Chapter Text
i.
When Eiko was sixteen, she started working in the palace. Back then, she was all coltish limbs and shy smiles. Without question, she scrubbed the floors until they shone. Of course, that was when Fire Lord Azulon held the throne.
Over the years, much had changed. No one dared guess her age—she had three grown children who now all had children of their own. The heavy work had shaped out practical muscles in her arms and the money she made ensured there was always a healthy layer of meat on her bones. She didn’t scrub floors anymore—she was chief of staff at the palace. She didn’t smile shyly. She gave orders. Above all else, Eiko kept the palace running, even when they faced...turmoil, as they had over the last few weeks.
And after the last few weeks, Eiko needed a vacation, Agni help her. She was getting too old for this.
The morning of Fire Lord Zuko’s coronation brought another wave of chaos to the palace, but it wasn’t one they were unprepared for. After all, they had been ready for another coronation...they needed only to tweak the plans slightly. They could repeat the menu for the banquet (a good amount of the supplies had kept, meaning they didn’t need to order as much) and all the coronation robes had already been mended, the jewelry had been polished, and the courtyard had been scrubbed until the stone reflected the sun. Relatively, it took little work to bring the palace up to standard for the big day. Of course, they’d be crowning someone very different than they thought they would be.
Eiko sighed and bundled her hands together as she watched the staff weave around each other in the crowded kitchen. The dishes clattered together and some light shouts rose above the noise and heat and steam.
Out of all the staff, she probably knew Fire Lord Zuko better than anyone, which wasn’t saying much. Very few of the staff were still here from when he was young, and fewer still had actually interacted with the Prince. Even Eiko didn’t know him well—back then, she’d worked as a handmaiden for a minor Lady who was friends with Lady Ursa. She’d only seen Prince Zuko a handful of times.
But servants talked, of course. It was one of their favourite pastimes.
At the time, Eiko tried not to dwell on the rumours about how Ozai had maneuvered himself onto the throne, but even still, she couldn’t deny that Azulon was dead and Lady Ursa had vanished. If she focused on it too long, a cool chill would prick at her spine, which made it very difficult to do her job.
Now, she found herself feeling something similar. History, it seemed, had a nasty way of repeating itself.
“Miss Eiko?” A small voice asked.
Eiko turned to the young girl—Hoshi. The girl was still so young and small—her limbs stuck out awkwardly and she had the slightly gaunt look of someone who’d sprouted up a good few inches in a short span of time. She gave a shallow bow before looking up. “Where should I bring the kurumi moshi?”
“It’s been requested in the Fire Lord’s chambers.”
“Oh.” Hoshi paled.
Eiko frowned and closed her eyes. She’d been the one to hire Hoshi a few months back. Normally, she required the staff to be sixteen. Hoshi might’ve been a few months shy of that age, but Eiko knew her family had fallen on hard times since her father died in the attempted siege of the North Pole. The girl promised she’d be a hard worker, so Eiko assigned her to wash dishes in the kitchens. Where was the harm in that? (And if she had a soft spot for the girl who happened to remind her of her younger self, that was no one’s business but hers.)
But, in the wake of Princess Azula’s unexpected dismissals, Eiko had no choice but to promote the girl. There were no other qualified or trustworthy staff.
“Be careful, Hoshi,” Eiko said so quietly it was nearly under her breath. “Treat his majesty with the utmost respect and honour.”
Hoshi nodded. “I will.”
“And know,” Eiko hesitated, struggling to find the right words, “know that I will not hold it against you if you choose to seek other employment.”
She nodded and scurried away, sweeping the tray of sweets up in her hands.
Eiko bit her lip. Agni knows she’d never say it out loud (even thinking it was treason), but there was something wrong with that family. They were vicious and untrustworthy—from Fire Lord Auzlon’s callousness, to Fire Lord Ozai’s viciousness, to Princess Azula’s unreasonable demands. Each one of them was constantly plotting against the others so that they might secure their own spot. Out of the lot of them, the only one she’d liked was Prince Iroh and Fire Lord Zuko turned his uncle over and got him sent to a cell so he could return from his banishment.
In truth, Eiko was terrified about what the next years would bring. The Avatar claimed his defeat of Fire Lord Ozai would bring peace, but how could it? Fire Lord Zuko had been an angry child, who turned even angrier once he was scarred and banished for speaking out against his father. (Eiko didn’t know the exact details, but he’d been such a petulant child that it wasn’t hard to imagine what he might’ve said). He returned by betraying his uncle, spent the next few months sulking around the palace, and then he’d disappeared again. Then, when his father was distracted with the Avatar, he returned to overtake his sister and claim the throne.
Eiko prayed to Agni he’d have mercy on the people. Then she took a deep breath, swallowed, and turned back to her staff. They were her responsibility. She swore she’d protect them as well as she could.
ii.
At eighteen, most men in the Fire Nation went off to war.
Tengo didn’t.
As a child, he’d fallen from a tree in his backyard and snapped the bones in his lower left leg. Even though a physician had set them, they’d never healed properly and a slight but permanent limp altered his gait. Normally, it didn’t bother him too much (his leg only ever ached when it rained), but the injury was enough for the army to turn him away.
But Tengo was nothing if not resilient. The next day, he went to the palace and applied for a position.
Now, a year and a half later, he found himself assigned to be a personal attendant of the Fire Lord. There was no greater honour. At least, he thought so.
On the first morning of his new position, he went to the Fire Lord’s chambers as Eiko had instructed him. He knocked tentatively on the door and, a moment later, a bristly ‘enter’ sounded from within. When he stepped into the chambers, his heart seized for a moment. Although the Fire Lord had been back for a short stint not long ago, Tengo had never seen him up close. Now, he could see the man was nearly the spitting image of his father—save his eyes, which were bright amber. And the scar, of course. The Fire Lord’s face was already narrowed to glare, and the way his eye twisted only deepened the look. Even though he was still clad in silk sleep-robes, he looked intimidating.
Tengo lowered himself into a bow and stared at his feet as his cheeks warmed. He hated it when others stared at his leg. He wouldn’t be caught doing the same.
“I didn’t send for anyone,” Fire Lord Zuko said, his tone level.
“Miss Eiko sent me, your majesty.”
The Fire Lord huffed, but then shook his head and waved. “Fine, fine. Do whatever you need to do.” He sat at the desk on the edge of his room and unfurled a scroll.
Tengo blinked, not knowing what to say. In his training, they hadn’t covered this situation (although he hadn’t had much—he’d gotten the job on short notice). “Uhh, your Majesty?”
“Yes?”
“I’m here to help you dress and arrange your hair. It would be quite difficult to the former with you sitting.”
The Fire Lord’s head snapped up and his lips turned down at the sides.
“Of course, it’s no problem to start with your hair, if his majesty wishes,” Tengo backtracked. “I simply thought it would be easier to dress you first.”
“I don’t need your help,” Fire Lord Zuko said. “You can leave.”
Tengo felt a wave of nausea rise in his gut. He had heard Princess Azula dismissed her servants with ease, but he hadn’t expected the Fire Lord to do the same.
“Of course, your majesty.” His first day and he was already fired. “You won’t see me again.” Maybe he could beg Eiko to reassign him. He always wondered what it would be like to tend the gardens…
“Ah, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Fire Lord Zuko pinched his nose. “How about you, uh, bring me some tea? And maybe some biscuits?”
“Yes, your majesty.” Tengo nodded curtly and waited for the Fire Lord to dismiss him.
The Fire Lord only stared back. “And you’re dismissed,” he said after a long and awkward paused. Tengo thought he saw a bit of red brush the Fire Lord’s unmarked cheek, but he couldn’t be certain.
As he walked to the kitchens, the sun beat down overhead. It was still early, but he could already tell it was going to warm to a scorching hot summer day.
In the kitchen, he leaned against the far wall as one of the cooks brewed the tea. His old friend Ikki, who was a server, came to his side immediately.
“So,” he whispered, “what’s the Fire Lord like?” Between the heat of the day and the heat of the kitchen, Ikki’s dark hair stuck up wildly.
Tengo shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t tell. He’s...hard to get a read on.”
Ikki tsked. “I can imagine. I mean—one minute he’s travelling around the world trying to capture the Avatar, and then the next he’s on his side? His whims must turn with the tides.”
Tengo nodded in agreement, but he didn’t dare to say anything, even quietly. Sometimes, Ikki needed to learn when to shut up. Any member of the kitchen staff could overhear and if the news got back to the Fire Lord… well, Tengo didn’t like to think about that.
“But, maybe we’re not giving him enough credit. Maybe he played the long game—the enemy of your enemy is your friend, after all.”
Now that was an unpleasant thought. Tengo wondered if he really wanted to go back to the chambers and work so close to such a dangerous man.
But before he could think it through, he had a tray thrust into his hand. “Here,” the cook said. Her hair was also a little wild from the heat and humidity. “And get back to work, Ikki. Lord Zhang needs his breakfast.”
When Tengo reached the Fire Lord’s chambers, he was still seated at his desk.
Tengo set the tray on a free space in the corner.
“Thank you,” Fire Lord Zuko said.
Tengo nodded.
The Fire Lord bundled his hands in his laps. “I meant no offence earlier.”
“There was none taken, your majesty.” Tengo hid his mild surprise. When Ozai was in power, there’d never been any talk of that sort.
“It’s just—when I was away—you know…” he threw his hands to the side and sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had people doing things to me. It’s going to take time for me to get used to it again.”
Tengo nodded tentatively.
“Perhaps we could start with you laying out my clothing? And then helping with the fastenings?”
“As you wish, your majesty.” Tengo nodded again before moving toward the wardrobe to find something suitable for the Fire Lord to wear.
“Thank you, uhh…”
“Tengo, your majesty.”
“Thank you, Tengo.” Fire Lord Zuko offered him a small smile.
As Tengo pulled the dark red and black robes out of the wardrobe, he couldn’t help but privately wonder how, exactly, he should feel about their new leader. He certainly didn’t seem as awful as the rumours had made him out to be.
iii.
The palace may have belonged to the Fire Lord, but the library belonged to Kuri. Everyone knew this to be true.
For many years, her family kept watch over the books. From her grandfather, to her mother, to her, it was their responsibility. Kuri could name nearly every scroll in the collection; she had the order of the shelves memorized. The familiar scent of dust and papyrus always welcomed her home.
She spent all her days in the library, only going out for lunch and rarely taking vacation. The one time she had gone on an extended holiday (a three-week honeymoon on Ember Island), the shelves had been in such disarray when she returned that she swore she’d never leave again. She kept to her word, mostly.
Kuri knew that the other staff thought she was making a mistake by not taking her leave. In truth, Kuri thought that the library was a better escape than any. Here, she could distance herself from everything going on outside. She kept the knowledge safe. Future generations might not thank her for it, but it was more essential than anyone could know.
And—if on the odd occasion—she spent the better part of her afternoon lost in a romance? Well, that was no one’s business but her own.
One night, when the air had started to turn as the blistering summer wound down into a warm fall, she locked up the library as usual and made her final rounds. It might’ve been true that the only people who came to her library were diplomats and scholars, but they tended to be some of the most absent-minded people Kuri had ever met. She pushed in the chairs, re-shelved scrolls, and swept the floors each night but, without fail, the mess always returned the next evening.
As usual, she was putting a book on astronomy back into the correct position (because, honestly, how did someone think it belonged with the anatomy texts?) when she heard a low sigh of frustration sound from a few rows over.
Kuri shoved the book back and crossed her arms. When would people learn? The library’s door closed at the sixth mark after noon.
“Excuse me,” Kuri said, raising her voice sternly, “we’re closed.” As she walked down the aisle, she made sure her steps fell heavily on the brick. Agni knows she didn’t need a repeat of a few months ago when she’d caught those teens tangled together in the section on weather patterns.
But no response came from whoever was there, so Kuri cleared her throat as she rounded the corner. “We are closed.”
A teen reaching for a scroll jumped and dropped an armful of papers. They clattered against the ground.
Kuri hummed with disapproval. These teens…
“Sorry,” the teen said as he bent down to pick up what he’d dropped.
And Kuri’s heart slid into her stomach. He wasn’t just any teenager—he was the Fire Lord. Kuri swooped into a low bow. “My apologies, your majesty, I didn’t recognize you.” Really, she hadn’t. With his back turned and head unadorned, he could have been anyone. Once he turned, however, his identity was unmistakable. She hadn’t seen Fire Lord Zuko up close since he was a young boy being dragged into the library by a tutor, but even in the library, the rumours still reached her.
Fire Lord Zuko brushed the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”
Kuri reached down and gathered the scrolls he’d dropped. They all seemed to refer to various cultures of the other nations. “Please, your majesty, take as long as you need. Is there anything I can help you find?”
The Fire Lord pressed his lips together. His pinched expression was somewhat unreadable—aside from the look of annoyed concentration, Kuri couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
“What do you have on the Northern Water Tribe?” he finally asked.
Kuri stilled, suddenly aware of her library’s glaring emptiness. It’s only her and the Fire Lord and row after row of scrolls. She coughed lightly. “I’m not sure…” she said, trying to think on her feet.
Once, when she was young and learning how to keep the books, her grandfather told her a story. A story of a young and angry man who came to the library looking for any text that so much as mentioned the Air Nomads.
Now, there were several shelves in the far corner of the library that sat empty. They could never be refilled.
And Kuri would be damned if she ever let anything like that happen again. “Unfortunately, your majesty, I can’t help you.” She bowed again, her heart racing and her ears buzzing with static.
“Oh.” He cast his eyes downward, looking sheepish but not angry.
Kuri thanked Agni for that.
“Do you know of anyone who might be able to teach me about them?”
Kuri hesitated. “I might. It’s hard to say, exactly. What sort of...things do you wish to learn, your majesty?”
“Courtly etiquette, mostly,” he said, almost grumbling.
Kuri schooled her shock. “Oh?”
“It’s just—I never really expected to be here—and no one else did either, apparently. I mean…” he trailed off and sighed. “When I was growing up, I was fourth in line to the throne. And since everyone expected Lu Ten to wed when he returned from Ba Sing Se, it seemed unlikely I’d ever be here. I’ve missed out on a lot of the lessons I probably should’ve been taught.” He paused and his face reddened slightly. “I’ve said too much…”
“No, no, it’s alright,” Kuri said. The young Fire Lord did seem genuine in his speech. “Do you have an advisor on the subject?”
He shook his head. “Uncle is always willing to lend an ear, but it’s harder now that he’s returned to his tea shop. And my advisor here is really only knowledgeable in Fire Nation culture.”
“I see.” Kuri tapped her chin. “It’s not my place, but if I may be so bold, your majesty, there are no laws against having multiple advisors. I may be able to recommend some scholars who could be of use.”
He smiled slightly. “That would be wonderful. I just want to get it right—can you imagine if I jeopardize the fragile peace because I bowed at the wrong time? Or used an incorrect title?”
Kuri said nothing, she only nodded slowly in understanding. Standing in front of her with bags under his eyes, it was apparent how young Fire Lord Zuko still was, and how alone he’d become in his position. At seventeen, he had the weight of not only the nation’s future on his shoulders but of the whole world—and painful little training on how to balance the courtly manners.
It would be hell, Kuri decided, if after all his struggle the Fire Lord folded under courtly drama and subterfuge.
“Now that I think of it,” she said, “there might be one scroll that could be useful. I’ll get it for you, your majesty.”
Kuri walked down the aisle, but she paused before turning into the next roll. “And please—if you need anything in the future, just let me know.”