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Ursa clutches the baby closer to her chest, nervously adjusting and readjusting the vibrant red fabric he’s wrapped in.
“He can’t be the heir!” her husband roars at her. Ursa takes a deep inhale, determined to maintain her composure. Her back straightens.
“Ozai,” she says, as sweetly as she can muster. “You don’t know what he’ll become. He may yet become a great heir.” She chokes back the insults she wants to throw at him, the demands she wants to make for her son’s life. There’s no place for that here, not with so much at stake.
Her husband grunts. “Look at his eyes, Ursa. Those aren’t the eyes of my heir.”
“No,” says Ursa through unsteady breaths. “But they’re the eyes of your son.”
“And what of it?” Ozai shouts, “He’s done nothing yet to please me!”
“Nor to fail you, either.” Ursa’s son looks up at her, his golden eyes wide. As she turns her head to meet his gaze, she sees no flaw, no missing spark. He is whole as he is, a prince as he is.
Ursa returns her gaze to Ozai’s. “Give him a chance. Let him prove to you his merit.”
Ozai’s piercing gaze is painful to meet. Ursa’s afraid to even blink as he formulates his response. “Fine,” he spits. “But should he fail me, your son will be no longer.”
He turns and exits, his cape billowing behind him. Ursa smiles at her baby as she rocks him. “Oh, Zuko. It’ll be alright. It’ll all be alright.”
She continues to rock him close to her chest as she walks to return him to the nursery. She’s bought him maybe a few years, but she can’t help but worry. He must grow to be great, or grow to be nothing at all. Zuko giggles at her.
.....
Zuko’s three. He should’ve had his nap an hour ago, but mama never came to put him to sleep.
“Bend!” his father shouts at him. Zuko can’t figure out how. He knows what it means to walk and to run and to speak but not what it is to bend. He tries to remember what he’s seen his father do, but he’s not sure where in the elaborate dance of arms and legs and smooth motion the fire comes in.
“Bend, you insolent brat!” Zuko doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He waves his arms. He thinks about fire. He thinks really really hard about fire but still nothing happens. His father keeps yelling but Zuko doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He tries not to cry as he waves his arms around some more. His father always yells at him when he cries.
“Can I see Ah-shoo-lah now?” he asks. His mama showed him a baby. She said it was called Ashoola. He thought the baby was fun.
“No!” his father roars. “You will not see her until you can firebend. You will not corrupt her.” He’s so loud and so big that Zuko really does start crying. He tries to stop but he can’t. He wants his mama to come so that she can take him away before his father can yell at him more.
“Mama?” Zuko asks through tears.
Ozai lowers himself to the ground until his face is level with Zuko’s. He stares Zuko in the eye, and Zuko steps back. He doesn’t know what’s happening.
“No,” says Ozai, stronger and harsher than Zuko’s ever heard, even without the volume of a shout. He sneers at his son. “You will stay, and you will firebend.”
Zuko sniffles, and again tries to imitate the stance he’s seen on his father. He has to firebend.
.....
Zuko’s four years old. He still can’t firebend, and he doesn’t think his father will ever forgive him for it.
“Zuzu!” calls Azula. She toddles over to him, running as fast as her little legs can carry her.
“Don’t call me that,” Zuko responds, but he happily walks over to meet her.
“Zuzu, look!” Azula stops walking when she gets close enough to him. Her hair is disheveled and falling undone, but her gleeful grin is distracting enough. She holds out her left hand to her brother, and sure enough, fire appears in it. It dances around in the air jumping out of and back into her hand. With her left hand she throws the fire in the air, catching it with and twirling it around her right arm. The hot flame circles her wrist for a few seconds, eventually falling into her right hand, where she puts it out.
Zuko’s a little jealous, but Azula looks so happy that he can’t bring himself to say anything that would ruin it for her. “Good job, Azula. That was so cool!”
Azula smiled even brighter, using the proper response that she'd been taught. “Thank you!”
Zuko bends over to hug his sister, but as he does so he hears the intimidating footsteps that he’d recognize anywhere. He pulls back and stands up straight, facing the source of the noise. Azula does the same.
“Excellent work, Azula,” says Ozai, walking over to his children with the air of dignity and scorn that he always does. Azula stands up straighter, grinning proudly.
“You, Zuko,” continues Ozai, Zuko sighing. “Should learn to do the same.”
“Yes,” Zuko responds quietly.
“You really should give yourself some worth, be more like your sister.”
Azula giggles. Zuko nods sullenly.
…
Zuko’s five years old and he thinks he may have finally made a friend.
He knows what the word “friend” means because he learned it in his lessons, but he doesn’t think he’s had one before. He asked his mama if his tutor was his friend, but his father said he wasn’t. He said the tutor only spoke to Zuko because he had to.
Zuko thinks Azula might be his friend, but she’s little and she cries a lot. Plus she doesn’t know what a lot of things mean and Zuko gets tired of explaining them to her.
So of course Zuko's thrilled when he meets another little boy. And he’s his age, not Azula’s.
He says his name’s Yuru, and his father works in the palace, too! They talk about their fathers and their ages and their favorite colors. Zuko says red, but Yuru says he likes purple. Zuko thinks Yuru is right and purples much better, but he doesn’t say it. Even if he likes purple better, reds his favorite color. It’s the Fire Nation color. His father says the Fire Nation’s the best, so red’s gotta be the best, too. He wants to keep playing, though, so he tells Yuru that they should go outside.
Zuko and Yuru giggle and run out through the huge palace doors while the guards are switching stations. Once they see the light flood into the palace interior, they make their move and run out into the huge palace grounds that span a mile in every direction.
“My mama’s garden is that way!” Zuko says, pointing out the direction to Yuru. They both start running towards the garden, presumably to play in it, giggling as they go.
They don’t make it much further, though, before one of the guards catches the boys sneaking off. He yells some sharp words at Yuru, then he grabs Zuko by the collar to drag him to Ozai.
Zuko tries to wave goodbye to Yuru as he’s dragged off but he feels really bad. He doesn’t know why the guard is so mad at him. He can’t figure out what he did wrong.
“The prince was speaking with the server’s boy,” says the guard when they reach Ozai. Who’s the server? Is that Yuru’s father? “I caught them sneaking out of the palace.”
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” says Zuko’s father, dismissing the guard. He’s standing up, towering over Zuko, but his glower can still reach him on the ground.
“You should know better than this!” Ozai shouts. “You can not possibly be this foolish!”
“Father?” Zuko asks. He doesn’t know why he’s mad. He doesn’t know why he’s yelling at him.
“Useless boy,” Ozai growls, dismissing Zuko as well. Is it because of Yuru? Is he not allowed to talk to him? Is Yuru evil? He seemed plenty nice.
Zuko leaves to go find his mama. She might take him to the garden.
…..
Zuko’s seven, and everything’s great.
His mother and Ozai surprised them with a trip to Ember Island, and Zuko’s so happy to be back. Everything’s a little better at Ember Island.
Zuko and Azula had enthusiastically arranged their audience, making the order from left to right: Uncle Iroh, Lu Ten, their mother, and Ozai. Zuko and Azula had mulled it over in Zuko’s room before announcing where they wanted everyone to sit. Azula had wanted Ozai to sit in the middle with their mother, but Zuko thought that it would be better to keep Uncle Iroh and Ozai far apart.
“I don’t want father to yell at him,” Zuko had told her. “They always yell at each other when they’re nearby.”
Zuko was afraid Ozai wouldn’t sit where he was supposed to and everyone would fight, but to his surprise Ozai sighed and stayed where Azula put him.
Once everyone was seated and feigning attention, Zuko and Azula stepped back to imitate their favorite duel scene.
“Ready?” he whispered to her. Azula nodded and smiled.
Zuko and Azula each took a stick they’d found outside and left on the deck and started pretending to sword fight, emphasizing the scene with sound effects and half remembered dialogue.
“You’re going down!” says Zuko. “Clang clang!”
“Not if you go down first!” says Azula, her voice too sweet for the scene. It reminds Zuko of how his mother sometimes sings to them. Azula pokes his arm with her stick.
“Die, scum!” says Zuko, waving his stick around.
“You die!” responds Azula, trying to poke Zuko some more. “Clang!”
Eventually Zuko’s character wins, knocking away Azula’s stick and poking her in the stomach, lightly, so he doesn’t hurt her. Azula drops to the floor as dramatically as she knows how, collapsing onto her back, rolling her eyes up, and sticking out her tongue. Zuko raises his stick into the air triumphantly.
“The end,” he says. His mother, uncle, and cousin all applaud.
“Such good swordplay!” Lu Ten says, and Ursa concurs.
They keep applauding as Azula gets up off the floor to stand beside Zuko. Ozai does not.
“Unrealistic,” Ozai says, sounding uninterested.
Lu Ten stands up and kneels by Zuko and Azula. “Do you want to go play in the sand now?”
Azula enthusiastically nods. Zuko bows his head and follows as Lu Ten leads them outside. As they exit, Azula asks, “Is papa mad at us?”
“No,” replies Zuko quietly. “He’s mad at me.”
…..
Zuko’s eight years old and maybe finally worth something.
After years of his father yelling at Zuko, and years of him being so quietly venomous that Zuko wishes he would yell, it’s all paid off. He did it. He was firebending.
Zuko stares at his hands, eyes wide, watching the little ball of fire he’s created. He concentrates on snuffing it out, and after a few seconds, it works. He tries again, creating fire in his hands, this time throwing the flaming ball into the air, then bringing it back to his palms. He snuffs it out again.
It works.
“Azula!” he shouts as he runs towards her room. “Azula, come look!”
Azula opens her door and looks out at him. “What?” she whines. “I’m tired.”
“Look!” he says. He repeats his trick, creating fire and throwing it in the air. He knows Azula can probably do the same in her sleep, but he couldn’t, not before today.
“Zuzu!” she exclaims, much more enthusiastic now. “You finally did it!”
He grins. “I know!”
“You have to show papa!” She says. “He’ll be so happy!”
Zuko shakes his head, his grin disappearing. “I don’t think so.”
Azula steps out of her room all the way and runs down the hall to go get Ozai. Zuko doesn’t want to stop her. “I’m getting papa,” she yells over her shoulder.
Zuko sits down, leaning against the wall bordering Azula’s room. He nervously picks at his fingers, fearing Ozai’s reaction.
“Zuzu!” he hears a few moments later, accompanied by two sets of footsteps. He shoots up immediately, holding his back as straight as he can.
“Don’t call me that,” Zuko responds to Azula. He’s too afraid to look at Ozai.
“What am I here for, Zuko?”
Zuko finally looks up at Ozai, meeting a face harsh and unforgiving.
Not trusting himself with an adequate response, Zuko creates fire in his palms, the greatest amount yet. He throws it in the air, catches it, and smothers it, staring only at the fire.
When he’s done, he looks back up at Ozai, who doesn’t look very happy. Zuko’s stomach sinks.
“Adequate,” says Ozai. “For something your sister could accomplish as a toddler.”
Ozai starts petting Azula’s head and Zuko lowers his eyes to the ground.
“Try harder,” Ozai says. Zuko doesn’t let himself cry.
.....
Zuko’s nine and being able to bend hasn’t helped.
No matter how hard he tries and no matter how much he improves he’s still never good enough. He’s throwing fire with his hands, except it barely goes a few inches without withering out. He can’t sustain it, can’t nurture it, definitely can’t prove himself with it.
“No, Zuzu-”
“Don’t call me that,” Zuko snaps.
Azula rolls her eyes and Zuko’s resentment grows. She’s so earnest, too, in trying to help him, and Zuko can’t help but hate her for it a little bit.
“You have to push more with your elbows,” she tells him. “More springy. And your stance is too wide.”
“Enough!” he yells at her, the way he’s heard Ozai yell it a thousand times, but there’s not enough anger behind it. Frustration, sure, but not enough of anything to shut down Azula.
“Come on,” Azula says. “Tutor, can you run it with him one more time?”
“No,” says Zuko sullenly. “Can we just move on? I’m not going to get it, anyway.”
“Yes, Prince Zuko,” the tutor says, bowing his head, and rushes to lay out big scrolls on a table for Zuko and Azula to study.
“History?” Zuko asks.
The tutor shakes his head as he unrolls the third and final scroll. “Laws.”
Zuko nods. Azula says, “Duh.”
They start by reading them silently, Zuko occasionally asking questions. The scroll begins with the most serious laws, murder, treason, speaking out against the royal family, the important things. The scroll progresses in decreasing order of severity, Zuko occasionally asking questions, and Azula making it clear to him that he’s perpetually going to be inferior to her.
“How can you not know the degrees of murder, Zuzu? This is basic stuff!”
“Don’t call me that!”
There was only one law Azula failed to understand, and she wasn’t going to admit to their tutor that there was any gap in her knowledge. The scroll read that “actions of or proclivities to homosexuality will be met with minimum twenty years imprisonment or bodily mutilation as the reigning authority sees fit.”
“What does that mean?” Azula whispers to Zuko.
Zuko shrugs. He asks the tutor, “What does that mean?”
“It’s when two men or two women act the way a man and a woman would.”
Zuko doesn’t get it. “Like they get married?”
The tutor looks scandalized. His red eyes are wide, a look of shock frozen on his face. “Oh, no.” He says, “Never.”
“They kiss and stuff?” Azula asks. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, disgusted.
The tutor hesitantly nods. “Yes, more like that.” He clears his throat and continues, “The punishment can range from a jail sentence to mutilation. Next is assault, that’s when you...”
He continues to explain the various rules and punishments written in the great big scrolls on the table, but Zuko’s having trouble concentrating. It doesn’t seem right to him, two men kissing. He can hardly recall seeing anyone kissing.
.....
Zuko’s ten years old, and desperately trying to avoid firebending lessons.
He’s sure that Azula’s wherever she’s supposed to be, and definitely excelling, but he’s just tired. He's not in the mood to put up with her taunting today. He’s tired of knowing he’ll fail, he’s tired of putting all his effort into a lost cause, and he’s tired of failing anyway. He’s tired of Ozai looking at him as if he wishes he really had thrown him over the palace wall.
So Zuko’s dashing through hallways and hiding behind walls. Anything to keep from being thrown back for Kunyo to endlessly correct. He’ll never get it right anyway, and Azula will be right next to him being an absolute prodigy.
He sees the guard down the hallway turn his head to look out one of the massive windows lining the exterior, and Zuko runs. He makes it past the guard and ducks into corridor after corridor until he thinks it’s safe to stop. He braces himself against the wall and slowly catches his breath, his eyes closed.
He does his best to regulate his breathing the way he was taught, but he can’t seem to do it right. All he can picture is Azula with Kunyo teaching her, being showered with endless praise, glad that Zuko wasn’t there to distract from her success.
Zuko’s breathing is returning to normal when he hears a voice next to him.
“Hello?”
Zuko jumps, thinking it’s Azula or Ozai or some guard who’s going to turn him in. With relief he sees that it’s just some boy. “Hello,” he responds shyly.
The boy is taller than Zuko is, and quite lanky. His clothes are looser around him and his eyes are richer than Zuko’s, more of a strong brown than fading gold.
“I’m Lee,” the boy says, holding out his hand.
Zuko shakes his hand. “Zuko.”
Lee’s eyes widen. “The prince?” he asks, shocked.
Zuko shakes his head and smiles. “Not today.”
Lee smiles back. “I was looking for my new room. My father’s one of Fire Lord Azulon’s ambassadors, but he’s stationed here for a while.”
Zuko can’t think of any staff’s children living in the palace. “You came too?”
Lee shrugs. “My mother died when I was a baby. The Fire Lord said Papa could bring me.”
“I can help you find your room, if you want.” Zuko nods in the direction of the nearest flight of stairs. “Wanna come?”
“Are you sure?”
“Better than lessons,” Zuko says with certainty. He leads Lee towards the scores of bedrooms on the second floor of the palace.
“Thanks!” Lee smiles widely.
.....
Zuko’s eleven, his mother’s gone, and everything’s worse.
“Mother and Lu Ten,” Zuko says. He doesn’t know what he expects from Azula. Definitely not comfort, that’s not something she’s capable of.
“It’s better that she’s gone, Zuzu, you’ll see,” Azula says. Her hair is tied back perfectly, as neat as hair has ever been. Her grin is best described as sadistic. Yup, definitely not capable of comfort.
“Don’t call me that,” Zuko grumbles, beginning to regret ever speaking to Azula.
“Oh, come on,” Azula says. “Do you know how good it is for you that she’s gone? You’d probably be dead otherwise.” Her smile won’t disappear.
“Don’t joke about that,” Zuko says quietly. “Besides, she was still our mother.”
Azula’s grin falters now, but her eyes still seem to pierce Zuko’s own. They’re just like his but with the saturation all the way up, a pristine gold. And with the magic spark that he’s missing. “Zuzu,” Azula says sweetly. “You know I’m not joking.”
Zuko shoots up. “Our mother’s gone!” Zuko shouts. Zuko never shouts. “Our mother’s gone and all you can do is wish I were dead!”
Azula doesn’t even seem to acknowledge Zuko’s anger, and it’s making him want to scream even louder. He wants to just scream as loud as he can, let the whole world know how angry he is. Let Ursa know that he’s angry at her too, because she left him behind with people who all know they’d be better off without him. Let the universe know how much he hates it.
Finally Azula grins at him again and slowly shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe our oh so brilliant mother left,” she says, her voice dripping like honey but tasting like poison. “Because she was tired of wasting her breath defending you.”
Forget the universe, Zuko definitely hates Azula.
He storms out of her room, slamming the door behind him as loudly and violently as he can manage. Sure the panelling and gold detailing is older than anyone alive, but he can’t bring himself to care. At least everything older than that stupid door had the good sense to be dead.
Zuko’s not going to cry.
He runs down the corridor housing Azula and his rooms, taking the twists and turns to take himself to the grand staircase in the heart of the palace. He runs up, allowing muscle memory to take him to Lee’s room.
Zuko knocks on the door and calls out. “Lee?” He hears his voice break.
Lee’s footsteps move fast, and the door’s open within seconds.
“Zuko?” Lee asks, concerned. He’s only grown taller over the year, and his eyes, still deep in richness, are kind and understanding. His hair’s falling out of his knot, but the hairs frame his face nicely. “Come in.”
Zuko does, and Lee puts an arm around him as they sit on Lee’s bed.
“My sister’s terrible,” Zuko says.
Lee nods. “Considering she’s the Fire Princess, I’m not going to agree with you.”
“Fair enough,” says Zuko. “Legally my opinion counts more than yours, anyway.” They both lightly laugh.
“What happened?” Lee asks hesitantly. “I’ve heard rumors, but...”
“So the short version is that my father was disrespectful to the Fire Lord, who may or may not have wanted to kill me.”
“Wh-”
Zuko cuts off Lee to continue. “Either that really happened or Azula made it up, but either way they agreed to banish my mother, so she’s gone. And my little sister just can’t react to that like a normal person.”
“Woah,” Lee whispers. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Zuko says, looking at the floor. “At least you can react to that like a normal person.”
Lee laughs too. “Is that a royalty thing or a firebender thing?”
Zuko looks at Lee. “I think it’s just a my family thing.”
They sit like that for a while, Lee’s arm holding them together, their shoulders lightly touching. They don’t talk much, but they don’t need to. Zuko’s starting to feel better.
.....
Zuko’s twelve years old and he wishes he weren’t.
He’s trying to read when his sister snakes her way into his room. The scrolls he has are in detail describing firebending technique, and he may even be absorbing some of it if Azula weren’t so annoying. She silently makes her way into Zuko’s room, then shoves him over in his bed so she can sit next to him. He rolls up the scroll and hits her with it.
“What do you think of Mai?” she asks, unfazed. There’s a look in her eye that Zuko doesn’t like. It’s the look she always has before she ruins his life a little bit.
Zuko shrugs and unfurls the scroll back up, going back to his reading.
“Come on,” says Azula. She smirks, “She really likes you, you know.”
Zuko sighs and throws the open scroll down next to his bed. It wasn’t going to make a difference anyway. “And what do you expect me to do about it, Azula?”
She pokes him. “Well, do you like her?”
Zuko raises his eyebrows incredulously as he looks at Azula. “What? Why would I?”
Azula looks at him quizzically, tilting her head a little. She’s sitting cross legged on Zuko’s bed, facing him. He’s still tucked under the covers, but turned to face her. “Mai’s pretty,” she says.
“So?”
“So why don’t you like her?”
Zuko shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Azula. “I dunno. She’s younger than me, I guess. Plus she’s so sad all the time.”
Azula squints her eyes at him. “So are you.” When Zuko doesn’t say anything, she continues, “Who do you like, then?”
Zuko pauses, and realizes he can’t think of any girls he’s liked. He furrows his brow, and tries to think of all the girls he knows. Azula’s friends? Noble’s daughters? “No, one, I guess. Do I have to like anyone?”
He’s only twelve, he thinks. He’s got loads of time.
“You must’ve liked someone,” Azula says.
Zuko worries at this. Because he hasn’t liked anyone. Will he ever? Is he going to spend his whole life stuck with someone he hates, like his mom?
“Well, who’ve you liked, then?” he asks Azula.
She laughs as she slides off his bed. “Oh, like I’d tell you.” She walks across his room to the corridor. In the doorway she turns around and adds, “I hope you figure it out before you’re grandfather’s age!”
Once she’s gone, Zuko slides down the headboard until he’s lying on his back. What’s wrong with him?
.....
Zuko’s thirteen and regretting ever having been born.
It really would have been better if Ozai had just tossed him over the wall. Ozai and Azula would be thrilled and Zuko wouldn’t have to deal with the disaster that his life is turning out to be. Maybe Ursa would have gotten to fuck off to who knows where earlier and have escaped this train wreck long ago.
He thinks for a second about his uncle and Lee, but Uncle Iroh’s survived worse and Lee could befriend people easier to be around than the Fire Lord’s angsty son. This whole thing is somewhat Lee’s fault, anyway.
Yeah. Ozai definitely should’ve killed him.
Because it turns out he does like someone, and it’s definitely a problem. Borderline illegal, in fact. He likes Lee.
He wasn’t sure at first. He thought he just really, really (really, really, really) wanted to be friends with him. He hadn’t had many other friends, there wasn’t exactly a baseline for him to compare to or a rulebook with how he was supposed to feel about people. Actually, there was. There were the legal scrolls, which didn’t quite tell him what his feelings should be, but definitely told him what he shouldn’t do about them.
It was only a few minutes ago that Zuko realized. Lee was talking about something he’d read, something about some species of bird, and Zuko thought, Wow, he looks really great today. After a few minutes of mulling over how good his hair looked, it occurred to Zuko that maybe he had a problem. He excused himself, left the room, and is currently leaning against a wall of a corridor with his face in his hands.
He’s never telling Lee. But then what the fuck is he supposed to do?
Through shaky breaths he tries to hold back tears. It might be fine if it was just Lee, if he could like girls, too, and marry Mai and make everyone happy, but the more he thinks about it the more delusional he feels. He’s tried to like Mai, he really has. He even told Azula he did, eventually. Turns out he never did.
He feels like a liar.
It still wouldn’t be fine, even if he could like Mai.
Fuck it, how much worse could Azula make this? A lot, he thinks, but through a haze of panic and desperately trying not to think he finds himself at her doorway, anyway.
He can fix this. He can fix this. If not him, Azula can. This is fixable.
Zuko pushes open the door and it flies open. “Azula?” his voice breaks.
Azula sits up across the room. She looks concerned for him in a way she hasn’t in years. “Zuzu?”
When Zuko doesn’t correct her, and instead puts his hands to his face to rub his eyes, she gets up and walks over to him. Azula pulls Zuko all the way into the room and closes the door behind him. She leads him over to the loveseat she had been sitting on and pulls him down so that they’re sitting side by side.
Azula shakes him. “What are you doing?”
“Please don’t be mad,” Zuko says quietly, not even looking at her,
“Well I can’t promise that,” Azula smirks.
Zuko shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, you have to promise.”
Azula narrows her eyes. “Zuko? Should I be concerned?”
Zuko shrugs helplessly. He throws his head back over the edge of the loveseat and stares at the ceiling. He’s definitely going to regret this. “You know Lee?”
Azula makes an affirming sound. Zuko still won’t look at her. “Yes, I know your one friend,” she says.
“Well he and I- I feel-” Zuko takes a deep breath and tries again. “I really really think…” he gives up, instead opting to just keep staring at the ceiling and decidedly not cry.
“Oh, Zuko, don’t tell me you have feelings for this boy,” Azula laughs. Oh spirits.
Zuko closes his eyes and nods at the ceiling. Azula’s silent for a few moments and he clenches his jaw. This was a mistake.
“Are you serious?” she asks quietly.
Zuko can’t bring himself to lie. He nods again and hesitantly opens his eyes, looking at Azula. She looks shocked, and even more so, confused. Sometimes, in between her prodigal fire bending and general demeanor he forgets that she’s only eleven.
Azula rests her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Zuko,” she says.
.....
Of course this is where he ends up. Of course, with everything wrong with him, it was inevitable that he'd be tossed out. Zuko’s really just surprised that Ozai is even giving Zuko half a chance and not immediately killing him.
His eye hurts a lot, but he won’t touch the burn, won’t put salve on it. Zuko won’t give Ozai any more proof that he’s won, decimated, really, than there already is.
Him and Uncle Iroh are standing by the massive ship as the crew lugs their things on board. Zuko looks up at Azula. If anyone would or could stop this, if he had any chance at all, it would be her. Their eyes meet, and he realizes she looks scared. For him. Maybe she’ll say something, maybe it’ll all be okay. Azula takes a breath and her fear seems to subside, her gaze hardening instead.
“Hey, Zuko,” she taunts. Fuck. “Maybe getting burned will finally make you good at firebending.”
Zuko breaks eye contact. It was foolish to hope that she’d do anything to help him.
“But don’t worry,” he hears Azula continue. “I’ll be sure to tell Lee you said goodbye.”
Zuko doesn’t even know what to feel now. He’s torn between being terrified, because if Ozai finds out about Zuko his punishment will only grow worse, and being furious, because his own sister is the one threatening it.
Azula’s smirking. Zuko’s never wanted to punch someone so badly.
She was so uncharacteristically nice after he told her about Lee, too. She didn’t tell him it would be okay, because Azula’s not a liar, but she promised she wasn’t mad and she didn’t tease or taunt him for an entire day. For Azula, that’s nice.
And then she never spoke about it. Not to Ozai, or her friends, or Lee. Not even to Zuko, which he was grateful for, even if he sometimes wished he could talk to someone. He wouldn’t even know what to say to her, anyway.
And now she’s threatening to make his life even worse than it already is. She’s taking what’s left of his honor and reminding him that it’s built on a lie.
Ozai’s standing behind Azula. Zuko refuses to acknowledge him, which Ozai seems fine with. He did his best to avoid speaking to his son when things were normal, why would that change now?
An advisor comes over and whispers in Ozai’s ear, and they both leave. Zuko doesn’t mind, Ozai probably wasn’t going to say goodbye anyway.
“Are you ready to go, Prince Zuko?” his uncle asks.
“Absolutely.”
His eye hurts so much. Zuko and Uncle Iroh board the boat, Zuko refusing to look over his shoulder at Azula. Zuko stays on the deck as they depart, watching as the crew sets the ship free. Azula’s the only one left on the dock.
“Bye Zuzu!” she yells cheerfully. She looks entirely too happy. Zuko glares at her from atop the ship and storms below deck to where his room is.
“Prince Zuko?” calls his uncle as Zuko passes him. Zuko ignores him and slams the door to his room shut.
He sits in the corner for a while, hating everything.
.....
Zuko’s fourteen and trying not to be a failure.
He hasn’t heard from Ozai or Azula in over a year. He thinks it’s better that way. They probably do, too.
And the avatar’s shown no signs of existence, leaving Zuko to furiously train. Furiously.
“Relax, Prince Zuko,” says his uncle, meandering across the deck towards him. Zuko’s bombarding the ocean every way he knows how, throwing every attack he can think of overboard.
“I can’t relax,” Zuko grunts. He spins a strip of fire in front of himself rapidly and then lets it loose into the sea. It wasn’t strong enough. “I have to train.”
“Well that’s no way to train,” his uncle says, sipping a cup of tea. Zuko stops his attacks. Is he serious? Is his uncle just going to be another person to tell him that he’s doing everything wrong?
“What am I supposed to do, then?” asks Zuko, already preparing to mentally berate himself after hearing the answer.
“Don’t be so correct,” says his uncle leisurely. “You’re allowed to breathe, Prince Zuko. Breathe. You’re firebending too much like Princess Azula.” He takes another sip of tea.
“Yeah, well Azula’s fire is blue.” He summons more fire, pulling a massive mass of it towards his chest. “She’s probably one of the greatest firebenders in the world,” Zuko adds bitterly, shooting his fireball into a particularly tall wave.
“One of,” says his uncle. “Be the greatest, then. Breathe.”
That’s impossible, Zuko thinks. Everything about him is keeping him from being the greatest. His complete lack of natural talent, for one. But he figures he’s tried everything else already, and at least Uncle Iroh is speaking his unhelpful suggestions and not shouting them.
Zuko takes a deep breath, creating fire. And as he exhales, he thinks of Ozai shouting and Azula sneering and rolled up penal codes, and pushes the fire.
It’s the strongest it’s ever been. Not as good as it has to be, not as good as Azula, but it will be eventually. Iroh nods approvingly. “Breathe the fire, don’t yell it.”
Zuko focuses on the sea. He focuses on the waves and his breaths and his anger, and throws volley after volley of fire at it, taking pride in the sizzling. He sees Lee’s face in the fire, and he hates it. He hates himself for remembering it and Azula for weaponizing it. All he can feel is blind hatred for that face. His next fireball is his strongest yet.
.....
Zuko’s sixteen and a terrible liar.
He told his uncle that he was going out with Shin to find out more from the locals, to see if anyone’s heard anything about what’s going on in the Fire Nation. That’s clearly bullshit, considering Zuko and his uncle both know that neither of them give a shit.
Iroh helped Zuko fix his hair regardless. “You must look nice if you want information,” he told Zuko.
The real reason is that about a week before, at the end of his shift at the Jasmine Dragon, Zuko had gone out behind the shop to take a break. Shin had been waiting for him, and after asking his name, (Zuko said “Lee,” the first name he thought of) and taking a long look at him, Shin pressed Zuko against the exterior wall and kissed him. They agreed to meet up a few days later and talk more after Zuko’s shift.
So now Zuko’s anxiously waiting outside the tea shop, trying not to touch his hair and ruin his uncle’s hard work. He’s not been waiting for long when he spots Shin in the distance. They both wave and Shin jogs the rest of the way over to meet him.
“Hey, Lee,” he says.
Shin’s got dark, almost black, wide set eyes and hair that covers them. He stands confidently and smiles at everything.
“Hey,” responds Zuko shyly. He hopes he’s not blushing.
“I know where we can talk safely,” says Shin. He leads Zuko through street after street, entering poorer and poorer neighborhoods. Eventually they reach a street of houses falling apart. Instead of people, the road is littered with wood and brick. Every structure is singed.
“What happened here?” Zuko asks quietly.
“The Fire Nation happened.”
Shin takes Zuko’s hand. Zuko’s first instinct is to wrench his hand away, but he breathes slowly and reminds himself that it’s okay. No one’s here.
Shin leads Zuko down the street, and Zuko can’t help but wonder how much of this damage was Ozai, how much was Azula.
“So, Lee,” asks Shin. “Where are you from?”
Zuko tries to remember the intricacies of the lie. “We’re refugees, our village was small.”
Shin grins at Zuko. “So I guess you didn’t do a lot of this?” he asks, gesturing at their clasped hands.
Zuko shakes his head. “My father wouldn’t approve.”
“Ba Sing Se isn’t so bad,” Shin says. “You can survive if you keep your mouth shut.”
Zuko hesitantly smiles back. “Good to know.”
Shin smiles broadly and tugs Zuko by the hand down the street at a faster pace. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
Shin leads Zuko to one house in particular, even more decrepit than the rest. Vines are crawling up the walls like they want to pull the house into the ground and flowers are growing everywhere, even the roof. For the first time ever, Zuko sees butterflies. They’re blue and white and yellow.
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Isn’t it great?” asks Shin. Zuko reaches out towards one of the butterflies and it flies away to circle the chimney. He smiles.
“It’s amazing.”
Zuko and Shin explore the neighborhood for a while and Zuko finds out about Shin’s family. He’s got one older sister and two younger brothers, only the youngest of which knows that Shin’s with Zuko tonight. His parents are both carpenters.
Zuko doesn’t share much, but he tells Shin about his Uncle and the tea shop. It’s nice to finally get to complain to someone about all the proverbs.
Eventually Shin walks Zuko back to the Jasmine Dragon and they say goodnight.
“See you soon?” asks Shin hopefully. His hair is pushed back over his forehead and Zuko can see his eyes. They’re reflecting the moon. Zuko nods.
About a month later Zuko sees Shin getting dragged away by Fire Nation soldiers in front of the Jasmine Dragon. Shin screams for help but everyone looks away, they can’t advocate for someone who committed the crime that Shin did, especially not to soldiers. There’s nothing Zuko can do.
.....
He’s surviving.
Dating Mai isn’t bad, per se. Zuko’s not thrilled about it, but she doesn’t get mad at him when he complains and she makes good enough company. Zuko can see himself tolerating her for however many decades they’re expected to be married.
He just needs to find her beautiful, that’s all. If he could find Lee and Shin attractive, of course he can Mai.
When he thinks about it, forces himself to stare at Mai until he can forget what other faces look like, Mai's pretty. Zuko’s still pretty sure he’s not feeling whatever he’s supposed to be feeling about her, but she’s got a nice face. Her hair’s shiny and she’s objectively nice looking.
So maybe the problem isn’t that he doesn’t find Mai pretty. She’s definitely pretty, with spacey eyes and a soft mouth, her dark hair making her face seem to glow. He just can’t bring himself to care.
Lee and Shin each had a sort of halo about them, shiny and ethereal in Zuko’s mind. He couldn’t not think about them, he couldn’t not admire them. Even if he could recognize their flaws, they disappeared in his head. Mai doesn’t have that. She’s just pretty and nice to spend time with.
Pretty and nice to spend time with are good enough, Zuko thinks. The rest can come later.
He laughs when he’s supposed to laugh and kisses her when he’s supposed to kiss her. He’s happy with her. He likes Mai enough.
They’re in the sitting room on Ember Island, where Zuko’s put on so many performances before. Mai and Zuko are sitting side by side, her absentmindedly petting his hair. Azula’s sitting across from them, telling some story about some great conquest. Zuko’s not really paying attention.
When she’s done Mai says she’s tired and she wants to go to bed. Zuko kisses her because that’s what you do when you say goodbye to your girlfriend.
Across from him, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Azula grin proudly at him.
Mai says goodnight and gets up and walks to the room they share to go to sleep in the bed they share. Zuko doesn’t particularly want to join her, but he doesn’t mind much that he’s going to, anyway.
As she leaves, Zuko gazes out at the window, watching the stars burn in the distance. He can’t remember the constellations he was taught as a child, he doesn’t mind. He thinks he can see his uncle's face in the stars. A particularly strong gust of wind blows leaves across his view, dancing green smudges blocking the stars.
“Oh, Zuzu,” says Azula. “I’m happy you and Mai finally ended up together.”
Zuko shrugs, still staring out the window.
Azula continues, “You must be happy, too?”
Zuko turns his head to face Azula, his eyebrows raised and his eyes squinting. He’s incredulous. Since when did Azula care about his happiness?
Azula leans forward to make eye contact with him. “Well, Zuzu? Do you actually want to be with Mai? Or are you just afraid-“
Zuko gets up from his seat. “Enough, Azula.”
He starts walking back to his and Mai’s room.
“I’m fine.” his spits.
He’s fine.
.....
Zuko has a problem, and it’s Sokka’s eyes.
Sokka has fantastic eyes. They’re deep blue, the color of the sea Zuko spent nearly three years traversing. But then they’re not just blue, they reflect every color Sokka sees, the white of the moon, the gold of the sunrise, the red of Zuko’s clothes. Sometimes Zuko sees his own marred face reflected back at him. But in Sokka’s eyes, it doesn’t look damaged, it looks beautiful. They’re like kaleidoscopes that make everything a little better.
So the problem isn’t Sokka’s eyes, exactly, the problem is that Zuko can’t stop thinking about them.
Zuko swore he wouldn’t let this happen again. People have only gotten hurt. Besides, he was with Mai now, and he was determined to be okay with it.
Zuko’s starting a fire as the sun sets. He’s confident that if nothing else, that’s one way he’s contributing, one way he’s repenting, by starting a fire faster than anyone else can. He’s just throwing some logs and twigs together and breathing out fire through his fingertips and into the campfire.
Of course he doesn’t need a campfire, but he’ll do anything to help the avatar and his friends. It’s the least he can do.
As the sun sets, everything’s bathed in a warm gold, making the fire seem not harsh but lively, a golden dancer in a golden world.
Zuko sits cross legged on the ground, watching the fire. In the distance he hears Katara and Aang laugh as they set up the rest of camp for the night. Sokka had left to go fishing and Zuko wasn’t sure when he was coming back.
He almost hopes that Sokka won’t speak to him, won’t be near him. Because he loves being around Sokka, watching him laugh and smile, and he likes being there to help him shoulder some of the responsibility. He doesn’t want to see Sokka, though, and watch his eyes and his hands and be reminded that he just isn’t broken the same way that Zuko is.
The fire’s nice today, if Zuko does say so himself. It’s strong, but not spreading, which is generally the goal.
As Zuko stares into the fire, letting his mind wander, Sokka sits on the ground next to him.
“Hey buddy,” he says, smiling lightly.
Zuko mirrors his grin. “Hey.”
“I’m gonna start the fish.” Sokka drops a particularly wide stone into the fire, delicately placing the fish on it without setting his entire arm on fire.
“Careful,” Zuko whispers. Sokka really is dangerously close to catching fire. Sokka’s got an expression of complete concentration that only makes him look more handsome. Zuko hates that he’s admiring him, letting the cracks in him spread.
Sokka smirks at him. “You know me, I’m always careful.” He turns his attention back to the fish, dropping the last one onto the stone and walking back to sit next to Zuko. “Probably just a few minutes,” he adds.
Sokka’s sitting a lot closer to Zuko than he was before. Instead of sitting next to him, he’s sitting pressed against him, their arms touching. Zuko doesn’t dare move. Without drawing too much attention to himself he slowly turns his head to watch Sokka. Sokka’s poking the fish with a long stick, which Zuko’s still pretty sure is going to be ash in a few moments. Zuko watches Sokka’s face, which now that it’s darker out, is illuminated only by the golden glow of the fire. His eyes are inexplicably just as blue.
As Zuko watches Sokka, he notices his head turning towards him, seeing Zuko stare. Zuko quickly goes to turn away, but upon seeing Sokka watching him, too, he looks back. They make eye contact and both laugh, and at least in Zuko’s case, a little nervously.
Sokka shifts his hand so that their shoulders are still touching, but now their pinkies are too. Zuko takes a sharp breath and shifts his own hand so that his fingers are covering Sokka’s.
He averts his eyes, staring back into the fire. He doesn’t move his hand.
.....
Zuko just came back from fighting Azula and he feels like shit.
To start with, it feels like his insides have been fried, because they have. Plus he’s tired from bending and tired from doing it to oppose his sister, who’s tried to kill him on numerous occasions. Said sister also had a complete breakdown, not leaving much for him to do. This just hasn’t been a very good day for Zuko.
Everyone else looks tired, too, but not in the way Zuko is. They all had to defeat a powerful enemy, but Zuko’s enemy wasn’t just powerful, she was also his mentally unstable fourteen year old sister who he had to leave in a prison cell, and who, despite everything, he still cared about.
Zuko collapses just about the second everyone’s been reunited.
“Woah,” says Sokka, catching him, and helping him back to his feet.
“Thanks,” Zuko murmurs, feeling more dizzy the longer he looks at Sokka. He leans on him, trying to regain his balance.
He really does feel like shit.
“I feel like shit,” he says to Sokka.
Sokka grips Zuko’s arms to help hold him up, and stares at Zuko’s face. His eyes are big and nervous. Zuko weakly smiles at him.
Without warning, Sokka gently puts his hand at the back of Zuko’s head, pauses, and pulls him in for a kiss. Zuko leans into it, in the same moment keenly aware of the warriors and their friends all surrounding them, and completely disregarding the existence of other people.
He’ll deal with them later.
Eventually Zuko breaks the kiss, feeling completely revitalized. “Hey,” he says to Sokka, beaming.
Aang grins at Zuko and Sokka and a few moments later Katara laughs as she tells Sokka that he could’ve done better. Zuko’s mostly sure she’s joking. Toph says that they, two idiots, deserve each other. With a deep, nervous breath, Zuko kisses Sokka again.
That night, when Zuko can find a moment alone, he hesitantly steps into his uncle’s room. He feels awkward standing in the doorway, like a child waiting to be punished.
“Come sit down,” says Uncle Iroh, brewing a cup of tea. “Jasmine, your favorite.”
Zuko sits down, feeling his hands shake a little bit. “Thanks,” he says quiet and raspy.
“So I see you’re with the water tribe boy,” his uncle says calmly, pouring the tea into two cups.
Zuko nods and bows his head, feeling the shame well up. No matter how much he likes Sokka, he knows he’s doing something wrong. Everything he’s ever been is telling him as much.
“Congratulations, Prince Zuko. He seems like a very nice young man.”
Uncle Iroh peacefully sips his tea. Zuko’s baffled. “You’re not... mad?”
His uncle chortles. “No! I am very happy that you have found happiness for yourself.”
Zuko nervously takes a sip. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says quietly. “About...”
“It’s alright, prince Zuko. I know where you came from.”
Zuko feels a slight smile on his face. His hands are still shaking as he tries not to drop his cup. Even if his uncle seems so okay, it feels so wrong to him. Zuko silently sips his tea.
Uncle Iroh refills it when he drinks it all.
.....
Sokka holds Zuko’s hand as he takes deep breaths.
“You’ll do great,” Sokka tells him.
Zuko raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s what they told my father before he got coronated, too.”
“Not a fair comparison,” Sokka says. “Your father was fucking up on purpose, your whole plan is for your soldiers just not to wage war on the rest of the world for a century.”
Zuko nods rapidly, trying to convince himself that he will not be a complete failure. “Yeah, how hard can it be? It’s just running an entire country!”
Sokka nods back enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s the spirit!”
A voice calls from down a corridor that Zuko’s up next. He turns to Sokka, panicked.
“You’ll do great,” says Sokka, kissing him on the cheek.
“I love you.”
“Love you. Good luck!”
Zuko waves to Sokka as he’s whisked down the corridor. He sees Sokka wave back.
.....
Zuko’s seventeen years old, and everything's going to be okay.
In just under a year Zuko’s abolished the Fire Nation’s standing army and reworked the legal scrolls so that people can no longer be arrested for insulting the Fire Lord. Otherwise all of Zuko’s friends (and boyfriend) would be arrested in under a day. He’s also made it legal for Sokka to be his boyfriend at all, and not the “highly trusted advisor,” that Zuko had claimed he was for the first few months of his reign.
He’s trying to be better. And he’s happy, too. He lets himself kiss Sokka without fear and firebend without hatred.
And, for the first time in years, is going to see his sister without either intending a homicide.
Azula has doctors looking after her now. Zuko had chosen them himself and requests reports as often as possible. They say she’s doing better, that he should see her. It turns out, after everything, Zuko’s the one with power and Azula’s just as broken as Zuko had ever been.
And after everything, he wants her to be better.
Eventually they let Zuko into Azula’s room. The walls are a bare white and her bed coverings are maroon. There’s nothing much else to note. Azula’s sitting on her bed, and slowly turns her head when she sees him come in. She doesn’t look upset, but she doesn’t smile. She slides over on her bed to make room.
Zuko walks over to sit beside her, and realizes he doesn’t know what to say. Azula’s not even looking at him.
“Hi, Azula,” he says. He doesn’t know what to do. He swallows. “I want to help you. Is everything okay here?”
Azula finally looks up at him. Her eyes look sad but there’s a faint smile on her face. “Hey, Zuzu.”
Zuko feels a lump in his throat. “Don’t call me that,” he whispers.
Azula chokes back a sob and leans her head onto his shoulder. Zuko’s still taller. He wraps an arm around her back and breathes slowly.
“I love you,” he says quietly. Zuko can’t think of another time he’s said that to Azula. Sure, it was probably implied at some point, when they were little and used to play games and make jokes. But he never said it.
“I love you, too,” Azula whispers back.