Chapter Text
When he reached the start of Sozin’s road, the long switch-back path that led up to the dead volcano’s summit and caldera, Zuko found his friends. Toph was bending her metal bracelet into new shapes, clearly bored, but she perked up and poked the others as soon as she felt his approach. They all waved at him, and he couldn’t help smiling back. Sokka noticed the stuffed turtle duck and laughed aloud, though blessedly he refrained from commenting.
Katara knelt next to a little girl no older than Kiyi. When she saw Zuko, Katara nodded, and the little girl ran out into the road. She pressed a chilled water flask—obviously Katara’s work—into his hand.
“I like your turtle duck, Mister Flameo Lord!” she proclaimed loudly and scampered off, quickly vanishing into the throng.
Zuko’s cheeks heated. He closed his eyes and bit down his lip to suppress a yell at his irrepressible friends. When he opened them again, Katara’s face was pink while Sokka and Toph had fallen against one another, laughing their heads off.
Zuko looked for Aang who must necessarily have contributed his wit to this embarrassing scene. He thought he caught a glimpse of a bald head disappearing away through the crowd. Zuko felt an odd flare of irritation followed by a pang of disappointment. Then, suddenly Aang soared out on his glider up over the crowd of people and along the winding road.
Leading the way. Zuko realized. And, watching my back. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Iroh and a detachment of Kyoshi Warriors had been attacked on this road just over a year ago by an anti-government faction seeking to depose Zuko and return Ozai to the throne. Of course, his friend would be here to watch over him as Zuko traversed the most open and exposed part of his path.
Zuko nodded to Katara—the others were still gasping for air around lingering giggles—and set off up the first switchback.
*
Almost at once, the muscles in his legs began to burn with the effort. The sun, high now in the sky, burned down upon him baking his back and making sweat break out on his forehead and down the length of his spine. He drained the water, and tied the empty flask at his side. Zuko’s heart beat powerfully in his chest, and his breath came faster. He lost count of how many watch towers he passed. The people and soldiers who lined the way faded from his awareness.
The walk up Sozin’s road, flame in hand, reminded Zuko irresistibly of his climb with Aang to see the great masters. Memories of the great dragons and of his great-grandfather’s crimes chimed discordantly in his mind and sat in his belly like curdling milk. Sozin had led the hunts that brought dragons to the brink of extinction. He had very nearly destroyed them as surely as he had destroyed the Air Nation. He had led the Fire Nation and the world into a future where the social contract between peoples and between the Fire Lord and his subjects had been reduced to ash. Sozin had pointed the way, and those who had come after had followed eagerly in his footsteps.
For Zuko’s entire life he had labored under the weight of their choices, his feet walking a groove that those before him had dug. For four years he had tried and struggled and failed and, very occasionally, succeeded, in fighting against this weight. He felt guilt and rage rise within him. He stumbled, one foot catching and the other jerking forward and jamming painfully into the ground to stop him tumbling forward.
One foot caught in an old trap; one seeking a new path.
The flame in his hand dimmed to a wisp.
His flame had gone out on that mountain top, vanished in thin puff of smoke just as Aang’s had, leaving them naked and unworthy before the great masters.
But, their worth—the fire in their hearts—had been seen regardless. From the memory blossomed a new understanding. Truth struck his innermost being like a great gong being rung.
He, Zuko, knew what Sozin had not.
What Azulon and Ozai had not.
If the true nature of fire was—not fear or power or anger or destruction—but life, then this was why his forefathers had failed. They did not understand that the will to live and to love would run deeper and truer than any will to dominate or destroy. They had not succeeded, could not succeed so long as some remained who chose to honor life.
Step by step, his feet carried him up the next switchback and the next. The road, the heat, and the pain fell away as Zuko focused all his attention the fire in his hand and meditated upon its light, clarity, and hope.
*
Suki herself awaited him at the lip of the caldera with Aang by her side. Opposite them stood Ty Lee and Mai. Mai’s mother had joined them. Mai’s brother Tom-Tom could have been any of the half dozen children who ran ‘round and ‘round the adults, playing games and shouting.
Zuko nodded at Suki, still rather lost in his meditations. The look Aang gave him was thoughtful. Ty Lee’s attention was fixed on the crowd of people. Next to her, Mai met his eyes. Her lips tilted up a fraction at the sight of him, but her gaze quickly grew concerned as she noted his distraction. There was no time to explain, however.
Zuko’s leg muscles relaxed as the road reached the final rise, then dipped and leveled out. Hari Bulkan, sprawled out before him. Although commoners were not usually allowed within its confines without special dispensation, today the caldera city was open to all. He passed blank faced nobles and scholars visiting Zoryu Hall as well as commoner families who had likely never seen the city and perhaps never would again.
He caught sight of a woman in glasses with a bulging bag on her shoulder. She stood with a group of friends, students judging from their attire. In her arms, she held a volume positioned so prominently that Zuko could not help but read the title: A History of Fire Nation Rituals and Ceremonies… Her arms obscured the dates written below the title, but he didn’t need to see them to comprehend her message. This scholar had researched the history and meaning of the day’s ritual, perhaps to discover the reasons why the Fire Lord was spending his day on aching feet in the fierce island sun instead of holding a military review or taking his ease at a party.
From the way she nodded to him, golden eyes alight in her intense face, Zuko thought she might just approve.
*
The hours had slipped away from him as Zuko had made his way up the long road. Now, under the high lip of the caldera, darkness had begun to suffuse the city. Shopkeepers and lamp-lighters moved about the streets. Light shone from street lamps, shops doors, the windows of homes, and beautiful lanterns strung over it all.
A shout, a child’s voice, broke through his reverie.
“No! Leave it alone. You’ll wreck it!”
Zuko made out a child of about five or six, hanging onto the handle of a paper lantern. The child rubbed their face with a sleeve and sniffed.
“It went out. I told him to leave it be!” The little one looked sadly up at a tall man and held out the lantern, “See, Papa?”
Something in the child’s disappointed face made Zuko’s heart ache.
He went over to the child and knelt down so their faces were on a level. Zuko heard a gasp and a hush fell over the nearby crowd.
“Hello, my name is Zuko. What’s your name?”
“Issa,” said the child. He watched the little face for any sign of recognition, but there was none. Perhaps it was too dark for the young one to make out his scar. Or perhaps their attention was entirely taken up with their broken toy.
“My lantern went out,” the child said sadly. “Papa made it special for me for today, and now it’s ruined.”
“Do you think I could take a look at your lantern?” Zuko asked gently.
“Guess so,” the child said after a moment’s consideration. They wiped their nose on their sleeve, then extended the arm, gooey with snot, in his direction proffering the lantern.
“Oh, Issa,” said the big man who was apparently the child’s father. “I’m sorry your—”
Zuko hastily shook his head at the man, then directed his attention to the lantern. A cursory inspection revealed it had only gone out. Nothing seemed to be damaged. With a careful twist of his wrist, Zuko bent a tiny flame between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and reached through the top of the lantern to press the fire to the candle wick inside.
The lantern glowed anew, its sides showing a pattern of firefly starlings. But the lantern did not glow nearly as much as the child’s face did as Zuko handed it back.
“You fixed it! You fixed it! Papa, look! Daddy, look!” The child turned delighted eyes on a second, shorter and slimmer man who stood just behind the first.
Zuko barely noticed the child’s delight. His skin had gone cold.
The second man took a hasty step away from father and child. Sweat broke out on his face. Zuko saw the man’s fingers curve in what was unmistakably the start of a bending form. Out of the corners of his eyes, Zuko glanced up and down the street searching for any sign of an armored guard. With any luck no one else had heard.
The first man caught the child by the shoulder and tugged them behind him.
He bowed low, an awkward movement given that Zuko still knelt on one knee an arm’s length in front of him. “Your lordship, I—”
Zuko looked up and shook his head in a brief, sharp movement. The man’s jaw snapped shut. There was fear beneath the rage in the man’s eyes. Little Issa looked out from behind his leg, confused and frightened.
Slowly, Zuko extinguished the flames in his hands and tucked both inside his obi. The crowd seemed to let out a collective breath. Slowly he stood, smoothing his features into careful impassivity as he did. He met the eyes of first one man and then the other, then he looked down at the child still huddling behind their father’s leg.
“Thank you for letting me see your lantern, Issa. I think it’s pretty great that your dad made you one that’s so beautiful. I can tell he loves you a lot. In fact, I think we’re very lucky to have families like yours who love each other so much.”
It was probably too much to say and yet not nearly enough. However, Zuko’s presence had already drawn too much attention to this vulnerable family.
“Thank you for brightening my journey, Issa.”
The child squirmed out their parent’s protective hold and came to stand right in front of Zuko.
“I think you should take my lantern.” They held it up and out to him. “Your little fire went out.”
This time Zuko couldn’t stop the tears that pricked his eyes.
“Thank you. It is dark tonight, and your lantern will help me find my way.”
Very, very slowly, Zuko withdrew one hand from his obi and took the small lantern from the child.
He looked at Issa’s fathers who watched him with wide, wary eyes and said, “The Fire Nation is blessed by Issa’s generous heart and your family’s love.”
Both men bowed to him, and hastily the others around them did the same.
Zuko nodded to the gathering and continued on his way.
*
Zuko could hardly pay attention the the rest of his walk. His feet carried him automatically in the direction of the High Temple, though it seemed like the distance between the little family and his destination vanished in a breath.
The next thing he knew, he had reached the wall surrounding the High Temple. The gates were thrown open on a courtyard full of a milling crowd. Holding up the small, decorative lantern Zuko walked through the gathering and mounted the steps before the doors of the High Temple.
Great Sage Shyu awaited him on the covered portico surrounded by the other High Temple Fire Sages. Large bronze torches blazed with fire, bathing the courtyard in flickering light.
Shyu glanced at Zuko’s little lantern with raised eyebrows. As a fire bender, Zuko should be bending his own flame. Yet, the old man appeared amused rather an offended. Nowhere in the ritual’s description did it say that carrying his fire in a lantern was forbidden.
“Did you have a nice walk, your Lordship?” Shyu asked. His eyes traveled over Zuko’s sweating brow, to his dusty robe, and his thin shoes.
“It was—” Zuko stopped, trying to find the right words. “Thought-provoking,” he said at last.
The Great Sage nodded in approval and beckoned Zuko to turn to the crowd.
An acolyte brought a scroll to Shyu and opened it. The sage began to read a passage, but Zuko could not really attend. His mind was entirely taken up by whirling thoughts.
The little girl, unafraid to approach him, unconscious of her words, and unworried about his title.
The expressionless nobles.
The grinning old fruit and vegetable seller.
The soldiers who met him at the harbor, stiff and intimidating, but also facing an uncertain future in a changing nation.
The fierce scholar and her friends.
The generous old man and his grandson.
The child whose lantern he held, and their simple kindness.
Zuko’s heart swelled, and his eyes filled with tears. These were his people, their lives, their loves, their joys, their fears. Standing before his citizens, Zuko yearned for nothing so much in that moment as to be allowed to serve them, to guide them, to find and walk the path to a better future with them.
The flame inside his chest roared high, burning for this dream of a new and better life for the Fire Nation.
Peace. Safety. Love. Joy. The fire sang the song within him.
Overwhelmed and exhausted, Zuko’s legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees on the unforgiving stone.
Above him, barely heard through the rush of emotion, Great Sage Shyu cried out, “Blessings be upon you, Fire Lord Zuko, on this day of all days!”
*
The crowd, unfamiliar with the ritual, required a moment to realize it was over. But, when they did, cheers filled temple’s forecourt. Over the pounding of his heart, Zuko could hear the noise pick up and swell to new heights outside in the city. It might even have carried all the way down to the harbor.
Two pairs of hands helped him to rise: Shyu’s and Iroh’s.
Iroh offered him the royal flame and hairpin in exchange for little Issa’s lantern. With shaking hands, Zuko secured them in their rightful place.
Unless his ears deceived him, Zuko could hear the crowd crying ‘happy birthday’ and ‘long live the Fire Lord’.
From the shadows, Kiyi came running to him, and Zuko hoisted her up onto one hip. He retrieved the lantern from his uncle and waved to the crowd. Then, he allowed Iroh’s steadying hand to guide him away.
Zuko found his mother and his friends waiting for him as he emerged from the High Temple complex. He sighed gratefully at the sight of two carriages come to carry them all back to the palace.
It was late now and the city was dark. The streets of Hari Bulkan seemed to echo the meditative quiet that filled Zuko. Tomorrow would be a day of celebration throughout the capital, but tonight her streets had emptied as the citizens went home to eat and reflect upon what they had seen.