Chapter Text
Oh, how his heart picks up.
The breaths, curling out like plumes of smoke, feel like animalistic victory instead of the pure cold.
For once in his life, Zuko had done it.
He is trembling, but it is not from the weight on his back. Next to what it means, his prey is nothing.
There is nothing, nothing but the white around him, the ever-lasting expanse of snow and rock, the cruelty of the north.
And through the nothingness he makes his way, smiling through the fabric that covers his face.
In the grasp of clawed hands, Zuko has the Avatar himself.
The boy had saved him, just not in the way he had hoped for.
There was no cruelty in bringing the cause of all that distress, all that madness, to justice.
There was no cruelty in holding him close, as close as the pride he can feel blooming.
Like the flowers back home, the ones Ty Lee would braid into his hair, the ones Azula would ripen and burn.
Soon, he will see them again.
Soon, when he gets out of that place, out of the desolate, bland nothingness.
Like the numbness in brief moments of clarity, like the feeling of fever deep in the pits of his stomach.
The coldness is overwhelming.
The meditating monk's body is turning into ice, slipping from the grasp of his hands.
But he has long since broken from fever, his mind is clear enough to know that that's silly.
Isn't it?
Nonetheless, a part of him, willfully stupid, wants to curl up into a ball, sleep away the snowstorm.
Persistence feels futile.
But he's come this far, and he will go even further.
He has the avatar.
He has the work of three years, on his back. He may not, and he may never.
For the time, he will revel and preen, he will smile with his prey within the grasp of his talons.
The pain threathens to knock him down with every burst of wind.
He'd never thought those to be the things that would lull him to bed, he'd never anticipated how forced his victory would feel.
Zuko needs no warmth, though, and he is yet to earn care.
Ants crawl under his skin.
His breaths puff out, dragon smoke or a funeral pire?
In the distance, he sees a cavern.
Any place is a nest, for a desperate enough bird, lost in migration, lost in thoughts and in translation.
It feels like the blink of an eye, before he enters it, sets a fire into motion.
Sparks of a victory that refuses to leave him alone.
Nobody will find us here, the boy reasons to himself as he lays down, facing his prey, right next to the tiny flame that sputters out in their hiding place.
And, as he numbly accepts that he is to sleep, that no one will ever find them here, that when morning comes, the snow will give out and he'll go home, one last cough escapes the little soldier boy, as he drifts off, far, far away.
In his numb, frozen sleep, prince Zuko dies.
.
.
.
And bursts into flames.
-
"Zuko can't have taken Aang very far." Sokka says, and Yue's heart soars from something other than childish love.
Love and duty you have no pick you have no choice, taunts something, and Yue can't understand if the thoughts are coming from her mind or from something outside.
The duty is hers, and so is the desperate wanting to renounce from it, run away and give up, beg to the spirits that her burden falls upon another person.
Through her trembling hands, her quivering lips and the desolate song of her heabeat, she can gulp down the fact that she's always known this day was coming.
If her tribe is to fail the Moon Mother, Yue will pay the price.
She has been raised for slaughter, but nonetheless her selfish head wishes to live on, even with the curses that would come her way were she to refuse the spirits the sacrifice they'd molded her for.
She wants to convince herself, but can't pretend that the shattered shelter of a half-life is worth leaving behind.
Yue is aware she was never supposed to leave the temple of her capital alive.
But awareness does not mean understanding, and understanding doesn't mean acceptance.
It would be stupid nonetheless, to ignore Her calling from above, Her bone-white pull, Her screaming in the darkness of a snowstorm.
So, Yue looks for her one hope: the Avatar, Aang, the boy that bears a spirit's face. For that selfish part of her wishes that maybe, with his help, the inevitable can be delayed.
With a dry throat and red eyes, she climbs atop the bison. Her pondering will be silent, but she will let herself enjoy one last flight, one last time soaring, even if her mind refuses to let her out of her own turmoil.
The black night, the stars hiding behind clouds.
The gap from which the Moon Mother stares down, an all-seeing white-blind eye.
You will join us, she says. You will be the snowstorm. You will be ours. You will be us. You will be. You will not be.
She hears Sokka and Katara yell out, as a beam lights up the sky behind them.
Nothing registers.
She cannot pretend her face moves into expressiveness, even as they announce their victory, yell out they found their friend.
Soon soon soon, chants the sky, and Yue shakes her head, looks down on the saddle.
Her hands clench white on the leather, and she feels like she could use the rough surface to peel away the skin. Flay herself with the unique ease of someone not all there, someone far too focused on proving that they're human and flesh and bone, even if only to herself.
Yue cannot pretend she's ever been all there, for she has a burden she cannot share.
Is it inside her head? Is it everywhere? Why cannot she share the burden with anyone else? Why can't anyone else see the shapes in the dark? Hear the screaming? Feel their hands, cold and wet, as they choke her day after day?
Their friend is found and, despite not caring much for him, she cannot keep the smile from her lips.
He has just awoken, now. Still tied, with a confused frown on his face. He doesn't dare to move - perhaps he can't.
She ignores it. He brings hope, after all.
(The desperate, starved thing that brought her parents to condemn her with the moon’s screaming in the first place.)
But then, she sees it.
It looks like a moon-mother. Not the moon-mother. Just... an animal. A little squinty thing. Small, limp on the cave floor.
Its wings are splayed out, almost like its dead. Its big eyes are closed, and she fears for the worst.
Is this a sick reminder, she asks, but the moon-mother, Tui’s other facet, does not respond. The Tui that they worship is a beautiful, lovable creature. The moon-mother is what Yue thinks, knows she is. The moon-mother is Yue’s name for the real Tui, the Tui that only answered to her call once, just so she could be cursed.
The creature is limp, but alive. Its breath comes out in shallow, even - somehow controlled, even in its sleep - huffs and puffs.
Yue cups the left side of its face, which is featherless and withered, covered by an old burn that scarred quite terribly. Its face looks... wrong, to the moon. That wasn’t one of the Avatar’s pets, before the kidnapping. She would’ve recognized it, otherwise.
“Yue, what’s that?” she obscures the left side of its face, almost unconsciously. The moon-mother tells her to take it.
She doesn’t know what it wants to do with this creature. She is the moon’s loyal child, and she will never speak an untrue word against her master, her savior and patron.
But honesty isn’t praise, for things like her.
“A bird.” she says. Not quite, the moon whispers, but doesn’t tell her to kill it yet. That terrifies Yue. “I’ve never seen one like this before.”
That is a lie. Dirty liar, dirty, dirty lies. Indiscernible whispers. She doesn’t care for them.
“Okay. Aang, check. Weird bird, check.” says Sokka, matter of factly.
“Sokka, where’s Zuko?” asks Katara.
“Oh. Shit.” ooh, a swear, thinks the part of Yue that’s still just a child, sheltered away from the world, still laughing over infantile humor. "He's behind me, isn't he?"
She gives a quick check, pretending to be lighthearted about the situation. He must be relived, she reasons. Allow him the humor, let it last, says the mother, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Nope, captain!" she salutes, like it's natural.
“Well, it’s better that he’s gone.”
“He must’ve left.” to where, she wonders.
If anyone sees the burn on the creature, even as Yue cradles it gently (she pities its fate, for she knows that nothing she touches lasts for long), nobody says anything.
-
Zuko wakes up feeling.... Weird. Wrong, but somehow right.
The first thing that comes to his mind upon gaining consciousness is that he’s never seen these colors before.
When he opens his mouth to yawn, he feels like it’s… Different, somehow. Too big. Too wide. He cannot feel his teeth, and isn’t that a great sentence to hear upon waking up?
That is the first sign that something is wrong.
The second is that he’s back at the oasis.
The third is the fact that everyone is there, silent and tense, and, most importantly of all, none of them are attacking him. Weird, wrong wrong wrong.
He feels numb and stupid, and, upon reaching out his arm, he sees a wing.
And, upon seeing that, he gives out a sharp scream. Except it isn’t quite a scream. It’s a shrill, loud call. It isn’t a sound any human should, could make in their right mind.
“You woke up.” says the white-haired girl, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand.
Zuko finds something that is right, when he pecks her. It feels so different, to move in that body, but it isn’t that bad. It’s useful. It grips better than human teeth. His beak appears to be... Hooked, somewhat.
A part of him, in another world (in another state of mind) would be ashamed of biting, grabbing and not letting go.
“Ouch!” she shakes her hand, and, by association, him, as he is, quite literally, attached to her arm now.
A part of his stupid, literal-bird brain wants to swallow her hand. Like a bug, like food.
That is what she is. But no, wait, thinks the part of him that’s still human, that still thinks.
The avatar. His prey. The thing that really matters, right now.
He gives up his grip, falls onto the floor gracelessly, and stands up on two tiny legs. The talons don’t feel right. Too small. He should be a hawk. This isn’t a hawk.
And, as the realization truly creeps upon him, he understands the scope of the situation, finally.
He…
He’s dreaming, isn’t he?
Because he doesn’t want to think of the other option. That isn’t true. It’s just a dream, and he needs to wake up.
“Where is the avatar?” he tries to say, but only that wicked, wrong shriek comes off.
He starts screaming, but not even him can understand what he says. Everyone is staring at him, now.
“Sokka, it might be hungry.” says the girl, despite the clear - albeit not significant enough, he sees - damage to her hand. “Do we have any food?”
Oh. He is hungry, in that dream of his. He’d never thought he’d feel hungry in a dream, of all things, but call it a nightmare and he’s done.
“I have some jerky, but not for him!” he says. Zuko can’t see his face properly, he’s standing up. “No jerky for jerk bird, until he apologizes!”
“Sokka, that’s a bird.” says the savage girl, shaking her head in exasperation. She’s beside the avatar, who is strangely silent, obscured by her shadow.That’s clearly why he didn’t see his prey before.
Better late than never.
He cannot fly, but he can hop, awkward on these odd limbs of his, like a newborn deer-moose. Maybe if he gets to the avatar, it’ll play out like one of the nightmares with father.
(The ones that started after the South Pole. The ones that always left him shaking, that sometimes made his scar ache a bit, like it was fresh again.
The ones he doesn’t want to talk about, because they were embarrassing, and they always ended up with Zuko at the deck, until Uncle woke up and came there to keep him company.
They didn't talk a lot, about it or at the time or anything, but he knew Uncle had nightmares too. But he also knows that Uncle had a reason to have nightmares, and that he never wanted to cry after them.)
Reliving them is inevitable. Better do it now, so I wake up sooner, he thinks. Knowing that, in the real world, his prey is on his grasp, it comforts him. Readies him for the inevitable.
So, he approaches the avatar. He’s meditating, still.
And then, right as he is reaching him, ready to stare into his eyes and see them open into demonic white lights, not like any oil lamp he’s ever seen, not like anything that a human should have- and see Father take his place, a loud bang is heard.
Right as the garden door opens, and Zhao barges in, Zuko realizes…
This isn’t a dream.
-
“And they will call me Zhao, the moon-slayer!” Yue goes dizzy.
The screaming is so loud, too loud, so overwhelming, and everything she feels scratches her, bites her. The grass feels like blades, her clothes feel like chains, her tears feel like they're boiling.
The world contorts into ugly shapes, the moon-mother yells and yells and yells and yells and yells and yells and yells and yells and it won’t stop yelling and screaming and now Yue doesn't know who's screaming, it or her-
-
The girl won’t stop screaming.
He thinks she’s dying.
And Zhao is saying that it’s on their nation’s best interests, and nobody is stopping him.
And Zuko knows it’s treachery.
But he can’t think straight, not with the girl’s endless pleading and screaming, with how she’s falling apart as Zhao holds that agnidamned fish-
He isn’t very smart, or even in a good state of mind. However, he knows that there’s something between that koi and the girl and the red, bloody moon.
So, Zuko attacks. To say he had a plan would be a lie. All he has is a sharp beak, wings that don’t work, and no protection on Zhao’s face.
He can’t talk, so there is no way he can firebend, in that state. A part of him knows what he is, but that part of him is tucked far away into the crevices of his mind.
The world is red, red like his anger, as he screams and lunges.
It is dishonorable. It is a violation of the balance of this world. He’s fought Zhao before, he’s won against him before.
So, he opens his wings, despite knowing that he won’t be able to take flight.
The world stops for a second, as he attacks with all his might-
And that’s his mistake.
“What.” spits Zhao. “Is the meaning of this?”
The fire doesn’t burn him, but the kick still hurts.
Of course he’d fail. Nothing more in character for him.
He should’ve expected that. Zhao holds up the fish, gasping for air in his grasp, flailing more weakly by the second.
“Zhao, stop!” yells Uncle, far too late. He wants to take Uncle, too, fly them both back. That primal part of him longs for the safety of his flock, to be far, far away. “This is an affront to the balance of our world! Don’t do it!”
“You do not know what you talk about, you treacherous fool!” Zhao screams, and then, he realizes something, and laughs. "I will show you what is the balance, General Iroh!"
Zuko doesn’t know what he’d expected himself to do, or what he’d expected Zhao to do.
He just knows that the fire wasn’t it.
Because now the fire is consuming the fish, and a part of his mind wants to scream and run and fly away back to his nest where the fire cannot reach-
The world goes gray and black.
The moon is gone, but the girl won’t stop screaming.
Her voice is growing hoarse, but comfort isn’t in his blood, and there is nothing he can do for her.
He just has to try again.
And again.
And again.
He is always refuted, but her screaming muffles his thoughts, and it isn't like he had a plan for that anyways.
And yet, by the fourth time - he has nothing else he can do, because nothing in him knows how to turn back and become himself again -, something else is heard.
The avatar.
“There’s still something I can do.” says his prey, his voice childish and small. What is he hiding? Does he revel in not being the priority at the moment? Does he know Zuko will get him once his competition is gone?
And he walks. He walks to the pond, right in front of Zuko.
A part of him longs to revel in his hunt, gain back his prey, but he knows that that is not the priority at the moment.
And, as he steps into the water, bright blue pulses into their world.
The hoarse screaming ceases on its entirety, as something huge rises from the water, into the world.
His prey may be small on its own, but that thing…
It isn’t.
It rises, and it brings color back into the world, bright blue pulses taking the moonlight's place in the sky, as it rises up and up and up.
The world stops.
The world stops, until it starts rampaging.
-
Zuko wants to help, but he cannot do anything about it, he cannot shift, he cannot be himself again, and he does not know enough about whatever afflicted him to do something about it at the moment.
Uncle doesn’t even notice him. Either that, or he does not recognize him.
He is graceful, fending off any remaining soldiers. It is treacherous, but he isn’t putting them down. Not really, and not definitively.
The world is all over the place, all is too bright and too much, and Zuko cannot do anything but watch.
That new body of his, it is a curse upon him. He wishes that were a dream.
Her screaming stopped a while ago, he’s even checked on her - she isn’t dead, but nearly there -, but it’s all too loud.
His people - his flock, the first he's ever had, before his disgrace fell down upon him - are all dying.
He is tired, but he springs up and runs around, aimlessly trying to trip them up, to stop them in any way, so that they do not get themselves killed.
And, as he hops over a tiny bridge, he sees Zhao.
He doesn’t want to kill one of his own. That man shouldn’t be the exception. But he’s the reason the world is like that, now. He’s the reason all is broken.
He has disrupted the balance, he has defied all honor.
And Zuko can’t do anything but inconvenience him, but simply squawk and scream and-
The ocean, lit up beneath them, rises into a hand.
Zhao, despite his attempt to run away, is snatched away, swiped cleanly, sucked into the ocean.
The world is left standing as it was before.
-
When Yue next wakes up, she is all alone.
They’d… Left her there.
She can move now, but it’s all sluggish, and the world is too slow and too fast and too loud but she cannot hear the moon-mother so all is too quiet-
And, as she gets up, she sees the destruction.
The world is gray, not just early-morning gray, but ash-gray, and the sea is too still.
The screaming has stopped.
The moon-mother - no, Tui - is not there anymore. She isn’t pressing against Yue’s head, now. She isn't screaming, or whispering, or even watching.
She’s never felt free before, so she doesn't know what this feeling is.
It’s such an odd sensation, this clean-head-ness of her. It...
Is this little wicked thing, that gives her strength. She cannot run, she cannot do much but to limp around aimlessly. But she feels strong, in a way she's never felt before.
She looks for Sokka, and she looks for Avatar Aang and Master Katara. She looks for anyone, but the garden is empty.
That old man from before, the one with the Moon Killer - his name be forsaken, now - stands at the garden gates. His cloak hangs on, mostly burned, its color dulled by the dead colors of the early morning.
“Princess Yue, are you okay?” he doesn’t turn back to ask her.
Her attempts to speak, to say anything, only result in soundless gasping, like a fish out of water.
He faces her. His face is kind, withered by time, carved away like stone by the years. For a fire nation man, his eyes look almost kind.
And isn’t that something she’d never thought she’d say? That a fire nation person - an ash-maker, a soot-bringer - would look soft in that way.
“I am looking for someone, too.” he says “But you are not the only one who fears the worst. My child-my nephew, was to infiltrate this place, you see.”
She doesn’t know who the man’s child-nephew is, and she cannot sympathize with him, not really. She just nods.
Maybe it is unnatural of her, to have to force herself to truly care. But that isn't a person to whom she owes anything, or whom she holds any care for. It's just someone nameless, with no face or destiny.
“I will assume you are looking for your friends.” he says, like there's hope. “Would you come with me? You will be kept safe, this way.”
She doesn’t know why he is helping her, and she does not trust him.
Even without the moon’s whispering, she isn’t easily swayed.
They walk, silently, out of the garden, and soon she realizes its shambles look… Almost nice.
Yes, the pond was destroyed, the grass had withered, overly watered.
But outside, damp weather and cold times aren’t the biggest problem.
No, the city that used to be her tribe, the Northern Capital, is in shambles.
Ice and snow, littering what was once her home. Many of the streets are inundated, the canals that used to run through them, tumbled down, flooding the streets with icy water.
She never thought she'd see that many corpses at once. They lie under rubble, or impaled by the snow, or float through the mess of canals and inundated blocks. Some are in the rubble of their machines, and some are but burned husks. A few armored carcasses have sunk to the bottom, and some pieces of armor, even some swords and spears, have floated up. It's almost a game, dodging them.
Is that a true ritual of coming-of-age? The dodging of icy-cold vessels? There is no victorious chorus, as she parades through the ruins, and she cannot even hear the spirits. The world stands in shocked silence, in a way that's almost respectful.
Corpses and more corpses. Blue and red alike, all washed away. The morning is rising, between the clouds, but not a single bit of pigment is back to that world she’d lived in for so long.
As they walk, the old man grows desperate, mindlessly pushing corpses, flipping them, looking through the piles of red and blue.
He pleads under his breath, prayers for someone…
Someone named Zuko.
Zuko, like the boy who had kidnapped the Avatar, she remembers.
But she cannot truly ask him anything. She can just accompany, and she can just look, gaze through the crowd of people to whom she will never be able to give a funeral, for any semblance of a face she’s never seen.
She fears looking into the faces, even if none of them wear the same clothes. She fears the same thing the man does, but she does not confront it.
There is nothing that terrifies her more than the idea of her friends - the first people she’s ever been able to call anything akin to that - being amongst the crowd, the people that feasted with her, that she watched train and shop and play and build snow castles.
Because she longs to grab the thin strand of hope, to hold onto it, even as she starts identifying the faces, un-burying their names.
Father isn’t there, amongst the inundated rubble, and neither is master Pakku, and neither are the ships. That keeps her going, that keeps her marching, and dodging, and keeps her stomach's contents where they should be, because no matter how much of it that she sees, the carnage is still shocking.
And then, as she breathes deep and looks into the cloudy sky, she steps on something, and, despite the water being only up to her knees, she feels like she's drowning.
Yue had thought it had spared the children.
No, she hadn’t thought that. Not quite. She’d merely hoped for it. For something that wasn’t terrible, that wasn’t just…
So cruel. Not even the moon-mother would directly harm a child. Not even on the nights where she screamed about past injustices, all the affronts ever made by mortals towards her.
But then, she’d stepped on that tiny, tiny arm.
Through the water, up to her knees, she could recognize a little face.
One of the little girls, the ones on the first healing classes. Seven, at most.
She has no voice to scream with, but her tears cascade down anyways.
The man catches up to her.
There are no words said, but a part of Yue knows he grieves alongside her, as he lowers himself down and closes the dead’s eyes, so they may never gaze upon what became of the world without them again.
After that, he grows more despaired. She can play out in her head, how he saw the dead child and imagined his in there instead.
“ZUKO!” he calls, and pleads, and she hears a sob, and this time it isn’t her-
And, when he screams, something screeches out from atop the ruins of what was once a beautiful, well-kept house.
She recognizes it. It’s the scared bird, the little creature from before. The little moon-mother, wide-mouthed, wild-eyed bird. In the daylight, its color reveals surprisingly plain. She doesn't know why she'd imagined it being red, red like the bloody moon, like the exposed, foul meat half-frozen around her.
It stretches out, curiously, its feathers puffed up from the cold. Its eyes are wide, and she knows that moon-birds have mouths that naturally look like smiles, but nonetheless, the creature seems to laugh.
Almost as if it recognizes the man. Perhaps it is some kind of pet? It jumps in the water, and tries to swim up to them, only to fail, instead floating, clearly not made to paddle like a duck.
While the animal clearly knows him, he clearly doesn’t.
Maybe it was his nephew’s pet? But he was clearly close to his child, so there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize an animal of his…
Despite not having any bond with it, the man reaches out, even if he has to swim, and even if it’s clearly uncomfortable to do so in his heavy armor.
Upon being grabbed, the thing settles in his arms. Maybe he resembles its actual owner?
But who would bring their pet to an invasion like that?
She just… Doesn’t understand, at this point. For she sees nothing but carnage, but the reason they’d said that La is even more ruthless than Tui.
The man and her catch up, but she… Doesn’t want to keep going.
Sokka may not be gone, but she feels like a part of her is.
She is surrounded by other people’s mistakes, and the moon - and the spirits, none of them are talking, none of them are screaming, it's almost as if she's normal oh- is dead silent, and she doesn’t know what this cruel, cruel world has in store for her.
And then, as always, a beacon of hope shows itself in the sky.
It’s the bison.
She waves at it, and tries to scream, but…
It’s flying away.
She can see Sokka from its saddle, and Katara - soon-to-be Master Katara, first woman to ever be a combatant in waterbending since their tribes had separated between north and south -, but…
They’re going away.
They didn’t even see her.
“You may come with me if you wish to, Princess Yue.” says the man. "I would enjoy some company. I'm quite certain a raft fits two."
The bird pecks him, gently, not the way it had bit her last night.
"Three, then. Only if that is what your heart desires, of course."
It isn’t a permission, but a request. A request of an equal, of someone who will grieve as much as she does.
Her friends are gone, and all she knows is dead.
Yue has nothing left to lose.