Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird to freakish, Katara,” Sokka said when the water settled.  

They were sprawled on a thick sheet of ice. A moment ago, it had been tilted almost vertical by the torrent of water thrown up by the collapsing ice.   Now that it had leveled out, Katara blinked the salt water from her eyes and looked at the chunks of shattered ice floating around them. She blinked again.  “You mean I did that?”

“Yup,” he answered, gently nudging her with his elbow.  “Congratulations.”

A growing blue glow from beneath the water caught Katara’s attention, and it soon had her brother’s, too.  They stood, shifting away from the edge, and Sokka used his spearpoint to brace himself on the slick ice. Whatever it was, it was rising quickly from below them and it was big.  They staggered as it broke the surface, creating a wave of displaced water.

It was more ice, Katara realized, but not like any ice she had seen before. It wasn’t angular like glaciers; rather, it was smooth, like a water-worn stone.  Stranger still, it still had that unearthly glow, and it emanated from something encased within. She took a cautious step forward, peering at the distorted shape.  She squinted. Was that...a person?   

As if feeling her scrutiny, a pair of glowing blue eyes abruptly opened and fixed on her.

Katara took a stumbling step backward, her eyes blown wide.  “It’s alive!” she gasped. She plucked the whale bone club from her brother’s back and darted forward.

“Hey!” Sokka yelled, grabbing for her.  He missed.  “Katara!” 

“We have to help!” she said, leaping from their ice sheet to the large mass with the glowing center.

“Get back here!”  Sokka yanked his spear from the ice and ran after her, determined to protect her.  “We don’t know where that thing came from!”

Ignoring him, Katara lifted the bone club and brought it down hard on the ice, right in front of the frozen figure.  Sokka made no move to stop her, and she swung again, grunting with the effort.  

The ice split on her fifth strike.  It was a tiny crack at first, hissing with the release of stale air, but it grew until the force of it pushed Katara back into her brother’s arms.  They sat, stunned, and watched as the crack snaked up the surface of the ice bubble, venting air like steam from a pressurized pot. Then the bubble ruptured and a column of blinding blue light shot into the sky.  She and Sokka ducked to shield themselves beneath their raised arms--both from the light, and from the ice shards raining down around them.

Katara lowered her arm slowly as the light faded.  

A tall, slender man with glowing eyes rose from the jagged ice.  He was imposing, with clenched fists and rigid shoulders. For a moment, Katara worried that she’d made a mistake in releasing him from the ice. 

Sokka, who was thinking along the same lines, lifted his spear menacingly.  “Stay away from my sister,” he snarled, but they needn’t have worried.

The man faltered, the light in his eyes faded, and he fell bonelessly forward.  

Katara caught him, barely, and found herself looking down at a badly scarred boy only a little older than Sokka. He didn’t look like any of her own people.  People of the Southern Water Tribe tended to be more solidly built, with warm complexions and blue eyes. This boy’s face was pale, and stood in stark contrast to the large red scar that disfigured his left eye and ear; his features were angular, and he wore his hair in an unfamiliar top knot.

He was remarkably handsome, in spite of the scar, and Katara was not immune to the proximity of an attractive young man near her own age.  She studied him intently, and smiled shyly when his lids lifted to reveal unfocused golden brown eyes. His left eye didn’t open fully, she noticed.  The scarred tissue kept it to a narrow slit.   

“Are you okay?” she asked as he sat up, groaning.  “What’s your name?”

He blinked at her, looking dazed.  “I’m Zuko.“

Chapter Text

“Where--where am I?”  The boy--Zuko-- blinked again, and raised a hand to his forehead.  Then he stiffened, and his eyes focused. Lightning quick, he moved away from Katara and shifted fluidly into a defensive position.  “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where is Fang?”

Katara recoiled from his open hostility, taken completely aback by his sudden change.  She shared a worried look with her brother. “I don’t know anything about a fang,” she offered hesitantly, “but I’m Katara and this is my brother, Sokka.”

“Shhh, Katara!  Don’t tell him anything else.  He was probably trying to signal the Fire Nation with that blue light!”

Zuko scowled, and took a menacing step forward. “You will tell me what I want to know, peasant, and you will tell me now.  What is this spirits-forsaken place, and how did I get here?”  

Sokka snarled, but Katara put a soothing, restraining hand on his arm.  “He’s just confused, Sokka, and scared,” she whispered. “We should try to help him.”

“Fine, you help him,” Sokka replied, uncaring whether the strange young man heard him or not.  He widened his stance. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed, but he made no move to challenge them.  He’d been watching the other boy, and knew he posed no threat.  It was unlikely that the girl would, either. It was obvious from their garb and his frigid environment that these were Water Tribe people.  These savages were lucky to have skill enough to hunt for food. His question now was, North Pole? Or South?

The girl, Katara, took a tentative step forward.  “You’re in the South Pole, Zuko. We don’t know how you got here, but our village is nearby and--”

“Your village,” Zuko scoffed.  Fantastic. A backwater village in the South Pole.  Spirits forbid he find himself near a city. “I’ll find Fang myself,” he muttered.  He turned and began to scale the short ice wall at his back, melting the ice as he climbed to create hand and foot hold for himself.  “Fang?” he called when he reached the top. “Fang!”

His dragon was coiled, pale and unmoving, at the bottom of a shallow crater.  He felt his heart clench. Fang had to be alive.  He would accept nothing else.

He slid down the ice and skidded into his friend’s side.  Fang’s scales were cool to the touch, but not cold, and now that he was closer he could see the slow expansion of his belly as he breathed.  Zuko expelled a relieved breath, and rubbed a hand over the dragon’s faded, blue-tinged scales. He’d only gone dormant in the cold.

“Come on, buddy,” he said to the dragon.  “It’s time to wake up.” He called fire to his hands and rubbed them over the beast’s hide as he moved around towards his head, murmuring softly to him all the while.  “Come on, Fang.” He stroked the large nose, and blew a gentle stream of fire over his face. “Wake up.”

Fang growled deep in his chest, drew in a deep breath, and blew it out again.  Faint streams of smoke rose from his nostrils.  

Zuko repeated the action, this time increasing the heat and volume of the fire, and was rewarded with the opening of large, reptilian eyes.  “There you are.”

Fang lifted his head and gave it a shake, like a sleepy armadillo bear just coming out of hibernation.  

“I know it’s cold.  The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can get out of here and figure out what to do next.”  

Behind him, the crunch of boots on snow and ice alerted him that the Water Tribe peasants had made their way around to an opening in the ice.  He and Fang turned together to regard the pair just as they came into view.

They startled and fell back a step at the sight of the huge dragon.

“Fire Nation!” she gasped, her eyes wide in her pale face, and locked on the flames that still engulfed his hands where they rested on the dragon.

“Fire bender ,” her brother corrected with a grimace, his face as pale as his sister’s.  He took her arm and tugged. “Come on, Katara. It’s time to leave.”

To Zuko’s surprise, she jerked away from her brother and strode forward, closing half of the distance between herself and Zuko. Fang growled in warning, but she didn’t retreat. Where was her fear?  The Water Tribe were a weak race, far inferior to the Fire Nation. Yet her face had hardened, and now sported two bright spots of angry color on her cheeks. “Why are you here?” she demanded. “Have you come to kill us?  To finish what your people started before?”

Zuko frowned, and let his hands fall from Fang’s snout.  An uneasy knot was forming in the pit of his stomach, and he wondered just how long he’d been gone.  “What are you talking about?” he asked slowly.

Sokka scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Oh, you know, just the total devastation of the Southern Water Tribe.  No big deal. I’m sure you forgot aalllll about us while you were off destroying the Air temples.”

Zuko swallowed thickly. “No.  You’re wrong.” They had to be.  Surely his father hadn’t been able to act so swiftly against the other nations?

Sokka’s face reflected his incredulity; Katara’s twisted in fury.  “How can you stand there and deny it?” 

“What, did you hit your head on something?” Sokka added.

Zuko looked between them, the uneasy knot now a stone of twisting dread. “Maybe,” he said, hoping that maybe he was dreaming.  

“Hang on,” Sokka said, dropping his arms and moving up to stand with his sister.  “Let’s pretend for a moment that we believe you, and you really don’t know what we’re talking about.  Why are you here?”

 “I don’t--I don’t know,” he admitted, sighing.  Fang nudged him, pushing him forward a step. He put a hand back on his snout, grateful for the dragon’s presence and support.  “I can promise you that I’m not here to hurt you, and all I really want is to go home.”

Home .  Zuko flinched at his own words, and swung around to rest his fists on Fang’s warming hide, his head hanging between his arms.  He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t ever go home, but he’d forgotten that fact again and each time he remembered, it hurt more than the last.  Damn his father, and damn those blasted fire sages.  

Worse, it seemed that his cowardice had left the way open for his family to carry out their plans.  The consequences didn’t bear thinking about, but he had to know.  

“Prove it,” he demanded roughly without turning to look at them.  He hoped that they couldn’t, and feared that they could.

“Excuse me?” 

“Prove that the Fire Nation attacked you,” he clarified, louder.  He turned and met her angry blue eyes. “I need to know exactly what’s going on before I can do anything else.”

Katara scoffed, but her ire was fading to confusion. “You really don’t know?”

Sokka stared.  “How long were you in that ice?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

The siblings shared another look, and Katara bit her lip.  “The ship?” she asked, and Sokka nodded. “You know we’re not supposed to go there.”

Sokka shrugged.  “I can’t think of any other way.  Can you?” When Katara said nothing, he nodded again, and turned to Zuko.   “Fine. We’ll prove it to you.”

Zuko sagged dejectedly against Fang. If they could prove it...

Katara glanced again at her brother, feeling confused and a little overwhelmed by it all.  She knew, somehow, that finding this stranger had changed things irrevocably, and Sokka’s expression mirrored her own feelings.  She looked back at Zuko. “Well?” she asked. “Are you coming?”

Getting to the old Fire Navy ship proved to be easier said than done.  Given that the ice floes had crushed their boat, they had no way to get back to the mainland much less to the wreck on the other side of the village.  Zuko, as it turned out, provided the solution.

“Can you bend the water to propel us towards the shore?” Sokka suggested, hiss expression hopeful.  “Maybe that mumbo jumbo of yours could actually help us, for once.”

“You’re a water bender?” Zuko asked, his surprise clear.

“Well, I am,” Katara admitted, “but I have no idea what I’m doing.”  She shrugged. “I’m just as likely to push us in the wrong direction, or just spin us in circles.”

“Fang can fly,” Zuko offered grudgingly when it became obvious that no one had any other ideas. He’d already climbed on to the dragon’s neck and settled himself comfortably. 

“Sure he can,” Sokka said dryly, turning from the edge of their little iceberg.  He gestured to Katara. “So can my sister.”

Katara looked up at Zuko, where he sat just behind Fang’s head.  “Can he really fly?” she asked, curious in spite of herself.

Zuko hesitated before answering.  “He can, though I’m not sure he can actually fly now.  Reptiles aren’t exactly fond of the cold.”  

“Excuses, excuses,” Sokka muttered.  “Awfully convenient, I’d say.”

Katara shot him a withering look.  “No, I suppose they’re not,” she said to Zuko. She moved closer and put a tentative hand on Fang’s side, then looked back to Zuko.   “Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“Not if I’m okay with it.”  He reached down, offering his hand.  “Come here, I’ll pull you up.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Sokka asked. Not even Sokka knew who he was talking to.

Katara bit her lip, considering.  Should she trust him? Everything she’d heard about the Fire Nation told her that he was the enemy, but he hadn’t behaved the way she’d expected someone from the Fire Nation to behave.  He’d been standoffish and demanding, but not aggressive. She looked up again, and met his gaze. Zuko’s gold eyes were intent on her, impatient but not hostile. He raised his brows, his impatience growing.  

“Well?” he asked, extending his hand further.  

She took it, and he pulled her up to sit in front of him on the dragon’s neck with surprising ease.  She stared at him, caught off guard by their sudden proximity to one another. She was sitting almost in his lap, his hand at her back and their faces close together.  Katara knew she was blushing, and was grateful that her darker skin helped to hide it. Zuko, who was obviously just as discomfited as she, had blushed crimson.  

“Uhh,” Zuko said intelligently.  

Katara giggled.  “I’ll just, uh, turn.”  She shifted, swinging one leg over the dragon’s neck so that she faced forward, with her back to Zuko.  She was still uncomfortably close to him, but at least they weren’t in one another’s faces any more.

“You have got to be kidding me.”  Sokka, who now stood where Katara had just been, glowered at them.

“Sokka?” Zuko asked, extending his hand again.

Sokka crossed his arms stubbornly, still glaring.

Zuko straightened with a shrug. “Makes no difference to me.  I only need one of you to show me this supposed Fire Navy ship.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Sokka said, scrambling to climb up behind Zuko.  “If you think I’m going to let some Fire Nation jerk fly off alone with my sister, you’re crazy.”

They didn’t end up flying, though.  Fang was indeed too cold to do much more than to swim sluggishly from one ice chunk to another, and that was only with Zuko constantly bending warmth into the dragon.  When they reached the land, all three teens slid from his back and walked beside him.

“Don’t worry,” Zuko said when he noticed Katara’s worried glances.  “He’ll be back to normal as soon as he warms up.”

He fell silent after that, arrested by the sight of a familiar ship in the distance, half sunk and forever frozen in place.  The last of his hope died when they drew close enough to see the tattered remnants of the Fire Nation standard flying from the main mast.  “How long?” he asked, when at last they stood in its shadow.  

“A hundred years, give or take,” Sokka said, staring solemnly up at the ruined hulk.  

Shock iced Zuko’s veins and stole his breath.  He gaped at him in horror. “A hundred years?” he whispered.  “It’s been a hundred years?”

Katara frowned at him, concerned by the sudden pallor of his skin.  “Zuko?”

“They hadn’t yet started when--” he stopped himself, and swallowed.  A hundred years.

“When you were frozen?” Katara offered.

“When I...left,” Zuko corrected.  “There were plans, but--spirits.”   What could his father have accomplished in a hundred years?  But it wouldn’t be his father now; Sozin could not have survived this long.  Azulon, perhaps. That prospect was no more comforting. If anything, his brother was even more ruthless than his father had been.

Sokka’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you know about the Fire Nation’s plans?” he asked.

Zuko firmed his jaw and drew in a deep breath.  “I need to go aboard,” he said, ignoring Sokka’s question.  Perhaps there would be something there, some clue as to his father’s plan.  It was all he had, for now.

“No!” Katara said emphatically.  “It’s forbidden. The ship is probably booby trapped, so no one is allowed in there.”

“Especially not a Fire Nation spy.  Were you sent here to collect something from the wreck?”

“Are you afraid, peasant?” Zuko asked, purposefully goading the boy.  

“Of course I’m not afraid!” Sokka snapped back.  “I’m just smart enough not to go poking around on a ship that belonged to the Fire Nation.”

“So...you’re afraid.”  Zuko smirked.  

“No!” Sokka objected shrilly. “Come on then, jerkface.  Let’s go.”

Katara rolled her eyes, irked both by her brother, and by Zuko’s satisfied smile.  “Boys.” She followed them, though. No way was she going to miss out on this chance to actually see inside the old ship.

It had been there since well before she was born, but she’d never been able to do more than just study it from afar.  It had been a part of the force that had hammered the South Pole, reducing the once great Southern Water Tribe to a scattered bunch of refugees, and ultimately, to a single tiny village barely clinging to survival.  As such, the ship both intrigued and repulsed her.

It was creepy, inside that ship, but not nearly as scary as she’d thought it would be.   Both battle and time had broken the ship. Mangled machinery was visible through shattered bulkheads here, old weapons with rotting handles were propped against the wall there, and everywhere the snow had drifted in irregular patterns to soften the sharp edges.  The result was eerie and shadowed and somehow sad.

“The control room is up here,” Zuko said, pointing to a hatch directly in front of them.  “Then I want to search the captain’s stateroom.”

He opened the door slowly, looking carefully around the space before entering it.  These people weren’t wrong to fear booby traps, and well he knew it. Sokka, unwary of what might be waiting for them, pushed past Zuko.  “Sokka, wait!” he yelled, grabbing for the boy’s heavy tunic, but it was too late. Sokka’s foot had caught on a trip wire, and the clanking of ancient hardware echoed around them.  A metal grate crashed down behind them, trapping them in the control room, and a low rumbling shook the ship.

“Oh, no,” Katara whispered.

“Get back!” Zuko shouted, and this time he was successful in hauling Sokka backward.  In front of them, the deck ruptured. A flare shot up out of the ship, through the roof of the control room, and high into the air.

The three teens stared at one another for several silent moments, then Sokka whirled on Zuko.  “You!” he shouted. “You just signalled the Fire Nation! That’s why you wanted to get on this ship so badly!”

“What?” Zuko shouted back, stunned.  “You’re the idiot who boobied himself right into the trap!”

“Get away from us,” Sokka snarled, pushing Katara back and brandishing his club.  “We should never have trusted you. We never would have come here if it weren’t for you, and now we’re going to have the Fire Nation Navy breathing down our necks.”

Katara looked worriedly between the two boys.  “Sokka,” she began, but he cut her off.

“No, Katara.  Dad told me to protect the tribe.  That’s what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” Zuko said, his expression hard.  “Run home to your village. Protect your people.  I’ll stay here, and wait for my people to come get me.”

“I knew it,” Sokka said, taking Zuko’s sarcasm for sincerity.  “Let’s go, Katara.”

She cast another uncertain look at Zuko, and let herself be led away.

Chapter Text

From his vantage point above the village, Zuko watched the enormous Fire Navy ship plow  ever closer.

Below him, Sokka stood alone, holding his ground on the low ice palisade as he too watched the ship’s approach, his face painted and bone club in hand. Why was he alone? Zuko wondered.  Where were the men who should have stood at his side in defense of their people? The rest of his people were running, screaming for him to " get back!" but Sokka didn’t move. Zuko wasn’t sure whether to applaud his bravery, or deride his stupidity.  (He ignored the niggling thought that Sokka reminded him a lot of himself in that moment.) 

The ship finally stopped just as it breached the packed ice wall, which crumbled beneath Sokka’s feet.   The boy wavered, but kept his footing on the tumbling, shifting snow and again stood his ground.

Everything was still for a moment.  The people who had sought refuge in their pitiful tents re-emerged and began to gather in a frightened cluster near the center of their village, whispering and clutching at one another.  Zuko scanned the group and realized with a shock that all of them were women and children.  Sokka, who couldn’t have been more than 16, was easily the oldest male member of the village.

The viciously pointed prow of the ship suddenly separated from the upper deck with a clank that made the whole Water Tribe jump, and it began to lower like the opening maw of a great beast.  

Zuko didn’t jump; he had been expecting it.

Sokka, still standing apart from his people, scrambled backward out of the way and fell backward into the snow.  Zuko winced. He knew from experience how that sort of thing could sting the pride. He decided that he sympathized with him, even if he was just a pathetic Water Tribe peasant.  There was worse to come.

Zuko shifted his attention from Sokka’s sprawling form to the three figures gathered at the top of the long metal gangway. All three wore familiar uniforms of ember red and ash grey, with tri-pointed helmets and skull-like face plates.  But not entirely familiar, he noted absently. The uniforms had changed a bit since he’d last seen them. The ridiculous points on the pauldrons had been eliminated, but they still wore curling points on the boots.  

The men began to make their unhurried way down towards the gathered villagers, their manner insultingly dismissive, and Sokka ran up to meet them with a yell.  He never even got to swing his club. The man in front kicked it from his hand, then kicked him off of the gangway entirely without even breaking his stride. Sokka landed head first in the snow, his legs stuck awkwardly in the air.

Zuko actually cringed this time.  Sokka’s pride had just been obliterated, right in front of his entire village.  If he was smart, he would stay down.

The villagers shrank back as the Fire Nation men approached, then fanned out around them. Five of them.  Zuko could handle five.

The man in front, clearly the leader, tuned his head slowly as he looked over the gathered people.  “Where are you hiding him?” the man demanded.  

No one answered, and the man removed his helmet.  Zuko was too far away to see the man’s features clearly, but he looked to be the same as every other Fire Nation officer that he’d ever met: arrogant and cruel.

“Where is the airbender?” he shouted, scanning the people in front of him.  

Zuko frowned.  Airbender? Oh .  His people must think that he’d died, and that it had passed to the next element in the cycle.  But why wouldn’t they? It had been a hundred years.

When he still received no answer, the man grabbed one of the old women by her hood, and Zuko heard Katara cry out in alarm.  The officer dragged the woman roughly away from the rest of the group. “He’d be about her age, by now, and master of all the elements,” he shouted, shaking the woman and sounding angry now.  “I know you’re hiding him, where is he?”

Silence answered him once more, and a blade of flame appeared in the man’s hand as he lifted it to the woman’s throat.  Gasps rose from the others, and Katara screamed.

Zuko cursed.  It was now or never.

“Stop!” he shouted, leaping down from his perch above the village and running towards the ice wall.  He scaled it and dropped easily to the other side, in full view of all of the shocked villagers, and the surprised Fire Nation men.  “Stop!” he said again. “Let her go. I’m the one you want.”

“You?” the man said dubiously.  He shoved the old woman back towards her people, and Katara caught the woman with a choked sob.  “You’re from the Fire Nation. You can’t be the Avatar, you’re far too young. An old Air Nomad, perhaps, or young water tribe, but you?  How did you even come to be here?”

Shocked gasps and murmurs had gone through the crowd at the mention of the Avatar, and Zuko gritted his teeth.  There would be no hiding it, now. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I am the Avatar, and I will not let you hurt these people.”

He sank into a defensive pose and bent fire to his hands, staring the man evenly in the face.  A yell from behind the man drew everyone attention. Sokka had recovered and was once again charging the Fire Nation soldiers.  Their leader ducked fluidly, using Sokka’s own momentum to flip him to his back. The bone club had gone flying, and Zuko thought that he would finally give up, but Sokka pulled another weapon from his back.  One look at the officer’s gleeful expression, and Zuko knew that he wanted Sokka to keep trying.  

“Enough,” he said, shoving Sokka back to the ground.  The boy snarled and tried to lunge, but Zuko shoved him again.  “Stay down!” he snapped. “If you keep this up, that man is going to kill you and then who will protect your tribe?”

Sokka bared his teeth, but nodded his grudging agreement.  Zuko stepped back and Katara helped him to his feet. 

“Thank you,” she said, looking at Zuko.  Then her eyes went wide with alarm. “Zuko!  Look out!”

Her expression had been warning enough, and he was turning to block even before she said his name.  He caught the man’s forearms with his own, and found the man staring at him, dumbfounded.

“Zuko?” he whispered.  He disengaged and took a step back.  “Prince Zuko? How?”

Zuko only narrowed his eyes at the man, watching him warily.

“The scar,” the man muttered.  “I should have known. I don’t know how it’s possible, but--you really are the Avatar, aren’t you?”

Zuko nodded once, curtly, and heard another murmur go through the people behind him.

The man’s face morphed into a cruel, avaricious smile.  “Remember this day, men,” he said, once more taking a combative position.  “This is the day that Captain Zhao captured the renegade Avatar prince and returned him to his people for justice.”

Zuko growled and launched himself at the man, attacking both with fire and martial skill.  The other men did not engage, as he’d expected, but maintained their perimeter around the fight.  All the better, Zuko thought. Zhao’s arrogance will be his downfall.

He dodged Zhao’s admittedly skilled attack and went in low, hooking his foot behind the man’s ankle as he bent a crescent of fire towards the man’s head.  He succeeded in unbalancing the man, but a horrified, pained cry had him withdrawing and looking around him.

One of the children had fallen to the snow, an angry burn marring the girl’s face below her left eye, and Zuko felt time slow.  No . He felt the terror of the Agni Kai, the agonizing pain of the burn, the despair that had engulfed his younger self, and his vision went red with fury.

Not again.   He would not be a party to the maiming of children--and yet, he already had been.  He stared at the child, focusing on his breath, remembering Roku’s guidance.

“From the breath, Zuko,” hius mentor had said.  “A firebender’s power comes from the breath, and his skill comes from control.” 

And so Zuko breathed.  He sensed Zhao’s coming attack, and let it happen.  Let the man think he’d been too stunned by the child’s injury to defend himself; the more they underestimated him, the better.  He would surrender now, take the fight away from these simple people, and then he would free himself when no one else could get hurt.

Gran-gran knelt by the injured girl and her mother, trying to soothe parent and child alike.  Katara knew she should try to help, but she could only stare in frozen horror at the blistering red weal on the girl’s face.  It was just like the last time the Fire Nation had raided. Who else would be hurt before they were done? Who would be killed?

Another crackling flare of flame had her leaping away from the combatants and then Zuko was falling, caught off guard by the attack from behind.  Zhao fell on him immediately, pinning his arms and yanking his head back with a fist around Zuko’s top knot.  

“You’re pathetic,” Zhao spat.  “Avatar or not, the histories were right in naming you a weak, honorless coward.” Zuko’s eyes flashed as he struggled in Zhao’s grip, and the man jerked back on his hair.  “Bring chains,” he called to his men, as he continued to sneer down at Zuko. “It’s time that Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation went home.”

“No!”

Katara took a step forward, but Sokka caught her arm.  “Don’t,” he whispered hotly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“But--”

Sokka’s expression softened.  “Getting yourself killed now isn’t going to help him.”

Zhao’s men had bound Zuko’s hands behind his back with heavy chains and hauled him cruelly to his feet.  Zuko grunted, but gave no other outward indication that the wrenching of his shoulders had hurt.   

“It’s alright,” Zuko said, meeting her eyes.  “I’ll be fine.”

Zhao laughed.  “Sure you will,” he said.  Then he turned away and gestured towards the ship.  “Bring him,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ll get the prince settled in his new ‘quarters’.”

The other soldiers laughed, and the one closest to him jerked Zuko around by his shoulder and shoved him forward.  “Come on, prince ,” the man said, his tone derisive.

Zuko looked back at Katara one more time, then disappeared into the ship.  “They’re leaving,” she said, dazedly. “They’re just--leaving.”

“Are you complaining?” her brother asked, bemused.

“Of course not,” she said, shaking herself.  “I’m just--”

“I know,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.  “Me too.”  

Behind them, Gran-gran was ushering the child and her mother back into her tent, where she could tend to the girl’s burn.  Everyone else stood with the siblings, watching the ship slowly pull itself out of the ice and back into open water.  

“This isn’t right,” Katara said.  

Sokka pursed his lips.  “I know.”

“He saved Gran-gran.  If he hadn’t--” Katara swallowed, thickly.  She couldn’t finish that sentence.  

“I know,” Sokka repeated.

“And if he’s the Avatar?”  Katara turned at last to face her brother.  “If he’s the Avatar, Sokka, we can’t let them--”

“I know,” Sokka said again, beginning to look irritated.  “Do you want to figure out a way to go save your boyfriend, or would you rather stand around here wringing your hands all day?”

Katara’s eyes widened.  “Really, Sokka?” He nodded and she threw her arms around his neck.  “You’re the best brother ever! I--wait,” she stopped and pushed away from him.  “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever,” Sokka shrugged.  “I’ll start packing, you work on Gran-gran.”

Katara nodded, sobered by the thought of her grandmother.  She felt certain that the old woman wouldn’t want to let them go.  Maybe it would be better if they tried to slip away unnoticed?

She slipped into the tent where Gran-gran was tending to the child, and saw her smoothing the hair back from the girl’s face.  She was asleep, probably thanks to some of the healer’s herbs, but her pinched expression indicated that she was still in pain.  

“Will she be ok?” Katara asked quietly.

Her grandmother nodded.  “Come, Katara. Let’s leave them in peace.”

They ducked out of the tent and moved a distance away, so as not to disturb the patient and her mother.  “Gran-gran--” Katara began, but her grandmother started speaking at the same time.

“What will you do?” she asked, her eyes bright and expression shrewd.

“Do?” Katara echoed blankly.

“You and your brother will have to go after him, of course.”  

Katara gaped at her grandmother, stunned by the woman’s insight and agreement.

“Don’t look so surprised, child” Gran-gran said wryly.  “I don’t know how you came to know that young man, but it was obvious that his appearance wasn’t a surprise to you or your brother.  Whatever happens next, your destinies have become entwined with his.”

Katara threw her arms around her grandmother.  “Thank you, Gran-gran!” she said. “Thank you for understanding!”

“Enough of that, my dear.  How can I help?”

The next hour passed in a blur for Katara.  They gathered as many of their things as they thought they would need: bedrolls, food, Sokka’s club and boomerang, a spare change of clothes.  Katara touched her necklace, wondering if she should leave it behind. She hadn’t taken it off since her mother’s death, but maybe it would be better to leave it where it would be safe.

“Take it,” Gran-gran said.  “It’s yours; it belongs with you.”

Katara nodded and hugged her grandmother again.  “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered as Sokka joined them.

“The canoe is ready,” Sokka said, “But I don’t know how we’re going to save anyone from the Fire Nation with a dinky little canoe.”

“Oh my,” Gran-gran said, paling.  “Is he a friend of Zuko’s?”  

Katara looked at her grandmother, then followed her gaze to the rise above the village.  There, looking down on them, was Fang. He was a brighter red than Katara had yet seen him, and twin coils of smoke drifted from his flared nostrils.  

“Fang?” Katara said, feeling hope rise.  “Are you here to help us?” The dragon’s head dipped in answer, and Katara grinned.

“Oh, no,” Sokka groaned.  “You just love taking me out of my comfort zone, don’t you?”

They realized quickly that they wouldn’t be able to ride Fang without some sort of harness for their gear.  Fang seemed to understand their quandary, and though Katara could sense the dragon’s growing impatience to be gone, he consented to let them strap an old polar bear dog saddle to his body.  It sat awkwardly behind his head, but it held their things securely in place. Katara knew it wouldn’t be comfortable for him, but she also knew that they would need it.  

“Will that be alright?” she asked him anyway, stroking his side.

In answer, he lowered his head and rolled his large eyes toward her, as if inviting her to climb into the saddle.  

She smiled at him, hugged Gran-gran one last time, and then they were airborne almost before Sokka had settled himself in the saddle behind her.

“Spirits,” she gasped, and then coughed.  Fang had set out to follow the smoke trail from the ship’s engines, and she’d gotten a lungful of it.  “He really can fly!”

“I thought it was too cold,” Sokka yelled, his arms almost painfully tight around her middle.

She tugged at his hand and he loosened his grip enough to be bearable.  “I did too,” she said in answer to his question. “But right now I’m too grateful to ask questions.”

Sokka grumbled behind her, but didn’t really argue with her.

“How long do you think it will take us to catch them?” she asked over her shoulder.  She’d been fretting over the amount of time they’d spent preparing to leave, worrying over every minute that Zuko had been a prisoner, but there had been no help for it.  Even now that they were on their way, she had no idea what they would do when they did catch the ship. How in the world could two teenagers and a dragon do anything against a ship’s worth of fully trained Fire Nation soldiers?

Sokka, for his part, had been thinking along the same lines.  “Never mind that,” he said. “What are we going to do when we catch them?”

Katara drooped.  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Well, figure it out fast.  There’s the ship!”

She looked up.  Sure enough, there it was, small in the distance but rapidly growing larger as they got closer.  The smoke trail had thickened dramatically, and Fang dropped lower to take them out of it.

“Look, Katara,” Sokka said, pointing.  “I think there’s something wrong down there.”

There were now three separate plumes of smoke where before there had been only one, and people roamed over the deck of the ship like a colony of disturbed turtle seals.  “He must have already freed himself,” she said, her spirits rising again.

As they watched, an explosion on one of the upper decks rocked the ship, and it began to list to one side.  

“Do you see him?” Sokka asked.

“No, not--wait, yes!  There!” She pointed, but Fang’s eyes were apparently sharper than theirs.  He was already angling down towards the ship, losing altitude in an increasingly steep dive.  

A fireball soared past them, followed by another.  “They’ve seen us!” she said, unnecessarily. Fang spun in the air, dodging the blasts.  Katara felt her stomach turn, and felt even more grateful for the saddle which kept them anchored to the dragon’s back.  The ship was coming closer at an alarming rate and the fireballs continued to fly past them, but Fang didn’t slow.

“Kataraaaa!” Sokka yelled, while Katara shouted at Fang.

The dragon pulled up at the last possible moment, sweeping soldiers from the deck of the ship with the undulation of his long, sinuous body.  Both Katara and Sokka panted, trying to recover their breath and their wits, when someone suddenly landed on the dragon’s head out of nowhere.  They screamed again, but it was only Zuko.

“Go!” he shouted, clinging to Fang’s scales.  “Get us out of here!”

Fang shot up into the sky, and they left the crippled Fire Navy ship behind.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure it’s safe to stop here?” Sokka asked as he looked around anxiously, stretching stiff muscles.  “We haven’t gotten very far.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Zuko answered, tugging at the straps on Fang’s makeshift harness.  “Fang is exhausted, and so are we.”

Sokka frowned but nodded his agreement.  “Okay, but we can’t stay long. I want to put more distance between us and that Zhao guy.”

“Do we even know where we are?” Katara asked, looking around.  It was a small island with a settlement near the center, but they had purposefully landed on an empty beach.  Trees began just beyond the water’s reach, creating a forested stretch all along the coast in both directions.  Their hope was that the trees would give them cover, and hide them from whoever lived there.

Zuko grunted, lifting the saddle from Fang’s back.  “I have no idea,” he said, dropping the saddle to the sand.  “Somewhere at the southern end of the Earth Kingdom.” He knelt, and began examining the harness straps.  “We’re going to have to alter this, if Fang is going to continue wearing it.”

“Oh sure,” Sokka said.  “Let me just grab my leatherworking kit and I’ll get right on that.”

Zuko glared.  “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to your tribe, Water boy?”

“Do you hear him, Katara?”  Sokka looked indignantly at his sister, obviously expecting her to back him up.  “We save him from a ship full of people who hate him, and instead of thanking us, he insults us!”

Katara paused in unwrapping their food and glanced at Zuko with a frown.  “Actually, Sokka, I think that Fang would have gone to get him with or without us, and since he’d already freed himself...”  She trailed off in the face of her brother’s glare. Clearing her throat, she passed him a hunk of blubbered seal jerky.

“But--!” Sokka spluttered, taking the meat.  Then he focused on the food and his expression lit up as he held it up triumphantly.  “Well, fine. Okay. So he’d have gotten away and Fang would have picked him up, but, if it weren’t for us, he wouldn’t have any food or supplies!”

Zuko scoffed, and Katara cut in to forestall more arguing.  “Here, are you hungry?”

He took the meat with a grunt and stared at it uncertainly.

“How did you get away, anyway?” Katara asked.

“They underestimated me,” Zuko said with a shrug.  “I melted my chains as soon as they left me alone, and then blew the door out of the wall.”  He scoffed, shaking his head. “They didn’t even bother putting me in a cell for firebenders.”

Katara blinked.  “That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”  Zuko ripped a chunk of jerky off with his teeth and began to chew.  Then he stopped abruptly and spat it out.. “What is this stuff?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “It’s not fit for anything but kindling fires!”

“Hey!” yelled Sokka.  “That’s perfectly good seal jerky!”

“Perfectly good for you, maybe, but I’m not used to eating refuse.”  He tossed the rest of his jerky to Sokka. “Don’t you have anything else?”

Katara narrowed her eyes in irritation.  “We don’t mind sharing what we have, but you don’t need to be rude.”

“Speak for yourself, Katara.”  Sokka ripped off another bit of jerky, and continued with his mouth full.  “I don’ wanna share anyfing wif ‘im a’ all.”

Zuko drew himself up to his full height and glared down his nose at them.  “I am a prince of the Fire Nation--”

“Yeah,” Sokka muttered, making a rude noise.  “A disinherited prince.”

At the same time, Katara said, “You might be a prince where you come from, but you’re no prince of ours.  “Stop being such a jerk!”

Zuko’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth.  “You peasants might be used to your savage ways, but you’re going to have to learn some manners if you want to be out in the civilized world.”

Katara’s mouth fell open.  “Peasants?” she screeched. “ Savage ?”  She dropped her food in her pack and marched over to poke Zuko in the chest.  “Why, you arrogant, spoiled, foul-tempered puffin seal!” She glared up at him and poked him again with each insult.  “I’ll have you know that our father is the chief of the entire Southern Water tribe! And as for manners--”

“Wait,” Zuko said, grabbing her hand to stop her poking.  “Your father is the chief? Then what were you doing living in that tiny village?”

Katara yanked her hand away and glared at him.  “That village is the Southern Water Tribe,” she snapped.  “That’s what your people have reduced ours to.”

Zuko staggered, and braced his hand on Fang’s side to steady himself.  “Spirits.” When he looked up again, his face had gone paler than normal, making his scar stand out in stark relief.  “And your father?” he asked. “The men of your tribe?”

“Those who survived went to join the Northern Tribe in their fight against the Fire Nation,” Katara answered tightly.  

Zuko sank down to the sand and leaned back against Fang.  “This can’t be--spirits.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What else have they done?” he breathed to himself.

Sokka answered with brutal honesty.  “From what we’ve heard, there are fewer Air Nomads than there are in the Southern Water Tribe.”  He dropped wearily to the ground across from Zuko, and Katara sat, stiff backed, with them. “But the last time we had news was more than a year ago.  They might be completely gone by now.”

“The Northern Water Tribe has held out, and so have a few places in the Earth Kingdom,” Katara added, “but each time we get news it’s that another place has fallen,”

Zuko stared bleakly at his hands. “This is my fault.”  

Brother and sister shared a look.  He was the Avatar, and had been the Avatar a hundred years ago, when he’d disappeared.  What happened all those years ago? How had he ended up in an ice bubble?

“Zuko--”

Katara’s voice was lost beneath the sudden rumble of Fang’s growl.  The dragon was looking intently towards the trees, with smoke curling from his nostrils.

“Someone’s coming,” Zuko said, leaping to his feet and wheeling to face the woods, automatically assuming a defensive stance.  Katara and Sokka were quick to copy him as Fang growled again. “We know you’re there,” Zuko called. “You might as well show yourselves.”

Several shadows detached themselves from the trees.  They were clearly warriors; Zuko knew from their movements and the way they held their bodies that they were well-trained.  They each wore the same face paint and the same armored green kimonos, and each of them carried golden fans like weapons. All of them were women.  Only one differed from the rest; the one at their center wore a gold headdress instead of a simple green band, and Zuko immediately identified her as their leader.  He watched all of them, but paid particular attention to that one.

“Stay back,” Zuko said, glaring around the semi circle they’d formed in front of him.  “We don’t want any trouble.”

“What are you doing here?” the young woman asked, her tone cold.  “Are you spies sent to drag Kyoshi into the Fire Nation’s war?”

Zuko’s jaw ticked; Katara stepped quickly in front of him and held her hands out in a placating manner.  “We mean no harm,” she said. “I”m Katara, and this is my brother, Sokka. The paranoid one is Zuko. We stopped here only for rest, and to resupply if we can.  We don’t even know where ‘here’ is.” 

The woman’s red-painted eyes narrowed.  “The ‘paranoid one’ looks to be from the Fire Nation, and you have a dragon at your back.  What reason do we have to trust you?”

Katara didn’t know how to answer that question.  She looked to her companions for help, but Sokka only shrugged and Zuko continued to emanate hostility.  “None, I suppose,” Katara said at last. “Except that we could have attacked you when we arrived, but didn’t.”

“We wouldn’t have even needed to land on the island,” Sokka added unhelpfully.  “Fang can breathe fire, and for that matter, so can he.” He hooked his thumb at Zuko, who rolled his eyes.

Katara sighed.  “You’re not actually helping.”

The young woman continued to study them for several minutes, considering.  Finally, she relaxed her posture and the others all followed suit. “My name is Suki,” she said.  “And you’re on Kyoshi Island. We will allow you to stay here for a short time, so long as you do not cause trouble.  Because I do not actually trust you, I am going to leave a scout posted nearby until you leave. Should you do anything suspicious, we will return and your welcome will be revoked.”

Zuko straightened slowly.  “Those terms are agreeable,” he said warily. 

“Very well.”  Suki turned to go.

“Wait!” Katara said, stepping closer.  “We need supplies. Do you have a market?”

Suki’s head tilted. “Do you have coin?” 

“A little,” she answered.  “May I come with you?”

Katara and Sokka both went up to the village, leaving Zuko to stay with Fang.  It was just as well that he didn’t want to come, too. Katara suspected that he would not have been welcome.

They did indeed have a market, and Katara considered her purchases very carefully.  Gran-gran had been able to give her only a little bit of money for their journey; when it was gone, they would have to fend for themselves.

Sokka left his sister to her shopping, and instead followed Suki when she turned to go.  “So, you’re warriors, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Even though you’re girls?” he pressed.

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him.  “Do you think that women cannot be warriors?” she asked cooly.  

“Yes.”  Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he scrambled to recover.  “I mean, no! Ugh, I mean, there are no female warriors in the Southern Water Tribe.”  He shrugged uncomfortably, and decided to just plow ahead. “And I just don’t see how a fan could be an effective weapon.”

“I see.”  She regarded him, her expression inscrutable, and Sokka fought the urge to squirm.  “Would you like to see what an effective weapon it can be?” she asked at last.

“Yes?” He wasn’t quite sure that he knew what she was suggesting, exactly.  He had a feeling that she intended to demonstrate on him, which wasn’t exactly appealing, but he really did want to know.  “Yes,” he said again, more sure this time.

“Come on, then.”  She resumed walking.

An hour later, Suki had done a very thorough job of demonstrating the usefulness of a fan and Sokka thought that perhaps he should have stayed with Katara at the market after all.  He’d lost count of how many times Suki had tossed him to the mat, and at this point, he was glad he didn’t know. He’d tried using his club, his boomerang, and his bare hands. He tried all the things his father had taught him, years ago, and thought that perhaps he’d missed more than he realized.  He tried everything he could think of, and he hadn’t even been able to touch her, much less score a hit.

His father had left when Sokka was still young--too young to have trained him as he should have been trained.  Sokka had tried to continue on his own, but without someone to show him the correct forms, correct his mistakes, and serve as sparring partner, well.  Captain Zhao had been able to swat him away like a gnat, and Suki had been wiping the floor with his face for an hour.

“Do you want to go again?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.  

He took her proffered hand and rose.  “No,” he said, “but I would like to learn from you, if you’ll teach me.”

“Teach you?” she echoed, her surprise evident.  “Even though I’m a girl?”

Sokka blushed.  “Girl or not, you obviously know more than I do.”

She pursed her lips, and at first, Sokka thought that she would refuse. Then her face split in a smile.  “Alright,” she agreed. “But only if you are willing to embrace all of our traditions. Being a Kyoshi warrior is about more than being able to fight, and if you want to learn our ways then you need to learn all of it.”

It wasn’t until after Sokka had agreed to her terms that he learned “all of our traditions” included the green robes and the face paint.

“Did you know that this island was named for an Avatar?”

Zuko looked up from fiddling with his dagger to see that Katara had come back alone, carrying a sack and looking pleased with herself.  He shrugged, and went back to contemplating his knife.

Katara sat across from him in the sand, and continued in spite of his disinterest.  “She was a warrior, just like the ones we met earlier.”

He began paring his fingernails with the blade.  Katara kept talking.

“She was actually the one who created the order.  She wanted to make sure that there would always be someone to protect her home.  There’s a statue of her in the village, if you want to--um--” Katara broke off, remembering too late that they probably wouldn’t want him to visit their town.  She cleared her throat. “Lychee nuts?” she asked brightly, pulling a few from the bag and holding them out to him.

“No.”

“Right.  Maybe later.”  She dropped the nuts back into the bag and fiddled with its drawstring.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Zuko blurted it out without meaning to.  He ground his teeth, not quite meeting her eyes.  

Katara looked at him oddly.  “I’m just treating you like a person.”

“Oh.”

They sat in awkward silence for a while, until Katara couldn’t stand it anymore.  “So, do you...remember anything?”

He looked up at her and frowned.  “About what?”

“About your past lives,” she explained.  “Do you remember Kyoshi?”

“Oh.  No, I don’t remember anything.”

More silence.

“Ugh!” Katara flicked her tunic down and scowled at him.  “Are you always so--so untalkative?”

“No,” he answered, scowling back.  “Are you always so talkative?”

“Yes!”

“Great,” he muttered.  Her expression darkened further, and Zuko thought it prudent to change the subject.  “Did you find anything we could use to adjust this saddle?”

She narrowed her eyes in a way that told him she hadn’t missed his comment, or his evasion.  “Maybe,” she answered curtly. “But I thought that buying food was more important than buying leather.”

Zuko grunted.  “Fang can’t wear this as it is, and the leather is the problem.”

“What, is our Water Tribe gear not good enough for you?” she snapped.

“No, it’s not,” he snapped back, “because it’s hurting him!”  He pointed to a patch near the dragon's leg, and another behind his head. “It’s already started to chafe at his scales, and it will only get worse.  I won’t do that to him.” 

“Oh.”  Katara’s anger faded.  “What needs to be changed?”

“This saddle was meant for a polar bear dog, right?”  Katara nodded and he went on, his voice gentling from its usual harsh tone.  “They’re heavily furred, which protects their skin from chafing. Fang’s scales are tough, but not enough to handle the friction of bare leather over an extended period--especially since it wasn’t designed for him, and doesn’t fit his shape correctly.”

“Hmm.”  Katara looked consideringly at the saddle, then at Fang.  “I think I have an idea, at least for a temporary solution.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. 

She smiled enigmatically and stood, facing the line of trees.  “Hello!” she called, pitching her voice to carry. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice harsh once more.

Katara waved at him to be quiet and moved closer to the trees.   “Suki said that she was going to leave someone here. Can we talk to you please?”  Behind her, she heard Zuko stand and come to join her. He kept his mouth shut, thankfully.  “Hello?” she called again.

A green shape dropped to the ground right in front of Katara, startling her.  “What do you want?” the Kyoshi warrior asked, her voice wary but curious.  

“I was hoping that you could escort us back to the village?”  Katara answered, her rising inflection making it sound like a question.  The girl frowned, and Katara rushed to continue. “There are several things I’d like to discuss with Suki, and anyway, my brother is still up there.  I don’t expect you to leave us alone,” she added when the girl’s frown didn’t fade. “I know you don’t trust us. That’s why we asked.”

The girl glanced at Zuko and sighed.  “Very well,” she said. “But you will walk in front of me and you will keep your hands where I can see them.”

Zuko was silent for the first several minutes.  Katara knew he wasn’t happy. Walking next to him felt like walking with a thunder cloud.  “What is it?” she asked when she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You really don’t like the quiet, do you?” 

She swatted his arm with the back of her hand.  “I’m serious.”

He rolled his eyes.  “If you had told me what you wanted, we could have just sneaked up here without going through all of this.”

“We could have tried,” Katara said.  “But with someone watching us, do you really think we could have been successful?”

“Yes.” Zuko glared at her, inexplicably stung by her words.

“And if we had been?” Katara countered reasonably, and gestured to the young woman striding along behind them.  “Oyaji would have realized right away that we’d disappeared and rightly assumed that we were sneaking around. It would make them trust us less, not more.” 

“Who cares?  We’re leaving as soon as we can.”

Katara gave him another odd look.  “Because it’s the right thing to do?” she suggested.

Zuko scoffed, clearly unconvinced.  

“And besides,” she went on, “what if we need to come back here someday?  Or we run into some of these people somewhere else?”

“Unlikely.” he grunted.

“Not everything has to be taken or demanded, you know.”

“Whatever.”

Katara gave up after that.  The village was in sight, and she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the stubborn prince regardless.

They began to draw attention as soon as they reached the first house.  People who had smiled at Katara earlier in the day now ignored her in favor of watching Zuko.  Their expressions varied from anxious to hostile, and their reactions were not lost on Zuko. 

He whirled on their escort.  “Where are we going?” he demanded.  “Where are you taking us?”

“The dojo is on the other side of the village,” Oyaji said defensively.

“So?  What do I care about the dojo?”

“Zuko!”  Katara hissed, swatting him again.  “Stop it!”

Oyaji crossed her arms.  “You asked to see Suki, so I’m taking you to see Suki--and Suki is sparring in the dojo.”

“See?” Katara said.  To Oyaji she said, “I’m sorry about him.  We're still working on his manners.”

The girl giggled and Katara joined her.  They both ignored Zuko’s indignant objection.

“Come on,” she said.  “The dojo is just up here.”

The dojo was a low building consisting of just one large room.  It had large sliding doors which had been opened wide to let in the sun and the breeze.  Suki was indeed sparring, circling with another of the Kyoshi warriors in the middle of a large green mat.

“We’ll wait until they’re done,” Oyaji said.  She’d leaned against the open door, and was watching the combatants amusedly.  “He’s gotten a lot better,” she observed after a moment.

Katara frowned at her, then looked back at the pair on the mat.  Zuko made the connection a moment before she did.

“Katara,” he began.  “Why is your brother dressed like a girl?”

Chapter Text

They left Kyoshi early the next morning.  The acrid scent of coal smoke heralded the approach of a Fire Nation ship, and whether it was Zhao or not, they didn’t want to be anywhere near it.  

It didn’t change their plans much, as they’d planned on leaving that day anyway.  They woke that morning on the floor of the dojo and, once the threat had been recognized, breakfasted quickly on fried dough as they packed their things.  Fortunately, Katara and Zuko had been able to procure a few old blankets from the villagers the night before and they carried these along with the rest of their things down to the beach.   

Fang was restless, but held himself still as they spread the blankets over his back and strapped the saddle in place.

“I’m sorry my friend,” Zuko murmured as he yanked the last strap tight.  He moved up to Fang’s head and stroked his snout. “These blankets should help, at least until we can get some padding stitched onto the saddle itself.”

Fang nudged Zuko’s chest affectionately, accepting his apology, prompting a faint smile to curve his lips. 

Katara tried not to think about that faint smile, or the way the hint of joy transformed the harsh angles of his face.  

Smile or no, he was still a jerk.

Suki, who had been completely won over by Sokka’s willingness to swallow his pride, sent them on their way with a bag of provisions and a wave.  

“Why didn’t you tell them that you’re the Avatar?” Katara asked when they were airborne, heading in the direction Suki had indicated.  They were arranged on Fang’s back with Katara sandwiched protectively between Zuko in the front and her brother behind. It was not the most comfortable way to travel, squished as she was, but she had a feeling she’d have to get used to it.  “They might have been more receptive to your presence, if they knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” he asked in answer, his voice tight.  “For the same reason I didn’t: they wouldn’t have believed me.”

“It would give people hope, knowing you’re still alive.”

Zuko scoffed bitterly.  “Hope? From a firebender?”

“Not just a firebender, Zuko.  You’re the Avatar.”

“Some Avatar,” Zuko scoffed.  “I let my people ravage the world for a hundred years, and now that I’m here, I can’t even do anything about it.  The only thing I know how to bend is fire--the thing that everyone else has come to hate.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sokka put in.  

“You’re not helping,” Katara said over her shoulder.  

Sokka shrugged.  “Just calling it like I see it.”

Katara rolled her eyes.  “You need to learn the other bending forms, right?”  Zuko nodded curtly, but said nothing. “Well, I need someone to help me learn waterbending.  What if we look for a Water master among the Northern Water Tribe? That way, we can both learn.”

Zuko’s frown deepened.  “I think I’m supposed to learn airbending next.”

“You are?” she asked, surprised.  “Why? Why does it matter?”

Zuko shrugged.  “Something about the Avatar cycle, and the progression of the elements,” he said.  “I don’t really remember much about it, just that Master Roku kept talking about sending me to the Western Air Temple.”

“Oh.”  She mulled this over for a few minutes, trying to consider their options from a logical perspective.  “Well,” she said slowly, “The last we heard, the few surviving Air Nomads had abandoned their temples to hide from the Fire Nation, so we don't know where to find an air master.”  Zuko stiffened at the mention of his people, but Katara pretended not to notice. “We do have a good idea of where to look for a Water Master, though, since we know that the Northern Tribe hasn’t fallen.”

“Unless they have, and we just haven’t heard about it yet.”  

“You’re still not helping, Sokka!”

“But he’s right,” Zuko said, sagging a bit in the saddle.  It put his back flush against the front of Katara’s body, and he snapped back to his previous, rigid posture. 

Katara pretended not to notice that, anymore than she’d noticed his almost smile.  “Well, we have to go somewhere,” she snapped, more tartly than she’d intended. She took a breath, and said more calmly, “Heading north at least gives us a goal, right?  We can always change our plans if we find an air bender, or find out that---that--” She swallowed, unwilling to consider that her sister tribe might have suffered the same fate hers had.  “We can always change our plans later.”

“Works for me,” Sokka said.  It didn’t make much difference to him, after all.  He wasn’t a bender.

“Zuko?” Katara prompted when he said nothing.

“Alright,” Zuko agreed.  

Another thought occurred to Katara, though she hesitated before speaking it aloud.  Zuko wasn’t exactly the gentlest person she’d ever met, and she wasn’t keen on giving him the opportunity to deride her again.  Still, the practice might be helpful to her, as well.

“I don’t know very much about waterbending,” she said a few minutes later, once she’d plucked  up the courage to offer, “but I could try to teach you what I’ve figured out so far.” She held her breath then, waiting for his inevitable dismissal, but he surprised her.

“You’d...do that?”

She blinked, thrown off by his unexpected response.  “I--yes, of course. I want to help, and I need the practice anyway.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, surprising her again. 

Sokka huffed.  Well that’s nice, but what am I supposed to do while you two splash around in a puddle?”  

Zuko shrugged.  “Keep Fang company?” he suggested.

The dragon growled at the mention of his name, and Sokka reached down to gingerly pat what he could reach of Fang’s hide.  “What do you say, Fang? Can we be friends?” Fang growled again, louder this time, and Sokka snatched his hand back. “Was that a yes, or a no?” he asked Zuko.

Zuko smirked and cast a look back over his shoulder.  “I’m not sure,” he said, enjoying the uncertainty in the other boy’s expression.  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Sokka’s eyes narrowed, and his tone was dry. “You’re a cruel man, Zuko.  A cruel, cruel man.”  

They reached the shore of the Earth Kingdom by midday, just as Suki had said they would.  They stopped long enough to eat a quick lunch--”I miss fire flakes,” Zuko lamented, staring at another ball of fried dough--then continued northwest along the shore.  By late afternoon, when Zuko spied a waterfall-fed pool in a clearing, all four of them were ready to stop for the day.

“I’m sore in places I didn’t know could be sore,” complained Sokka, stretching.  “No offense Fang, but you’re no polar bear dog.”

Fang blew a brief bit of flame from his nose, and Sokka leapt back. “Not- not that I’m complaining, mind you,” he lied.  

Zuko smirked.  “I don’t think Fang appreciated your comment,” he said, stretching his own sore muscles.

“Polar bear dogs can’t fly or breathe fire,” Katara pointed out mollifyingly, approaching the dragon.  “Will you let me unbuckle the saddle?” she asked him.

Fang regarded her for a moment with intelligent gold eyes, then lowered himself to the ground.  Katara took it for the acquiescence it was, and began tugging at the straps.

“He likes you,” Zuko said with some surprise.  Fang wasn’t exactly a social creature.

Katara shrugged.  “I like him, too.”  She undid the last buckle and heaved the saddle from the dragon’s back.  “There you go,” she panted when she’d dropped it to the ground. “Did the blankets help?”  She bent to examine the place behind Fang’s leg, and was pleased to see that the chafing hadn’t gotten any worse, at least.  

She turned to Zuko with a smile.  “Do you want to try waterbending?”

It didn’t go well.

“This is the first move I learned,” Katara began.  “It took me months to perfect, so don’t get discouraged if you don’t get it right away.  You just push and pull the water, like this.” The water at her feet began to move, ebbing and rising with her movements.

Zuko watched her intently for a few minutes, then attempted to copy her movements.  Nothing happened. He grit his teeth and tried again, determined to get it, but the water didn’t so much as twitch in answer to him.

Katara stopped bending to watch his technique.  “You’re being too jerky, I think,” she offered. “The key is to get the wrist movements just right.”

“Actually, this could be fun,” Sokka said, sitting down at the base of a tree to watch.  “It hadn’t occurred to me that these lessons might be entertaining.”

Katara and Zuko glared at him, and he mimed tying his lips closed before putting his hands behind his head and looking at Zuko with an expectant expression.

Katara shook her head; Zuko scowled.

“Try again,” Katara prompted.

He tried again, with the same result.  “Like this,” she said, reaching for his hands.  “You have to make the motion more fluid.”

He jerked back with a growl.  “I’m not a child,” he snapped.

“I know that,” she said, frowning.  “I was just--”

“Maybe you should try showing me a different move,” he suggested, interrupting her.

“But this one is the most basic--”

“Maybe it was for you, but it’s clearly not working for me!”

“Alright, how about this one?”  She bent a small amount of water from the pond and stretched it into a ribbon.  “I call this streaming the water.”

Again, Zuko studied her movements carefully, noting the way she shifted her weight and twisting of her hands, before attempting it for himself.

The water ignored him.

“Aargh!” he yelled, blowing a brief spout of flame into the air.  “This is ridiculous. Are you sure you’re showing me the correct forms?”

“Me?” Katara said, her eyes widening.  “I told you that I’m entirely self-taught!  I’m doing the best I can!”

“Well, it’s not good enough!” he snarled, clenching his fists.  “Show me another one!”

“Excuse me,” Katara said, crossing her arms. “You’re the one trying to bend water with your fire forms!”

“Prime entertainment,” Sokka said.  “I could sell tickets!”

“Shut up, Sokka!” they both yelled without looking at him.

“I have never once bent fire like this!” Zuko went on.  “Fire bending requires force and intent!” He punched out with his fist, sending a gout of flame out towards the center of the pool.  “There’s nothing slow or gentle about it!”

“Exactly!  Your movements are too sharp.  You have to actually bend your body in order to bend water.”

She demonstrated the first form again, exaggeratedly slowing her movement so that he could see the way her arms echoed the waving motion she created in the water.

“I am bendng my body!” Zuko snapped, carelessly imitating her move.  “See? My arms are bent!”

“But not--”

“Cleary, my teacher is deficient.” he spat, crossing his own arms. 

“What‽” Katara screeched, and noted somewhere in the back of her mind that she had never screeched so much before meeting Zuko.  “You’re blaming your failure on me ?”

“This was obviously a bad idea.” He moved to where the saddle & harness still sat near Fang, and began untying his pack with harsh, staccato movements.  “I should have just waited for a real water master.”

With a shriek of rage, Katara bent a large wave out of the pond and brought it crashing down over Zuko’s head.  “My only mistake was in trying to help you, you jerk !” she shouted.

Unfortunately, she’d not been discerning in where she put the water, and she doused both Fang and Sokka along with the prince.  Fang reared back, shaking water from his face, and Sokka leapt to his feet with a yell.  

Zuko spun on her, his clothing steaming ominously.

“Watch it, Katara!”  Sokka complained. “Why is it that every time you play with magic water, I end up getting soaked?”

“Congratulations Katara,” Zuko added acidly.  “You just dumped water all over our supplies.”

“I--I’m sorry,” Katara stammered, flushed with embarrassment.  “I didn’t mean--” She sagged. “I can try to bend the water out of our clothes and such, but the food is probably ruined.”

“You’re ‘sorry’?” Zuko scoffed.  “‘Sorry’ isn’t going to replace our food!”

“Don’t worry about it Katara,” Sokka said, wringing water from his tunic and glaring at Zuko.  “We still have a little money left, right? I saw a village nearby before we landed, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

They found the town just as the day’s light turned golden.  Katara had been able to dry their things, mostly, and Sokka was right about being able to replace their food.  They were even able to find a bit more variety at the market there, which pleased Zuko.

Not that he would admit it.

However, the strange old man who had been dogging their steps ever since they’d arrived was a different story.  “I swear, that old man is following us,” he said, glancing behind him.

“You’re being paranoid,” Katara said.  

“No, I think he’s right,” Sokka said.  “He keeps turning up wherever we are, and he’s definitely staring.”

Katara followed her brother’s gaze, and saw the same old man they’d noticed before.  And it was definitely the same man. His bright orange robes, bald head and faded blue arrow tattoos were too distinctive to mistake.  He met her eyes and waved, grinning. “So what if he is?” she said, waving back. “He seems friendly, and he's just an old man.”

“He’s creepy,” Sokka said.

Zuko nodded his agreement.  “I don’t like it. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

They had everything they needed, so they turned back in the direction of their camp.  They hadn’t gone far when one of the many hawkers they’d passed leapt into their path with a grand gesture.  “Oh-ho! You there! I saw you before, and now you’re back. I can see from your clothing that you're world-traveling types.  We specialize in bargains from every nation! Perhaps I can interest you in some exotic curios?”

Zuko frowned discouragingly at the man.  “We’re not interested,” he said.

“What are curios?” Sokka asked at the same time.

The hawker focused his attention on Sokka, immediately recognizing him as the most easily swayed.  “I'm not entirely sure,” the man admitted, putting a friendly arm around Sokka’s shoulders and steering him towards the docks.  “But we got 'em! Come on over, and have a look.”

Katara shrugged.  “Why not?” she asked, and fell in step behind her brother.

Zuko growled, releasing a bit of smoke with his irritated breath, and did the same.

The man led them to a ship, and proudly showed them to a large cabin on the main deck.  It was packed with odds and ends stacked in piles, arranged haphazardly on shelves, and evenhanding from the ceiling.  The siblings wandered around the floating shop, examining this and that as it caught their eye, but Zuko’s attention was immediately drawn to a pair of dao broadswords on the aft wall.  He’d been in far too much of a hurry to grab his swords when he’d fled his father’s schemes, and he missed their comforting weight at his back.

Katara’s gasp had him whirling away from the swords.  “It’s a waterbending scroll!” she said, her voice bright with excitement.  “Zuko, look! This could help us!”

“I already told you it was a bad idea,” he said crossly.  She ignored him, and turned to the man who’d led them there.

“How much for the waterbending scroll?” she asked.

“I already have a buyer for that scroll,” said a new voice.  A tall man with long grey hair, a broad hat and an iguana parrot on his shoulder smiled at them, but his smile was cold and calculating.  “Unless, of course, you happen to have 200 gold pieces on you right now.”

“Oh,” Katara said in dismay.

“Don’t worry sis, I know how to handle this guy.”  Sokka turned to the man with an ingratiating smile.  “You seem like a reasonable man, my friend! What would you say to the price of one copper piece‽” Sokka held up the coin with a flourish.

The man stared at him blankly for a moment, then burst out in uproarious laughter. “The price is two hundred gold pieces,” he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his cheek. “I don't haggle on items this rare.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed.  “How did you come by a water bending scroll, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, I picked it up while we were traveling up north,” the man said evasively.

“Alright,” Sokka continued, now holding up a pair of coins.  “How about two copper pieces?”

The man frowned.  “It's not as amusing the second time, boy,” he snapped.

Katara tugged at her brother’s arm.  “I think maybe we should go,” she said, looking around uncomfortably.  “I feel like we're getting weird looks.”

“I agree,” Zuko said.  “I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

“Fine,” Sokka said with poorly concealed disappointment.  “But I still think we could have talked him down.”

Katara walked swiftly down the gangway and began to almost run when she reached the dock.  Zuko grabbed her arm to slow her, but only a little. He was walking very quickly as well.

“What’s with you guys?”  Sokka asked.

“Those guys aren’t honest traders,” Zuko said.  “They’re pirates.”

“Pirates!” Sokka echoed, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the dock. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Now’s not the time,” Zuko said, grabbing his arm.

“Come on!” added Katara, looking anxiously behind them.

“There they are!” someone yelled from the ship they’d just left.  

Zuko recognized the voice of the hawker, and cursed.  “Let’s go, Water boy!”

Sokka looked back only long enough to see a whole crew’s worth of pirates swarming from the ship, and then took off with a yelp.

It was full dark before they were able to escape the pirates completely, and make their way back to the camp. Thankfully, the moon was bright and allowed them to make their way without any additional light, which would have given away their position.

“What the heck was that all about?” Sokka asked, dropping to the ground beneath the same tree he’d reclined against earlier.  “Why did they chase us like that?”

Katara blushed, looking both guilty and pleased.  “It probably had something to do with this,” she admitted, holding up the scroll she’d slipped into her tunic.

“You stole their waterbending scroll!” Sokka accused, shock written plain across his features.  “No wonder they were chasing us!”

Zuko smirked, and drew the matching dao blades from behind his back.  “It wasn’t just her fault,” he said, flourishing the swords. “I relieved them of something, as well.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sokka said, looking between them.

“They’re pirates,” she said, shrugging.  “I knew before I took it that they’d stolen it from the Northern Water Tribe.  At least now it’s back in the hands of a waterbender.”

“Wait, am I the only one who didn’t realize they were pirates?”  His companions stared at him, and he shifted his gaze away. Apparently, Sokka had been the only one to not notice.  He felt heat climb up his neck and knew he was blushing. He cleared this throat. “Right. Well. Busy night,” he said brightly.  He unrolled his blankets, and climbed into them with a feigned yawn. “Time for bed. Goodnight!”

Zuko scoffed, and Katara rolled her eyes.  “He’s usually more observant,” she said.

“Going to bed is actually not a bad idea,” Zuko replied.  “Those pirates are probably still looking for us, and it would be wise to leave as soon as we can.”

“You can’t leave now,” said a pleasant voice.  “We haven’t had a chance to get acquainted!”

Sokka sat bolt upright in his bedroll.  “Who wazzat?” he asked.

Zuko, fire daggers in hand, shot to his feet.  “Who’s there?” he called.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” said the old man as he came into the light cast by Zuko’s fire.  “I mean you no harm, young Avatar.”

Zuko’s face blanked in shock, and his twin fires disappeared.

“Well that won’t do,” the old man went on.  “Bring the light back.”

Bemused, Zuko bent a ball of fire over his hand, illuminating the equally bemused faces of Sokka and Katara, as well as the amused expression on the old man’s face.

“I told you he was following us,” Zuko blurted.

“Who are you?” Katara asked.

The man, whose weathered face was creased with laugh lines, smiled.  “My name,” he said, “is Aang.”

The three shared a glance, and looked back at him.  Up close, they saw that his blue tattoos were made up of intricate swirling designs, though age had blurred the patterns.  His eyes, also blue, twinkled in the firelight. His robes were well-worn, with neat patches in multiple shades of yellow and orange in places where it had been mended, but clean.  He wore several necklaces of wooden beads around his neck, and--he was floating several inches off of the ground?

“You’re an airbender!” Sokka said.  

“So I am,” Aang agreed.

Katara brightened.  “Are you a master?” she asked, her excitement clear.

“I am,” Aang said again.

“And why should we trust you?” Zuko asked, recovered enough now to glare at the old man.

“Zuko!” Katara said, staring at him.  “We were talking just this morning about the fact that you need to learn air bending!”

“Exactly,” Zuko agreed.  “It’s awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

“It is, isn’t it?”  Aang agreed, grinning at Zuko.  “I had no idea it would be so easy to find you!”

“You--you were already looking for me?” Zuko asked, dumbfounded again.

“Of course I was,” Aang said.  “How could I teach you air bending if I didn’t know where you were?”

“This is insane,” Zuko muttered.  “You are insane. I don’t know where you came from, but you need to leave us alone.”

“Zuko--”

“I don’t trust him, Katara, and neither should you.”  He returned his glare to the old man floating serenely a few feet away.  “Leave,” Zuko said firmly.

Aang sighed.  “Are you certain you wish to send me away? Because--”

Zuko’s ball of fire turned to a flaming dagger.  “I said, leave !”

The old man sighed again.  “Very well. If this is the way you want to do it.”  He waved his hand, lifting himself higher, and floated off on a sphere of swirling air.  “Until the next time,” he called back pleasantly, as if they were old friends.

“What a weird old man,” Sokka said.  

“Very weird,” Zuko agreed.  “I’m glad he’s gone.”

“I’m not,” Katara said.  “You need a teacher.”

“We’ll find someone else,” Zuko said with more confidence than he felt.  He did need a teacher, and if what Katara and Sokka had told him was true, then the odds of finding another air bender were slim.  

He ground his teeth as he climbed into his bedroll.  They would find someone else.

Chapter Text

Zuko had never been his father’s favorite.  He’d never had a chance, as that role had already been filled when Zuko was born.  Azulon, first born son of Fire Lord Sozin, was a bending prodigy, a tactical genius, and a natural born leader who would do what was necessary for the good of the Fire Nation.  Azulon was the perfect son-- had been the perfect son for ten years already-- and Zuko would never, ever compare.

Still, he might have at least gained acceptance had he not shown himself to be thoughtful, compassionate, and utterly unmotivated to master his bending.  

Sozin believed that these behaviors were a result of the Fire Lady’s cosseting, so he heavily restricted the time that they spent together when Zuko was quite young.  Instead, Sozin put Zuko in training with his brother. Teaching Zuko would be a useful experience for the future Fire Lord, and hopefully, Azulon would kindle an appropriate level of fire and ambition in Zuko.

This strategy was successful, but only to a point.  Under his brother’s tutelage, Zuko quickly developed an interest in his bending.  Pain was a powerful motivator, as Sozin had so often remarked, and Azulon was not reticent about employing that particular tool.  Even more effective than the threat of pain was the never-kept promise of approval.  

Azulon touted his own successes in the course of each lesson, and held himself up as the standard to meet.  If only Zuko could perform a task as well as Azulon could, he would prove himself worthy of his family line and and finally earn his father’s approval.  In this way, Azulon inspired a deep competitiveness in his younger brother, but as he had no idea how to nurture that competitive drive, Zuko was taught to believe that he was inherently inferior rather than inspired to improve.  

Azulon, for his part, liked the arrangement no more than Zuko did.  He chafed at the necessity of working with his ‘deficient, useless baby brother’, and felt that his time would be far better spent pursuing his own studies or commanding his own unit of Fire Nation Soldiers, or even working on the clandestine munitions program, developing and testing weapons and equipment for the rapidly growing army.  He was wasted on his brother.

The situation came to a head when Zuko was 13.  

His temper, which had always been short-fused, ignited at last and he attacked his brother outside the sparring ring.  

Azulon, of course, was able to deflect him easily, but the damage was done.  Zuko had behaved without honor and would have to face the consequences of his actions: he would have to face his brother in an Agni-Kai.  

This was enough to make Zuko quake with fear.  Azulon, now 23, was a Fire Master in his own right,  but Zuko had grown to hate his brother and a large part of him relished the opportunity to truly fight him.  He prepared for the Agni-Kai with the same determination he brought to all things, only to discover that he wouldn’t be fighting his brother after all.

His behavior had been an insult to his entire line, and he would therefore be fighting its head: Firelord Sozin himself.

Zuko did not have the hatred he felt for his brother to insulate him from the reality of the fight, and his father frightened him infinitely more than his brother did. He begged for mercy. 

“You will fight for your honor,” Sozin said,  his voice cold and hard.

Zuko sank to his knees and bent his forehead to the floor.  “I meant you no disrespect, Father,” Zuko cried. “I am your loyal son.”

“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!” Sozin snapped, losing what little patience he possessed.

Zuko rose to sit back on his heels, and stared beseechingly at his father.  “I won’t fight you,” he said.  

“You will learn respect,” Sozin snarled, “and suffering will be your teacher!”  

Roku looked away, unable to watch as the Firelord struck his son.  The scent of burnt flesh filled the air only a moment after Zoku’s agonized scream tore through it.

Roku was Sozin’s senior Firesage, and as such, attended council meetings to serve as Sozin’s advisor on matters of spirituality.   He had never liked Sozin, yet his position was a precarious one; he sought to temper the Firelord’s cruel reign in small ways, but was careful  not to overstep himself. He certainly never revealed his personal feelings regarding the Firelord. If he wanted to maintain his role in the royal house, even his very life, he had to remain in Sozin’s good graces.

For this reason, he had always felt a kinship with the younger Prince. It pained him to see the boy suffer at the hands of his family but there was little he could do to prevent it.  Zuko had grown into an angry, conflicted child with a burning desire to prove himself yet no hope of ever actually doing so. Each day, the shining spirit of the very small boy he had been before tarnish just a little bit more.

 “Even if Zuko had been born first,” Sozin had said more than once in the boy’s presence, “Azulon would still be the next Firelord.”

Zuko no longer reacted visibly to that comment, offered as it always was as a statement of simple fact rather than an insult to the child, but Roku had no doubt that it cut the boy deeper each time he heard it.

And each time, Roku could sense the boy burying himself deeper within a callous shell of indifference.

Now, at last, Roku could watch no longer.  He decided to attempt the one solution that actually had a chance of succeeding: he volunteered to take on the remainder of Zuko’s training, to keep him from disgracing himself and their family further, and to attempt to help the boy regain his honor.

Roku feared that he had indeed overstepped himself when he proposed this idea to the Firelord.  It had taken him several minutes to respond, and during that time even the self-possessed Roku had begun to sweat.  Sozin was unpredictable at best; chaotically cruel at worst.  

To his relief, Sozin welcomed the suggestion.  “That pup is a disgrace,” Sozin had said from behind his concealing wall of fire.  “But he is still a Prince of the Fire Nation and must be treated as such. You are of sufficiently elevated status as to be an appropriate mentor for him, and I trust you as I do not trust anyone else to give him the kind of education he requires.”

Roku wasn’t sure that was actually a good thing--did the Firelord expect him to be as brutal as Azulon?--but he was pleased with the outcome of that audience, regardless.  

Roku had Zuko’s things transferred to the Firesages’ wing of the palace immediately, and personally assumed the oversight of his recovery.

Zuko’s face had been badly burned; a grotesque scar was inevitable, and the healers feared that he would ultimately lose his left eye as well.  Roku did everything in his power to ensure that he did not.

They kept him sedated through the worst of it, both to spare him the pain of it and to prevent him from doing more damage by accident.  He set an acolyte the task of combing through the library at the temple, to glean every available scrap of information about healing, and made sure that the healers made use of the information.  It was a slow process, but the boy did heal without infection, and without losing the use of his left eye.

Zuko, when he was allowed to wake and learn of his new circumstances, resisted the change.  He felt that he’d received a demotion, and therefore an insult, in being given to Roku. He perceived an even greater insult when Roku informed him that his bending lessons were to be suspended indefinitely, and replaced with traditional martial arts and blade work.

Sozin and Azulon were of the same opinion, and Azulon in particular made sure that Zuko knew it.   Zuko would have to earn the right to resume his firebending instruction, they said, since it had been his firebending that he’d used to attack his brother.

That was not at all Roku’s reasoning, but he let the misunderstanding stand.  He wanted the Firelord to mistake his motives.  It gave him more freedom to teach the boy as he saw fit.

Zuko had been all but paralyzed in his bending as a result of his brother’s cruelty and his father’s brutal attack.  Roku knew that if the boy were ever to overcome that, he would first need to learn confidence in a completely different arena. 

They began with tai chi to re-strengthen Zuko’s convalescent body, and to lay the groundwork for the intense discipline he would soon need.  

Zuko hated it.

“This is for children, and old men,” he shouted after losing his balance yet again.  “Azulon said that it’s useless to a warrior!”

“Azulon is no longer your mentor.” Roku said placidly, continuing with the exercise.  “Again.”

Zuko growled in frustration, but did as he was told.  Roku, he had learned, would not beat him as Azulon had done, but was inexorable in his teaching.  To resist him was an exercise in maddening futility.

In time, Zuko came to enjoy the slow, intent movements of their daily tai chi exercises.  He learned to control his breathing and blank his thoughts, focusing entirely on the duality of mind and body.  

He didn’t truly appreciate Roku’s months of tai chi until Piandao, renowned blademaster and bladesmith both, arrived to begin his instruction on the art of the blade.  He was, at last, fully recovered from his burns and back at full strength. Piandao, who was still more exacting than Roku had been, challenged the limits of that strength from day one.

Zuko took to it immediately .  The sword moved as an extension of his body, and he found a freedom in its use that he had never experienced before.  In a matter of weeks, Piandao suggested that he learn to work with two blades at once and Zuko liked that even better.  

“It’s uncanny,” Piandao remarked one evening over a game of Pai Sho.  “And yet, there is nothing supernatural about the boy’s progress. It is his discipline and his unflagging dedication which have allowed him to progress so quickly.”

Roku nodded thoughtfully, and placed his next tile on the board.  “He is a remarkable young man,” he agreed. “But I am not so sure that it is his dedication alone.”

“Oh?” the bladesmith quirked a brow.  “You believe there is more to it?”

“I do.” He met the other man’s gaze levelly.  “I think that he is the next Avatar.”

Piando sucked in a sharp breath, knocking the board hard enough to ruin the game.  “Are you certain?” he breathed.

“Not certain,” Roku answered.  “Not yet.”

But he soon would be.  

Piandao left at the end of Zuko’s second year as Roku’s student, and Roku resumed the Prince’s firebending instruction at last.

Zuko was no longer paralyzed in his bending; the intervening time had served its true purpose, and Roku was satisfied.  After his success with Piandao, however, Zuko was incredibly frustrated to find that firebending was as difficult for him now as it had ever been before the Agni-Kai.  

“Remember, Prince Zuko, that power in firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles. The breath becomes energy in the body. The energy extends past your limbs and becomes fire.”  Roku sighed as Zuko went through the set once more, still making the same mistake and becoming increasingly angry with himself.

Roku shook his head.  “Have you forgotten everything that you learned over the last two years?  Should we return to the study of tai chi, so that you can properly harness your breath?”

“No, Master Roku.”  Zuko bent himself into a stiff bow, giving the appropriate response without letting go of any of his anger.

“Very well,” he said.  “Again. And this time, remember your breath!”

Zuko took the time to center himself before starting the set over, and he kept it throughout the exercise.  The difference in his bending was significant. The boy’s face glowed with pride when he finished, and Roku indulged himself in a rare show of approval.

Sozin, after all, must never know that Zuko had become like a son to him--or that Zuko now regarded Roku as a father.  They’d never discussed it, but they hadn’t needed to. Zuko was intuitive enough to know his father’s delicate ego would not tolerate being usurped in any capacity.

Fang arrived a week later.

The dragon’s appearance was both a boon and a bane.  A boon, because Zuko found in Fang the friend that he’d never before been allowed to have.  A boon, too, because it confirmed for Roku that Zuko was indeed the Avatar. 

A bane, because it revealed Zuko’s true nature to Sozin as well.

The Firelord was far too astute to mistake the appearance of an animal spirit guide for anything other than what it was.  Given his plans for the future, Sozin was thrilled to discover that he had the Avatar--the only one in the world who could possibly stand in his way--in his own house, and loyal to him.  

No one told Zuko what Fang's arrival meant.

Firelord Sozin embraced his second son as he never had before, and the sudden acceptance from his true father was a heady thing, indeed.  Zuko continued to work with Roku, but Sozin took a much greater interest in his son’s studies than he had before. Zuko was delighted with the change; Roku was wary.

Roku had not abdicated his role as senior Firesage.  He knew, from discussions he’d had with his leader and from the topics he’d been instructed to research, that Sozin was planning something unprecedented in their world.  He knew it centered around the comet that would appear in their skies in a few short years, and the fleet of Naval ships discreetly growing on the western coast of the Fire Nation’s capitol island.

He knew it would spell disaster for the other nations, just as he knew that Zuko was the key to stopping it.

Once again, though, his hands were tied.  He could not speak against the Firelord; to do so would be to end his own life.  Nor could he attempt to warn the Prince. Zuko was zealous in his loyalty to his father, and would not hear a negative word spoken about him--not even if the word came from his beloved mentor.  Instead, Roku did his best to guide Zuko, to nurture those inherent qualities which had so repulsed his father all those years ago without revealing their continued presence in his character.

Two more years passed in this fashion.  Zuko was drawn further into his father’s sphere, and his relationship with Roku seemed to weaken apace.  In the privacy of his own quarters, Roku despaired.

Zuko turned angry and conflicted once more, because he could not reconcile the vital truths he had learned from his mentor with the truths his father lived by.  Roku’s influence had gone deep and he simply could not approve of his father’s cruel thirst for power no matter how loyal he was. He sought to ignore it instead.

When his father at last revealed the true depth and breadth of his plans, Zuko could ignore it no longer.

Azulon, who had been deeply jealous of the favor shown to his little brother, had cautioned against it from the moment that Zuko’s role in the world had become clear.  “He is still too weak to do what must be done, Father,” he’d said, over and over. Sozin, who was not blind to Roku’s influence over his son, had agreed until now.

“We have only another year before the comet passes over us,” Sozin said firmly, addressing his private council.  “It is time to bring Zuko fully into the family’s legacy, and secure his assistance in bringing it to pass.”

Azulon held his peace as a servant was sent to summon both Zuko and his mentor, knowing that to contradict his father now would be to earn disfavor for himself.  He had not remained the Firelord’s favorite for so many years by being stupid. It was fortunate for him, then, that his brother had learned nothing.

Zuko entered the Firelord’s audience chamber a step behind Master Roku, as befitted their respective positions. Prince or not, Zuko was merely a student; Roku was a Master Firesage, and served as an advisor to the Firelord himself.

It wasn’t the first time that they had been summoned to participate in a council meeting, but it was the first time that they had been invited to attend Sozin’s private war council.  Zuko was filled with hope and fire and the heady rush of being admitted to his father’s inner circle at last. Roku was full of dread, knowing that they had come to another pivotal moment, and that after this meeting, everything would change.

He was right.

“For hundreds of years, the Avatar has kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads,” Sozin began when everyone had taken their seats around the long table.  “As the master of all four elements, the Avatar has been the unbiased keeper of peace, and the undisputed authority on the spirit world. The Avatar cycle has ensured an unbroken line of advocates from every nation on the planet, and with the death of Avatar Kyoshi many years ago, the cycle turned back to us, the great Fire Nation.

“Yet the years passed, and no Avatar appeared among our people.  No one manifested the ability to bend all four elements, and until recently we feared that the Avatar cycle had somehow been broken.  Now, we not only know that an Avatar has indeed been born to the Fire Nation, but we know that the spirits chose to show their favor by giving us an Avatar out of the royal line.

The flame-shrouded figure rose from his throne, and Zuko’s wide, unblinking eyes followed the movement. “My son,” the Firelord said gravely. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, it is time to embrace your destiny.”  A few moments passed in utter silence, and then the Firelord went on. “You are not only a scion of our great family line. You represent the culmination of our great family, and will serve to cement our place in the world.  You are the Avatar.”

Zuko stared at his father, unsure whether he’d heard the man correctly. This was not at all what he’d expected, and couldn’t possibly be true.  But his father wasn’t done yet.

“Your birth into our family shows that the spirits recognize our supremacy in the world.  That you were born to our family now, and coming into your power on the eve of the Great Comet, is a benediction of our rule.  You see, Zuko, it is not your destiny to be a mediator between the nations, as your predecessors did. Your destiny is to unite all of the nations under a single banner: that of the Fire Nation!”

Roku felt the ice slithering through his veins as Sozin spoke, outlining his plans for the comet and his subjugation of the rest of the world.  Roku had been expecting something along these lines and so was marginally prepared. He also had the benefit of decades of experience at maintaining a neutral expression, no matter what happened.  It had served him well in Sozin’s court, though never before so well as it did now. He was sickened by the man’s avarice, and by the position in which he’d placed his son, but he remained as outwardly serene as he’d been while playing Pai Sho with Piandao.

Zuko, on the other hand, had not expected anything like this.  He’d been completely broadsided, and had hardly any experience to draw from at all.  His reactions played out across his face, broadcasting them as clearly as if he’d shouted them.

As the Firelord spoke of invading the Water Tribe on a massive scale, Zuko’s face went pale.  As the Firelord spoke of the ease with which they would annihilate the peaceful Air Nomads, Zuko betrayed his revulsion with a thick swallow.  And as the Firelord spoke eagerly of laying siege to Ba Sing Se, taking the Earth Kingdom stronghold no matter the cost in lives, Zuko began to shake.  

Azulon, who had been stony-faced through the entire speech, now began to smile.  It didn’t matter that Zuko was finally able to school his expression into passivity.  It didn’t matter that he said all of the right words, at exactly the right times. The damage was done; they knew now that an Avatar Zuko would never fall in with their plans, and therefore would need to be neutralized.  

His father’s full favor would return to him, Crown Prince Azulon, where it belonged.

Roku, too, knew what Zuko had unwittingly wrought.  It was a test of his will, that walk from the audience chamber to the Firesages’ wing of the palace, but he did it.  To his everlasting pride, so did Zuko. They walked calmly, even slowly back to Roku’s quarters, discussing matters of no import.  As soon as they were behind closed doors, however, Zuko’s calm fell away and he looked at his mentor with wild eyes.

“I can’t do this,” he said, panic clear in his voice.  “I can’t be the Avatar. There’s a mistake. There has to be.  And even if I were, I can’t--I won’t--not even for him. I suspected something, Master Roku, but not this!”

“Be calm,” Roku said, placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders.  “Breathe.”

“But--”

Roku shook him, surprising him into silence, and said again, “Breathe!”

Zuko obediently drew in a deep breath and sought his center.  It was difficult to find but the doing of it was calming, as Roku had known it would be.

“Now you must listen, Prince Zuko.”  He paused, and Zuko nodded. “You are indeed the Avatar.”

“But master--”

“You must listen!” He shook him again, this time raising his voice enough to make Zuko’s mouth drop open.  Roku had never before raised his voice. “You are the Avatar,” he repeated, once more in his normal, placid tone. “ have known it since Fang came to you, and so has your father.” 

Zuko’s expression creased with hurt and confusion, and Roku sighed sadly.  

“I could not have told you.  I have known for a long time what your father is, and to reveal your nature too soon would have been to your detriment.”

Roku paused, allowing Zuko to realize the truth of that for himself.  “And now?” Zuko asked, and was proud of the calm control he’d achieved.  

“Now, you must leave.”

His calm disintegrated and his eyes widened with panic once more.  “Leave?”

“Your father and your brother are both too shrewd to have missed your initial reaction.  Everyone in that room knew that you would never be the puppet your father wishes to make of you.”

Zuko breathed deeply, seeking that control.  “He’s going to try to kill me, isn’t he?” he asked.

“No.”  Roku shook his head with a sad smile.  “No, he would undoubtedly go to great lengths to keep you alive.”

“Because he knows that if I die,” Zuko said slowly, “the Avatar cycle will continue and a new Avatar will be born to the Air Nomads.”

“Yes.”

Zuko nodded and met his mentor's eyes.  “Where can we go?”

“Not we, Prince Zuko." Roku replied.  "You.”

“Master Roku, no!” Zuko shook his head vehemently.  “You have to come with me. If you stay, my father will know you helped me.  Your life will be forfeit.”

Roku nodded serenely, acknowledging the likelihood of that outcome.  “I have known this day would come since the moment I saw the dragon.”

“But--”

“You must take Fang, and flee as fast and as far as you can.”

Zuko stared at his mentor, feeling a cold numbness steal over him.  “I’m never going to see you again, am I?” he asked, flatly.  He wasn't calm.  He was just numb.

“No,” the man confirmed.  “Now go. You’ve stayed too long already; I don’t know how quickly your father will move against you, and I want you to have as much of a lead as possible.”

“My swords--”

“There’s no time, Zuko!”  Roku shoved a small pouch into Zuko’s hand, then pushed him towards the door.  “Just go! Find Fang, and go !”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Prince Zuko.” Aang said pleasantly.

Zuko sat bolt upright, startled into wakefulness, and stared at the monk, flabbergasted.

He was Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, second son of Fire Lord Sozin, and had enjoyed all of the privileges that came with such a lofty position.  His meals had been served to him without prompting. Servants jumped at his command. No one had dared address him by anything save his title, and always with the utmost respect.  And, for the last two years of his life in the palace, he had enjoyed quite a bit of power in his father’s court.  

It didn’t matter that a hundred years had passed for everyone else.  Time had stopped for him while he was in that bubble. For him, it had been only a few days since that spirits-cursed meeting with his father.  For him, only a few blurred days with Fang had occurred between leaving Roku in his quarters and waking to find himself in a frozen wasteland with a pair of blue-clad bumpkins. 

Considering all of that, Zuko thought that he had been doing rather well in dealing with his changed circumstances.  Now, though, faced with an eccentric old monk sitting near his bedroll and juggling nonchalantly, Zuko was at a loss.

“Breakfast?” Aang asked, still juggling.

“What is wrong with you?” Zuko demanded.  “I tell you that I’m not interested, I tell you to leave us alone, and you come back to bring us breakfast?”

“Why not?”  Aang shrugged without taking his eyes off of the fruits he was juggling.  There were five of them, which might have impressed Zuko under other circumstances. “You wouldn’t listen last night, so I’m giving you another chance.”

Zuko threw his hands in the air.  “Of course I wouldn’t listen! I don’t trust you!”

“And I don’t blame you for your reticence, given your personal history,” Aang said reasonably.  “But the fact remains that you need to learn airbending--all the bending forms, really-- before the end of next summer, and I am the last airbending master in the world.”  

“You know his personal history?” Katara asked, stretching.

“You’re the last airbender?” Sokka asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Why by the end of next summer?” Zuko asked, his eyes narrowing.

They all spoke at once.

“One at a time, please.  My old ears aren’t what they used to be.”  Aang suddenly tossed one of the fruits to Zuko rather than back into the air, and Zuko caught it reflexively.  

“You couldn’t just hand it to me?”  Zuko snapped, irritated. 

Aang tossed the next to Sokka, the third to Katara, and gave the fourth to the big-eyed, huge-eared little creature sitting on his shoulder.  “Here you are Momo,” he said affectionately, scratching the creature's head between its enormous ears. “Enjoy your breakfast.” Aang smiled as the animal did just that, then bit into the fifth fruit himself.  He closed his eyes and hummed with pleasure.

“What is this anyway?” Katara asked, turning the fruit in her hands.

“A plum,” Zuko said absently.  He was still glaring at Aang.  “We’re leaving as soon as we can pack up,” he announced.  “You’ll have to find someone else to bother.”

“Zuko!”  Katara frowned at him.  “Stop being so rude!”

Aang waved her concerns away, and his eyes twinkled suspiciously.  “I guess I will,” he said.

“I mean it!”

“Don’t worry,” Aang said with an innocent smile.  “I won’t try to hitchhike on your dragon.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes further, not at all trusting the man.  He was up to something. Then another thought occurred to him, and he glared at Fang in betrayal.  “Hey, how do you keep getting past my dragon anyway?”

“Relax, Zuko!” Sokka said.  “Fang wouldn't let him get so close if he were dangerous, right?  He’s just a harmless old man.”  He paused, and shot a sheepish look at Aang.  “No offense.”

“None taken.”  He smiled affably as he tossed the pit of his plum behind him and rose to his feet on a gust of air.  “Come on, Momo. We should leave the Avatar and his friends to their packing.”

“Aang, wait,” Katara said, and stood to follow him.  

“Don’t worry my dear,” Aang reassured her.  “I suspect that our paths will cross again.”

“You’re planning something,” Zuko accused.

“Of course not.  I simply go where the wind takes me.”  Aang turned with a wave and disappeared into the trees once more, whistling merrily.

Zuko was not reassured, and urged his companions to hustle.  “Don’t forget,” he said when they started to complain, “that those pirates will still be looking for us as well.”

That reminder sobered them, and they worked quickly to repack their things and resaddle Fang.  They were in the air in less than half an hour.

“Do you think the pirates will try to follow us?” Katara asked, staring at the port town disappearing to their left..

“I’m not sure,” Zuko answered, with a glance in the same direction.  “I don’t think they’ll actively try to hunt us, but they won’t hesitate to retaliate if they ever get the chance.”

“Hmm.  Good riddance, then.”

“Umm, guys?” Sokka said, his voice curiously high.  “You’re not going to believe this, but there is a giant fuzzy thing with six legs following us.”

“What?” Zuko looked below them, but could see nothing trailing them on the ground.  “I don’t see anything!”

“Nope, not down there.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing directly behind himself.  “It’s a flying giant fuzzy thing with six legs.”

Zuko’s head whipped around, and he cursed.  “A flying bison,” he muttered. “ Of course the crazy old man has a flying bison.  Anything else would have been too easy.”

“What do you want to do?” Katara asked.

“Keep going,” Zuko replied grimly.  He’ll have to give up eventually, right?”

He didn’t.  Three days later, staring at Aang across a campfire as he ate his dinner of nuts, jerky and fruit, Zuko was beginning to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to shake the old airbender, and considering the possibility that maybe he should just give in.  Aang hadn’t done anything to them, only followed them and joined them in their camp in the evenings.  

Well, that wasn’t quite true.  Aang had somehow managed to put frogs in Katara’s bedroll, much to Sokka’s amusement.  Katara had been less pleased, and Zuko thought it was just dumb. If he was to be believed, the man was 112 years old, but was behaving like a 12 year old.

“What, exactly, do you want?” Zuko asked him at last.

“I want to teach you airbending!” Aang answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Katara thought it was pretty obvious--he had already said as much, more than once--but she held her tongue.  If she’d learned anything about Zuko in the last several days, it was that irritating him was akin to poking a tiger seal.  

Sokka, apparently, hadn’t learned yet.  “Duh,” he said, even though his mouth was full of lychee nuts.

Zuko glanced repressively at him, then returned his attention to Aang.  “And if I agreed, then what?” 

“Then we will go to the Southern Air Temple to begin your training.”

“The Southern--!” Zuko said, his eyes widening.  “But that’s days’ travel in the other direction!”

“Well, I tried to tell you days ago,” Aang said, blithely ignoring Zuko’s darkening expression.  “But you wouldn't listen. What was I supposed to do, toss a weighted net over your head and drag you against your will?”

“Of course not!” Zuko snapped.

“Ah, then I should have insisted more firmly, perhaps?  Followed more closely? Convinced Fang to follow me even without your agreement?”

“You’re trying my patience, old man!”  Zuko snarled.

Aang sighed, deflating a bit.  “Roku told me about your temper,” he said.  “I’m glad he’s not here to tell me ‘I told you so’.”

The color drained from the prince’s face, and Katara put a hand on his arm in concern.  “Zuko?” she asked.

“You know Roku?” Zuko whispered. “He’s still alive?”

Katara and Sokka exchanged a confused glance.  Aang obviously knew more about Zuko than any of them had realized.

Aang smiled sadly.  “No, he died when I was still a young man.  But he told me about you, the lost Avatar.”

Zuko lowered his eyes, stricken by the news.  He had expected it--after all, Roku had been an old man when Zuko left and he’d fully expected his father to kill him in retribution.  Hearing it confirmed, though...it was a blow.

“Roku never gave up on you, you know,” Aang said quietly, his usual levity dampened.  “He never stopped believing that you would return. He made me promise to help you, if I could.”

Zuko stared sightlessly at the fire, unconsciously manipulating it with small movements of his hands.  Roku .  A staggering sense of loss crashed over him, suddenly.  He had lost everything .  Everyone he had known, every thing he had known, was gone.  Even the world he’d been familiar with had ceased to exist.

“Zuko, are you okay?” Katara asked, looking worriedly between the two men.  “What is it? Who is Roku?”

Fang nudged Zuko’s side with his snout, reminding him that at least he hadn’t lost the dragon, and Zuko was both startled and mortified to realize that he was crying.  He stiffened his spine. A Prince of the Fire Nation did not weep like a child. He didn't wipe his eyes; the tears hissed as they evaporated into the air, burned away by the heat of his bending.  “Fine,” he said after taking a moment to ensure that he’d regained control over himself.  His voice still sounded thick, but he couldn't help that.

“Does this mean that you agree to let me teach you?” Aang asked hopefully, brightening once more..

Zuko scowled.  “You’re sure there’s not another Air Master, somewhere?” he asked for form’s sake, but the heat had gone out of his voice.

“Nope!”  Aang said pleasantly.  “Just me.”

Sokka shrugged.  “I’m in,” he said between bits of jerky.

“Me too,” Katara agreed.  “You’re supposed to learn Air first anyway, right?”

Zuko sighed in acquiescence.  “Does it have to be the Southern Air Temple, though?  We must be closer to the Western Temple.”

“Not really.”  Aang said. “And it does have to be the Southern Temple.  That’s my home, and happens to be perfectly set up for training new airbenders.”

For the first time since waking from the ice, Zuko was finally able to ride Fang on his own.  Aang had offered to let Katara and Sokka, and even Zuko if he chose, to ride in the large saddle strapped to the air bison’s back.  It had been designed for him, and for accommodating long journeys. 

“Appa would be happy to carry you,” Aang said, hugging the beast’s wide nose.  He looked like a child snuggling a giant stuffed toy.  “Just come and say hello.”

Both Water Tribe siblings leapt at the offer, and Zuko scowled.  He should have been happy; riding sandwiched together for days on end had not been terribly pleasant, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit abandoned.  He shoved the feeling down and told himself sternly that he was glad to have his space.

And he was.  The next few days were far more comfortable than the previous days had been, and passed more quickly.  He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, until the stress of their pursuer was resolved and a plan had been established.  He'd rediscovered the joy of soaring through the sky with Fang, soaking in the sun's warm energy, and it was like a balm on his soul. Still, he found himself missing the company and was glad each evening when they stopped to make camp.

At least, he was glad until he asked Aang to begin his training while they were still en route.  It had seemed like a good idea; after all, he needed to learn as quickly as possible, right?  But Aang’s idea of 'training' differed greatly from his own.

“You want me to what ?” Zuko shouted at his supposed teacher, staring incredulously.

“Brush Appa,” the monk repeated serenely.  He was once more floating above the ground on his spinning ball of air, his legs crossed, tattooed hands fisted and pressed together, and his eyes closed.  Lotus pose, he called it.

“Absolutely not,” Zuko snarled, gesturing toward Sokka and Katara.  “That is servants’ work. Make one of them do it.”  

“Hey!” Sokka said, indignant.

“We are not servants!”  Katara snapped at the same time, her cheeks flushing with anger.

“They are not my students,” Aang replied.  “You are.”

“Listen, old man, I am--”

“A prince of the Fire Nation, I know.”  Aang waved vaguely towards where Appa’s saddle already sat on the ground nearby.  “His brush is in with my things.”

Zuko’s clenched fists began to smoke as he stared at Aang.  “Brushing that hairy monster has nothing to do with airbending.” He said, his tone almost civil.

“Are you the Air Master now, Sifu Hotman?”  Aang asked, cracking open one eye. Zuko glared murderously, but said nothing.  “No?” Aang went on. “Then go and brush Appa.” His eye closed, and that one small movement a clear dismissal.

“AArrgghhhh!” Zuko yelled, spouting flame.  He kicked the dirt, furious with Aang for his ridiculous notion of 'training' and with himself for asking to begin in the first place.  “I can’t believe I’m doing servants’ work,” he muttered angrily, hunting for the brush.

“And do be gentle,” Aang added.  “His skin is delicate.”

Zuko’s arms were sore by the time he finished brushing the giant bison, and worse, the wretched thing had licked him from bottom to top as he walked away.  Zuko cursed and leapt out of reach, but the damage was done. His clothing was damp with foul-smelling saliva, and it was cooling unpleasantly on his skin.

“Aww,” Aang said delightedly, clapping.  “He likes you!”

Sokka and Katara took one look at the disheveled prince and the way his hair stood up at odd angles, then looked back at each other and dissolved into gales of laughter.

Zuko’s temper had been hanging only by the barest thread, and their laughter snapped it.  He gave vent to it through his bending. “Shut up!” he yelled, bending a flaming arc into the air between himself and the others in his group.

Katara and Sokka shrank back with a gasp; Aang only tsked at his show of temper.

Zuko looked away from the wounded expressions on the siblings’ faces and muttered something about a bath.  When he returned some time later, clean and dry and no longer smelling like bison spit, he found that the others had already gone to sleep.  It was probably for the best. He was fairly certain that he owed them an apology but had no idea how to give it.

Zuko was taciturn the following morning, which suited Katara just fine.  He’d frightened her with his firebending, and she was still angry with him for suggesting that she and her brother act as servants.

Servants indeed, she thought to herself.  The man was infuriating. Every time she thought she might be starting to like Zuko, he said or did something that reminded her in no uncertain terms that he was a spoiled, temperamental, arrogant jerk.

That evening, Zuko did not suggest more training. He made it a point to be coolly polite any time he had to interact with any of them, but otherwise kept to himself.  It felt to him like he’d lost something the night before, but he didn’t know what it was or how to recover it. On top of that, he wanted very much to avoid repeating his chore from the night before.  

They’d finished eating and Zuko was just starting to relax when Katara offered to “take a turn” brushing Appa.  She’d seen the brush while packing away the rest of their food, and held it up.

“How kind of you to offer!” Aang said, beaming.  “You are a lovely young woman, did you know that?  But no, my dear. Brushing Appa each evening is a part of Zuko’s training.”

“Yes!”  Sokka thrust a fist into the air with a whoop.  “No Appa-brushing for this guy,” he said.

Zuko ground his teeth and glared at Katara; she glared right back.  “Why did you remind him?” he bit off.

“What makes you think I needed a reminder?” Aang asked, assuming his floating lotus pose.  “I was waiting to see how long you would try to put it off.”

Zuko snarled again and snatched the brush from Katara’s hand.

“Just don’t lick me this time, okay?” he snapped at Appa as he approached. Appa whuffled in answer, and settled in for a nice long brush as Zuko got to work.  His stiff muscles protested at first, but as they loosened the discomfort faded to a dull ache.  Zuko ignored it, knowing that the sooner he finished the sooner he could rinse off and go to sleep.

“We should be there by this evening,” Aang announced the next morning over breakfast.  

“What is it like?” Katara asked, tying her bedroll.  “The Air Temple I mean.”

“Are there many people there?” Sokka asked.

“No, not many,” Aang answered, looking a little sad.  "We abandoned our temples many years ago, and have only recently begun to return.  But there are a few, and more come to join us every now and then.”

Aang didn’t mention the Fire Nation, but he didn’t have to.  They all understood. 

“Are there any more sky bison?” Katara asked, her voice hesitant as if she weren’t really sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Appa’s mate is there,” Aang said, the sadness fading from his expression.  “And their calf.”

Katara squealed happily at that, but Sokka pulled a face.

“What is it with girls and babies?” he asked no one in particular.

Once, Zuko might have agreed with Sokka, but now he found himself agreeing with Katara instead.  Knowing that there was new life among the Nomads helped to assuage a bit of his guilt.

They didn’t stop in the late afternoon as they’d done the two previous days.  They were close, Aang had assured them, and if they pressed on they’d reach their destination that night.  Zuko had been doubtful, but the city in the sky came into view just as the sun was setting.

From a distance, the Southern Air Temple looked untouched.  The golden light of the setting sun set fire to the white marble, making it look to Zuko like one of the paintings he’d seen in the Firesages’ library.  As they got closer, though, Zuko’s heart sank into a ball of lead in his stomach.

The Southern Air Temple was in ruins.

“It isn’t what it used to be,” Aang said lightly when they landed, looking around himself with obvious fondness, “but it’s home.”

Most of the main buildings still stood, at least, but the smaller buildings had not fared so well.  Black soot along the tops of the walls showed where thatch and timber had been burned away, and the remnants of large scorch marks could be seen on almost every surface.  Strange, irregular little hills dotted the complex. It took him a moment to identify them as the rubble of collapsed walls, grown over with weeds and grass.

Zuko, afraid that he might vomit,  turned his back on all of it and looked out over the cloud shrouded mountains below them.  The irony that he was once again turning away rather than dealing with what was in front of him was not lost on him.

“It is not your fault, Zuko.”  Aang had somehow appeared at his side, and stood somberly looking out over the mountains as well.

“I could have stopped this,” Zuko whispered brokenly.  “I’m the Avatar. I should have stopped this!”

Aang shook his head and turned to face him.  “No, Zuko. You could not have done anything to stop this.”

“But--”

“No!” Aang said firmly, and for the first time since meeting him,  he reminded Zuko of his old mentor.  “You had only just learned the truth, Zuko, and had not even mastered your firebending!”  Zuko’s eyes flared at the perceived insult, but Aang went on inexorably. “Your pride has no place here, in all of this.  The truth is that if you had tried to stand and fight all those years ago, you would have been imprisoned or killed. This is how it is meant to be, Avatar Zuko.” 

Avatar Zuko.   The words fell into the space between them like stones.   Aang held his eyes, and Zuko felt the weight of the man’s many years in that gaze.  He thought he might suffocate beneath it. “This is your destiny,” Aang said quietly, and Zuko closed his eyes, unable to bear the weight any longer.

The quiet intensity of the moment was shattered by the gleeful cry of a child.  “Grandfather!” 

Aang turned to his grandson with a smile, leaving the Avatar to work through their short conversation on his own.  “Bumi!” Aang cried as the boy wrapped him in a hug. “Have you been good for your mother?”

Aang left Zuko to his own devices for the rest of the night, and must have insisted that the others do so as well.  Even Fang kept his distance. Zuko wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not; in his current mood, he probably would have blown up at anyone who tried to approach him.  Then again, the solitude left him with far too much time to think. He paced restlessly, all but pulling at his hair as he stalked back and forth.

Breathe.

He could suddenly remember it with perfect clarity, as if Roku stood with him in the empty courtyard, and he stopped pacing to draw in a shuddering breath. 

You must breathe, Prince Zuko, said his memory of Roku.  Breathe, and find your center.

Zuko breathed.

Chapter Text

“You want to teach me how to bake,” Zuko said flatly.

“There’s a trick to getting it to come out just right,” Aang said, gathering ingredients and laying them out on the rickety wooden table.  “Stoke the fire in the oven, would you?”

“First it was brushing Appa--”

“Don’t forget to do that today,”  Aang interjected. “You didn’t do it yesterday.”

Zuko’s jaw flexed in irritation, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Then you made me get up early to feed Momo,” he went on.

“Well, the little guy has to eat, doesn’t he?”

“And now,” Zuko continued, the previously flat tone of his voice rising as he spoke, “rather than working on any actual airbending, you want to teach me to bake ?”

“You didn’t stoke the fire,” Aang observed with a frown.  “If the oven isn’t just the right temperature, the cakes won’t turn out right.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”  Zuko leaned back and thumped his head against the wall of the tiny kitchen. “Why are you wasting my time?” 

Aang frowned at him reproachfully.  “I’ll have you know, ‘Sifu Hotman’, that I learned my ancient cake-making technique from the great Monk Gyatso himself!”

“Oh, well excuse me, then,” Zuko replied sarcastically.  “No offense to your Monk Gyatso, but I’m going to go do something useful.  Like--”

“Brush Appa,” Aang said brightly.  “Excellent idea, Sifu Hotman.”

Zuko kept up a steady stream of curses as he made his way to the courtyard where Appa spent most of his time.  He continued to curse as he worked methodically down the bison’s body, focusing most of his invectives on Aang and his forebears, but not sparing Sokka, Katara, his father, the Fire Nation as a whole, or even Fang in his litany.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Katara observed dryly.

Zuko straightened from Appa’s hindquarters so quickly that he nearly lost his balance.  Katara was seated on a low wall behind him, idly swinging her feet so that her heels bumped against the stone.   “What are you doing here?” he snapped.  

“Poking a tiger seal, apparently,” she muttered.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “What?”

Katara sighed.  “Nothing. I just...I just wanted to see how you’re doing, I guess.”

“Checking up on me?” he scoffed.

“Well, yes.”  Katara blinked, then shrugged uncomfortably.  “You were really upset last night, and then we didn’t see you again.  Aang told us to leave you alone, but I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Well I’m fine, so you can go back to--to whatever you were doing before.”

Katara hopped down from the wall with a scowl.  “Fine. I’ll leave you to it, Your Highness .”  She spat the last two words acidly, leaving no doubt in Zuko’s mind that she had not meant them as a sign of respect.

Zuko watched as she stalked off, her steps stiff and angry, and realized that he hadn’t actually wanted her to leave.  He turned back to Appa with gritted teeth and began cursing once more--at himself.

It would be weeks before Katara tried to approach him again.

“The cakes are ready,” Aang said hours later.  

Zuko had long since finished with Appa and was now going through the calming tai chi exercises he had learned when he was still healing from the Agni Kai.  Appa snoozed blissfully behind him, his quiet presence a surprising comfort to Zuko.  At the sound of Aang’s voice, though, the bison roused himself with a grunt and licked his friend in greeting.

Aang laughed, and stroked down Appa’s nose affectionately.  “I see you remember your tai chi ,” he observed to Zuko.  “I’m glad.”

“I find it...calming,” Zuko said, still progressing through the movements.

“I’m glad,” Aang said again.  He was quiet after that, and after a few minutes of watching him, Aang stepped away from Appa to join Zuko in the exercise.  Neither of them spoke until were done.

“Come,” Aang said when they finished.  “It is time for cake.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, but held his snark behind his teeth.  He was trying, damnit.

Aang led him back to the small kitchen they’d been in that morning, and Zuko saw several beautiful cakes and fruit tarts spread out on the table to cool.  “Aren’t they lovely?” Aang asked with pride.

“They look delicious,” Zuko admitted.  His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t bothered to eat breakfast that morning.  

“Baking requires the right balance of ingredients, time, heat and ventilation to turn out correctly.  It requires patience, and practice.” Aang pushed one of the tarts towards Zuko, inviting him to eat. “The result is worth the effort, is it not?”

Zuko finished chewing and swallowed.  “It is,” he allowed, grudgingly.

“So, tomorrow, we bake?” Aang asked, raising a brow.

Zuko sighed in defeat.  “Tomorrow we bake.”

“Excellent.”  Aang grinned, and with a spiraling motion of his hands, he bent two of the cakes into the air.  “Now come. The true secret in all of this is in the gooey center, and I’ll show you why.”

Curious, Zuko followed Aang out of the kitchen and onto a balcony, where he peered over the rail.  Below them, Sokka and Katara sat talking idly with Aang’s wife, Opal as they watched the children play.  Aang looked at Zuko with a wicked gleam in his eye, then bent the cakes over the ledge.

“Hey!” Katara screeched, leaping to her feet and shaking fruit and pastry from her face and hair.  Momo appeared at her shoulder, eating bits of cake still stuck in her hair, and she screeched again.

“What in the--” Sokka shouted.  He wiped the gooey fruit filling from his face and stared at it for a moment.  “Cake?” He smelled it, then stuck his fingers into his mouth. “Ohh, that is gooood,” Sokka moaned.  “Who would waste a perfectly good cake like this?”

“Who indeed?” Opal said dryly, looking up at Aang’s unrepentant face.  

Zuko stared at Aang, mystified.  “You’re insane,” he said. “You’re completely insane.”

Insane or not, Zuko began the next morning in the kitchen with Aang, learning how to bake cakes and tarts.  While they cooked--”Go on now, I don’t need your help for this part”--Zuko went to Appa’s courtyard and began the long chore of brushing him from head to foot.  And again, when he finished, he went through his tai chi exercises as Appa drowsed in the sun.  This time, though, Aang did not come to find him, and Zuko took himself off for a bath before going to look for him.

He found Aang on the balcony outside the little kitchen, seated in the lotus position with a tea set arranged on the floor in front of him.  “Good afternoon, Prince Zuko,” Aang said without opening his eyes.

“Will we be training this afternoon?” Zuko asked.  

“Yes.”  Aang opened his eyes and smiled up at Zuko.  “Please, join me. Today, we will make tea.”

“Tea.”  Zuko stared at him, bemused but not at all surprised.  He’d half expected something along these lines. Aang nodded, and Zuko sat.

“You see, Zuko, anyone can make hot leaf juice, but where is the joy in that?” Aang asked.  “There is an art to brewing the perfect cup of tea.” He lifted the full tea pot and handed it to Zuko.  “Would you do the honors?”

Zuko took the pot and heated it until he could feel the water bubbling inside.  

Aang took the pot back, grasping it carefully by the wood handle, and poured for both of them.  When he set it back in its place on the ground, Zuko reached for his cup. Aang stopped him with a puff of air.

“We must let it steep,” he said.  “Meditate with me.”

Zuko pressed his lips together, feeling increasingly frustrated.  He had already done his tai chi for the day, why did he need to meditate now?

“Meditate,” Aang said again, “and be calm.”

“I am calm!” Zuko snapped.  

Aang cracked an eye open and raised a brow, deepening the wrinkles across his forehead.  

Zuko sighed.  “Fine.” He copied Aang’s lotus pose and closed his eyes, his attention focused on his breathing.  His irritation faded.

“There,” Aang said.  “You see? That’s much better.”

Zuko drew in another deep breath, and reached for his tea once more.  Aang stopped him again. “Now what?” Zuko asked.

“The tea is still too hot,” he said.  “We must cool it, to precisely the right temperature.”  Aang twirled his finger above his tea cup, creating a tiny eddy of air that carried away some of the steam.  “Now, you try.”

Finally, some airbending!  Zuko focused on his teacup and twirled his finger above it just as Aang had done with his.

Nothing happened.

“Try again,” Aang said.

Zuko tried again, and this time, he was successful in bending the air.  Unfortunately, he bent it with enough force to swirl the tea right out of his teacup and into his face, soaking him down the front.  Zuko froze and stared at his finger as hot tea cooled on his skin and dripped from his face.

Aang burst into laughter.  “Oh, you should have seen your face!” he hooted.  “Priceless!”

Zuko frowned at Aang suspiciously.  Had he--?

“It works every time!” Aang went on, confirming Zuko’s suspicion.  “I can’t wait to tell Tenzin, your reaction was even better than his was!”

Zuko leapt to his feet and glared down at the old man literally rolling on the ground in his laughter.  “You did that on purpose!” he shouted, every bit of calm blown away by anger and humiliation. “How dare you!”

“Oh, Zuko,” Aang wheezed, pushing himself up laboriously and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  “If only you had seen your face, you would know exactly how I dared.”

Zuko snarled and strode away, his fists smoking.

The next day followed the exact same pattern, though of course Zuko did not allow himself to be tricked a second time.  He blew on his tea until it was cool enough to drink.

The next several days, in fact, passed in the same way.  Zuko chafed at what he saw as an unnecessary delay in his training, but he kept a vicious hold on his temper.  Aang left more and more of the baking to Zuko, until one day a few weeks later, Aang left him to do it all on his own.  Zuko went through all of the steps, and thought he was doing a good job of it. When he was done, though, they looked nothing like Aang’s.

“You just slapped the frosting on there,” Aang said critically.  “It looks awful!” Then he airbent them off of the mountain. “Again.” 

Zuko growled, clinging to his temper with his fingertips, and did it again.  He took more care this time, and the results were much better.

This time, when Aang returned to survey the fruits of Zuko’s labor,  he clapped his hands together in pleasure. “Oh, well done my student!”  Then he lifted the cake in the air and bent it into Zuko’s face. Aang clapped again.  “ And you got the gooey filling right!”

Zuko didn’t bother wiping the pastry from his face.  Momo had appeared as if by magic, and was already working on cleaning up the mess by stuffing it into his face.

“Absolutely insane,” Zuko muttered.  Then he went to take another bath.

That night, as Zuko lay staring at the partial ceiling in the ruin he’d claimed as his own, it finally occurred to him to wonder why Aang had been focused on tea and baking and brushing Appa.  The question seized him, and he wrestled with it until the stars had trekked all the way across the night sky and the sun began to warm the horizon.  Then, at last, he rose and began his morning routine.

He fed Momo.

He brushed Appa.

He was especially deliberate with his tai chi exercises, focusing wholly on breath and body.

He bathed thoroughly.

He baked both cakes and tarts, making sure to get them just right.

Then he prepared the perfect tea, and waited patiently for Aang to join him.  

His efforts were rewarded with the expression of pure delight that suffused his teacher’s face upon entering the kitchen.  “That looks wonderful, my student!” Aang said, beaming. “Your best yet! Who were you planning to-”

Then, smiling serenely, Zuko smashed the prettiest cake of all of them right into Aang’s face.

In the quiet that followed, Zuko felt his own face split in an unfamiliar expression. He was smiling . Then, for the first time since coming out of the ice, Avatar Zuko laughed.

That afternoon, they finally began airbending.

“The key to airbending,” Aang said, “is to be like the leaf.  Flow with the movement of the air.”

They stood together in an area of the Temple that Zuko hadn’t seen before.  In front of him, a large circular area was filled with a series of irregularly placed vertical planks.  Each one was marked with the ancient elemental symbol for air.  

Behind him, it seemed that every last soul in the Southern Air Temple had gathered to watch.  Tenzin, Aang’s son, stood with his wife Pema, and their children, Bumi, Jinora and Meelo. Aang’s wife, Opal, stood a few feet away with Sokka and Katara, and several others that Zuko hadn’t met stood beyond them. Even Fang and Appa had come to see what the fuss was about.  

Zuko wished that they would all leave.  The audience made him nervous. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide his discomfort, and gestured to the weird planks with his chin.  “So what is that?” he asked.

“That,” Aang answered, “is a time-honored tool that teaches the most fundamental aspect of airbending: to airbend, you must be like the leaf.”

“Uh-huh.”  Zuko frowned at the planks.  “And how is this tool going to help me 'be like the leaf'?”

“Ooh, Grandfather, can I show him?” Jinora asked, excitement lighting her face.  “Can I please?”

Aang smiled indulgently at the girl and nodded his agreement.

“Thank you, Grandfather!”  Jinora leapt delightedly into the air, clapping her hands--she reminded Zuko a great deal of her grandfather in that moment--and ran forward to stand earnestly in front of Zuko.  “Those are gates,” she told him. “The goal is to weave your way through the gates and make it to the other side without touching them.”

“And you have to do it while they’re spinning!” Bumi yelled.

Zuko frowned.  While they were spinning?

He looked to Aang, who responded by bending a gust of air through the “gates” that set every last one of them to spinning rapidly.  

“Jinora?” Aang prompted. 

She beamed again, bowed respectfully to her grandfather, and then began to gracefully  navigate her way through the course, shifting and spinning in no apparent pattern.

“Airbending is all about spiral movements.” Aang said as they all watched Jinora. “When you meet resistance, you must be able to switch direction at a moment's notice.”

“Uh-huh,” Zuko said again.  His reflexes were incredible; this should be no problem at all.  Right?

“Are you ready?” Aang asked.

At Zuko’s nod, Aang spun his hands in a practiced movement that sent another gust of air careening through the course.

Zuko took a breath, and launched himself forward.

Katara watched, eyes wide, as Zuko successfully evaded the first three obstacles.  He wasn’t as graceful as Jinora had been, but he did it. He did not evade the fourth.  Katara winced as Zuko collided forcefully with the hard wooden plank, then proceeded to ricochet between them until they spit him out on the other side. 

She looked at Aang, whose placid expression showed none of his thoughts.  Katara bit her lip. Zuko had pushed himself to a sitting position, but rose no further.  He just sat there, propping himself up with one hand, and holding his head with the other.  She wanted to go check on him, to help him stand, but had been summarily rebuffed the last time she’d tried something like that.

Zuko stood, wobbling dizzily, and she gave in to the urge to help him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, placing a hand under his arm to steady him and mentally bracing herself for rejection.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, jerking his arm away in an automatic response.  He regretted the words immediately, and followed her when she flinched back. “Katara,” he began, reaching for her, then let his hand drop.  “I’m sorry.” Katara’s mouth fell open. Zuko winced inwardly, knowing that she had good reason to be surprised. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way.  Thank you, for coming to help me.” He bowed to her, a brief demonstration of respect that shocked her as much as his apology had, and returned to Aang’s side.

Katara stared after him in open-mouthed shock.

“You know,” her brother said as he drew alongside her, “ordinarily I’d make a joke about flies getting into your mouth but I think I’ll let it go this time.”

“He just--did he just apologize?” she asked.

“Did a good job of it, too.”  He threw an arm around his sister’s shoulders and led her towards the others,  who were drifting away from the training grounds. “Aang might be a crazy old man, but he apparently knows what he’s doing.”

When Zuko joined them for dinner that night, the first time that he had done so since arriving at the Temple, he was battered and bruised but looked pleased with himself all the same.  “Any progress?” Katara asked tentatively.

In answer, Zuko lifted a hand with a spinning gesture, and a tiny sphere of swirling air formed on his palm.  He grinned. “A little,” he said.

“That’s wonderful!” Katara said, smiling back at him.  

“Zuko is doing very well,” Aang said, sitting beside Katara, in front of their fire.  “Airbending styles vary greatly from firebending forms. Zuko is essentially unlearning firebending, so that he can learn airbending.”

“Huh,” Sokka said.  “I guess that makes sense.  I mean, I’m no bender, but I’ve noticed that Katara’s bending looks very different from the airbending we’ve seen.”

Aang nodded.  “Each element requires a different style of bending.  It’s possible to blend them, once you know what you’re doing, but it’s a very advanced skill.”

Momo appeared at Aang’s shoulder, and Aang absently fed him a bit of fruit. When no more was forthcoming, he leapt to Sokka.

“Oh no you don’t, you little glutton,” Sokka said, shrugging him off.  “This is my dinner.”  

Katara rolled her eyes as her brother shoved a large piece of jerky in his mouth.  “Yes,” she said dryly. “Because Momo is the only glutton here.”

“Hey,” Sokka said, his mouth still full.  “A mansh gotta eat.”

“What about the Dao?” Zuko asked Aang suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

Aang blinked.  “Your swords?”

“Yeah,” Zuko nodded.  “I noticed a long time ago that I sort of...merged my bending and my sword play when sparring.  Is that what you’re talking about?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”  He smiled, clearly pleased with Zuko.  

Sokka’s chewing slowed, and he stared thoughtfully at Zuko.

“What?” Zuko asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Could you teach me?” Sokka blurted.  Zuko blinked at him dumbly, and Sokka flushed.  “The swords, I mean.”

“You want to learn to fight?” Zuko asked.

Sokka’s gaze dropped to the fire.  “You saw what happened, that day on the ice.  I didn’t stand a chance against Zhao, and a day’s worth of training on Kyoshi is nowhere near enough.”

Zuko eyed him consideringly.  “It would be good to have someone to spar with,” he said.  Then he shook his head. “I have to focus on my airbending, Sokka.  That’s why we’re here in the first place.”

Aang looked from one to the other of his young companions slowly.  These three would face quite a lot in the coming months. As much as Zuko needed to learn bending, they needed to learn to work together and to trust one another.  “Start with the tai chi , I think,” he said, nodding.  “All three of you.”

“Me too?” Katara asked, surprised. 

Aang nodded.  “I think you will find the skills and forms you learn in tai chi will lend themselves nicely to your waterbending.”

“Oh!” She glanced at Zuko, who nodded.

“We’ll start in the morning,” he said.

Sokka was disappointed to realize that they’d not be starting with the swords right away, and was even more disappointed when he realized ‘ tai chi ’ was less about fighting and more about strength, balance and defense.  

“If it makes you feel any better, I felt the same way about it.” Zuko offered.  “There’s nothing exciting about tai chi , but it’s an excellent foundation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sokka grumbled.  He crossed his arms and stared expectantly at Zuko.

“Right.”  Zuko shifted his gaze to Katara, who was looking at him in excited anticipation.  He cleared his throat. “I’ll just--um--start with the basics.”

“Novel idea,” Sokka muttered.

“Shut up, Sokka!” Katara hissed.

Zuko cleared his throat again.  “So, the basics.” Zuko placed his feet about shoulder width apart and straightened his spine so that he stood like a puppet held aloft by a string attached to his head.  “The first thing is posture, and breathing. Stand straight, and focus on the breath as it enters and leaves your body.”

Katara copied Zuko’s position promptly, while Sokka took the time to roll his eyes first.  Then he sighed. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it. Who knows, maybe the crazy old man was right, and they’d learn something useful.

“Close your eyes, and clear your mind.  Focus all of your attention on your breathing.  Keep it slow, and measured, in time with me. In, out.  In, out.”

Zuko’s voice, always low and a little raspy, took on a sonorous quality as he gave instructions. When she closed her eyes, eliminating the distraction of visual input, Katara felt it slip over her senses like warm water.  He made it easy to relax, and let go of conscious thought.  

“You’ll maintain this same slow rhythm for each of the forms.  The first form is called the phoenix in flight. As you breathe in, lift your arms to either side of your body like the rising of a bird’s wings.  As you breathe out, lower your arms back to your sides and bend your knees, allowing your body to sink down a few inches.”  

“I feel silly,” Sokka complained.  He shattered the meditative calm, and Zuko sighed.

Katara giggled.  “You ought to,” she said, smirking a bit.  “You look like a sleepy arctic hen.”

“So do you!” Sokka squawked as he glowered at her.

 “Again,” Zuko said sharply, drawing their wandering attention back to him.  “We’ll do each form three times before moving on.”

“Right.” Katara schooled her expression and fell in with Zuko, who was watching each of them in turn.

“Actually, she’s right,” Zuko said after a moment, and Sokka scowled.  “You’re raising your arms too high and moving too quickly. Stop at shoulder height.”

“Fine, fine.”  Sokka repeated the form.  “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said.  “And loosen up a bit.  Let your joints bend. Good, like that.”  

“Now I feel like a noodle.”

Katara rolled her eyes.  

“The next form is called the paper lantern,” Zuko went on when they’d finished the set.  “It’s essentially the same as the phoenix, except that you are lifting your arms directly in front of your body, rather than off to the sides.  Breathe in as you rise up, breathe out as you come back down.”

“Why the paper lantern?” Sokka asked.

Zuko frowned.  “Maybe because you’re supposed to rise slowly like a paper lantern?”

“Hmmm.” Sokka seemed to contemplate that answer as if it were one of life’s mysteries.

They went through several more forms that were essentially just variations on the same theme: the embrace, the ocean, lifting the sky, pulling the bow, phoenix lifting its wing, and so on.  In and out, up and down, push and pull.

“No wonder Aang suggested that I do this as well,” Katara said when they were done with the lesson.  “I could easily adapt that into a waterbending exercise!”

“We’ll do the same thing each morning,” Zuko said.  “As you become comfortable with these forms, we’ll add more. Work our way up to the more challenging ones.”

“Sounds good,” said Katara.

“What now?” Sokka asked, hoping that perhaps now they might get into actual sparring.

Zuko smiled a little grimly. “Strength training.”

Sokka groaned.  “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“You boys have fun with that,” Katara said.  “I’m going to practice my bending.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Sokka said, grabbing her arm.  “Aang said all three of us. You can practice your fancy splashes later while Zuko practices his fancy wind.”