t want to think about that. He knows how bad it can get for your muscles if you cannot move them for a prolonged time, and they have constrained him in a way that has to be grueling, and he is their prisoner. That also makes him their responsibility.

Katara had been so quick about it.

Prince Missing Ponytail had barely knelt down and suggested “then take me as your prisoner” when Katara had shot water at him, freezing him in place, and declared “Fine! We will!”

As if it could ever be that easy.

But Sokka is the plan guy. He is supposed to be flexible and adaptive. Like water, like the element of their tribes in the south and the north. So, his plan had been straight forward and simple: Convince Katara to let Prince Scar Face go, so that they never ever have to see his face again. Only… Toph had brought up some good arguments against that. Aang needing a firebending teacher? Yeah, sure, Sokka can get behind that. Zuko being the only one around? Probably true.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it. It definitely doesn’t mean he enjoyed the one-hour shouting-match with his sister.

He knows that they cannot trust the prince. He knows!

And now Prince Anger Issues is ‘thinking of something.’ As if he is suddenly the plan guy. Because apparently Aang still has some issues with firebending. Issues they never addressed and that Sokka completely forgot about.

Sokka stops next to Toph, worrying his bottom lip. “You sure this isn’t going to blow up in our faces?”

Toph punches his arm. Hard. “Stop second-guessing my advice.” There is an edge of irritation in her voice, and Sokka drops the topic.

He glances at the temple entrance as he resumes walking. He wonders how many years of pacing it would take to leave a dent in the stone. Aang and Katara are still taking that break, or hiding away, or whatever it is they are doing. Maybe Katara is talking with Aang about his firebending, convincing him to… to open up about the issue or whatever.

…Sokka huffs at his own optimism. Katara hates the idea of jerkbender as Aang’s teacher more than anyone.

No, the duty to make this work rests with Sokka. Therefore, it is good that he is the plan guy. He’ll make sure that there is a plan once they return.

He only has to think it up now.

Sokka changes his course from his up-and-down-walks in front of the fountain to curve around to Zuko.

If Prince High And Mighty notices Sokka’s approach, he gives no indication of it. It rubs Sokka the wrong way, it has him enraged in a way that he hasn’t expected. For months, Sokka knew him as the shadow haunting his dreams, as black armor and a gruesome scar against pale skin. For months, Katara has struggled with falling asleep and waking with a whimper at night, clutching at her neck even after she had retrieved their mother’s necklace. He knows that it is sometimes Price Zuko’s face that she sees when she remembers their mother’s killer. How dare he be so unaffected now? How dare he act like he doesn’t have a care in the world? He looks almost serene. He should be trembling. He is their prisoner, at their mercy!

Sokka kicks Zuko’s knee and watches with satisfaction as the prince jerks away, before the earth shackles cut into his skin and halt his movement.

Prince Not So Scary Anymore’s eyes snap open and he glowers at Sokka. “What?!”

Of course, he’s still the aggressive asshole they all know and hate. Of course, he still has that infuriating royal air about him that somehow gives Sokka the feeling that Zuko is looking down on him even when Sokka is the one towering over Zuko.

“Have you figured something out yet?”

“Maybe.”

Ah, that’s the kind of conversation this is going to be.

“Are you going to tell me? You know, because the last lesson was so extraordinarily successful.”

“Umm,” Prince Eloquence hesitates. “Blocking fire and other defensive moves. That’s what I thought I’d suggest. The Avatar will still need to learn how to breath with fire, of course. And after that… well, defense will be helpful against my father.”

Sokka hates that it sounds sensible.

“All right. We’ll follow your plan.”

If Sokka didn’t know any better he’d say that Zuko looks relieved.

“Listen, I—” Sokka is still talking. The words leave his mouth unbidden, hesitant. “I’m not one of Aang’s teachers, but Katara says he works well with positive reinforcement, and Toph always takes the direct approach: Hard truths, even if they hurt. I guess explaining things helps as well. I… I don’t know what will be right for firebending, but I do want this to work.” And that’s the truth, isn’t it? It is his plan, as much as he may hate the overall situation.

Surprise flickers over Zuko’s face. “Thank you for—” Sokka knows that he is biting back the words ‘your trust’ “—giving me a chance.”

Sokka doesn’t know what to do with the open vulnerability in his face. He always assumed that the scar would keep the expressions from being anything but scowls and rage. He was wrong. So wrong. It makes something in his stomach clench with unease.

And then he remembers Katara’s warning. How easy it will be to want to trust Prince Backstabber, to see him as human, as vulnerable, as trustworthy.

Sokka scoffs and pulls himself up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t abuse it, jerkbender!” He turns on his heal and leaves.

Chapter Text

The second firebending lesson starts both similar and very different from the first one. Zuko would love to tick those similarities and differences off on his fingers, but…

First similarity: He is still bound by earth shackles.

The difference? Now he is also tired and hungry. Tired because kneeling is really the worst position for restful sleep. Hungry because… well, not really hungry, but not sated either. It is early morning – per his request. Morning hours are the most efficient for firebending in his own experience – and the waterbender made sure he only got scraps the evening before.

So, he is not hungry, far from it. But the small bowl not even half filled with rice has left him worried, and whenever he thinks too much about it, phantom hunger-pains twist his stomach. His time traveling the Earth Kingdom has taught him hunger. With the way the waterbender has stared at him the evening before, Zuko can almost believe that she knows and wants him to re-experience this all-consuming gnawing that feels as if his stomach is trying to eat itself.

Which leads to another similarity to the first lesson: being glared at by said waterbender while her brother is standing next to her.

With the clear difference that the earthbender isn’t around this time to watch, or whatever blind girls do. She is still asleep, as are the other three kids from the Invasion who haven’t bothered Zuko, yet. She was also the one who had insisted on showing Zuko some kindness yesterday and had taken the shackles off so he could eat. But then again, she might have only done so because none of them had wanted to hand-feed him.

Another similarity? The Avatar is sitting cross-legged in front of Zuko, still nervously twisting and shifting his weight, to the point that it grains on Zuko’s own nerves. Again.

Zuko looks to the floor between them, at the final difference to his first attempt at teaching firebending. It is the obvious source of the Avatar’s new bound of anxiety: a single, unlit candle.

This is either going to go well, or horribly, horribly wrong.

What did Sokk—the Water Tribe warrior say? Gentle reassurances, hard truths and explanations? Well, Zuko can’t praise what isn’t there, but he can do the other two.

He clears his throat. “All right. Let’s get on with it. As you don’t want to hurt anyone with firebending, we will start with defensive techniques. Usually, I’d have you connect with your inner flame first, but since you are—” to impatient, to nervous. So afraid that you can’t even look at an unlit candle without fidgeting, “—the Avatar, I believe it is better to start with connecting to an actual flame.”

Everybody tenses. Zuko ignores the idiots. He wonders once again how they expect him to teach the Avatar if they are unwilling to extend even a glimpse of trust.

“Now, you’re going to light the candle and—”

“I can’t,” the Avatar interrupts. “I don’t—I’m unable to produce my own—”

“Listen,” Zuko cuts in, “and let me explain the whole lesson before you do anything. I am not expecting you to create your own fire just yet. Like I said, you are going to ignite the candle, with spark-rocks. Then I am going to take control of the flame and breath—”

There is the familiar pop of a water-skin’s cork coming off, and the warrior is spluttering. “I thought you didn’t—”

Zuko’s patience is jittering, and he talks right over them again. “I am going to breathe with the flame, so that you can see what it is supposed to look like.” Then, following a gut feeling, he adds, “Actually, why don’t you get a bowl of water before we do that. Place it right next to the candle.” He is not looking at the Avatar anymore. He is staring down the Water Tribe siblings, barely containing the derision in his voice. “That way you can easily dowse the tiny candle flame should it – for whatever reason – get out of control. Or your waterbendingmaster can. Even Water Tribe warrior here can do it with a bowl of water,” —said Water Tribe warrior preens at his title before remembering to narrow his eyes and look distrusting— “it is only a candle flame. Nothing more.” Nothing to be afraid of.

The Avatar jumps to his feet to get a bucket. Zuko keeps looking at the siblings.

You are feeding into his fear of fire, he tries to communicate with his eyes. Unfortunately, he is certain that the message gets lost in translation. Zuko takes a controlled breath, basking in the early morning sun and stroking his inner fire. He hopes the first two lessons are no indication of every future teaching attempt. It might lead to him exploding and spitting fire at some point. And nobody would appreciate that.

“You accepted me as his teacher. So. Let. Me. Teach,” he snaps for good measure while the Avatar is still collecting water.

The waterbender has that distinct look on her face that Zuko has come to associate with the threat of drowning, but once more the warrior places a hand on her arm and gives Zuko a sharp nod. “We will.” Don’t mess it up or else, no one says. They don’t need to.

If he were someone the Avatar trusts, Zuko would try to address the Avatar’s fears and concerns directly. But given their circumstances this is the best he can come up with. He has some experience with fear of fire after all.

The water, it turns out, is a good idea. The Avatar is less tense once he sits back down, a large bucket towering over the tiny candle. Even the waterbender’s shoulders relax.

“Now, where was I?”

“Breathing,” the warrior supplies.

“Right, thank you. So, I will demonstrate breathing and connecting with a flame. And then I will extinguish it. Afterwards you try to repeat the exercise. Good? Good. Now light the candle.”

The Avatar’s eyes widen again. “Yes, of course.” His voice is faint. His breathing has picked up, and he is looking from the unlit candle to the waterbender and back, again and again. His breath is also getting alarmingly swallow…

“Avatar!” Zuko snaps.

The young boy’s breath hitches, but he focuses back on Zuko, calming, ever so slightly.

Zuko takes another controlled breath and tries to channel his inner Uncle Iroh.

“This is a good exercise, a safe exercise.” He would love to sound calm and understanding like his uncle always does, but his voice is rough, and his words come out sharp. “It helped me immensely back when I was afraid of fire,” he allows himself to be vulnerable, for the boy’s sake, and ignores how everyone’s gazes flicker to the left side of his face. “Now, do you want me to light the candle, or can you do it on your own?”

The Avatar looks back at his master waterbender. This time it doesn’t seem to be in panic, though Zuko cannot read his expression. The waterbender’s gaze, however, hardens.

“Katara, please.”

Maybe Zuko should start using their names in his mind, but he finds it hard with the way they are endearing themselves to him.

“He is our prisoner. We can’t allow him to bend freely.” Her response is as frigid as the ice of her homeland.

At that Zuko snorts, he can’t help himself.

He regrets it immediately when the waterbender’s blue gaze snaps to him, but he has no intention of backing down.

“I’ll reiterate,” he inclines his head in the waterbender’s direction, “master waterbender,” then he points his chin at himself, “mostly immobilized. I wasn’t able to capture the Avatar when I was in full control of my limbs and actually trying. There is no way that you wouldn’t be able to stop me if I tried anything. Which I won’t. I’m not that person anymore.”

“Please, Katara,” the Avatar tries again, and the waterbender nods, but her eyes scream ‘no’ so vehemently that it is almost funny.

A few moments later Zuko is in control of one of his arms again— “the left arm, it is probably his weaker one,” the warrior had said—and rolls it deliberately slow to ease his muscles. Then he holds his hand out towards the candle. It ignites a heartbeat later, sharing its soft orange glow and warmth with them.