Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dragonfire.

It was breathtaking. Flames danced in red, green, and purple, gold and silver swirling twisting upwards and licking up his arms. Wild rainbows tickled at his back and if he thought hard enough he felt as if the fire could sweep him off his feet and help him fly.

The colors reflected in his eyes as he looked down at the fire he held in his palm. It was a tiny heartbeat, so small and fragile with all the potential to burst to life in brilliant emotion. Zuko wanted to laugh in joy, not caring if it sounded childish or came out as giggles unbecoming of a prince.

Dragonfire was a gift too magnificent and pure not to show and to hold. He wanted to do the old masters justice, to understand the beautiful gift they had helped him see. And so when the sun rose and he rose with it, he stood at the edges of an upturned temple and danced. When he had grumbled and burned in embarrassment, he knew that the forms of the Dancing Dragon sought to teach more than just flame.

The passion and the warmth from fire were so clear to him now. Fire was life, and just as he had to respect it, he could come to adore it.

Colors splashed against the worn tiles of the temple ground as Zuko ran through his morning katas. Flares of heat would bring with it licks of violet and orange, running over his wrists and flaring from his ankles. When he leaped, cyan fire streaked with gold grew wings from his back.

And when aquamarine chased his toes and ushered him higher, he felt a weightlessness that came with taking flight, and he couldn’t stop the delighted giggle that bubbled from his throat.

He couldn’t care less if someone could happen to walk in and stare like he had grown three heads, and honest to Agni laughed in joy as swirls of crimson and gold threw him upwards into the air. He came down with a powerful arc of his leg, cyan flame licking before it spilled and dissipated across the cool tile.

Zuko felt breathless, and it was a little like coming home.

------

Sun was streaming into Caldera, the courtyard empty of the scribes that had hurried off to rewrite and sign the proper documents, and Zuko and Katara were left with the broken, slumped over form of the fire princess.

(Was this another person he had failed? Another he should have tried harder to save? She had hurt him so many times—had abused and manipulated him. But still, but still. He had Uncle and later, his friends.

Who had she had?)

Azula had stopped spitting blue flames, kneeling, head bowed with her weight straining against the chains tying her wrists to the grates below. She looked so very utterly broken.

Zuko walked over to her, despite the screaming pain in his— well, his everything, really— and Katara’s protests, and stopped in front of her, his long shadow overlapping with Azula’s own. The sun illuminated specks of dust that floated past them, the palace yard bathed in soft gold and orange, and Zuko almost wanted to laugh at how wrong it all was. That the scenery would dare to be so light and warm, when all that was left was so very cold and broken.

He fell forwards then, lowering onto his knees in front of her, and felt his heart twist when he heard a quiet whimper and saw the slightest flinch in her shaking shoulders. He lifted an unsteady hand towards her,

[and]

And he drew her head into his hands and rested his forehead on hers, eyes closed and tears streaming. Azula suddenly burst to life, and she spat and thrashed and she let out such distinct keens of crazed pain that Zuko felt his heart crack. He pressed harder until her cheeks were squished against his warm palms and Agni, her face was still so round and so young and this was his little baby sister-

Azula sobbed and her ruined hair bristled against Zuko’s face but he couldn't bring himself to care. He drew his shoulders up to his ears and dipped his head further, bangs falling in front of his eyes but as he drew himself closer. Azula eventually stopped thrashing and she sank lower onto the ground in defeat. Her sobs became silent tears, and Zuko felt her press closer to him.

“I-” she started, her voice so quiet and small, and Zuko could almost hear the young happy girl she used to be. Agni, she used to be so confident and strong , what had Ozai done ? “Dum-dum,”

Zuko could almost cry from the old nickname.

“...Help me.”

And then he drew her into a hug, not caring that she could spew blue fire at his back and cripple or even kill him and he drew her close and let her rest her head on his shoulder as he cried.

[and]

And Azula cried with him.

------

It was hard, at first.

The world was still scarred, its people still in a limbo between war and peacetime. National borders were stretched thin, every meeting pushing and pulling between agreements and proposals that never seemed to satisfy everyone. There were close calls, where it seemed like one small misstep would be all it took for lingering tensions to reignite the war. The world held its breath for a very long time, waiting whether to suffocate or to gasp for a breath of fresh air, no one was certain. It was...a very tiring time.

But five years later, it seemed like things were finally, finally , healing.

Fire Lord Zuko was 16 when he took the throne, the youngest in history.

Now, he was 21, and the most beloved in history.

There would still be some days when it became too much. When the passive-aggressive letters and proposals flooding in from Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, and even from his own advisors, piled too high on his desk on wore him down too thin.

On some days, his friends would be there, and they would help. But they were all so busy, and the world had no time for a group of teenagers and young adults to live as they should.

So Zuko was often alone when it became too much.

And it was okay, truly.

He went to the gardens and fed the turtleducks, or he would go on walks and speak with the palace staff, who, just a few years ago, had become confusingly kind to him. The kitchen staff would badger him when he missed meals, and more than once, he found a blanket draped over his shoulders when he fell asleep at his desk.

But when he found even doing that was too much, he would train.

His flames were different now; the customary yellow and orange threaded with violet, crimson, and cyan. They would lick up his arms and spread from his ankles, as if offering him wings to help him fly. The fire, once so foreign to him, something he had lost in his cowardice, came roaring back and asked him to dance.

So he did.

------

He taught Azula to dance with him.

Her flames, so cold and blue, but somehow still burned brighter and hotter than his own ever could, started leaving trails of other colors too.

And together, they danced, and together, they healed.

------

“You’re still here. You... didn’t leave.”

“Of course not. I’m not going to, Azula. You’re stuck with me.”

“...Okay.”

------

When there was finally a break in the suffocating pressure and things seemed almost stable, he began on a journey and did what none of his ancestors had ever bothered to. Fire Lord Zuko began taking trips all over the Fire Nation, to see the effects of his reforms in person, and to meet his citizens and to understand them. He showed them that he was not lowering himself because he was one of them, and a lord that they all came to love fiercely.

There were still so many things about his own nation he didn’t know. The local cultures, their folktales, their traditions, and their lives. The celebrations they held and what they thought of their home. The beautiful crafts their villages specialized in, and the masters that were more than happy to educate him.

Fire Lord Zuko took his time, and he got to know the Fire Nation.

~

He ventured to Hira’a to visit his mother and made flower crowns.

~

“It has been too long, my son,” Ursa smiled, eyes crinkled at the edges with nothing short of pride. “Kiyi was especially happy to hear that you were coming to visit.”

“Zuzu, come make fire lily crowns with me!” 

Zuko let himself be tugged along, chuckling as he followed along with Kiyi’s cheerful instructions and clumsy fingers. Their crowns wouldn’t fetch any yuan on the street, but they were just as beautiful as they needed to be. 

“Next year, ‘zula can come with us, right?”

Kiyi let out a giggle as her big brother ruffled her hair.

“Yeah,” he smiled hopefully. “If she wants to.”

~

He revisited Shu Jing to see his old master and brush up on his training.

~

“Master Piandao,” Zuko bowed, hands clasped together respectfully. He ignored Fat’s stammering at the fact that the Fire Lord was currently on the steps. 

“There is no need for formalities,” Piandao waved him through the doors. “You have not been my student for many years, Zuko.”

Zuko accepted the proud clasp of a callused hand on his shoulder, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. It was truly great to finally see his old master in Shu Jing— revisiting the man and the place that had shaped his early years.

“But I know that I still have much to learn.”

“Indeed,” Piandao nodded gravely, gesturing for Zuko to sit. He laid out a roll of parchment and pushed forward an inkstone. 

“First, I have to see how you have been keeping up with your training. Do not think that I will go easy on you just because you are Fire Lord,” his master gave a smile then, eyes kind, but Zuko knew there was always the punchline. “ I always did remember that you enjoyed painting. I expect the detail to be exact .”

~

He went to Jiang Hui to help in the efforts to keep the river clean and paid respects to their local protector spirit. 

~

“So,” Zuko said nonchalantly from behind the rim of his cup. “The Painted Lady?”

Katara, who had been watching Aang feed Appa on the riverside, promptly started coughing and lowered her cup with a wheeze. 

“I apologized, okay?” She huffed after a moment with no real irritation. 

Zuko merely hummed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. 

Katara caught his gaze and rolled her eyes before punching him the shoulder. They both knew that the villagers had long since forgiven Katara, what with their seemingly being more excited at her presence than that of the Fire Lord or Avatar.

“Just keep your head up and work hard, Fire Lord,” she advised sagely with a nod. “Or else the local protector spirit might be forced to do something.”

“Of course,” Zuko smiled.

~

Fei Lian of Piao Lu village showed him how to write in fire calligraphy, tracing burning sparks into the air.

~

“Fire,” Jee repeated, a near constipated look on his face. “Calligraphy.” 

“Writing,” he said again. “But in the air, and with fire .”

“Technically sparks,” Zuko supplied helpfully, patting away some of the soot covering Jee’s shoulders. 

“Sparks, he says,” Jee grumbled, snapping back to attention. He let out another cough of smoke and wrinkled his nose, looking down at one sheepish looking Fire Lord. He narrowed his eyes, but sighed. The brat was damn lucky Jee tolerated him. (And definitely only tolerated.)

“Just don’t spark towards the door next time.”

~

 Kaile of Byakko taught him the art of swallowing flame, showing off to a group of delighted children and adults.

~

“Wait, wait,” Sokka waved both of his hands, eyes scrunched closed thoughtfully. “So, technically,” he stressed. “ Technically- ”

“-you would be able to cook food after you ate it.”

Zuko blinked, wondering not for the first time in his life what the hell Sokka was on about. 

“I’m,” he said slowly, the grip on his chopsticks slackening, “not sure?”

“No, no listen,” Sokka mimed two objects in his hands. “First you have the meat, “ he gestured with one hand, “then you have the fire,” he thrust forward his other hand. 

“Then,” he said earnestly, as if Zuko were really following along, “You have both of those in a  small space a.k.a. one grumplord’s stomach, and bam-!” He threw both hands in the air with the flourish. “Cooked meat in half the time!”

“Sokka, I don’t think that’s what swallowing fire means or does.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“ Yes. ”

“You...wanna try anyway?”

“...yes.”

~

 Pim of the Waibian Isles guided his way through the non-bending forms of traditional ribbon dance, twisting and flowing fabric lighting up the smiles on their faces.

~

“Did you see Lord Zuko this morning?”

“Oh, did that boy forget to eat breakfast again ? He promised Kei that he would at least drink the tea-”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was talking about the ribbons .”

“Ribbons?”

“Yes, the lovely art from the Waibain Isles! I always loved the performances in those Ember Island Players’ acts.” There was a hesitant pause. “Do...do you think he would allow us to watch?”

There was no time for a reply before another voice broke in.

“Oh, please, are you two talking about Zuko?” 

“Oh, yes we were- We meant no disrespect! I had just seen our lord this morning and-”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, I know that kid. He’s always been dramatic; he’d be over the moon if you asked to watch his morning swishy practice.” There was a fond chuckle.

“Yes, oh—thank you…”

The two palace workers watched as their advice-giver walked away further down the hall.

“Wasn’t that one of the honor guards? Hanako?”

“Yeah, must have been…”

~

He journeyed to Ozensakura to sit with masters and learned to paint the wayside and the cherry blossom trees.

~

My dearest nephew,

I hope that you are doing nothing but well in Onzensakura— it is truly a a lovely place, you picked a very opportune time to visit. I heard their wagashi sweets are quite popular during the fall! Please, for your elderly uncle’s sake, go and try some; it would be shame to miss out on a wonderful opportunity to try the world’s delights.

But I have to say, the painting you sent me is very lovely. I can feel the soft pink of the cherry blossoms burst as they do gently sway on the parchment. It seems that you have a gift, my nephew! I could only wish that I could see the cherry blossoms for myself, though I daresay your painting is just as breathtaking.

And be sure not to focus only on work in Onzensakura! Enjoy the hot springs and the crowds! Remember that even given enough water and good soil, a fire lily cannot bloom without sunlight.

With love, 

Your uncle

------

Fire Lord Zuko took his time, and he fell in love again, with the nation, the land, and its people.

On one of his final trips, he went back to the ancient towering ziggurats of the Sun Warrior civilization, without his robes or crown, to dance with the masters.

And when colored dragonfire lit up around him, he could do little more than smile until his cheeks hurt and twist through the forms with a practiced grace at the top of stone steps. Before they rushed back into the caves, Ran and Shaw growled approvingly down at the colors streaking the human’s own flames, faint but unmistakable.

After the journey, the colors only seemed to have grown stronger. Pastel and darker muddied shades exploded into saturation, and the people that would see the Fire Lord practicing his katas would swear that he was pulling rainbows from his palms.

------

“Finally on break?”

Zuko sighed and untied the apron from his waist, folding it over the back of the chair before taking a seat, shooting Aang a weary smile. 

“From one job, yes.”

“Don’t let the responsibility get you down, Zuko! It can be very rewarding.”

“Take your own advice, Avatar,” Zuko chuckled, pushing forward the tray of honey lavender biscuits he had brought fresh from the back. He’d taken up a bit of hobbies recently. Consider Aang a personal taste tester. 

“I do!” Aang said fitfully. “I love what I do— traveling with Katara and helping people. I can say from personal experience that it is very rewarding!”

“That’s good.”

“The world has changed so much though, hasn’t it? Especially the Fire Nation. I miss the lights and the celebration sometimes,” Aang said wistfully, cheek propped up on one hand. “I remember this one giant festival that I went to with Kuzon. The fire show was beautiful .”

“Yeah?” Zuko hummed. He knew there were plenty of festivals featuring light shows throughout the Fire Nation, but they were typically small and specific to one village. What Aang was saying sounded like something much bigger. “When was it?”

“Well, I’m not sure what it is on the Fire Nation calender, but I remember it was during the salmon-crane migration. Right before the days started getting longer.”

Aang took another lavender biscuit from the plate, chewing thoughtfully. Before he went to wash it down with another sip of tea, he brightened like he had just remembered something special. 

“Oh! But I remember seeing a lot of fire lilies there! They were all in bloom,” he said blissfully. “They were like fields and fields of red.”

Zuko gave a small smile at the sight of another one of Aang’s more reminiscent moments. The teen was only 17, after all, but he seemed so much older sometimes. It was nice to see that, despite all the grief and pain of loss it brought him, Aang was still able to find the good in remembering the “before.”

“Fire lilies huh? They’re almost in season,” the older teen said. “Maybe this festival is pretty soon?”

“Maybe!” Aang chirped. “I’m surprised you guys don’t talk more about it! There were all sorts of people there. I remember going with a bunch of my other friends— like Kuzon, Bumi, and Meron. It was like all the nations coming together.”

“All the nations?” Zuko frowned at that. Now that was something that hadn’t happened in a very long time. For...obvious reasons. “I don’t know about any festivals like that.”

Aang’s face seemed to fall a bit, but he quickly recovered. 

“Well, I don’t really know what it was called, but it was a celebration of the beginning of the warmer season. There was lots of food, dancing, and singing with all of the nations! And on the last day, they would light a fire in this huge goblet.” 

“That’s really interesting actually,” Zuko hummed, face pinching in thought. “It’s a shame it’s not around anymore.”

There was a beat before Aang snapped his fingers, ignoring the other teen’s grimace as crumbs flew onto the table, his face lighting up.

“Wait, Zuko! You’re a genius!” 

The firebender didn’t even need both eyebrows to show his blatant confusion.

“We can just hold the festival ourselves!”

“Wait, Aang—”

“Just think about it!” Aang said brightly. “It would be a great way to show that the Fire Nation is committed to peace and unity. And it would be nice for everyone to have a chance to just loosen up! It is the five year anniversary after all.” 

“It would be good for vendors to be able to open up,” Zuko agreed after a moment, nodding with quickly slipping hesitation. “We would all benefit from the increased trade. And revisiting old customs before they were outlawed would also be good for cultural reforms…”

Zuko could feel his own resolve slipping before he gave a sigh, smile twitching at his lips. 

 “This...might actually be viable.” 

“I, a wise Avatar, would never lead you astray,” Aang nodded sagely, stroking an imaginary beard. “And I must say, my great grandson, these lavender cookies are quite delicious.”

Zuko snorted and reached over the table to shove the monk lightly on the arm, grin teasing. 

“They’re biscuits, grandpa.”

------

It was only a few weeks later, after he had left Ba Sing Se and the Jasmine Dragon for his boring and tedious but so worth it duty as Fire Lord, that Zuko spotted specks of red in the gardens. Making his way out onto the courtyard, he could see Kyo tending to the hedges, near the buds that had starting appearing from their year-long rest.

“My lord,” Kyo said respectfully, feigning solemnity for a beat before breaking out in a large smile. “Long time no see.” 

“It’s been about,” Zuko exaggerated a look towards the sky to check the position of the sun, “six hours. I’ve missed you a lot.” 

“Of course you did,” Kyo teased. “You’re here to visit your little menaces?”

“They’re absolute delights,” Zuko said indignantly, because his turtleducks absolutely were. He could hear their adorable peeping and quacking from here. “They’re just not used to strangers is all.” 

“If by “not used to strangers,” you mean “aggressive to whoever isn't decked out in Fire Lord regalia,” then sure.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, but shook his head. 

“I’m just here to see the gardens actually. I noticed that the fire lilies are starting to bloom.” 

“Yes, they are looking very nice this year aren’t they? They say that every fifth year is when the buds grow strongest,” Kyo scratched his chin before giving a short laugh. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s true, really, but Kazuto seemed to think it was a nice story.” 

“I’m sure he did,” Zuko snickered.

 But the gardens were looking better than they ever had before, he had to admit. It had been completely transformed from the barren ash-covered space, like a lifeless remnant of what used to be his favorite childhood spot, into somewhere he found comfort in regularly. No matter how much he did tend to say it, nevermind how subtly, Zuko didn’t think he could convey just how much he truly appreciated the change. 

This meant that the fire lilies would be starting to bloom all over the Caldera, pushing up from between cracks along the roads and in the large fields that dotted the outer islands. The fire lily was a resilient flower, and it was strikingly passionate and fiery like its namesake. Its green stems stayed year-round, but peeks of red would only begin blooming in the end of the colder season when the days started to grow longer.

Which reminded Zuko— he had research to do. 

------

“Thank you, Xie,” he nodded, already flipping through the dusty bound books and worn scrolls. “I will let you know if I need anything else.”

“My lord,” she nodded before leaving Zuko to it, who had soon taken a seat on the library floor and leaned up against the bottom shelves, totally engrossed by the surprisingly large amount of texts Xie had managed to dig up for him. 

And as the day grew longer and the natural lights from the large windows didn't quite illuminate the pages, Zuko looked up, casting a quick glance in either direction for Xie’s stern watchful eye. But when he saw her caught in her own work, for once not berating him for sitting on the dusty ground or for staying bent over scrolls for so long he would get a crick in his neck, he held up a finger and lit a small flame. 

It danced a pale lilac, and Zuko brought it closer to the page, where it licked harmlessly against the yellowed parchment. 

The texts were old , so much so that the characters were written vertically and read from right to left. But despite the mild adjustments he had to make, Zuko found himself captivated with everything he read. 

It had many names. Or maybe it was a bunch of names that had been combined into one. The Tokae Festival celebrated life and renewal, the greeting of the longer days, and celebrating the unity of the seasons and the nations. 

It had not been celebrated in a very long time—not since the beginning of Sozin’s rule. It invited all the nations to the heart of the Fire Nation, in ten days of dance, song, and food that shared the goodwill of unity. And there would be a traditional releasing of lanterns, each one carrying a person’s blessing into the new year.

The narrow streets of the lower Caldera would be transformed to open stalls, cheerful bustle in the daytime that only grew by night. Strings of lights would illuminate the pavement and roads, and there would be an abundance of fire lilies bursting from the ground when they finally bloomed. 

Zuko gave a small grin, plans already formulating inside his head. After he drafted basic plans, he would send Aang a letter and go over the idea with his advisors. He made his way to his study, nodding greetings to anyone he passed even as they eyes the concerning amount of books and scrolls he had clutched in his arms.

The idea of the Caldera lit lanterns and his people as well as those of all nations together and celebrating something that was truly valuable and worth the uproar—the idea of celebrating an important five year anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War— it was perfect .  It was a chance for togetherness and to strengthen bonds not only within the Fire Nation but outside it.

It embodied everything that Zuko had hoped to do these past few years. 

And of course—Zuko grinned, relishing in a bit of mischief— as a plus, his ancestors would have hated it. 

------

“Here, can you fly this to Aang, Fireflake? He should be at the Western Air Temple.” 

The fire hawk accepted the letter into the holster on her back as well as one last loving stroke on her head, before spreading large wings and sweeping off into the sky. Zuko watched Fireflake go with a small smile on his face and bright ambition in his chest.

He had already done so many things differently than from his ancestors. 

What was one more?

Chapter Text

The returning letter from the Western Air Temple was nothing but enthusiastic assent, and Zuko couldn’t hold back a small snort at the bubbly encouragement that burst from the parchment. By the week’s end, he had sent off another number of fire hawks— to Ba Sing Se, Omashu, the Northern and Southern Tribes, and Toph (who, yes, needed a letter all of her own).

And when Zuko received the replies, they were approvals and negotiations, and the hope in his chest grew brighter because this could really work. 

From the Water Tribes was friendly agreement, both arriving with an extra letter tacked on from Katara in the North and Sokka in the South—the first of who promised to help with preparations in her excitement and the latter of who teased Zuko about finally loosening up.

From Ba Sing Se, there was a formal declaration from the Earth King, an enthusiastic assent from the man who had read about the very same festival in his dusty libraries. And from King Bumi’s barely legible scrawl, Zuko did manage to gather that he had Omashu’s support as well.

A letter from Kyoshi Island from Suki promised that she and a couple of the other warriors would be there as well, because “not for nothing, but I remember how much trouble you got into when we were still at the palace, Zuko.” He resisted a guilty flush for all the times he had broken a leg or an arm because he hadn’t let the Kyoshi Warriors do their jobs. 

(Well, it wasn't like those assassination attempts had succeeded anyways.)

 And from Toph was a surprisingly neat letter, but dotted here and there with typical Toph-like profanity that one of her poor students had no doubt been forced to pen down, about how he could expect her to be popping in at some point—nevermind when. Zuko smiled, because he knew that Toph would come through for him regardless of how busy she was with her metalbending academy. 

They were doing this.

(There was one final letter, but Zuko didn’t expect a reply. She had left the palace around a year ago, and had refused to bring guards or even companions. The last time he heard, she was in Hira'a visiting Kiyi. 

So he didn't expect a reply, but he was just happy knowing that Azula was reading the letters at all.)

------

“There is going to be a festival, you all heard?”

------

“Please, your Majesty, it isn’t customary. You do not have to do this if you don’t wish to. I’m certain there are many other performers that would be honored to—”

He stopped when Zuko held up a hand, a placating expression on his face. He looked determined. 

“I know what I’m doing, Weiju.”

Zuko turned to address the old man beside him, who had only been watching the hushed conversation with benign eyes and a small smile. His eyes seemed to twinkle, much like whenever Uncle had made and taken a sip of an especially good cup of tea. 

"It would be an honor to learn from you, Master Kitsu."

Then he bowed, clasping his hands together respectfully to form the flame. It was forty degrees: one used by a student to show respect to a teacher. While his advisor, Weiju, started to sputter at such a casual show of esteem from the Fire Lord, the old man did nothing besides smile more warmly, the edges of his eyes crinkling. 

Kitsu returned the bow, the loose silk of his robes swishing as he dipped his head. 

"As it would be to teach you, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me Zuko."

------

"Fire comes from the breath," Kitsu stated plainly. "Creation kindling is a form of firebending used to entertain and to inspire, and it is dependent on the breath and the will. Its forms are difficult to master, but you might find that it can be much more rewarding than any technique used for battle.”

Zuko nodded along diligently, listening. 

“A very common performance, as I’m sure you’ve seen before, is flame shaping and manipulation.” Kitsu brought up his closed fist before opening his palm to release a swarm of yellow and orange butterfly-jays that fluttered towards the sky before disappearing into embers.

Kitsu did not miss the way the Fire Lord’s face lit up in wonder at the sight, and he thought fleetingly that perhaps, Zuko had not seen anything like it before. It would be a shame of course; Kitsu had always thought fire performances to be a staple of every young child’s trip to the Midsummer Festival. Kitsu was just an old man, but he wanted nothing more than to bring that same sense of joy and wonder, and teach others to spread it as well.

“How did you do that?” Zuko had turned to him with bright eyes, his voice eager. Kitsu didn’t bother to hold back a delighted smile, and he started from the beginning.

“Form a flame in the center of your palm, and imagine. Any animal or object or feeling. Then let them burst from your hands.”

Zuko mimicked the way Kitsu held his hands, closed his eyes, and imagined. But when he opened his hands, there was nothing but a dusting of soot on his palms.

Kitsu looked over with kind eyes and gave a small chuckle. 

"Try again," he said. Zuko was already cupping his palms, eyes closed in concentration. Again, there was nothing. He looked at his ashed hands, trying not to look put out. 

Kitsu laughed out loud this time, not unkindly. “It is difficult, my lord! All I can say is that you must keep trying.”

Zuko blinked, but got right back to it, clasping and imagining. They sat together in the training grounds for a long while, and Kitsu only gave occasional reminders to relax and breathe and imagine, but left Zuko wholly alone to practice.

------

"This is an opportunity for us."

------

“The festival celebrates all the elements and nations,” Zuko explained for what seemed like the twentieth time to Weiju. The man was understandably nervous, with such a large festival and a lord that seemed adamant at doing what was traditionally reserved for performers of a...lower ranking. “And that includes non-bending forms as well.”

“Yes of course, my lord,” Weiju replied, but his face still scrunched up with worry. “But please understand that not many will take...well to this.”

Zuko sighed, but nodded his head in agreement. “I am aware of the possible consequences, Wejiu. But it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

(Always things to fix, always people who would be unhappy. Always ways for him to be better—and damn if he wouldn’t try.)

They reached the end of the hallway and Zuko stepped out into the courtyard with Wejiu trailing behind him. 

“I am here to represent all of us.”

------

Zuko had been told that Heng was the best. 

From a young age, she had worked with fire poi and kept life in the art that had been nearly crushed by the war. It was a performance art, and because it did not translate into violence, it had been deemed insignificant. But Heng could very well be a warrior, from the way she held herself to the obvious respect and assuredness she danced.

And as Zuko watched her spin the poi with an unmistakable grace, he couldn’t help but know that she was the best.

“I would be honored if you would teach me,” Zuko bowed respectfully, just as he had done with Kitsu. But Heng only looked like she was holding back a grimace, before giving Zuko a small nod.

But even as they practiced and Heng watched with her arms crossed and brows furrowed, Zuko couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

------

"The Fire Nation. Us."

------

Between his lessons with Kitsu and Heng, Zuko had thrown himself completely into the preparations for the festival—organizing the stalls for vendors, overseeing the fire lily collection, the creation of the lanterns, and dealing with the absolute mountains of paperwork that came with organizing a nationwide event. 

The more he read about the Tokae Festival, the more he kept finding. About the final blessing and the traditions that came with it. The scrolls kept referencing one place, where the sun would set on the summer eve exactly ninety degrees west of the dais. The sunset would signal the death of the last year; and when the sun rose to the east the next morning, it would be the birth of a new one—blessed by the Spirits.

It hit him when he recalled the boarded up courtyard just off the palace grounds. It had been long since transformed from its makeshift status as a weapons storage, where heaps upon heaps of broken metal and discarded shrapnel had sat, waiting to be melted down into more tank armor and engines. The space had been cleared out, but not given much thought. 

(There hadn't been the time to—what was one courtyard compared to everything else? To reparations and negotiations and bills and rebuilding?)

It did all make much more sense now, in hindsight.

The walkway was lined with sandy colored stone, worn from disuse. It snaked towards the central dias, where in a large divot sat a sandstone goblet. The inside was tinged with specks of ash, signs of previous fires that had burned there. It had been very long since it was last used—a long time since the courtyard had even been open.

It was very obviously structured after the ancient civilization of the Sun Warriors and their worship of the sky serpents. It was likely why Sozin had ordered it to be boarded up, along with the pure, original form of firebending that it embodied in its very architecture.

How fitting, Zuko thought as he ran a hand over one of the worn walls, that after nearly a century, the Tokae Festival should take place here.

Green vines and twisting foliage crept up the pedestal and walls, and large ferns dipped from inside cracked terracotta. There were the remnants of markings along the stone, from sharp angles of rhythmic etchings to the curves of the open maw of dragons, soaring along a stone canvas. 

And when Zuko pressed his palms against the walls, he could almost feel the sun-warmed stone rumble in approval. 

------

“Alright, call this an intervention!” 

Zuko startled, looking up from the lines of fine print he had been squinting at for the past half hour, quickly dropping his brush to avoid getting ink blotches on the parchment. He had jerked at the sound of his study door slamming open, and blinked when he saw Toph, Katara, and surprisingly enough, Aang standing in the entrance. He thought he had ordered his guards to let no one disturb him; but considering who it was, the orders had obviously been staunchly ignored. 

But seriously, when had they gotten here?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Katara said, making her way towards the desk, picking up stray books and papers from where they littered the floor as she went. “We’re not just going to let you coop yourself up during your own festival.”

“Yeah, can’t you find the time to be with your best friends, Sunshine?”

Zuko gave a sheepish smile, and felt his face flare with a sense of shame. Had it really been so long? He knew that the festival was quickly approaching, hell he’d been the one running around and organizing the damn thing, but to see that his friends were here and he hadn’t known about it at all? Did he somehow miss a ten-ton bison landing in his courtyard?

"Of course not! I’m really glad to see you guys all here! Just, let me finish up and maybe we can get lunch or—”

“Oh man, this really is an intervention,” Aang gave his friend an apologetic look before lifting him straight up from his chair, Fire Lord robes and all, and started carrying him towards the door.

“Aang! What are you doing?!”

Zuko let out a disgruntled sound when Toph pinched his nose, shooting him a small smirk. 

“You’re coming with us now , Sparky,” she said, tone leaving no room for argument. “If we let you sit in that chair any longer your ass would have fused to it.”

“And Zuko?” Katara gave a sigh, her voice exasperated and teasing all at once, and it struck him just then how much he missed them all, overbearing motherly attitudes and all. “Maybe try treating us to dinner . Lunch was four hours ago.”

“Oh.”

Zuko could do nothing but sigh as he let himself be carried down the hallway over Aang’s shoulder like sack of potato-beets, resisting the urge to shoot the guards who had been standing at his door a crude gesture when they merely let their Fire Lord be carted off while stifling snickers of their own. Better not let Toph be proud of him or anything. 

There was a pleasant chatter all the way out to one of the garden patios, the three of them ignoring Zuko’s valiant attempts at sulking and trying to pinch the back of Aang’s knees to get him to drop him because Zuko had legs and could walk on his own thank you very much . But that only resulted in him being shifted into a firebender’s carry, and he really couldn't tell if this was any less or more undignifying. 

“Look what the badgercats dragged in!” a cheery voice said when they reached the steps of the outer garden. Sokka was sitting cross-legged on the floorboards, a large grin on his face as he looked up to give his friends a wave. Suki did the same from her spot next to him, eyes amused as she stifled a snort at Zuko’s ruffled appearance. 

“Sorry I wasn’t there to say hi, Your Majesty,” Sokka cackled as they approached. “Wish I could have seen it, cause man, this is way better than I thought.” 

Zuko had determinedly stuffed his face into the fabric of Aang’s robes because he would not let Sokka or Suki get the satisfaction of seeing him flustered. Because Agni, Toph was already going to have enough ammunition to last her into the next year—

“Buuuut, I was a bit caught up here, anyway. Like I knew you told me he was amazing at Pai Sho but I didn’t know he was amazing at Pai Sho—”

At the mere mention of the game, Zuko’s head shot up, and he felt his own lips curve into a wide smile at who he saw sitting at the other end of the table. 

“Uncle!”

“Hello, my nephew,” the old man chuckled, patting the vacant spot next to him. Zuko gave Aang a grateful pat on the shoulder as he was deposited onto the ground, from where he quickly wrapped his uncle in a hug. Large warm arms hugged him back, and Zuko kept telling himself that the moisture in his eyes was simply from staring at paperwork for the past week. If he had been with anyone anywhere else, he would’ve been mortified at the way he melted like all his bones had suddenly liquified, sniffling into his uncle’s shoulder.

“As sweet as this is, why didn’t we get a hug?” 

Zuko released his uncle with a final squeeze and shot a wobbly half-hearted glare in Toph’s direction. 

“You guys didn’t really give me the chance,” he said, not even pushing down the watery smile growing on his face. 

“Consider that chance right now!” Sokka leaned over the board, not caring that he was pushing some of the pieces near off the board entirely, and wrapped his arms around Zuko’s waist. “Group hug incoming!”

Then there were suddenly a lot more arms and warmth wrapped around Zuko, and he smiled as he melted hopelessly into them too. It had really been too long. After so many months of only feeling the embrace of cool air, Zuko wasn’t sure he could ever go back. He hugged them all tightly, forgiving himself for his near-death grip on the account that everyone else seemed to be doing the same. The small crescents Toph was leaving on his arms were sure to stay til the next morning, but Zuko couldn't really find it in himself to care.

“It is such a blessing to see all of you so energetic and happy! I think the two of us old men could learn a thing or two.”

“The two of you?” Zuko asked, confused. He leaned back with a final reassuring pat on Aang’s hand.  “Uncle, I don’t think any of us are that old-”

“No, I’ll admit it,” a deadpan voice said. “I’m pretty old.”

Zuko stiffened but then almost immediately slumped dramatically over the Pai Sho board, letting out a groan. 

“Didn’t know you were that unhappy to see us, kid!” Hanako cackled as she promptly sat herself down next to Iroh, hands on her knees as she shot the top of Zuko’s head a grin. “But your uncle knows what he's saying. If he’d said three, you’d have a riot on your hands.”

“Don’t threaten the Fire Lord, Hanako,” Jee said, his voice just on the side of chastising. Zuko lifted his head, ready to give his head guard a thankful smile because he knew Jee had always been his favorite. “The brat wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Over the loud laughter around the table, Zuko let his head conk back onto the surface. 

“Consider your status as favorite revoked , Jee,” he grumbled hotly.

“Wasn’t aware I had it in the first place, my lord.”

Zuko didn’t even waste a second before looking back up to shoot Jee a halfhearted glare. 

“Revoked."

Even in the face of Zuko’s misfortune, they all eventually descended into bickering and teasing over cups of ginseng and dimsum.

Halfway through one of Sokka's dramatic retellings of a whale hunt back at the South Pole, there was a soft peeping, and Katara gave a laugh when she felt something tugging at the hems of her robes. She picked up a disgruntled looking turtleduckling and placed it on the Pai Sho table, where it promptly began attacking a tile. 

Hanako crossed her arms and looked down at the little creature, who looked straight back up at her with beady narrowed eyes. There was sure to be some marks left on the lotus tile clamped in its beak.

“They’re little menaces, all of them,” she said, poking at its shell with a tentative finger. She pulled back right when an orange beak gave a warning snap.

“They aren’t! They’re delights,” Zuko protested, placing a hand face up on the table near the turtleduckling, giving a small smile when it immediately clambered up into his palm with a chirp. “You just like making fun of them all the time.”

“Well, Zuko’s love for turtleducks does run very deep.” Uncle, that traitor, gave a fond smile, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Have I ever told you all about the time he snuck a whole family back to his room?”

“No, you certainly did not,” Suki said with a grin. “Please, tell us more.”

“Wait, you guys don't really want—”

“No, no, we do,” Toph said, ignoring the whuff of pain Zuko let out as she punched him in the shoulder. 

“But—” 

Zuko made an indignant sound as Sokka actually reached over and pinched his lips shut, shooting them all, and especially Jee and Hanako who would not stop smirking , a look vehement enough to startle a cricket-mouse. 

“Shush, let the storyteller tell us his secrets.”

Aang gave him a comforting pat on the back and Katara shot him a halfway apologetic smile that she did not mean at all, so Zuko let out a groan and flopped backwards onto the grass, only sparing some of his energy to cradle the turtleduckling in his hand closer to his chest. 

Zuko listened to Uncle dig up all of his most embarrassing childhood stories with what was absolutely not a pout on his face, staring up at the darkening pink sky with the soft grass and softer turtleduckling in his hands. 

Agni, he hated all of them. 

(He didn’t.)

------

The days passed by quickly and the preparations were soon finished—Zuko having done nothing but fret over the supplies, the incoming visitors, and inevitably, his own training for the final day. 

“Come on, come on! It’s time to rumble Grumplord!” 

The stalls were bustling and the crowds were delightfully loud. All around them were people wearing everything from green robes, red yukatas, blue furs, to orange kasaya. Loud vendors beckoned to people walking along the roads, and children laughed around patches of fire liles. The sun was nearing midday, and Zuko followed his friends through the market with a smile on his face, Hanako and Jee trailing behind them.

He and Aang had made the opening statements that morning, welcoming all the people to the Caldera and acknowledging the five year anniversary of the end of the war. There had been the usual fanfare, but for now, Zuko was free from his robes and cape, dressed instead in casual wear with just his crown. 

Sokka was ahead, chattering to Toph, both of them occasionally turning to make a quip that had Zuko smirking or making half hearted protests. It was nice, just being out and about with his friends and family. It was only the first day and Zuko couldn’t help but feel like he should be doing something else, but after restless checks and double checks and triple checks, he allowed himself a moment of respite. 

(They had all worked so hard. He would let himself hope—he’d let himself have that much at least.)

“Ah, I’m sorry-” Zuko just barely stumbled as someone pushed into him, bumping into the dense crowds. The man, shrouded in red robes and rubbing his shoulder, turned wearing an apologetic expression before freezing. Gold eyes grew cold and his jaw snapped shut. Zuko attempted to give a small confused smile before the man quickly pushed away past them into the crowds. 

“What was that guy’s problem?” Sokka asked with a huff, sticking out his tongue to the retreating back of the stranger. 

“Want me to knock some heads?” Toph cracked her knuckles, her bare feet already digging into the dirt.

“No, no it’s fine,” Zuko immediately placated, albeit with a small frown. It was inevitable that there were still some people who did not approve of him, or the way he ruled the nation. He couldn’t expect everyone to like him. 

(...It was just a bit surprising how much that fact still hurt sometimes.)

 “Let’s just go. I’m sure Aang is waiting for us.”

Before the three turned to head for the plaza, Jee exchanged a look with Hanako, who nodded. She leaned towards a worker stationed at one of the corners and whispered something, before rejoining her lord.

▸ ▸

Everyone seemed to be excited for the first event of the festival—an opening performance embodying the element of air.

When they reached the open plaza, Aang was already there, along with a crowd of people that stood around the performance area. The streets and building eaves were dotted with wind chimes, gently twinkling underneath the cacophony of chatter. There were ones made of shining metal that made laughter like bells, and ones made from dark mahogany that resonated a low tenor they all felt more than heard. 

Zuko felt a pang in his chest, because even though he knew that there was traditionally one performer, Aang was up there alone because he was the only one left. But when Zuko had held back a flinch as they planned the element shows, Aang had only smiled and said that he felt honored to represent his nation. 

The monk was still smiling now, settled peacefully on the ground wearing the traditional clothes of the Air Nomads, wooden beads among soft yellow and orange. 

It was about to hit midday, and the skies were a bright cloudless blue; the bustle of people quieted as it came closer to the start of the performance. Zuko stole a glance towards the eaves of the buildings, reassured when he saw the air acolytes crouched steadily on the edges. He was sure he saw Teo flash him a thumbs up with a grin. 

“Thank you all for coming!” 

Aang’s bright voice was accompanied by a swirl of cool air, ruffling loose clothing and knocking the smaller chimes together. He held out his arms to the side, letting out a deep breath before spinning, gaining momentum before he lept. A large gust rushed past the metal to wooden chimes, creating a symphony of sound that reverberated throughout the plaza.

Aang went through the motions, his movements light and graceful, almost seeming like he was dancing on air. Then, as the sun shone directly above them, he whistled, the sound loud and sharp.

All at once, Teo and the acolytes pushed over the boxes, and out poured thousands of paper cranes of every color and size. They tumbled off the eaves and caught in the swirling air, funneling around Aang up and up towards the sky. Then all at once, Aang sent a powerful gust from his lungs and the cranes soared , scattering over the plaza to the delighted shouts of the people. 

Rainbow drifted down over them, dotting colorful shadows over the ground.  Zuko reached out with an arm and caught a crane in his hand. It was small and misshapen—likely folded by one of the children—but the mix match of green on its wings made his heart want to clench. He knew that it had been crafted by someone; someone in the crowds and someone willing to further the peace. 

One in a hundred thousand.

Zuko would know; he had helped fold a couple himself. There were exactly a hundred-thousand, one thousand cranes for every year the war waged. 

[ A hundred years of loss.

A hundred years of pain.

A hundred years to remember, and five to start.]

Aang had said that the paper crane was a symbol of good luck and fortune; it represented hope and healing through challenging times. An old air nomad legend said that folding a thousand cranes would grant the folder a wish. 

These cranes were folded by people all across the four nations.

[An infinity to move forwards and heal.]

The brilliant colors scattered across the sky, small wings fluttering as they drifted back to the ground. There was everything from navy to crimson, and emerald to gold. 

In breathtaking color, it was their one wish. 

------

It had only been a week since the first letter, but Aang had already prepared hundreds upon hundreds of flyers that would be sent to the different nations. On each one were simple diagram instructions on how to fold a paper crane. 

“I want you to make the first one with me, Zuko,” Aang said with a smile. He held out a square of paper. It was colored red on one side and pure white on the other. 

“Aang,” Zuko swallowed, ignoring the lump that was building in his throat. “You should fold the first one. Or Katara should fold it? Or one of the air acolytes or—”

He stopped when Aang took his hand and placed the sheet between his fingers.

“Remember not to crinkle the paper” Aang grinned, though there was a suspicious wetness in his eyes. “I’ll show you how to make it.”

And somehow, Zuko managed to create a wobbly uneven looking paper crane after he had gotten his hands to finally stop shaking, and he shared a smile with Aang as he placed their two creations side by side. His own red crane slumped a little with a neck that was just a bit too long, but Aang’s bright yellow crane stood proudly enough for the both of them. 

(It wasn't perfect, and that was fine. They had the time, and they had the will. )  

-----

There was the sound of delighted laughter from the children that raised their arms to catch the cranes, and everyone smiled appreciatively at the truly beautiful colors that scattered throughout the plaza, drifting from the rooftops to the roads. 

Aang looked breathless, smiling bright. “Let’s celebrate!”

[Air, the element of freedom, energy, and curiosity.] 

From the four winds that brought life into the Universe to the first cry of a newborn, it was exactly the way to start off the festivities. 

-----

"Paper burns so easily, doesn't it?"

-----

The next day, Zuko wasn't even allowed a moment of rest before he was dragged out of the palace and onto the streets by his friends. Even his huffing wasn't enough to mask his excitement at seeing the stalls and the people and the activity for himself—seeing this festival actually come to life. 

Just from seeing the stands upon stands offering everything from lessons on threading fire lily crowns to ones selling foods and goods of every kind, Zuko almost felt like he could cry. But before he could do anything to really embarrass himself, Katara had dragged him over to where Toph and Suki were contemplating a lineup of Earth Kingdom wares, one way more seriously than the other. 

Zuko became a halfway reluctant change purse that paid for all of the inane things they (mostly Sokka and Toph) wanted despite all of them absolutely having enough money to buy it themselves. 

Sokka had spent a good amount of his time and (Zuko’s) money at a stall selling traditional hair ornaments and ribbons of every color, commenting loudly on how Katara had been nagging about losing her last hairband on her last trip with Aang and had been making due with a scraggly fabric. It was surprisingly thoughtful of him, even though he immediately got side tracked by a stall selling meat skewers.

Zuko himself had found himself contemplating a stall selling a variety of teas and assorted knickknacks, and left a blushing storekeep with probably one too many purchases. Dragon fruit and sea prune tea did seem just like the sort of taste experiments Uncle would enjoy, and he knew that if Azula were here, she would have gotten a kick out of the inanely convoluted Earth Kingdom version of Pai Sho. He’d gone about his day spending and laughing like he hadn't done in a very long time, and when they all retired for the evening, he got the implicit joy and anxiety of giving his gifts.

Odd tea leaves for Uncle.

“Oh, I will have to add this to the Jasmine Dragon’s menu! Thank you for opening this old man’s eyes, nephew, I am sure these flavors will be very popular.”

An oddly endearing wooden puffin-hare for Genji.

“This is adorable —Zuko, look at its little eyes!”

A pair of silver and gold earring studs for Dekku.

“I always seem to be misplacing mine. Thank you, Zuko.”

A pack of colorfully decorated playing cards for Hanako.

“Didn’t know you were gonna encourage my bad habits, kid! Don’t worry, they’ll be put to good use. Jee is gonna lose all of his money.” 

A curious blade sharpener made of whalebone for Teruko.

“I’ve been needing a new one—thanks, kid.” 

A matching set of rose charms for Kazuto and Kyo.

“The word is in, Zuko is a giant sap!”

“What he means is ‘thank you’—come on Kaz, say it .”

A cheeky mug with “Fire Nation’s Best Head of Royal Guard” crudely written on the side for Jee.

“...I'll let you have this one, kid.”

But before he could retire for the night, Zuko received a gift himself.

------

Sokka tumbled his way into Zuko’s room with Katara right behind him, and sat down on the bed that definitely could fit like four of you, Grumplord , and patted the spot between his legs. 

“It’s time for some good old us time,” he said with a grin. “It’ll be fun!”

Katara had only rolled her eyes but shot Zuko a look that he knew meant no escape. It wasn't like he would have put up much of a protest at all, but he still gave a brood worthy huff before obediently slotting between Sokka’s legs, leaning his head onto the edge of the bed. Rough comforting hands carted through his loose locks that poured well past his shoulders, and Zuko closed his eyes in contentment. 

It had been months since he had seen Sokka or Katara last, and only two short years since his hair had been long enough for them to have their braiding sessions. 

“You really went all out on the colors, didn’t you?”

Zuko opened an eye to peer at Katara from where she had a bundle of ribbons laid out on the bed, and made a surprised sound when he saw a set of yellows, greens, and reds that he definitely hadn't seen Sokka buy. 

“”Course I did,” Sokka scoffed around the blue ribbon between his teeth. “I’m not one to skimp—hey, turn your head just a bit—? yeah, that’s good—on things, you know?”

Zuko soon had his hair threaded through with an absurd amount of multi-colored ribbons, Katara grinning as she weaved in mint green next to a bright gold that Sokka had already worked into a fishtail braid. 

He of course got his revenge when it came time for him to mess with Katara’s long hair, wrapping what seemed like a dozen small colored braids into one large bun on top of her head. 

Sokka got all of the remaining ribbons in the form of tiny braids around his temple, which he used to annoy them both by swinging his head wildly, making the braids fly like small colorful pinwheels. 

The three of them laughed and chatted well into the night, and as Yue’s light shone in from the open balcony, they grew just a bit quieter. Zuko was leaning against Katara’s side, Sokka laying across them with his feet in Zuko’s lap, when the firebender let out a shaky exhale. 

“This is all actually happening,” he said, just a bit wondrously. “It’s happening and we planned it and it’s happening .”

“Yeah, it is,” Sokka echoed, pressing his toes into Zuko’s thigh. He had the weirdest way of letting people know he was listening. “You did it, buddy. The first two days went great, and I'm pretty sure we’ll be smooth sailing from here.”

“Maybe not smooth sailing,” Katara raised a brow. “Weren't you the one freaking out about our performance tomorrow?”

“Schematics, she-mantics,” Sokka waved a hand. So maybe he had been a bit worried—a bit anxious if you would. But he’d come a long way since his stuttering teenage “debilitating stage fright” self, and even if his palms still sweat a bit, he would say he had an excuse this time. It was only an extremely large and important performance where he had to represent the entire Water Tribes is all. No biggie. 

“It’s alright to be nervous, Sokka,” Zuko said, because it really was. He was already so grateful that his friends had agreed to help out so much at all, and he didn't want Sokka thinking that he had to put up a strong front. “I know I am. About my own performance and this whole festival.”

“It's turning out, isn’t it?” Katara gently elbowed her friend in the side, a small smile on her lips. “It’s going to go great. All of us have worked so hard and I’m so sure this is going to do so much good. ”

Sokka let out a hum of agreement, and there was another lapse of comfortable silence.

“Y'know, I missed this.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

-----

Before the end of the next day, Zuko had done Sokka and Katara’s braids again, this time just a bit more seriously. The two of them set off towards the harbor with determined smiles and four distinct colors in their hair.

------

▸

Soft moonlight rippled on the slow waves of the harbor, and the orange glow of the lanterns lining the water’s edge provided light for the crowds along the sea. There was a clearing made directly underneath the moonlight, where two water tribe siblings stood, waiting for the crowd to settle in. 

Sokka’s voice was strong, but soft when it needed to be. There was a steady sort of rhythm, and the sound of water being shaped and pulled came from the banks behind him. Katara lifted her arms, circling her hands and easing the water into motion. A polar bear dog rose from the waves, its form evermoving as it gave a shake of its head and snuffed at the precipice. 

"There once was a polar bear dog, who lived in a world filled with only snow and darkness."

A puffinhare formed to its left, large ears twitching. It quickly pranced away when the polar bear dog turned towards it, racing towards the moonlight before splashing back into the harbor. 

"The polar bear dog lived a life enjoying the thrill of the hunt, but one day, he angered a pack of wolf-foxes, who chased him from one edge of the world to the other."

Katara gave a flick of her hand, and the distinct forms of snarling wolf-foxes formed on the sea. They bared their teeth in a silent growl, and the lantern light from the harbor flickered through them, shifting color onto the waves. They leapt towards the polar bear dog, and they ran and ran towards the moonlight. 

“The polar bear dog kept running, closer and closer to the edge of the world. But before the pack of wolf-foxes could catch him, they all tumbled off the cliff and into the sky.” 

Shifting legs darted over the eave, scattering droplets on the water’s surface and racing deeper into the night towards the horizon. The polar bear dog did not hesitate before it leapt, straight upwards with the fox-dogs still on its trail. In an instant, they scattered, leaving large droplets suspended in midair before dropping back into the sea. 

“They became the moon and the stars.”

Sokka gave a smile then, looking up into the full light of the moon. He knew, and everyone knew, just who she really was. The stars winked, and he felt something rise in his chest, knowing that Yue was still watching over them. 

“And when the celestial lights dance in the sky, they say that the spirits are playing a game of ball with a drop of moonlight...”

The night continued with an enraptured audience by the docks, the waves moving to the sound of tradition. Hakoda and Bato looked on at their children, of whom they were both so incredibly proud—and they knew that Kya would be too—feeling their hearts swell with nothing but love and awe. They hadn’t been there for them enough, but seeing them grown up and having done so much and happy —it was all they could have ever hoped for.

[Water, the element of compassion, community, and healing.]

Katara and Sokka, representing the bending and non-bending arts of the Water Tribes, led their segment of the festival. And as everyone watched enraptured, the colorful ribbons in their hair intertwined much more than just their braids.

------

.

.

.

"And isn’t it fascinating—how easily water vanishes into vapor?"

Someone hummed. 

“It won’t be long now. Be ready.”