Chapter Text
Aang was really beginning to grow tired of Fire Nation architecture by now. All of the cold, smooth metal and the deep blood reds that made up their buildings were not exactly inviting.
It made him feel trapped.
Though, considering the fact that he was in a Fire Nation prison right now, that last part made a little more sense.
The metal walls around him gleamed under the dim firelight. Aang fixed his eyes on the flickering torches on either side of the imposing metal door in front of him.
Aang thrashed again, wrists pulling painfully against the cold metal handcuffs that bound him. He knew it wouldn’t do much, but he had to try regardless.
All of a sudden, the door creaked open. Aang was not in the mood for another monologue from Zhao right now.
Luckily, the spirits seemed to be on his side for now.
The door opened to reveal a man wearing a Dark Water Spirit mask that Aang vaguely remembered seeing in a play before. He was dressed entirely in black, and clutching a sword in his hand, which Aang suspected belonged to a pair.
As the man approached him, he unsheathed the other sword from his back, confirming Aang’s suspicions. He waved his swords elegantly in the air, an action that Aang would be mesmerized by if it were not so threatening.
As the masked man reached him, Aang screamed. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for Aang to draw more attention to himself right now, but he was hoping some random soldier would hear him and bail him out of this.
He really didn’t want to die right now.
With a swift blow, the masked man broke apart the chains that were imprisoning Aang. He gaped at the masked man in shock, before the man exasperatedly swung one of his swords in the air, motioning towards the door.
Whoever this guy was, he certainly had an attitude.
Aang broke from his stupor to follow the man outside of his cell, only to be met with a gagged and tied up guard outside the door. Besides general signs of distress, the guard didn’t seem hurt. Aang could respect that.
As they walked down the halls, Aang spotted the pesky frogs that, in addition to being the whole reason he ended up here in the first place, were also the one thing that could cure Katara and Sokka right now.
“Come back!” Aang pleaded “My friends need you!”
A strong hand clutched his shirt, pulling him back violently and dragging Aang across the metal floors. Aang stumbled back to his feet, doing his best to follow after the man.
He leads them down hallway after hallway, all identical, all seeped in blood red, and all feverishly hot.
The man then stops suddenly, angling his face towards Aang and pointing his right sword towards a small hatch in the floor.
The man brought his swords to his back and sheathed them again effortlessly before kneeling down to peel open the hatch.
There was a fraying rope tied to a big screw in the floor that dangled slightly from the impact.
Aang glanced down, groaning once he realized that it led to the inside of a sewer.
The man nodded towards the hatch, making it clear that Aang would have to suck it up.
He waited for Aang to make his way inside before following him, foot tapping impatiently against the metal floors.
Aang did his best to scurry down the rope as quickly as he could, but that just resulted in him falling on his butt with an inelegant oompf.
The man scoffed down at him.
“Hey! What’s your issue?” Aang hissed
The man’s rebuttal was a smooth, graceful descent down the rope.
“Pshh, show off!”
The man ignored him and yanked the rope away, bundling it and tying it to the belt on his waist.
With a final yank of the rope, he urged Aang forward.
Thankfully, their journey here was not nearly as long as the previous one, and they were quickly able to find a way into the courtyard.
The man glanced around the courtyard and, upon deciding it was safe, gripped Aang’s arm and pulled both of them forward.
The man rushed to a rope that hung off one of the towers. Aang wasn’t sure if the masked man himself had strung it there, but now was certainly not the time for questions.
The masked man jumped on the rope and began scurrying up, with Aang directly behind him.
Their movements stilled when they heard the alarm blaring. Suddenly, all eyes were on them.
Monkeyfeathers!
Aang hoped the soldiers above wouldnt notice, but one of them frantically points down at him and the masked man and begins cutting the rope.
Soon enough, he feels the rope slip from his fingers. He creates a gust of wind to cushion their fall.
The man stands up, brushing away at his clothes. He unsheathes his swords and points to the open gate.
Aang nods, and they make a run for it.
He pushes his limbs more than he ever has before. Soldiers are surrounding them and he needs to do something about it. Quick.
“Stay close to me!” Aang instructs, conjuring up powerful gusts of wind to push the soldiers away.
He finally makes it to the doors, sliding through them just as they are about to close. Even though he made it out, he still hasn’t escaped the guards.
Aang turns to look for his masked companion, only to realize that he never made it to the other side of the wall.
“No, no, no!” Aang mutters.
A guard is closing in on him, spear pointed menacingly. Aang jumps up into the air and quickly pries the spear from the guard, snapping the head off.
Maybe he could use it as a staff?
Aang’s eyes darted around in search of the man, only to find him being incapacitated by a group of soldiers. He makes his way over there and sends a gust of wind to blow them away.
He takes a moment to gauge the state of the masked man. The man uses the respite to shift the swords in his hands, metal gleaming under the moonlight.
Aang grabs onto him and quickly hurls the man onto the fortress walls. He neglects to foresee that there were even more soldiers up there.
Huffing, Aang twirls the makeshift staff over his head and propels himself upwards, legs swinging around furiously to grab hold of the man.
Spears are still being hurled at them, but the man is trying his best to deflect them. The weight and the movement becomes too much, and Aang can no longer keep up the twirling motion.
They promptly crash into the next fortress wall where they are met by, you guessed it, more guards!
The staff slips from his hands and plummets to the ground.
The guards start closing in on them. Aang channels more wind to blow them away.
More of them attempt to scale the walls with ladders, but Aang is able to dispose of them with more bursts of airbending.
“Get on my back!” He instructs the masked man as he takes hold of the ladders, using them like stilts to pass over to the final wall of the fortress.
The ladders begin to crumble underneath them, lit ablaze by a soldier below them.
“Drat!” Aang curses.
Him and the man both jump off in hopes that they can make it over the wall, but their grip isn’t strong enough.
They slip and fall to the ground.
____
The masked man’s twin blades were pressed lightly against Aang’s neck. He was clearly doing his best to avoid drawing blood and hurting Aang. Suddenly, the man went stiff, and dropped down to the ground, gasping in pain.
As he fell, one of his blades slid smoothly across the left side of Aang’s neck. The wound wasn’t deep, but he had a feeling it would scar.
Aang knew that Zhao would be back on their trail soon enough. He crouched down to look at the man. An arrow was lodged in his shoulder, his head tilted to the side. Through the gaps of the mask, Aang could see a very distinct scar marring the porcelain skin.
The only person he knew that had that scar was Zuko.
To confirm his suspicion, Aang gently removed the mask, jumping back when he saw Zuko’s face. He was tempted to run away, leave Zuko behind.
He almost did.
But that would be too cruel. No matter what, Zuko had gone to great lengths to save him. It wasn’t right to leave him here like this.
Reluctantly, Aang did his best to scoop up the unconscious Zuko over his shoulder, wobbling slightly as he adjusted to the weight.
Man, this guy was heavy.
Aang hobbled around for a few steps before he grew more comfortable with the weight. Zuko murmured faintly beside him, clearly delirious.
Aang had forgotten to inspect the man for any wounds, meaning that he had to flee quickly to avoid Zuko potentially bleeding out.
With a newly acquired urgency, Aang glanced back at the soldiers closing in on them and propelled himself forward with a strong gust of wind.
He took out his staff as the terrain around them was beginning to slope downwards. As he reached the edge of the hill, he spun the staff in his hand and jumped forward.
They stumbled slightly, not the smooth glide that Aang was used to.
The trees blurred as Aang accelerated. He turned around in search of the soldiers, only to find nothing but forest behind them.
Good. He should be able to make a landing soon enough.
He continues to soar for a few more minutes, not trusting his knowledge of modern Fire Nation technology to construct a proper estimate of when they would be able to reach him.
Aang lands in a small opening through a leafy canopy. He immediately pries the mask off of Zuko’s face, sighing in relief when he sees that Zuko is still breathing.
An arrow is still lodged in his shoulder, the sight of which made Aang wince.
Hopefully he knew enough first aid to deal with this properly.
His trembling hands make their way to Zuko’s shoulder. He placed one on his chest just in case he started moving around too much.
“This is probably gonna hurt,” Aang warns before pulling the arrow out swiftly.
Zuko groaned in pain, thrashing around in Aang’s grip.
“Sorry, I’m doing my best bud”
Aang rips off pieces of fabric from Zuko’s clothes and uses them to wrap the wound tightly.
He does what he can to prevent infection but he knows that Zuko still needs medical attention. Hopefully they can figure something out in the morning.
___
Morning came slowly, creeping into the sky in bursts of pink and orange.
Aang hadn’t slept a wink.
His mind raced all night, jumping through every hoop imaginable to find a reason for Zuko saving him.
Was this part of a more elaborate plot to kidnap Aang personally?
Did Zuko just really hate Zhao? (Not that Aang could blame him, that guy was a real piece of work.)
It didn't make any sense to him. The fire Nation had Aang right where they wanted him. There was no way he could've made it out of that prison alone.
So why?
The source of all his confusion blinked back to consciousness in front of him, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.
“Morning,” Aang said cheerfully.
“You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is?” Aang prompted, earning himself a half-hearted grunt from Zuko.
“I miss all the friends I used to hang out with…. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we’d get in and out of so much trouble together.He was one of the best friends I ever had,”
Zuko’s eyebrow was raised in question, clearly not understanding the point of this tirade.
“ And he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?”
Zuko scoffs and immediately hurls a huge fireball at Aang.
Caught off guard, he scrambles to dodge it and quickly jumps in the air.
Using that momentum, he jumps up to follow a current of air.
He left feeling more confused than he was before.
The wind felt different, like it carried a change.
—
Aang gently stepped into the ruins where they were settled, giving Katara and Sokka the dumb frogs that almost got him killed.
“Here. Suck on these,” He instructed them.
After handing out the frogs, he made his way over to lay on Appa’s tail.
“Did you make any new friends?” mumbled Sokka, clearly delirious.
“No, I don't think I did.”
“That's too bad..” Katara frowned.
“Yeah, it is,”
Aang nuzzled his face into Appa’s tail. The fur was smooth, gliding easily over his skin.
____
Thankfully, the frogs were able to cure Katara and Sokka. Aang was extremely grateful that Sokka in particular was the first to be cured. Even he did not have the patience to deal with a whiny, feverish Sokka.
Once Sokka and Katara were deemed sufficiently healthy by Aang, they continued moving as quickly as they could. Aang had a feeling that Zhao’s men would be looking for him.
They had travelled for 2 days nonstop until Katara insisted that they stop and rest for a while. Sokka fervently agreed, going so far as to call Aang a “cruel, bald, tyrant!”
Which is why they had now set up camp in the middle of a grove.
Aang, Katara, and Sokka were gathered around a flickering fire, the exhaustion of the day long having seeped through their bones.
Sometimes Aang just wanted to settle down somewhere long enough to be comfortable. He’d probably get bored quickly, though.
Sokka was hunched over and absentmindedly poking at the fire, a dazed expression in his eyes. His hair was loose, which was an incredibly rare occasion.
Aang admired the way it was swept up by the wind with strange fascination.
His eyes eventually drifted over to Katara, who was leaning on an old oak tree.
She gripped an old waterbending scroll in her hands, huffing exasperatedly every time something seemed to stump her. Every subtle shift in her expression caught Aang’s eye.
“So..Aang,”
Aang was startled out of his stupor. His eyes darted back over to Sokka who was now looking at him with a newfound curiosity.
“What’s up?” Aang responded.
Had Sokka seen him staring at Katara? Was he in trouble?
“You never told us about what you did when we were sick,” Sokka began “I was talking to a shopkeeper when we stopped in that village, and he... he mentioned that the Avatar had been captured by the Fire Nation– or at least that was the rumour .”
Aang's throat felt like sandpaper. He swallowed dryly and lowered his gaze.
“Maybe he was mistaken,” He offered, though he knew it was a flimsy argument.
“I don’t know that many bald twelve-year olds with blue arrows all over their body, do you?”
“Well, not anymore!”
Any uneasy peace that had existed before that was now shattered. Aang knew that Sokka and Katara had some idea that he had gotten into trouble that day.
He didn’t know how much Sokka knew about it.
Katara had finally looked up from her scroll, eyes darting between Aang and her brother.
Aang glanced at Sokka, whose expression had quickly crumbled from anger to remorse.
Katara stood and made her way towards the fire.
“Sokka, that’s not fair,” she chided
Sokka gulped.
“I- I’m sorry, Aang,” he offered, voice trembling.
“It’s fine, Sokka,” Aang distantly assured.
“No, it’s not! I just- you need to tell us when you get in trouble, Aang,” he pleaded, making his way over to Aang and attempting to grip his forearm.
“I know,” Aang repeated, shrugging Sokka off.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Sokka retreated.
“I know, Sokka,” he began, “I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay? I’m tired,”
“Goodnight,” Aang offered, and that was it.
“ ‘Night, Aang” Katara cooed
“Yeah, goodnight,” Sokka mumbled
He knew that the moment he stepped away Sokka would have to endure a lecture from Katara. Sokka didn’t mean anything by it, but Aang was oddly content with allowing him to ruminate with his statement.
The feeling was bordering on vengeful. That made him feel nauseous.
He slipped into the bedroll they had set up just a few paces from the campfire.
His eyes burned, but he blinked them shut regardless. He could hear Katara pacing, voice growing higher and higher, but her words were still muffled. He didn’t want to hear any of it.