Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Prince Ozai knows this.

Whenever — Not if, but when, he thinks in disgust — his son fails to meet the standards of a descendant of Sozin — even Lu Ten, nonbender that he is, performed those katas better at Zuko’s age — it’s easy for Ozai to avoid leaving scars when delivering Zuko’s punishments.

It would be shameful for a prince to bear the marks of a coward, after all.

 -

Father’s acts of love — That’s what they are, right? Yeah. Love. Because he wants me to get better, Zuko thinks. Because he wants ‘Zula to learn from when I do poorly. Because he cares — are delivered behind closed doors, where no one can see the faint red marks on Zuko’s skin that quickly fade, but hurt nonetheless. Where no one can see Azula’s eyes fill with tears. Where no one can see Mom's face go eerily blank.

 -

Once, before Crown Prince Iroh leaves for battle, he and his brother observe the children’s training. Azula is perfection, taking in the new forms quickly and executing them precisely. Zuko, meanwhile, stumbles. He regains his footing quickly, a flicker of fear flashing across his face as he sneaks a glance at Ozai. Odd, Iroh thinks as he takes a sip of his tea.

Toward the end of training, Azula performs a cartwheel — she says that her friend (whose name Iroh just so happens to let slip from his mind) showed her how to do one — while shooting fire from her feet. She seems happy to impress her parents and even happier to impress her brother.

Zuko, not one to be outdone, then tries to do the same.

He is eager to learn, and stubborn enough to get it right, Iroh thinks. Well, if you exclude the tree that caught on fire. But hey, things happen. Ozai, though, does not take it so lightly.

“Prince Zuko!” Iroh pretends not to notice how his nephew flinches.

Ozai grabs Zuko’s wrist, smoke already emanating from where his palm is placed. Iroh’s eyes grow wide at the action. To his nephew’s credit, he continues to struggle against his father’s grip despite the pain he must be in.

In the past, Iroh has accepted Zuko’s explanations for the bruises, scratches, and fading burns that appear on his body. With a sister like Azula, or friends like the strong pink girl and monotonous one with knives whose names Iroh definitely knows — When I return from battle, I vow to become closer to my niece. She needs a real father figure in her life, who will care enough to know her friends’ names and assure her that anything less than perfection is acceptable, and that she’s allowed to show love. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I still have a wall to penetrate, a battle to win, my own son to look after—

Well. Injuries are bound to happen.

But this. Iroh never expected this. And all he can do is watch as his brother drags Zuko away, into the palace.

——

Firebenders' skin doesn't burn easily. The now-second-in-line Prince Ozai knows this.

In Ozai's opinion, his nephew Lu Ten never really stood a chance anyway. The older man would have dealt with the nonbender himself if Lu Ten hadn't gotten himself killed in Ba Sing Se. His nephew's brutal death at the hands of earthbenders is just another reminder of how superior his own element is.

-

When Mother reads the announcement of Lu Ten's death to Azula and Zuko, the girl acts above it all. When Lu Ten's funeral is held without a body, Azula acts like she didn't just lose her favorite person. He was a better older brother than Zuko has ever been. When Uncle Iroh returns home, Azula acts as if he is alone in his pain, acts as if he is weak because of it.

When Azula's fire begins to turn a cold, deadly shade of blue, she acts as if it was intentional.

——

Firebenders' skin doesn't burn easily. Soon-to-be-Fire Lord Ozai knows this.

That's why, when his wife interrupts his attempt to claim the throne with a golden flame dagger (dragon's fire) to Fire Lord Azulon's throat, Ozai decides to resort to a knife instead.

 -

Ursa will do anything for her children. Her protective turtleduck Zuko and fierce, moose-lion-hearted Azula. Both show potential to one day outshine even their mother's firebending abilities.

Azula, now age eight, is a true prodigy, having mastered blue fire a few short months ago. Masters from all over the Nation fought over the right to train the girl. Ozai allowed her daughter to choose her masters, though none stood up to her test — that is, none would train her brother alongside her. So Ursa teaches her children firebending instead.

Zuko, at eleven, always disappoints Ozai. Master firebender Ursa may be, but a lady must obey her husband (I tried many times to stop Ozai before I learned that that often made things worse for my son). So he learns other types of bending.

Like shadow bending. Which is not at all impressive — it’s not like he invented that type of firebending in order to avoid his father. Nope, Ursa smirked when she first caught a glimpse of Zuko disappearing after training one day, only to look up a few moments later to see him reappear on a shady spot of the palace roof. Not a prodigy at all.

Ursa will do anything for her children. She wakes in the middle of the night to find the Fire Lord restraining Zuko — Even half awake, he has so much fight in him, she admires — and her husband with a palm full of fire.

She acts.

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Princess Ursa knows this. She is powerful though, with Avatar Roku’s blood flowing through her veins. Azulon dies quickly, Fire Lord Sozin’s blood no longer flowing through his.

 -

Zuko does not understand what his parents are saying. He tries to listen in to their conversation, tries to ignore Grandfather. He sinks back into the darkness.

“—assassination gone wrong—” What does that word mean again? Zuko's thoughts arrive in a scrambled rush as his heart flutters in his chest.

“—If your plan succeeds, I promise no harm will come to either of them.”

“Thank you, Ozai.”

What plan?, Zuko thinks. His head swims as his heart refuses to steady its rapid pace. Zuko’s eyes flit back over the blood that seeps from Grandfather’s neck. What’s going on?

“Just let me say goodbye to the kids first—”

Before Mom can turn away, Father takes out a knife and—

 -

Ozai relies too heavily on his bending. He knows that firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. He doesn’t know where to stab one to ensure the fastest death. He doesn’t know that Ursa would be dead by now if he hadn’t kept the knife in the deep wound.

 -

The pool of blood on the stone floor grows. It seems as if Grandfather's eyes had closed a long time ago. Footsteps — Father's footsteps — lead away from the throne room. Mom's breathing becomes slower, her eyes move around wildly, and the room grows colder, as if her body thinks absorbing all the heat will save her.

It doesn't. Mom's last breath comes out as a puff of steam as the blood on the floor begins to freeze.

In the shadows, all Zuko can do is watch.

 -

The heir to the throne and child of the Sun lives.

——

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Fire Lord Ozai knows this.

When Crown Prince Zuko kneels before him with tears streaming down his face, the Fire Lord understands that it will take a considerable amount of effort to brand his skin.

It would be shameful for a crown prince to bear the mark of a coward, after all. A banished prince, on the other hand...

Well, if he survives long enough for it to scar, that is. Ozai is indifferent to either outcome.

 -

The last thing Zuko sees out of his left eye is his father's disapproving face. The last time Zuko cries from his left side is over his father’s love.

He’s doing this because he cares.

The last sound Zuko hears from his left ear is his own screams.

 -

Those screams— Agni, those screams. They take far too long to end. He takes far too long to burn for Azula's liking.

Azula can only watch. She can’t look away, not when Father first grabs Zuko’s phoenix tail.

Not when Zuko instinctively tries and fails to bend the shadows toward him. Flickering in and out, he looks like candlelight.

Not when his voice grows weak; from pain, smoke inhalation, or all the Spirits-damned screaming, Azula can’t tell.

Not when Father finally takes his hand off of her dear brother’s face. Not when Zuko falls to the ground, unconscious, his left side aflame.

Not when the Fire Lord (my father), grandson of Sozin, son of Azulon, and Agni’s (supposed) chosen, turns to the crowd (no more closed doors) to declare his response to the traitor’s (my brother’s) cowardice as a lesson (threat) to those who dare oppose him.

She acts.

One of the first lessons children are taught, besides breathing (Azula always hated breathing exercises, though she’d never show it of course), was how to put fires out. Simple enough.

From her place in the stands, Azula faces her palms to the ground and extends her arms downward. Her movements are practiced and smooth, her face is blank (just like Mother's).

I have always loved Zuko more than I fear Father.

 -

When Iroh finally brings himself to look, his brother is facing the audience with his back turned to his nephew, whose body is still smoldering.

—————

Chapter Text

Mai, Ty Lee, and Azula have been best friends since meeting at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. They are all more similar than they’d like to think.

Shadowbending may be Zuko’s thing, but the three girls hide in different ways. Azula with her biting remarks and fierce prowess, Ty Lee under her bubbly and outgoing personality, Mai behind her disinterest and monotone voice.

The group has been best friends since meeting at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, but Mai and Ty Lee know each other best, being able to meet up outside the palace. Mai tries to teach her friend how to throw knives, and in return, is taught some chi-blocking.

Just being together is nice too, Mai thinks. She would never admit it, but being with Ty Lee makes it harder for her to keep a straight face that’s free of a smile.

Mai breaks into a sweat when summoned to the Fire Lord’s throne room. Their betrothal may be solely political, but she and Zuko are still close friends. He had told her — some of (he said that was all, but he’s never been a good liar; that’s Azula’s forte) — what happened to Lady Ursa.

Mai doesn’t lie to the Fire Lord when he asks if she saw who put the fire out. She hadn’t been looking, as she was consoling Ty Lee.

Mai can’t lie when Fire Lord Ozai asks if she has any suspicions; if she doesn’t, he says he’ll just have to talk with Ty Lee.

They have been best friends since meeting at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, so it hurts Mai to utter Azula’s name in the throne room.

——

Lieutenant Jee Narong stands at attention on the deck of the small ship that he will now indefinitely call home: the Kage. He admits that he isn’t the standard in terms of morality. It has only been a few days since, without prior warning, he received notice that his punishment has been changed from a life sentence at Boiling Rock Prison to banishment aboard a Fire Navy vessel.

The guards who escorted Jee from the prison to the docks in Caldera City knew just as little as him, solely allowing him to change into clothes and armor fit for a lieutenant alongside handing him a stack of files before leaving him. He has spent the last day strangely unsupervised, adjusting to the already fully stocked ship, reading through the files, and trying to breathe in as much sea air as he can to try to make up for the eight years he spent locked away.

A few days isn’t enough time to become acclimated to the outside world again. Yet Jee does as he has practiced and separates himself from this underlying vexation, letting it touch his skin without burning through him. He puts on a neutral facade as he keeps a mental tally of the crew members as they make their way up the gangway, matching each face to their file as he does so.

First to arrive is the cook. Mahi’ai Hoshi. Twenty-one years old. Firebender. Originally a foot soldier in the army, they have been banished for stealing from their superiors. They bow in greeting to Jee before straightening up and looking around confusedly. Guess I’m not the only one still reeling from this surreal experience, Jee thinks.

With a vermilion kikepa wrapped around Hoshi’s tan body and knotted at one shoulder, Jee can spot scars sliced around their wrists and, most notably, geometric tattoos down one leg and across their shoulder blades. From his time at sea, the lieutenant knows that tattoos of that style are traditional to some of the Fire Nation’s furthest islands, and have much more meaning than he could know; however, he can parse out what looks like spearheads and shark teeth down Hoshi’s leg, and he’d be damned if the shapes on their back don’t resemble wings.

Hoshi walks unsteadily across the deck to bring their belongings to the crew’s quarters as Jee ordered. Apparently they don’t have their sea legs yet.

Jee peers back down the gangway to see a stocky man begin to lumber up it, only to be cut off by a man of average stature with long black hair. Jee sends a silent prayer to the Spirits as the shorter man yells at the second, who completely ignores the other’s complaints. The taller man reaches the deck first, and Jee shuffles through the papers. Nakamura Gan. The ship’s new hawker. Thirty-six years old. Trained swordsman. Charged with sabotage of Fire Navy vessels. Jee doesn’t notice any remarkable traits that could make him stand out besides his beard and the bored look in his gray eyes.

Immediately following Gan is Boonyasak Ryuji. Ship mechanic. Forty-one years old. Firebender. Before being transferred to the Fire Navy, he had been with the army for a number of years. Charged with conspiracy and attempted assault against a Fire Nation officer. Ryuji is short and broad, with close-cropped hair. All of his luggage is slung across his back or held in his right hand; his left arm, which is far less muscular than the opposing side, holds nothing, instead held stiffly at his side.

Before Ryuji can have a go at the other unfazed man, Jee orders them both to put their luggage in their quarters just as Hoshi appears back on deck. The cook leans against the railing to steady themself and look out over the port, humming quietly to themself.

Jee turns his back on Hoshi, only to be face-to-face with a woman who had somehow made it up the gangway silently. The woman says nothing to him other than an arched eyebrow. He is only able to identify her based off of the description in her files.

Sawangsri Yong-Yut. Indeterminate age, though likely in her late twenties. Deckhand. Firebender. Also skilled in various types of weaponry. That's the only information her file states other than her physical description. No crime, no explanation as to why she’s been banished, is given.

Yong-Yut is on the taller side of average, with an angular face and dark ocher eyes. Her plain red kimono is paired with a black scarf draped around her head. Jee wouldn’t be able to pick her out on the street if it weren’t for her scars. Yong-Yut’s blank expression is rendered eerie by the pale scars that arc from the corners of her mouth to her ears. At least, Jee thinks they start there. The flesh of her lips seeps into the scars, melding end and beginning into one. The result is a wound of a smile.

Yong-Yut does not respond to Jee’s instructions, nor Hoshi’s greeting. She crosses the deck with her single bag and closed lips.

Next to arrive is Chu Mikazuki, one of the deckhands. Nineteen years old. Waterbender. Her file states that her grandmother was taken from the South Pole during the raids, hence the girl’s bending. She has no criminal record, though her heritage is suspicious enough to land her on this ship.

Once on deck, the girl waves down to two people — presumably her parents — before turning to Jee. With a flourish of one of her hands, Mikazuki bends the tears off of her face and throws them overboard. Jee narrows his eyes at the demonstration, while Hoshi lets out a low whistle.

The lieutenant has never been face-to-face with a waterbender before, but he has certainly heard stories. Stories that the girl who stands before him certainly doesn’t live up to. A tearful young woman in a too-large hanbok who barely reaches Jee’s shoulders is a far cry from the “savage” tribesmen he has heard about.

Jee tells Mikazuki to move her things, and Hoshi goes to follow after her. The man can hear the two introduce each other as they begin to cross the deck. Five down, two to go. The royal healer, Sugimoto Anzu, along with the princes and princess will arrive tomorrow, Jee thinks. Only two more to go. It can’t be that bad.

At that moment Jee hears a commotion from the port below him, one loud enough to cause Hoshi and Mikazuki to run to the railing to see what’s going on. A tall man sprints through the crowd, narrowly missing a fisherman’s cart. He doesn’t lose his balance on the stone despite the close calls, apologizing to passersby as he goes. Jee sighs to himself as the other person bounds up the gangway.

Upon closer inspection, the person standing before the lieutenant is more boy than man, his round face and excited eyes revealing his age despite him being as tall as the lieutenant. Slightly out of breath, the boy tells Jee in a flurry of words how he thought that he had been late, alongside the misadventures that caused him to be untimely. Jee holds a hand up to stop him and let him catch his breath.

Dangda Chai Son. Deckhand. Seventeen years old. Nonbender. Proficient in hand-to-hand combat, though has no formal training. His list of crimes is long yet harmless, ranging from trespassing on private property to impersonation of a federal officer, from jaywalking to evasion of authorities.

Jee tries to speak to Chai Son just as he did to the others, outlining his responsibilities, reminding him of how he must act around the royals, and telling him where he can place his belongings. It’s apparent that Chai Son is trying, yet failing, to pay full attention. Less than halfway through the spiel Chai Son spots Hoshi and Mikazuki watching. He brightens and waves to the two other young crew members. As soon as the lieutenant finishes speaking, Chai Son makes a beeline for them and introduces himself. Jee would be irritated at the boy’s inattention if not for the fact that the three youths are already becoming friends.

Soon enough Hoshi leads Mikazuki and Chai Son to the quarters, leaving Jee alone on deck as the last crew member arrives.

And arrive she does, in a lacquered wooden norimono fit for nobility. The elaborate decorations are clear even from this distance. She steps out of the norimono from behind red silk curtains with the help of a palanquin bearer.

Lady Zhang Taka. Navigator. Twenty-nine years old. Firebender. Daughter of Mayor Mangal Ishir of Yu Dao. Charged with the murder of a Fire Nation general.

Jee bows to Lady Taka once she has reached the deck and dives into his spiel while her servants load her belongings into the ship. Taka is tall, clearing the man’s head by a good few inches. She stands straight and regal. She seems out of place with her expensive-looking deep orange sari and decadent jewelry. After pointing out the location of the helm, where Lady Taka will be of much use in navigating, Jee guides the woman up to the crew’s quarters where all the others have staked their claims on bunks.

Ryuji has set up on the bunk below Jee’s, reading a scroll and occasionally grouchily telling the others to quiet down. Adjacent to the lieutenant’s bunk is Gan’s bed, where the hawker is staring at the ceiling and fiddling with a butterfly knife with dexterity. Below him, Chai Son is sprawled across his own already unmade bed, chatting loudly with Mikazuki — who sits in the sleeping space across from him — and Hoshi, who is hanging upside down from their own bunk above the waterbender. Yong-Yut sits on her own bed across from Ryuji’s with one of her legs extended in front of her and the other being used to prop up her elbows, silently watching the entire room.

Lady Taka takes one look around the room and sniffs haughtily. Instead of clambering up to her bunk above Yong-Yut, she asks the other woman a simple, “May I?” in a clear, high voice. Yong-Yut moves her leg to allow the noblewoman some room to sit and inspects her from a distance. Taka takes out a fan and flutters herself with it as she tries to see what Ryuji is reading.

Jee finishes surveying the ragtag crew before departing to take his armor off. With the entire crew aside from the healer having arrived, that only leaves one file.

Jee Narong. First lieutenant. Forty-eight years old. Treason.

——

In the healer’s room, Zuko’s breathing is labored, but he doesn’t dream. He doesn’t wake up for days. When he finally does, all he does is scream.

——

Ty Lee gives Azula one of her pink ribbons before she leaves. She watches with tears in her eyes as Mai gives their friend a dagger with intricate designs on it.

In the few days following— Nope, I’m not even going to think about it. Happy thoughts!

Lately, everyone’s auras have changed. Azula’s aura is usually red (How patriotic!). Ty Lee thinks it really suits her, what with her passion and confidence and all.

Mai’s usual aura is tan — she’s dependable, controlled, and logical, but also private. Her aura is always so pretty.

Ty Lee’s is always pink, of course!

But now, everyone’s auras are darker. Ty Lee hasn’t even been able to see Zuko, but his aura is orange normally. He’s always been the risk-taker of their group, and she thinks he can overcome any challenge thrown his way.

Oh no! But if he’s— Maybe he doesn’t have— If he’s— then his aura— What if he’s gone?

Ty Lee and Mai aren’t allowed to say goodbye to Zuko.

——

Azula would never admit it, but she misses her friends already. As the ship pulls out of the port, she slips Mai’s dagger into her boot. Ty Lee’s ribbon gets tied into her hair.

——

Iroh watches over his nephew as he heals. He makes tea while Azula tells her brother, who lies in the spare cot in Anzu’s room, about every “absolutely boring” port they stop at, every “ridiculously uncivilized” person she meets, and every “frankly horrendous” thing she overhears the crew say.

Iroh chuckles as he hands Azula her cup. He knows that though she is rightfully wary of everyone, his niece is having the time of her life away from the palace. He wishes he could say the same about Zuko.

Iroh looks at his nephew, who is swathed in bandages. All that can be seen of Zuko’s face is the right side of his mouth and jaw, all that can be seen of Zuko’s torso is his right arm, all that can be seen of Zuko is a burned little boy. He shifts ever so slightly in bed and lets out a minuscule whimper.

For a moment, Iroh sees the image of another boy — though about five years older than Zuko is now, he was still just a boy — in a medical tent and covered with bandages (an earthbender with sharpened stone had gotten to him), his body — or what was left of it. They never did find his right arm — weakening.

Iroh shakes his head. This is different. These are burns, not cuts. This is a ship in neutral waters, not an army on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. This is a melted face, not a butchered arm. This is guards carrying a stretcher out of an Agni Kai arena, not comrades running off a battlefield. This is saliva — blackened by ash — and blood dripping from a mouth, not dirt-covered intestines being held in with a bloody hand. This is breath from an otherwise still body, not rigid convulsions that prelude death.

This is Zuko, not Lu Ten.

Iroh shakes his head once again, and walks over to Zuko’s bedside.

——

Chai Son appears outside Anzu’s room. The medic opens the door with eyebrows raised at the sight of the incessantly cheerful boy. He’s out of breath. I wonder who he was trying to outrun, Anzu thinks.

”I think I should be able to meet Prince Zuko before the rest of the crew. As a treat.”

Anzu rolls her eyes and closes the door, but not before she hears a little girl’s voice from down the hall ask what a “filthy crew member” is doing trying to see “Zuzu”.

-

”Why is your shirt charred?” Mikazuki asks.

”Oh no reason—”

”Agni, your shirt is still smoking Chai Son!”

”It does that sometimes.”

——

For the sake of both organization and her sanity, Azula has kept mental tabs on everyone’s duties. It’s useful, as no one quite seems to be sure what they’re supposed to be doing.

Jee oversees all of the crew. He dispenses chores, keeps tabs on what needs to be done, and ensures that everyone is doing what they should be. He is also often the one steering the ship, so he speaks with Taka to chart their next course.

Azula has known Anzu for quite some time. For as long as she has known her, Anzu has been the royal healer, though the woman’s lifelong friendship with Uncle had called her to be a field medic during the Siege of Ba Sing Se. It’s only natural for her to join the crew, not only to accompany Uncle, but also to essentially bring Zuko back from the dead.

Gan’s time is spent feeding and caring for the ship’s komodo rhinos and messenger hawks, along with cleaning their pens. As this is not a very time consuming task, he is often seen out on deck watching everyone go about their duties, practicing with his sword when there is space available and occasionally going to the engine room to speak with Ryuji.

Azula admits that she’s not entirely sure what Ryuji does. Yes, she understands that as the mechanic, his job is to fuel the ship and ensure that everything — both in the engine room and beyond, such as the helm and the bathrooms — is in proper working order. What exactly that entails is beyond the princess’s knowledge.

As the ship’s cook, Hoshi’s responsibilities are not limited to solely preparing the food. They also serve every meal, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen and dining hall, buy the ingredients, create meal plans… The list goes on.

How Taka acquired the skills necessary to become a navigator while still maintaining the responsibilities of a noblewoman is a mystery to Azula. How to determine our location, advise Jee on our timing, ensure hazards are avoided… surely she couldn’t have learned simply by reading about it, could she?

Alongside navigation, Taka has been more-or-less unofficially appointed to be Azula’s lady-in-waiting. She is the only member of nobility present aside from the royal family, making her the only feasible option as the girl’s personal assistant. Azula does not mind Taka’s presence like she would with the palace nursemaids. From what she has seen so far, the woman seems intelligent and curious, though isn’t prone to engage in idle talk.

As a deckhand, Chai Son cleans the decks of the ship, assists with the rigging, and loads and unloads cargo, among other things. He tends to speak incessantly, and though Azula tells herself that she has no interest in the lives of commoners, her curiosity gets the best of her, so she finds herself listening in more often than not.

Azula has learned that when Chai Son was not taken into an orphanage or foster home, he would live on the streets, traveling from place to place. His travels between Fire Islands, along with befriending local fishermen, have given him the knowledge he needs to carry out his duties on the Kage.

Though Mikazuki is considered a deckhand and says that she has done some sailing before, she acts more as a servant to the royals. She is largely in charge of the housekeeping duties, such as cleaning the royals’ rooms and doing everyone’s laundry, along with attending to personal needs, such as painting Azula’s nails or, once he is awake enough for it, helping Zuko with his armor.

Yong-Yut assists with the general cleaning and maintenance of the ship, — which she has quickly learned how to do from Chai Son — along with picking up any of Mikazuki’s slack. Azula has learned through experience that Yong-Yut is much rougher than Mikazuki when doing the princess’s hair.

——

Iroh sees Azula's face light up when she receives letters from her friends — whose names escape me, I’ve had a very busy week — and sees Zuko's frown soften when his sister reads them to him.

-

In just a matter of days, Uncle Iroh has managed to establish the broad strokes of a routine for Azula. After preparing for the day with the help of Mikazuki, the princess eats breakfast alone in her room, followed by tea with Uncle and Zuko. The morning is then spent continuing her studies, which are overseen by Taka, and then a brief break period when Azula is free to do whatever she’d like. After lunch with the crew and Uncle in the mess hall, Azula is trained by Uncle. The princess then has plenty of time to herself before supper in the dining hall.

Presently, Azula is having morning tea with her family. She watches Uncle lift Zuko’s head up to help him drink.

The teacup is jostled, sending some of the scalding hot liquid to fling over its side. Before Iroh can react — Uncle is closest, it would simply be a waste of energy for me to worry about something so trivial — Zuko raises his right hand, upper arm still resting on the cot.

Azula can sense immediately — Firebenders are always aware of their surroundings. Master firebenders, that is — that Zuko is about to bend. She doesn’t know of any forms that can be done when incapacitated like her brother is, though. Better take note of it in the event I can use it to my advantage, Azula thinks.

His wrist is bent in the direction of the tea, with his thumb, middle, and forefingers extended. Zuko loosely curls his fingers together and angles his wrist in the opposite direction, toward the wall and away from others in a fluid movement. The steam coming from the cup dissipates.

Zuko’s fingers extend back out quickly, and Azula can see the area in front of his fingertips blur from heat haze.

Azula lifts an inquisitive brow. Impressive. Well, for someone whose bandages are so extensive that they can double as a funeral shroud.

Despite its newly moderate temperature, Zuko still hisses when the spilled tea lands on the bandages that wrap his left shoulder. Azula smirks. She can ponder how he knew the tea was spilling later — as the little sister, it’s Azula’s Spirits-given right to make fun of him right now.

“Don’t act so weak, brother. Really, Zuzu, one drop of lukewarm tea? Is that all it takes to get a reaction out of you? How are you supposed to heal if you spend all day whimpering?” Azula scoffs.

She smiles sweetly and prances out of the room with teacup in hand, not spilling one drop all the while.

The princess turns in the doorway. “Now can you stop moping and start getting better already? Sparring matches are much more fun when it’s you I’m defeating.”

In her own way, Azula is watching over Zuko as he heals as well.

——

In her quarters, Azula stifles her cries when she wakes up from a nightmare.

No one must know of her weakness (no more closed doors).

No one must know that many nights, she sees her brother’s face after the fire was extinguished, skin darkened — charred — like the shadows he bends to his will (he looks like candlelight).

No one must know how bothered she is that Mother never said goodbye before she was mur— before she got herself killed like a fool.

No one must know that Azula stands guard at night waiting to hear Zuko’s screams again (Agni, those screams. All the Spirits-damned screaming).

——

”Why do you have those scars on your face?”

Yong-Yut doesn’t answer the princess.

——

”You know, Zuzu, Ryuji has told me an awful lot of fun stories. You should get out of bed and hear them some time.”

That earns a grunt. Azula smirks.

”It was brought to my attention by Gan — I think you’d like him, Zuzu. He’s also trained with swords — that it seems as if Lieutenant Jee has a strange moral code against swearing.” I haven’t heard any of the crew swear though, so I wouldn’t know. Cowards. “Ryuji speculates that he has, and I quote, 'Daddy issues' — whatever that’s supposed to mean — and that he was probably punished for swearing as a child. Chai Son disagrees. What do you think, Zuzu?”

No response. What else did I expect?

——

In Anzu’s room, Zuko rasps — I couldn’t scream anymore even if I wanted to — when he wakes up from a nightmare.

No one must know of his weakness (everyone I know was already there to witness it).

No one must know that many nights, Zuko sees his father’s cold glare and fiery hand (he did this because he cares).

No one must know — Uncle can never find out — that he saw the general look away before the blinding light was all he could see (that's what it is, right? Yeah. Love).

No one must know that Zuko doesn’t sleep most nights, waiting for Grandfather to bring him back to the throne room where Father will be waiting with a hand full of fire and Mom will—

I have to get out of here.

-

Well now he’s a fast one, Gan thinks, not doing anything to stop the (former?) Crown Prince from running out of Anzu's room, still wrapped in bandages.

-

Yong-Yut uses her shoulder to push herself off the wall she was leaning on. She takes two steps, then catches the prince by the right arm.

He doesn’t seem to be surprised and yet struggles against her grip. Acting on instinct, the deckhand thinks. That will only ever get him in more trouble. She has the scars — two thin, sunken lines — to prove it, and it seems as if the prince does as well.

Yong-Yut loosens her grip and holds her position until the royal tires himself out. She guides him back to the healer’s room — the crewmate observed earlier that the medic tends to have tea and trade war stories with the general before retiring for the night — and eases him into a seiza position.

She lights a few candles with a flick of her wrist. Yong-Yut guides the prince’s right hand to rest on her chest. She inhales deeply through her nose, then exhales slowly out of her mouth. He eventually catches on, and the candlelight moves with his slowing breaths.

Yong-Yut moves to stand up when a smaller, calloused right hand reaches out, just barely missing her arm. She adjusts his hand so it is resting on her elbow. The prince lightly taps his thin fingers in a steady rhythm.

One two. One two. One two.

A heartbeat.

Zuko. Zuko. Zuko.

The woman rests her roughened, scarred fingers over his small, unscarred wrist (firebenders' skin doesn't burn easily).

One two. One two. One two.

She finds his pulse.

Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut.

——

If it truly was a bad burn, then he would’ve been dead by now. Fatal injuries should be the only thing to stop a firebender. Zuzu’s probably just being over-dramatic.

Azula reaches her hand towards the bandages on her brother’s face, but is stopped when her wrist is suddenly grabbed in Zuko’s right hand. Spirits, how does he keep doing that?

Azula wriggles in his grasp. “Let me go Zuzu! Or I’m telling Uncle!”

Zuko grits his teeth. A hoarse reply. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

The first time he speaks since the Agni Kai, and that’s what he says? No “thank you for saving my life Azula, I am now in your debt”? Ugh. She quickly recovers from being caught off guard. Azula rolls her eyes before stopping. Zuko can’t see her. Wait. Can he?, she thinks. That’s something to figure out with Taka.

“Whatever. Anzu is going to be changing your bandages soon. And anyway, it’s not like you were afraid I was going to hurt you, right Zuzu?” She says in a sickly sweet voice.

No reply. Azula lets herself roll her eyes this time. After a few moments, Zuko lets go of her wrist.

-

Anzu quirks her eyebrow at the princess, who merely glances at her. With a satisfied look on her face, Princess Azula skips over to the chair that Iroh keeps by the bedside and takes a seat. An audience.

The medic ignores the girl’s sharp eyes and begins to unwind Prince Zuko’s bandages — the boy knows the routine by now. The girl doesn’t.

Anzu has treated many injuries (to the best of her abilities) in her life. An ostrich-horse kick to the face. An accidental step into a boiling hot spring. A hand nailed to the wall with a spike. Lungs full of dirt and mud from a landslide. A leg crushed by an overturned cart. A mouth sliced from ear to ear. A deep stab wound from assassins with the knife left in. Intestines shoved back into a body.

The medic has treated many different people in her life. An overconfident animal handler. A lost recruit in a colonial town (She said she was distracted, hadn’t seen cherry blossoms in years. She said they reminded her of home. When the infection spread, all I could do was watch).

(She went home in an urn etched with cherry blossoms.)

A commander who assumed the Earth Kingdom women he would awake at night were defenseless. (Good for her.) The few initial survivors of a doomed division.

(Few people know that anyone newly assigned to the regimen is fated to die soon. They’ve been used as bait for the last quarter of a century at least. The only changes to the routine are the names on the funeral plaques. Anzu caught on only a few years into her career and noticed the pattern on the patients’ files.)

(41st. 41st. 41st.)

An Earth Kingdom teen selling cabbages for his father’s business. A spy sent back with a message for her superiors. A frozen noblewoman whose body had tiny, bloody footprints leading away from it. A mangled heir crying out for his father.

Anzu has treated many injuries in her life. None so extensive, on such a small body.

I am done burying your family for you, Iroh.

Prince Zuko is healing well. The bandages should stay on a little longer to dissuade bacteria — his ears had already gotten infected once, and Anzu had heard enough about it from his uncle. He is ready to start walking about and should begin to practice speaking again.

The medic turns when she hears a small choking noise. Princess Azula sits in her uncle’s seat with wide eyes and legs dangling above the ground. In her peripheral vision, Anzu sees the boy weakly wave to his sister. The girl runs out of the room.

——

That morning, Iroh receives the news. His instinct is to set the paper on fire. He doesn’t. It is important to his nephew.

He tells Zuko during their afternoon tea.

-

Zuko doesn’t have any nightmares that night. In fact he doesn’t sleep at all.

It was all for nothing.

He lets his mind rot. His body is way ahead of him.

41st. 41st. 41st.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

—————

Chapter Text

“I bet the Fire Prince isn’t even real.”

Hoshi sets their cup of tea down. Ryuji has come up with some weird rumors in the crew’s couple of weeks on the ship, but this? This is just ridiculous.

“And why do you think that?” Mikazuki asks, seemingly unphased. How does she let nothing get to her?

Taka points a finger at the engineer. “You are going to need concrete evidence in order to make such a bold claim.”

“My gut is concrete evidence.”

Chai Son gasps. “Agni, I didn’t know you’re an earthbender! Congrats Ryuji, you’re so brave!” Dumbass, Hoshi thinks fondly.

Lieutenant Jee rolls his eyes. “Anyway, hasn’t Gan seen the kid?”

“Well I mean he was movin’ pretty fast…And it’s not like I even know what he’s s’posed to look like,” Gan says over a steaming cup.

“Was there anyone else with you when you saw him?” Hoshi asks, handing Gan a napkin for the tea dripping down his chin.

The man wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You saw him, didn’t you, Yong-Yut?”

All eyes turn to the woman. It’s so easy to forget she’s even here. Yong-Yut gives a half-hearted shrug, then goes back to sipping her tea. The conversation continues despite her nonanswer.

Chai Son snaps his fingers and looks up in excitement. “Oh! I’ve got it! Maybe the prince has a twin brother!”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Taka looks genuinely distraught over the boy’s comments.

“Everyone settle down, this is getting a bit out of hand. I can assure you that Prince Zuko is real,” Jee placates.

Chai Son sighs. “I’ve tried getting into his room but Anzu stopped me.”

Mikazuki taps her chin. “Maybe if I freeze the lock on the door, then—”

“We are not breaking into the Crown Prince’s room just to double check that he exists,” Hoshi cuts in as they refill everyone’s cups.

“You can be such a killjoy sometimes, did you know that?” the boy says with a smirk. Hoshi sticks out their tongue.

An over-exaggerated sigh comes from Mikazuki. “Fine. I guess we’ll just have to go back to wetting Jee’s pants while he sleeps.”

“That was you?! Oh thank Agni, I thought there was something wrong—”

Ryuji pounds his fist on the table to get everyone’s attention. Hoshi lifts their eyebrow in amusement. “This is distracting from my point! As I was saying, there have been no confirmed sightings of the prince—”

“Maybe the boy just wants to be alone after being banished. Even royals need privacy,” Taka cuts in.

“But there’s definitely been confirmed hearings of the Fire Prince. Really, what was up with all the screaming?” Gan wonders.

“That’s the thing! How have I never heard of the Crown Prince until now?!”

“Well maybe if you didn’t live under a rock…” Mikazuki starts.

“Okay but really, was anybody going to tell me that Ryuji is an earthbender, or was I just supposed to find out while listening to his conspiracy theories myself?”

Chai Son’s question is ignored. “If Prince Zuko doesn’t exist, then why are we here?” Gan asks.

Jee pipes in. “Oh that’s an easy one. The Fire Lord hates us.”

Murmurs of assent from around the table — sans Yong-Yut of course — are broken up by Mikazuki’s question. “Then what about the princess? And General Iroh?”

As if on cue, the two royals walk into the dining area with a shadow following behind them. Hoshi takes that to mean breakfast should be served.

-

Oh Spirits. He’s in the shadows, isn’t he?, Azula thinks as she looks at the crew’s confused expressions.

She turns to the spot she had last seen her brother in (really, what’s more cowardly than doing this right as he walked through the door?). “Come on out, Zuzu. It’s not like you can stay like that forever.”

A flicker (like candlelight) — after having not bent for weeks (it took him far too long to burn), it must be difficult for him to do so — Zuko appears to Azula’s left and slightly behind her — he must have moved after I spoke. There’s no way I guessed incorrectly — then takes a (slightly wobbly) step closer.

Azula smiles and grabs her older brother’s hand.

-

Gan has to admit. A boy with bandages over almost his entire face, neck, and left hand — huh. I guess it must go underneath his tunic as well — appearing where just a second before there had just been an extension of the table’s shadow — the entire room brightening slightly when he does so — is a little strange.

-

Anzu slips into the dining hall after having put her supplies away. The royal family is standing in front of the table, the Fire Prince with his head facing nothing in particular. The healer sighs internally. I told him he should take at least a day to adjust to walking around in his own room but no, he just had to make a grand entrance.

-

“Remember, Nephew, Anzu said you should practice using your voice. Go on and say hello,” Iroh whispers over Azula’s head. His nephew shakes his head ever so slightly. “Prince Zuko…” A warning tints Iroh’s voice.

-

Mikazuki watches as the Crown Prince flinches — Agni, he flinches — at whatever the General says to him. The prince clears his throat. What can be seen of his mouth opens, and a rough voice — terribly hoarse but still noticeably high (he’s younger than me, younger than even Chai Son) — makes a sound that could be interpreted as “Hello.”

-

White-hot embers fall out of the prince’s mouth when he coughs into his fist. Taka’s eyes widen — very few are so innately connected to their element. The Fire Prince straightens up and lifts his chin.

“I am Crown Prince Zuko, son of Lady Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai,” he tries again after his coughing fit. His bandages shift ever so slightly as he dips his head into a bow, creating the sign of the flame with his hands. “Once I have healed fully, you will be under my command. Until then, you will answer to my uncle, but you must still respect me and my sister. Is that understood?”

The crew mumbles their agreement. Taka wants to ask Princess Azula if her brother is always like this.

-

Others may not have noticed Prince Zuko’s reaction, but Yong-Yut does. She notices everything. Zuko works his jaw.

His head had already been angled to his left, but now he moves it again so his profile is seen by the crew. Oh.

His fists were already clenched, but now they tighten even more.

His voice was already loud, especially for one that is still healing, but now it increases in volume again.

“I said, is that understood?!” Prince Zuko yells. That earns glares — which their target can’t even see — and louder yet begrudging affirmations. It takes the princess tugging on his arm for him to nod. He can barely hear.

The corners of Yong-Yut’s mouth, scarred as they are, lift up as Prince Zuko walks over to the middle of the three remaining chairs.

(“Do you need any assistance, Your Highness?” the lieutenant asks.

“I know more than you.”

“Alright.”)

A genuine smile, albeit unnoticeable to most — they focus too much on her faux one — graces Yong-Yut’s face. It may have come out as a shout, but it’s good that Zuko is able to speak his mind.

-

Zuko is aware of the amount of bodies facing toward him. Nine, not counting Uncle and Azula. Five radiate heat waves. Firebenders. One of them is the person who brought him back to the healer’s room; he can tell by their height. Their head also gives off less heat than the others; either obstructed by some sort of headgear, or they're just a weak bender. Maybe even both.

Three are “normal.” Nonbenders. Zuko knows that the shortest of the three is Anzu. The second, who seems to be a little taller than the one who brought Zuko back to the infirmary, has their feet resting on the table, which one of the firebenders — the second tallest, the one with armor on who asked to assist — shoves off.

The third nonbender is tall, as tall as the armored bender, but their voice is young. What’s peculiar is their stance. Zuko frowns. From what he can make out, the young nonbender seems relaxed and chatting happily with others, but their stance is still somehow rigid. Boots planted firmly on the floor. Grounded.

Even more peculiar is the last crew member. They’re cold. Firebenders radiate heat. Nonbenders are warmer than their environments, yes, but they don’t exude waves of it. But this crew member — who I’m almost as tall as, he thinks with a tiny smirk — they’re like a vacuum. They are colder than the air that surrounds them.

Why is there a waterbender on our ship?

-

Chai Son watches out of the corner of his eye as the prince accepts his steaming breakfast from Hoshi with a mumbled — yet still oddly loud — “thank you”. The boy — I knew the princess was young, but when I heard “Crown Prince” I would’ve thought it was someone at least my age — points at his congee, clenches his hand into a fist, then points again behind him. No more steam comes from his bowl. Cool.

The Crown Prince takes a bite of congee and frowns. He expertly avoids all the carro-broccolis after that, which just confuses Chai Son. Not that he’d avoid them, no — Chai Son agrees, Hoshi way under-seasons them — but just… how?

——

Gan used to care about things. He used to care deeply. But ever since his husband died, nothing really seems to shake him.

(41st. 41st. 41st.)

(Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.)

——

Yong-Yut has gone by many names throughout her life. First she was called Ichiro. A child whose firebending was always subpar.

(“You’ll be so handsome when you grow up!”)

Then she was Nozomi. A runaway who needed a job.

(A fortress. Training. Passports. Weaponry. Hiding. Secrets. Listening.)

Next she was Muan Nang. A servant listening to noblewomen gossip about their recent investments and husbands’ plans.

Akane. A non-bending fighter training with other teenage girls.

(Bladed fans. A kiss on the cheek leaving a lipstick stain. Bruised knuckles. “The gold insignia represents the honor of the warrior’s heart.”)

Genji. A refugee girl on her way to a walled city.

Tuya. A guard protecting a young princess from firebending assassins.

(“Can I tell you a secret?” “Of course, Princess.” “I think your smile is pretty.” “Can I tell you a secret?” “Yes!” “I think your smile is pretty too.”)

(A flame dagger to a throat. Steam rising as blood lands on snow. The heir to the throne and child of the Moon lives.)

Zhaohui. A historian in search of a Spirit’s library.

Xifeng. An architect observing renovations done to a previously abandoned temple.

(A boy with bandaged legs. Strange blueprints. “The wind will carry you.”)

Ha-Yoon. A trader — traitor (they trusted me) — stopping for a week to sell her wares.

(A welcome greeting from their chief and chieftess. Snowball fights with a little boy with a wolf tail. More importantly, sleeping in furs near a little girl whose childish nightmares cracked the igloo’s walls.)

Winai. A highly skilled archer.

Daiyu. An etiquette teacher for the daughter of the Earth Kingdom’s most powerful family.

(“I don’t need your help, you know.” “I know.” “I can see just fine.” “I know.” “Then why are you helping me?!” “Because I think we both need a friend.”)

Qianru. An advisor to a king of a city of mountains.

My last mission.

Yong-Yut. A deckhand on a banished prince and princess’s ship.

She likes this one.

She likes how it sounds when her fellow deck crewmates say it between laughs, how the hawker says it when he’s excited (even if it’s just because I’m taking over his shift), when the lieutenant calls her over to ask for her opinion (she never provides an answer of course — he continues to ask anyway), how it sounds at home in the navigator’s mouth, when Zuko taps it out on her shoulder, her palm, her knee.

Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut.

——

Taka watches Azula skip over to her brother. “Zuzu! Did you know that in Omashu, before burying their dead, they take out their insides and then wrap them in bandages?” Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her that. Hopefully he won’t take it poorly.

With most of the Prince’s usually expressive — at least, that’s what Azula told me — face covered, Taka has to depend on his body language. His muscles stiffen minutely, his jaw juts out ever so slightly. There’s an edge to his voice. “What are you getting at?” Yep. Definitely should not have told her that.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought it was interesting.” The girl giggles and runs back over to Taka.

——

Zuko hates the pain. It's sort of like when you bite into mochi before letting it thaw — it feels like it gets to his core.

Who am I kidding? I'd much rather be eating mochi right now than resisting the urge to tear off my skin.

He meditates with Yong-Yut — Uncle had to tell Zuko her name — on the deck. They both sit in lotus position side-by-side (she’s on his right, of course). Zuko pushes aside his pain in order to concentrate. He begins to search for his Inner Flame.

Despite his bandages, the wind still tends to sting. Zuko sighs.

Yong-Yut seems to love the wind.

("The wind will carry you" she traces on his palm. She then places his hands over hers, and he feels as she signs with her hands. She couldn't see it — oh how the tables have turned — but he rolls his eyes. Yet another person to add to the list of those who are fluent in Uncle-riddles.)

Yong-Yut offers her hand to him to help Zuko up. He gets up on his own. “I don’t need your help, you know.”

He can sense that the woman touches her forehead with her fingertips, palm flat, then turns her hand away. He doesn’t remember what that means.

Yong-Yut takes his hand in hers again — she’s the only non-family member Zuko allows to touch him — and she writes “I know” with her fingertip.

Zuko frowns. “Then why are you helping me?”

She seems to hesitate before signing again. Zuko understands one of the words.

Friend.

——

Ryuji bursts out onto the deck, eyes wild. “Who the fuck set all my newspapers on fire?!”

In his peripheral vision, he sees the princess pull on Taka’s sleeve and whisper something in her ear; after the woman answers back with her hand covering her mouth, a wide grin spreads across the girl’s face.

From behind the two of them, the prince stands with General Iroh — who is already an inch shorter than his nephew — and tilts his head to his left, still facing the bow and away from the commotion.

Ryuji turns to the three youngest crew members. “You do know that I won’t be able to get any more news until the next time we reach a port?! What am I supposed to do until then!”

Lieutenant Jee snorts. “I mean, you do have a job…”

Ryuji ignores him in favor of the three kids. Mikazuki’s eyes are wide. The mop she was holding is now lying on the deck. Chai Son is smirking. Hoshi puts on an annoyed face.

“Damn Mikazuki, I’ve told you to stop setting random things on fire to see what would happen! What will happen is fire!”

That snaps Mikazuki out of her shock. “What?! Spirits, I’m a waterbender for Agni’s sake! It was Chai Son!” She points at her friend, who drops his smirk and looks around bewildered.

“What?! I— Huh? I’m not a— I’m not a bender!”

“It was the medium height one.”

All heads turn in the direction of the raspy voice to see that the prince now faces toward the conversation. Ryuji doesn’t know if he is supposed to make eye contact or not.

“Sorry, what was that, Your Highness?”

Ryuji thinks the sound that comes from the boy is supposed to be a huff or grunt or sigh or some sound of exasperation. Whatever it’s supposed to be, it comes out as more of a wheeze.

“Do not make me repeat myself. It was that one.” Prince Zuko points at Hoshi, who lifts one eyebrow in response.

Princess Azula rolls her eyes. “Give it up, Zuzu! We all know you can’t see right now. With no evidence as to their bending abilities other than their word — which, I must say, you should not take at face value — it’s humiliating for a royal to make such baseless accusa—”

“The cook gives off more heat than the other two.”

That— actually makes a lot of sense.

——

The three kids ask Gan to teach them as many swears as possible. It’s a long list. What’s the worst that could happen?

-

Iroh is talking with Taka about their next stop when Zuko walks out on deck. With everyone out together — oh, Hoshi is even out serving tea! — it seems that it can be overwhelming for Zuko to have to sense everybody. Iroh pays him no mind — his nephew is a fast learner. He’s not weak.

Iroh doesn’t see, but rather hears, the moment that Zuko and the cook collide.

“Motherfucker!”

The entire deck goes silent. And then—

“Prince Zuko!” Iroh yells. His nephew flinches. Odd. He continues anyway — he shouldn’t set a precedent that Zuko can get away with everything. “Go to your room! I will talk to you there.”

Iroh ignores how the boy seems to shake a little as he walks away. The old general finishes his tea before standing up. “We will continue this conversation at another time, Lady Taka.”

“Yes, General Iroh.”

-

I knew this was going to happen eventually, Zuko thinks. He sits on the floor in seiza and lights a candle. As he hears the door open from behind him, he shuffles out of his tunic as fast as he can.

“I apologize for my transgression, and am willing to accept any punishment you see fit. I will be better next time.” Practiced. Smooth. Like it’s been on the tip of his tongue every time he is around Uncle, or the lieutenant, or the engineer, or even the animal handler.

“Prince Zuko, what is that on your back?” Uncle’s voice sounds concerned. Why is he concerned?

He’s not concerned. He’s disappointed. I need to be better.

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Prince Zuko knows this.

He also knows that restraint doesn’t seem to be in Father’s vocabulary. Even if he didn’t know, the proof — the pain, the bandages, the scarring, the too-tight skin — is right there.

Father would often lose count as to the number of lashings.

He did this because he cares.

“I will be better this time,” Zuko chokes out.

-

Taka watches as General Iroh follows the prince. As soon as he is out of earshot— “Now who the fuck taught the prince swears?!” Ryuji says.

Taka elbows his side. “Watch your mouth. The princess is here.”

“That’s alright, I already know them. I’m just not uncivilized enough to use them,” the girl pipes up. I should tell her to stop saying shit like that. Not great for making friends.

“Ryuji, don’t you have a job to do?” Jee asks. After the engineer hurriedly walks away, Jee turns back to the rest of the group. “How does Prince Zuko know that word?”

All eyes turn to Gan.

“Hey! I may’ve taught the kids a couple curses, so what, but I’m not goin’ around, sayin’ ‘em in front of the future Fire Lord!” Taka notices Princess Azula huff at that last part. “So it wasn’t me.”

All eyes then turn to the three youngest crew members.

“Hey, I’m not that dumb,” Mikazuki snarks.

“I am that dumb, but I promise it wasn’t me.”

That leaves Hoshi, who is still reeling over the fact that they “spilled tea on the Crown Prince oh Spirits what am I going to do, he’s going to kill me!”. Yeah. Wasn’t them.

-

Anzu strides — well, as close to a stride as possible; she admits she’s pretty short, though she does have a good quarter inch on Iroh — over to the prince’s room, bandages in hand.

She knocks on the door before opening it ever so slightly. “Prince Zuko. I'm here to help with the tea you just spilled on your fresh burn which you definitely should’ve been more careful with—”

Anzu stops when she sees Iroh crouching on the floor, the boy sobbing — as much of a sob as possible, I guess, with only one unburned tear duct — into his shoulder.

The healer sets the bandages on the ground, and quietly shuts the door.

-

Jee notices Anzu’s arrival back out on deck first. He walks right up to her. “Do you know how Prince Zuko knows… that word?”

Anzu smiles and pats his shoulder. “Healing is a very precise practice. When things go wrong— well, that’s a big deal, and I act accordingly.”

——

Chai Son tries to remember his parents’ faces. Really, he does. He may not remember the name they gave him, but he tries to remember their faces.

His father had a dark beard and… and a small nose! Yeah. That sounds about right. He would pick him up as Chai Son giggled. His mother’s short hair would always fall in front of her eyes. Or was her hair long and she just had bangs? She and Chai Son would play little pranks on his father, and then they’d all laugh.

Chai Son may not remember his parents’ faces very well, but he remembers their laughs. And their eyes. How can he forget them? They were just like his.

(Hazel eyes with a hint of green.)

Chai Son doesn’t remember exactly what happened to his parents. Maybe he can’t.

Soldiers. Fires. Stones. Yelling. That’s it. Nothing else. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

(“These fuckers even stole one of our own!” “It’s ok kid. We’ll take you home.”)

All I could do was watch as my home receded from view.

(Hazel eyes with a hint of yellow. Depends on what you’re looking for.)

Chai Son is Fire Nation, through and through. Fire Nation and Fire Nation only. What he remembers of his parents is probably just from some past life. His real parents were two firebenders who died nobly fighting for the Fire Nation. That’s what he tells himself.

When the ship docks, Chai Son is the first off. “Race ya!” He tries — and fails — to dodge Mikazuki’s playful splash of water. He continues running down the wooden dock.

(“It is unhealthy for a bender to resist their nature. I understand that you are in pain, but you need to bend, Prince Zuko. Or your body will turn against itself.”

Chai Son thinks what General Iroh said is utter bullshit.

Still, it’s difficult to brush off the pain that etches itself into his bones, the soreness of his swollen joints.

He occasionally finds it difficult to talk — his jaw locks up and his teeth ache down to the roots.

He never offers to help Ryuji in the boiler room again after the first time; no matter how much he scrubs, Chai Son can’t seem to get the coal dust out from underneath his fingernails.

It feels like there is something growing under his skin and it terrifies him to no end.

Sometimes, when he breathes deeply, he’s afraid his ribs will tear at his skin, his chest bursting, bones — splintered and sharp as daggers — protruding from his ripped up flesh—)

When his boots finally land on the earth, hazel eyes with a hint of green brighten with relief, as Chai Son can’t help but smile.

No one must know.

—————

Chapter Text

Azula may seem to care, but Iroh still does not fully trust his niece to not leave her brother stranded in a foreign port as a “prank”. He stays behind to give his old joints a rest, but orders Mikazuki and Taka to guard the two children.

-

Taka doesn’t like the way the general speaks to Mikazuki. Or how his eyes linger over her form. Taka doesn’t like that he acts like this with younger women at ports as well. She pulls him aside before they disembark. “What seems to be the matter, Lady Taka?”

The woman straightens up, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, just as she was taught back home. At her full height, she is well over a foot taller than the general. This doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by him.

“I am respectfully asking you to cease to treat Mikazuki in such a manner.”

His smile wavers ever so slightly. “My apologies, but I do not know what you’re talking about.”

(Back in Yu Dao, Taka’s husband’s manor housed a vast private library full of obscure texts he bought to signify prestige, as well as ones he stole during military exploits. Taka spent much of her free time devouring all of the stories and information that she could.

Taka noticed how the Fire Nation scrolls that mention the Water Tribes have an obvious slant to them. How they primarily portrayed Water Tribe women as sexual and promiscuous. How even when recounting a battle against the long-gone Southern waterbenders, an author would slip comments in about the women’s appearances as they fought, or how they “seduced” their opponents into bringing them back to the Fire Nation.)

(Taka always found it difficult to stomach those texts.)

“She is not even twice your niece’s age, General Iroh.”

The man squints up at her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Mikazuki is not a potential plaything, she is a young member of your crew. I trust that you will not misuse your authority?”

The general coughs out a yes. Taka steps closer. “And I trust that you will set a better example for your nephew? And you will not treat Princess Azula in such a grotesque manner?” Belatedly, Taka realizes that she has been inadvertently heating the surrounding air. Good. Maybe he’ll get the message.

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. “Yes, Lady Taka.”

Her eyes are still trained on the old man. When she thinks he has grown uneasy enough, Taka nods once, then strides back over to the two royal children.

“Guess you finally decided to show up,” the princess snarks when she sees the woman walking over. The prince leans toward his sister and says something in her ear. “Your discretion skills are horrible, Zuzu. This is Taka, the navigator. Her family governs Yu Dao.”

“Taka,” he says with a nod. It comes out relatively clear. He turns to where Mikazuki is running over from harassing Chai Son. “And what is your name?”

The girl seems to freeze up when the prince addresses her. “Oh, uh, Mikazuki,” she says in a quiet voice.

After another beat of silence, the corner of the boy’s mouth turns downward. Oh Agni, here we go. Azula shifts closer to Taka so they can both watch from a safe distance.

“I asked you a question,” he rasps, his voice lowering.

“And I gave you an answer,” Mikazuki snaps back.

His shoulders tense. “Then you should learn to speak up!”

“Mikazuki, stop fighting with a child.” Spirits, was that the wrong thing to say.

The young woman and the prince speak over each other.

“I am not a child.”

“Stay out of this, Taka!” The girl rolls up her sleeves. Agni, I need to end this before one of them gets thrown into the ocean or blasted into oblivion.

“Enough!” Taka yells. That seems to do it, she thinks. Prince Zuko flinches minutely. Mikazuki’s eyes go wide before shifting back to the ground as she grumbles. The princess seems very amused. Taka begins walking, expecting the other three to catch on and follow her. “Mikazuki, stay on Princess Azula’s right. I will be on the prince’s left,” she says in a demanding tone.

At this, the boy moves so that his sister is walking on his left side. Taka’s eyes narrow, but she does not comment. Instead, she stays on his right. She sees him form Mikazuki’s name with his mouth, as if sounding it out.

––

With Hoshi perusing the market for ingredients and Mikazuki guarding the royals, Chai Son is able to slip into the nearby forest unnoticed.

The earth sings.

His bones feel as if they shift back into place. The pain subsides. He breathes deeply. The stone responds to him as he copies the movements he sees the crew do during their training.

After some hours, Chai Son wanders back into the town. He feels whole.

––

Yong-Yut walks up to the waterbender and navigator as the siblings talk to a vendor selling theater masks — or rather, Prince Zuko is having a heated debate with the man about their inaccuracies, while his sister watches and giggles.

Yong-Yut nods to the younger crew member and signs that they can switch. It’s not like I have anything better to do, she thinks. The waterbender just frowns in confusion.

“She’s saying you two can switch places. You don’t have to guard anymore, Mikazuki,” the navigator says. She really knows her stuff, huh? The navigator turns to her. “Did I get that right, Yong-Yut?”

There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach when the taller woman says her name. She nods.

“Oh, right! I’ll go find the others. Thanks Taka, thanks Yong-Yut!” the young woman says as she turns and jogs away.

Yong-Yut adjusts her headscarf and looks at the woman beside her, who is now reprimanding the princess for pushing her brother. Taka. That’s a pretty name, Yong-Yut thinks.

Taka is tall — almost a head taller than me — and sturdily built. Yong-Yut’s eyes avert away from the muscles that are visible through her sleeves. Her amber eyes stand out against her dark skin, and a long black braid runs down to her lower back. She seems to be about Yong-Yut’s age, if not a few years older.

Yong-Yut is snapped out of her reverie — no, not a reverie. I am looking respectfully. For observational purposes. That’s it — by a hand tugging on her arm. She looks down to see Prince Zuko with mud on his bandages. She huffs and leans down to start wiping it off. The medic’s going to be pissed if the prince comes back with mud over his eyes, she thinks. Can't get those infected.

“Azula started it.” Yong-Yut hums in response. “Really, she did!” he raises his voice. The woman rests her hand on his right shoulder to calm him. After taking several deep breaths, he taps the woman’s shoulder. One two. One two. One two.

“Aw, you two are such a cute couple!” a vendor at a nearby stall says to the two women. The four — well, three. Zuko continues to stare right ahead — of them turn in her direction.

The vendor crouches down in order to be eye level with the princess. “Oh, you look so much like your mommy!” She points to Yong-Yut, who pretends not to notice how the vendor’s eyes flicker over her scars. She then turns to Zuko. “And you have your mother’s hair!” She smiles sweetly at Taka.

“She is not my mother,” Princess Azula spits. Zuko is silent at the woman’s comment, opting to touch his phoenixtail.

The vendor chuckles. “It’s alright, most kids tend to pick favorites.” Yong-Yut sends a confused glance over to Taka, who looks amused and raises one eyebrow when they make eye contact.

“The princess is mine,” Taka signs. Yong-Yut looks over at the little girl, who is trying rather hard to convince the vendor that they are not her parents.

A tiny smirk settles on Yong-Yut’s face. “Fine. Then I get the prince,” she signs back. She pats Zuko’s soft hair before he wiggles out of her grasp.

Both women look back at the vendor when she straightens up. “Well, I best get going. Have a lovely day!”

“You as well,” Taka says politely in return. The seller walks away.

“That was stupid,” Prince Zuko says, shifting uncomfortably. His sister huffs in agreement before skipping away to continue looking through the market.

“You get both kids on weekends!” Taka calls over her shoulder while being dragged away by Princess Azula.

Yong-Yut waves farewell. Taka smiles back.

“Gross,” Zuko says.

“What?” Yong-Yut signs.

“Your body temperature just rose significantly.” That is pretty gross. The prince sighs and points to a blue and white mask. “Do you have money on you? I’d like that one.”

——

Mikazuki can feel the bodies of those around her thrum, their hearts pumping. Auk. They may not share it, but to her, they are becoming a family.

——

“Maybe she’s just had them since birth?”

Ryuji shoots another blast of fire into the furnace. “I don’t think so. They don’t look natural.”

Chai Son watches the man work for a moment — he could get off his ass and help, but hey, at least I have someone to talk to, Ryuji thinks — as he considers this. “Then maybe it was an accident?”

Ryuji shovels more coal into the furnace. “What, you think it was some type of training accident? She gave those scars to herself?”

“Um… yes?”

Ryuji shakes his head before wiping sweat off his brow with a rag. “I hate to break it to you kid, but I think someone gave her those scars. They’re too precise. Someone gave them to her for a reason.”

Chai Son looks distraught. “Why would anyone do that?”

The older man’s tone softens a bit — he’s just a kid — when he speaks again. “Got on someone’s bad side. She’s probably just a criminal of some sort.”

Ryuji turns back to the furnace as the boy ponders over this for a moment. He snorts, and the engineer turns back around. “A jealous wife?”

The man smirks. “Now you’re talkin’! Probably some general’s mistress.”

Chai Son frames his face with his hand and bats his eyelashes. “The wife became jealous of her gorgeous smile.” The two burst into laughter.

Once they’ve caught their breath, the taller of the two becomes contemplative again. “But seriously, what could she have possibly done for someone to do that to her?”

Ryuji thinks as he shovels. He’s seen a fair number of injuries during his service, inflicted by fire- and earthbenders alike. But again, the scars are too precise to be caused by bending — two thin lines arcing from the corners of her lips to her ears. A nonbender — or someone who was trying not to be identified — had to have done that with some sort of knife.

The woman’s scars may not be gruesome now, but they were probably torturous to obtain. Ryuji shudders as he imagines how it must’ve felt for the knife to slice through the skin of her cheeks. Did they start from her ears, or did they slip the blade inside her mouth? Probably whichever would hurt worse. They’re sliced clean — she was most likely chained or held down to avoid a struggle. After the first side was done, was she aware of the second cut? Or was the pain too unbearable? Oh Spirits, that’s if it was even done all at once.

Ryuji winces as he imagines being held in a cell somewhere, one side of his face cut open — probably unable to eat, it’d be too painful — as he waits to be segmented again. Who’s to say they stopped with her face? Agni, she never talks, does she even have a tongue—

Yong-Yut had to have done something horrific to deserve such a gruesome punishment.

“Kill Fire Lord Azulon and Princess Ursa,” the answer to Chai Son’s question is out of Ryuji’s mouth before he can think of the possible consequences.

The boy gasps, his eyes widen. “I— But— You don’t—” he pauses for a moment to collect himself, wincing slightly as he breathes deeply. “Then why would Fire Lord Ozai allow her to live, let alone work for his children?”

His expression grim, Ryuji turns to shoot a ball of flame into the furnace. “I don’t think he expects to see the prince and princess again.”

——

Whenever she’s presented the choice, Mikazuki takes the night watch. Waterbenders are more powerful at night. With most of the ship’s occupants drowsy with the loss of Agni, it is only reasonable for her to guard. (“Protect your family.”) She takes the opportunity to practice her forms.

In the silver light of Tui’s full face, Mikazuki feels her blood boil.

——

Zuko pays attention to the shifting heat signatures as Yong-Yut signs to him. The two of them had originally been meditating, but gave up. It’s a hot day — no one is doing much work. Zuko is uncomfortable underneath his bandages and robe.

“You are just a baby,” Yong-Yut signs.

“No I am not!” Zuko yells.

“Yes you are.”

“No I am not.”

“Not what?” The navigator — Taka — sits down with them. Zuko can feel the heat rolling off of her. She’s sweaty and pants lightly from the exertion of training with Azula. Zuko ignores how Yong-Yut’s face grows warmer (oh Agni. Gross).

“Isn’t he just a baby?” Yong-Yut signs.

“Oh yes, definitely.”

“I’m almost fourteen for Agni’s sake!”

“And by ‘almost fourteen’ you mean…” Taka asks.

Zuko fidgets a bit where he’s sitting. “I turned thirteen last month,” he mumbles.

Taka chuckles. “I didn’t even know your age, but Spirits, you’re a baby,” Yong-Yut gestures.

Azula joins the group sitting on the deck. “What are you saying? Is that code?” Zuko sends a blast of fire at her just for the hell of it. She dodges it easily.

“It’s a language, usually for people who can’t hear or speak,” Taka says.

“So it can be used in situations in which one cannot make a noise?”

“Well, yes—”

“Fascinating!” Azula turns to Yong-Yut, golden eyes wide. “You must teach me.”

“Baby girl. Baby.”

“Interesting. What does that mean? Are those battle plans?”

Zuko stifles a laugh. “She just called you a baby.”

A pause. “Well. I don’t see how that is appropriate for the situation at hand.”

Zuko can’t help it. He starts laughing just thinking about the bewildered expression his sister must be trying to hide. (He only coughs a few times.) Soon enough, the others join him.

——

Growing up, Mikazuki loved to listen to her grandmother's stories of her home. She couldn't imagine anywhere other than the humid Fire Nation, much less a frigid land full of caribou-oxen, of whale-bone homes, of furs and stories, of people who could create ice at their fingertips.

The stories her aanaa told her and her siblings made Mikazuki yearn for somewhere she had never even been. She felt like part of her was lost. Her grandmother’s loss was all-consuming for her, like a bender stripped of their element. For Mikazuki, her sense of detachment was in her periphery — her loyalty is to the Fire Nation and Fire Nation only (that’s what I tell myself).

But sometimes she wonders what it would be like to visit her tribe.

Would they accept me? Aanaa says nothing can drive families apart. Mikazuki’s education says they’d rip her to shreds.

Would they make me change my name? Aanaa says she never should’ve been given a Fire Nation — “ashmaker” — name in the first place. Mikazuki’s heart says her name is a source of pride. (She often doesn’t get called her name by colonists — colonizers — when the crew stops in ports. “Savage”.)

Would they gouge out my eyes? Aanaa says brown eyes are common in all nations, but blue would’ve looked better on her. Mikazuki’s mother says it’s a shame her daughter isn’t a firebender like her side of the family (“When you were born, you had that spark in your eyes. I don’t know what went wrong”).

Aanaa says that her people's history lives on as stories, told throughout the generations. “Above all, irngutaq, protect your people. If you protect your people, you also protect your culture.” The elder taught her how to defend herself and her family.

Aanaa says that her — their — people's history lives on as stories. But Mikazuki knows that one day, she will need to meet people like her. To put faces to the stories, faces of shared blood, faces to the Southern benders.

Maybe when the crew eventually goes to the South Pole, Mikazuki can ask the other waterbenders if they remember her grandmother.

Hama.

————

Chapter Text

Anzu has treated many different people in her life. Her favorite part of her job is watching her patients’ happy reactions as they get better. Needless to say, she is excited when she is able take the bandages off of Prince Zuko's right eye for good. Baby steps.

The boy is sitting on the spare cot in her room, while Iroh sits in the bedside chair. The medic doesn’t miss how the princess’s eyes avert away until the left side of his face is re-bandaged. “Could you go any slower?” Prince Zuko groans.

“Do you want me to?” He snaps his mouth shut. “Now keep your eye closed until it adjusts to the light,” the healer advises as she wipes around his eye with a sterile cloth.

Anzu steps back, allowing the boy's family to lean in closer. Princess Azula moves to stand right in front of her brother with a look of curiosity on her face. This. This is why I have yet to retire. That and the fact that people need me, of course.

“Take your time, Prince Zuko,” Iroh says gently — he seems supportive, but the woman knows that underneath, he’s worried for his nephew. At that comment, the boy slowly opens his eye. Does he have to do everything out of spite?, Anzu thinks. He blinks a few times, then opens his eye entirely.

Prince Zuko’s face brightens into a smile immediately. “Hi ‘Zula.”

The girl squeals and launches herself at her brother. He laughs as she quickly pulls herself out of the hug and schools her features. “That was nothing but a scream. You are ugly as ever, Zuzu.”

He chuckles into his hand. “Great to see you too, Azula.” Anzu watches as the prince brightens once more when he spots Iroh. “Uncle!” This time, he’s the one to launch himself at the old man, who embraces the boy with tears in his eyes.

Anzu allows the reunion to extend longer than she would for others — A healer should treat all their patients the same, but hell, I didn’t help Princess Ursa deliver these kids for nothing. And besides, it’s less time for Iroh to get all sappy on me — but eventually, she has Prince Zuko sit back down on the cot for eye and ear exams. She lets out a sigh of relief. Perfect vision and hearing on his right. Thank Agni. He’ll need it.

“Now Princess, this means you can no longer push your brother into the mud. If his eye gets infected, then I will have to re-bandage it,” the medic says as she puts away her equipment.

“Fine. But only because I do not want him to bump into me anymore,” Princess Azula huffs. Prince Zuko rolls his eye, then smiles and shows his sister that, “Look, I can roll my eye!”.

Iroh chuckles and accepts the tissue that Anzu offers to him. “Prince Zuko, you should be careful of the sun when you go out on—”

The girl quickly grabs her brother’s arm. “Bye Uncle, bye Anzu!” she rushes as she turns to make a run for it. At the door, the prince stops and bows to the medic as a sign of thanks, then dashes after his sister.

“Nephew, be careful! You have no—” Iroh calls after the two, only to be interrupted by a crash and a distant, “I am ok!”. “—depth perception,” the man finishes, sighing. He turns to his old friend. “Shouldn’t that cause you some concern?”

Anzu laughs. “He said he’s fine. Your nephew may lack depth perception, but he has enough common sense to not go running straight into the ocean.”

Iroh sighs again. “I suppose you are correct.” He looks back up at his friend. “Will he gain his sight and hearing back when the entirety of his bandages are removed?”

At that, the woman sobers up, her mouth set in a grim line. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Iroh.”

-

Azula bounds out on deck. Zuko’s back! Sure, her brother may have been on the ship for the same amount of time as her, but now she can see him. The last time she had seen Zuko’s face — his real face, not whatever Azula had seen the first time she watched Anzu take his bandages off — it had been covered in tears and clouded by smoke and flames (he looked like candlelight). Azula prefers this much more.

She pauses at the top of the stairs and looks behind her. “What are you doing?” she snaps. Zuko looks up from where he is frowning at the first step up to the deck.

“It keeps moving,” he pouts.

Azula tilts her head. “What, you thought we would anchor just so you could uncover your eye? Your need for theatrics is astounding, Zuzu.” She descends the stairs once again.

Zuko throws his arms up in exasperation. “Not the ship! The stair. Watch this.” Azula does, indeed, watch as her brother picks his foot up, only to not bring it down far enough to make contact with the step. When he tries to put his weight on it while it’s still a good distance above the ground, he trips. Zuko growls in frustration.

“Hm. The stairs do not move for me.”

“That is beside the point!” Zuko yells.

“Oh give it a rest, Zuzu. I shall ask Taka about this,” Azula placates. “Let’s go.” She moves to grab his arm.

Her brother yanks away from her, only to lurch slightly to the side. “What are you doing?!”

She huffs. “I am helping you, Zuko. Isn’t it obvious?” His eye widens for a moment — what does he look so surprised for? That I’m helping him? Please, I’m the definition of generosity… Spirits, did I call him by his name?! — before narrowing again as he regards Azula. Her brother seems to find what he’s looking for, as he grunts and holds his arm out.

Azula smiles — ignoring that Zuko overestimates the distance between them and lightly elbows her in the side — and grabs his right arm to lead him up to the deck.

-

Anzu knows what the prince looks like. She was present for him and his sister’s births, after all. They both had their mother’s eyes.

As she handed the tiny, ever-moving baby boy to Ursa, Anzu saw the same passion, the same depth of feeling in his golden eyes. Passing the swaddled baby girl immediately to her father (as he had demanded), Anzu saw her bright eyes roam about, the same curiosity as her mother.

The healer has seen the siblings at various points in their lives as she would switch between being the palace doctor and a field medic. It seemed like I rarely had anything to do in Caldera compared to the battlefield. But whenever I left, no matter what I did it wasn’t enough. Nothing would change. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Poison tea for Crown Prince Iroh. A sprained ankle for Prince Lu Ten (“I swear Anzu, the rooftop had not been that far away when I jumped, it must have moved”). Random light burns that fade quickly for Prince Zuko. Various scrapes from exploring for Princess Azula. Blistered palms for Prince Zuko. More poison tea for Crown Prince Iroh (“I must say, it still tasted rather nice”).

A missing arm and disembowelment for Prince Lu Ten. A knife in the stomach and freezer burn for Princess Ursa. Then suddenly it was—

A dislocated shoulder for Crown Prince Zuko. A shredded back for Crown Prince Zuko. A broken arm for Crown Prince Zuko. Five bruises (fingertips) wrapped around the neck for Crown Prince Zuko. Once, a handprint on the cheek for Princess Azula. Immediately after, a black eye for Crown Prince Zuko (“He had promised not to touch her, Anzu. He promised me”). Red tree branches up his arm and uncontrollable twitching for Crown Prince Zuko. Broken ribs for Crown Prince Zuko.

Various other injuries. All are times Anzu has seen the royal siblings. Every time, she’s amazed by just how much they’ve grown.

Charred flesh and nerve damage for banished Prince Zuko.

Anzu is glad to see that no matter how much he has changed, he still has his mother’s eye.

-

After adjusting to the sunlight, Zuko lets his little sister pull him along to meet the crew.

A tall boy spots the pair first and bounds over to them, grinning widely. His round face is framed by strands of light brown hair that have fallen out of his low ponytail, and he has bright (amber? green?) hazel eyes. He stops in front of the siblings and bows. “It is nice to finally meet you, Prince Zuko. I’m Chai S—“

“You are one of the nonbenders, correct?” Zuko interrupts. He doesn’t need that question answered, as he can very well tell by the boy’s body temperature – he just doesn’t like how this conversation has started.

“Finally meet you”? I’ve been here the same amount of time as everyone else!, Zuko thinks. Once that idea has been planted in his brain, he can’t stop the onslaught of thoughts.

I know his voice (of course I do, he never shuts up). But it’s never been directed at me before. Come to think of it, Zuko realizes that Yong-Yut is the only crew member who has gone out of her way to interact with him. He admits that yes, Taka has also spoken with him often, but he has a feeling that that’s so she can also talk to Yong-Yut.

Chai Son nods. “How old are you?” Zuko asks.

“Seventeen.”

Zuko’s eye widens. “You are only four years older than me. What is a seventeen year old doing on the Kage?”

A smirk settles on Chai Son’s face. “What’s a thirteen year old doing here?” Zuko frowns and refuses to answer. Azula, who has been watching the entire interaction with delight, takes this as her cue to lead Zuko to the next crew member.

Zuko’s able to recognize Taka immediately. She’s by far the tallest of the crew, having a few inches on the lieutenant. Her colonial background is obvious through her darker skin tone, and her amber eyes are the mark of nobility. Zuko can see that the shorter hairs that do not reach the end of the navigator’s braid curl.

Taka doesn’t introduce herself. Zuko is thankful for that. When they make eye contact, she nods, then goes back to listening to Azula explain the stairs situation. Spirits, she better not tell anyone else of my weakness.

Zuko uses that as his opportunity to continue to survey the crew. The engineer is stocky, with salt and pepper hair cut short. The hawker is of medium height, and his eyes match the beginning of graying in his beard. I thought he was only in his thirties?, Zuko thinks. Zuko knows he should feel comforted by the sight of Anzu’s familiar dark gray hair and round face, but if he’s being honest, her presence usually means that he’s in pain.

His eye tracks to where Chai Son has walked back over to his crew mates. The cook is slightly shorter than the hawker; they seem to be in their early twenties, and their medium brown hair is cut choppily at their chin. Zuko can see that when Chai Son makes a joke, the cook’s honey eyes light up. A dimpled smile graces the waterbender’s face as tanned fingers deftly tie her thick black hair into a tall phoenix tail with a red ribbon, leaving her blunt bangs to hang on her forehead.

Zuko walks (stumbles) over to the last figure he spots, who is tying ropes away from the others. He stops before he reaches her — not because the seemingly sinking floor makes me nauseous, not at all — to observe from afar.

Even kneeling, Zuko can tell that she is relatively tall, being a few inches shorter than Chai Son. A dark burgundy headscarf obscures what Zuko would have been able to see of her profile.

Ocher eyes look up at Zuko once he is close enough. He grins. “Yong-Yut.”

As the woman stands up, Zuko’s eye flickers (candlelight) across her angular face. His gaze falls on the sunken lines in her cheeks that further emphasize her already prominent cheekbones. The scars are difficult to ignore — it’s not entirely clear where her lips end and the slits begin, her mouth being permanently pulled in a mock smile.

Apart from the scars, the light skin of her face is clear with the exception of a small beauty mark that rests above the right side of her upper lip. A long-sleeved suea pat covers her torso, and a pha sin skirt covers her bottom half. Zuko can see small scars dot her calloused hands as she forms the sign of the flame and bows.

“It’s good to see you,” Yong-Yut signs.

“It is good to see you too,” he signs back, albeit much slower. A real smile finds its way onto her face. “Can I tell you something?” The woman nods. “I think your smile is pretty.”

Yong-Yut blushes. “Can I tell you something as well?” she signs. Zuko nods. “I think your smile is pretty too.”

(“You look so much like your mother!”)

-

There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage. Jee quite frankly thinks it’s stupid – even though the same portrait hangs in every dining hall of every Fire Navy ship, he knows that this one would’ve been burned to a crisp or thrown into the ocean by now if not for the fact that the man’s children are onboard.

That’s the thing. The Fire Lord has kids. Fire Lord Ozai. He is a father. To not one, but two children.

Children that are supposed to be in his care. Children that are supposed to be by their father’s side in a palace. Children that aren’t supposed to be on a boat miles away from their homeland. One child that shouldn’t have been waiting for her brother to leave the infirmary, with no one she is entirely comfortable with (sure, she’s taken a liking to Taka, but I can tell she doesn’t feel safe around adults, Jee thinks). One child that shouldn’t be seeing for the first time in weeks right now.

And that’s the other thing. There’s a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage. And the half of Prince Zuko’s face that is now visible bears a striking resemblance to it.

——

Eventually, the siblings fall into a routine of going on the deck to watch the stars together.

She sits on his right. He sits on her left.

She knows all the constellations' names and placements. He knows all the legends behind them.

The week of her birth, twin volcanoes — Meakan and Oakan — erupted. The week of his birth, the rainy season — jangma — began early.

Her freckles form constellations. His create distant trails on a map.

Her fire turned blue the day her cousin left for war. His fire became golden the day their mother told him of the dragons (“Fire is life, not just destruction”).

In the night, stars crown her head. In the day, he is haloed by the sun, leaving him a silhouette.

When she really focuses, she feels a thrumming in the air, a thread running through her veins. When he really focuses, he sees his distorted shadow on the deck, a mocking, counterfeit dark form of a boy who is no longer.

Beneath the twinkling stars — Of course the blue ones are her favorites, Zuko thinks, the corners of his lips easing out of their usual frown — she looks like their mother. In the darkness — He's always been more comfortable in the shadows, Azula thinks, the tension between her brows softening — he looks like their father.

——

Taka is aware that her childhood was ripped from her manicured hands. That’s why she enjoys watching the three kids interact; they may be stranded in the ocean, but they seem to be having fun. Even the siblings — Azula more so than the prince — have their moments of joy.

When she was fifteen, Taka was forced into marriage with an older nobleman. Her mother had arranged it all — her daughter’s hand in exchange for wealth. Not that my family needed the money. The man was a cruel husband and an even crueler general. When he was on the battlefield, Taka would spend her free time reading, training, spending time with her younger siblings when her mother let her visit.

Those are the facts of the matter. How Taka feels about it is unimportant (that’s what I tell myself).

The night draws forth those meaningless feelings like a bucket with well water.

When she lies down in her bunk, Taka expects him to slide into bed after her. When she hears the rustling of the rest of the crew changing their clothes, she tenses, anticipating hot breath against her neck and a hand on her leg. When she closes her eyes, she expects to hear his snores (and his yelling. And his moans and glass shattering and grunts and stone hitting flesh).

In a place full of earth- and firebenders, missing bodies are assumed to have been burned or buried. No one thinks to look in an underground spring.

At least, not until their water turns black.

Despite the lack of evidence, Lady Zhang Taka of Yu Dao was suspected. For this, she was sent away.

(In her sleep, she dreams of the moment she lifted a manicured hand from her satin pillow, placing it over his mouth and filling it with smoke.)

——

No one must know that even awake, Zuko still has “nightmares”. He doesn’t know what else to call them, though they happen most often during the day, in the light. Mom died in the light of lanterns. I burned in the light of Father’s fire. Uncle looked away in the light of the braziers.

Zuko will be going about his day, ordering his crew, sparring with the animal handler, having tea with Uncle, when something happens — the lieutenant shouts, the hawker’s blade glints in the sun (“I promise no harm will come to either of them.” “Thank you, Ozai”), Uncle pats his cheek—

And suddenly he’s back behind a closed door, back in the throne room, back in the arena. And all he can do is watch.

——

Chapter Text

People like to call Ryuji a rumor spreader. He calls himself a storyteller.

People like to call Ryuji a liar. He likes to say he’s trying to expose the truth.

Ryuji calls himself a storyteller. He’s never told his own full story, simply because it’s nothing special (that’s what I tell myself).

He has been a lot of things. A footsoldier. A firebender caught in a crossfire (41st. 41st. 41st). A patient with a crushed arm. A civilian offered a well-paying job to shut him up.

Just because I took the job doesn’t mean I’d be willing to close my big mouth.

An engineer on various Fire Navy ships. A mechanic for a certain power-hungry captain — I never tried to learn the bastard’s name. I think it sounded like Cho? Chow? — who would do anything — and I mean he did everything — if it could get him a promotion. A whistleblower. A prisoner. A member of the royal siblings’ crew.

Everyone must know.

——

Iroh sets the tsungi horn down in the pile of instruments on deck. When he stands back up, the crew and children look back at him with perplexed faces. Iroh smiles and simply says, “Music night. Everyone grab an instrument.”

-

Taka notices that Yong-Yut is the first to reach the pile. The other woman finishes tying the prince’s hair up — it had taken a lot of gesturing that Taka didn’t pay attention to for Yong-Yut to convince Prince Zuko to let her braid his long hair — before reaching in and taking a rawap.

Taka lifts a brow — a silent question — as she delicately pulls out a finely crafted guqin for herself. Yong-Yut hesitates for a moment before signing, “It reminds me of home.”

At that, the navigator’s features soften. “Do you know how to play?” she asks aloud, gesturing to the rawap. Yong-Yut shakes her head. “Would you like me to teach you?” The woman beside her nods and begins to try to hand the instrument to her.

Taka shakes her head as she takes the guqin out of her lap to let it rest on the deck. She then shuffles over to sit behind Yong-Yut, positioning the woman’s hands correctly, and begins to instruct her.

-

Even facing away, Zuko has to try hard to ignore just how warm Yong-Yut’s face just grew. Spirits. Get a room.

-

Iroh watches as the remaining people go to take musical instruments. Lieutenant Jee picks up the pipa and immediately begins plucking it. Iroh notices Mikazuki take the gekkin somewhat tentatively, while Chai Son hastily grabs the kuai ban and immediately starts clapping them erratically. Hoshi deftly snags them out of his hands and hands the instrument to Ryuji at his behest. Hoshi then takes a horagai for themself. Iroh chuckles as Chai Son sighs and settles for a small koudi that is dwarfed in his hand.

“Are you going to take anything?” Iroh’s niece asks, turning to Gan.

The man looks up from where he is sitting, a messenger hawk settled on his lap and nibbling on some food. The hawk's eyes close happily as Zuko takes a moment to pet its feathers while passing by. “Kinda busy, Princess,” Gan says.

The general turns to Anzu. “And you?”

“You know me, Iroh. I’ll sing.” The man smiles and reaches for the tsungi horn as everyone settles.

Azula looks up from where she has been practicing the xun. “Zuzu can sing!”

Zuko’s head snaps up, looking away from the fire. “What are you talking about?!” Oh Spirits, she must be trying to get a rise out of him. Iroh turns to reprimand his niece for teasing her brother.

Azula shrugs. “Mother always loved your voice.” Iroh snaps his mouth shut. She turns back to playing her instrument, the high and low tones creating a melancholic harmony. The man’s heart punctures at the sound — the girl has always made it seem as if she couldn’t care less about Ursa or her assassination.

Zuko turns back to the fire, glaring. “Yeah well Mom is dead.” At that, the crew’s murmurs and tuning grow quiet.

“You do not actually believe that, do you? I have heard a rumor that she ran away, or was even banished.” Azula’s voice lacks its usual venomous tone; instead, she sounds genuinely curious. Vaguely hopeful.

“She is dead, Azula,” the boy grumbles. Iroh’s forehead creases in worry. When did this happen?, he wonders. When did Zuko grow so pessimistic? Since when has Azula permitted herself to act so childishly? (Iroh knows the answer to his questions. When he blinks, he sees his nephew’s smoldering body.)

Iroh notices his niece lean ever-so-slightly toward her brother, elbows bent with her palms resting on her knees. “How do you know?”

“Because it is common knowledge,” Zuko snaps. Azula continues to push anyway, pressing on the bruise.

“Her funeral was overshadowed by Father’s coronation.” Zuko’s jaw tenses. “For all we know, there may never have been a body to put on the pyre in the first place,” Azula states matter-of-factly. Iroh can see waves of heat begin to emanate off of Zuko, his face contorted in anger; the man doesn’t intervene, opting to watch.

“What evidence do you have, Zuko?” The final nail in Zuko’s coffin is hammered in with his sister’s uncharacteristically open expression. His eyes flash at the sound of his name.

“Because I watched her die!”

-

In his limited peripheral vision, Zuko is aware of the flames heightening in response to his outburst, but doesn’t stop. “She was bleeding out and all I did was watch!” Zuko yells, sparks flying out of his mouth as he faces his sister fully. Her eyes are wide. “I should have helped her, and all I could do was watch!”

He huffs as he settles down again, the flames reflecting — mimicking, mocking (weak childish foolish pathetic) — his dissipating anger. The heat in Zuko’s chest dwindles, and in its place is a familiar ache. “She would have lived if it were not for me,” he says, his voice small.

Zuko takes the beat of silence as an opportunity to breathe deeply.

“Prince Zuko—” Uncle begins, extending a hand toward his shoulder. Zuko tries to suppress his instinctual flinch. Uncle withdraws his hand, so he assumes he failed.

“I do not need your pity. It has been two years. I am fine,” the boy says, tone emotionless.

“Prince Zuko, did you see who killed your mother? It could be a matter of national security,” the lieutenant says.

Zuko shifts in his seat and shakes his head.

-

From where she’s sitting, Yong-Yut can see Zuko fidget. Her eyes don’t leave his small form when his sister speaks again. “You’ve always been such a horrible liar,” Princess Azula says, voice cracking minutely.

“Nephew, this is important. The assassins are still at large. Your father’s life could potentially be at stake,” the general urges. “We need to know who did it.”

Yong-Yut has still not taken her eyes off of the boy. She’s glad she hasn’t. It’s minuscule, and he might not even realize that he’s doing it (the general had said he is a very fast learner). But Yong-Yut does.

It had seemed like Zuko was fidgeting with his hair, brushing away stray strands at the very top of his dark, winding braid. But no. The action is too specific, too practiced. It’s brief, and he only does it a few times, but Yong-Yut catches it. Zuko’s hand is extended up, his thumb hovering near his forehead. He absentmindedly slightly taps his thumb to the unbandaged side of his forehead by moving his hand an inch away and back.

Yong-Yut’s eyes go wide at his signing.

“Father.”

-

Oh shit, Taka thinks. A small choking noise escapes from Yong-Yut. Their faces are equally anguished when they make eye contact.

In the glow of the fire, a manicured hand reaches over and squeezes a calloused and scarred one in reassurance. The gesture is returned.

-

Azula admits she’s curious. But Zuko’s getting all fidgety, and Agni, that gets so annoying. So she tries to divert the attention away from him.

The princess looks down at the xun in her lap. “Hey Taka,” she asks the woman across the fire. Azula holds up her instrument. “The xun is made from water and earth, shaped by fire, and then played using air. Do you think any Avatars favored this instrument?”

Taka perks up at that. “Yes, actually! Avatar Yangchen—”

Typically, Azula would listen with rapt attention. Instead, she watches Zuko until she sees him heave a sigh of relief. Then she relaxes.

——

Iroh disembarks with the rest of the crew at the next port. On the side of the path to the market, he sees a lovely looking flower. “Is anyone else going to eat this?” he calls out. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

“No, General Iroh, don’t—!” Lieutenant Jee calls, running up to him. Behind the two, Mikazuki sighs and passes some coins to Gan.

——

Hoshi has had a pretty simple life. They’re 21. Fire Nation. Never knew their mother. Their father, a nonbender, raised all of his firebending children the best he could. Hoshi was the middle child of seven, and when they weren’t off stealing — hey, Dad needed help getting food on the table — they practiced cooking for their large family.

Their twentieth — at least I think it was my twentieth — birthday is when it starts to get hazy. They think they were recruited. No no maybe I was drafted? Hoshi is a decent firebender, but they ended up as a cook. Hey, I’m not complaining. They continued to follow the same principle: Stealing is right if they have something you want.

It only gets hazier after that. All Hoshi remembers is a lake and some men who had…rocks for hands? That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about me to dispute it.

(Candlelight.)

Firebenders are passionate. And Hoshi is passionate in their belief that they can figure out what the hell is going on and how they ended up on a ship as a chef to the royal heirs by themselves.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother Hoshi. They’ll have to look up a recipe that Dad taught, or there’s an empty spot in their head that used to be filled with the faces of all six of their siblings, or they will rely on muscle memory but how does my body know this when my mind doesn’t?

Hoshi seems to remember nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

——

“Mikazuki took the last mochi!” Azula pouts after dinner. The older girl sticks her tongue out at the princess. Ew. Everyone here is so uncivilized, the child thinks.

When Azula looks back down at her plate, she spots the engineer trying (and failing) to subtly put his own mochi onto her plate. She looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Why would you share with me?”

The older man simply smiles and shrugs. “Ok…” Azula says. “Sounds fake but ok…” She hesitantly takes a bite as Ryuji turns away. It’s delicious.

——

Everyone’s seen things they didn't want to — shouldn’t have — Jee included. It’s a fact of life (a fact of war). Trying to do something about it only gets others hurt. That’s a fact of life (a fact of war).

Doesn’t mean Jee doesn’t miss his wife and kids.

Apparently coming home to a burning house isn't enough of a punishment for suspected treason.

So now Jee's stuck on this Spirits-forsaken boat with the idiot prince and too-smart-for-anyone-else’s-good princess. As he orders his new crew around, all of them still adjusting to their strange situation, he tries to ignore what’s gnawing at his mind.

Princess Azula’s voice sounds a lot like Sumiye’s did. Kaori was just as headstrong as both of the royal siblings combined. Vidura would get the same mischievous look in his eyes before teasing his younger siblings as Prince Zuko. They would have been the same ages as Chai Son, Mikazuki, and Hoshi right now.

If they were still alive, that is.

—————

Chapter Text

Dear Azula,

Happy birthday! I wish I could spend it with you. — here is a drawing of a frowning face — I appreciate your letters. I haven’t been able to answer any of them because I’ve just been so busy. I’ve spent quite a lot of time away from my sisters.

Mai has been teaching me how to throw knives. Isn’t that so cool? She still hasn’t gotten her back handspring yet, but that’s ok, practice makes perfect. I don’t mind having to teach Mai the same moves, though. — here was a rather lengthy explanation of everything that has happened in Caldera City — My aura’s never been pinker!

How are you doing? Say hi to Zuko for me!

Miss you!

- Ty Lee — followed by another drawing, this one of a heart.

Azula is tempted to burn the letter. It would be satisfying.

Today is Azula’s birthday, not Ty Lee’s or Mai’s. And speaking of, why didn’t Mai send a letter? Did she really dismiss all notions of friendship as soon as I left?, Azula thinks.

What did I do wrong?, a quieter (more childish) voice in her head whispers.

She looks at the letter once again. Her eyes first settle on Ty Lee’s first drawing. She frowns back at it.

Azula does end up burning the letter. Most of it, that is.

——

“Happy tenth birthday, Princess!” Iroh says as soon as he sees his niece.

Azula’s face brightens. “Thank you, Uncle.” He has to admit, it is nice for her to accept his comment without a snide remark.

“I have a gift for you.”

At that, Azula’s disposition shifts back to her normal, vaguely condescending curiosity. A single eyebrow naturally arcs up, as if it’s foolish for Iroh to think he could please her, but she still wants to see him try. He smiles in return, thinking he will prove her wrong.

The second that Iroh takes a doll out of his pocket, Azula scoffs and starts to turn away. He grabs her shoulder to stop her, earning a sharp glare. At least she doesn’t flinch like her brother does, Iroh thinks.

“Why don’t you check it out a bit? Your brother helped me pick it out. I think you will find something you like,” he says as he hands the doll to his niece.

The girl huffs and sits down on the deck to investigate the doll.

-

At first glance, Azula has concluded that the object in her hand isn’t a doll, per se. It’s more of an…action figure? Is that even a term? Oh well, it is now.

The “action figure’s” wooden joints are capable of motion to a surprising degree. Azula isn’t familiar with its design – a princess doesn’t have time for toys – but it is dressed in a simple green cloth that could be seen as a kimono, and the dark hair is made of some type of yarn. Clearly the focus was the craftsmanship of the wood, Azula sniffs.

And she must admit, it is finely crafted. The golden headdress has intricate detailing, and the war paint on the face renders the object almost lifelike. The carvings on the fans at the woman’s – Azula has come to the conclusion that it is, in fact, supposed to be a woman, though she doesn’t know who – hip match those on the headdress.

Azula thinks the entirety of the doll/action figure/thing, with the exception of the hair and clothing, is wooden. She lifts one of the toy’s hands to see that the smooth fingers down to the wrists are made out of metal. The girl’s eyes widen, and she carefully removes the figure’s clothing to get a better look.

Along the outside of each arm is a thin metal strip that runs to the toy’s back. In fact, its whole torso underneath the chest is metal. Upon closer inspection, Azula finds what looks to be a button and a tiny wheel inserted into the back of each hand, while the palms seem to have holes in them. Maybe the craftsmanship isn’t as good as I thought.

She presses down on one of the buttons. Nothing happens. Azula frowns and tries again, growing frustrated when her efforts prove to be in vain.

“Can I try?” a voice says from above her. She glares at whoever dares to imply that Azula could ever need help. Mikazuki looks back down at her.

“Don’t you have filthy toilets to clean?”

Mikazuki shakes her head. “Nope, Chai Son got stuck with it after stealing from the pantry. Hoshi doesn’t even have the authority to reprimand a member of the deck crew, but I’m not complaining.” Azula stores that information away for later as the older girl sits down. “What’ve you got there?”

Azula is oddly hesitant to place the figure into Mikazuki’s outstretched hand. The deckhand lets out a low whistle. Uncivilized, Azula thinks. “Where’d you get an Avatar Kyoshi figure from?”

The girl looks back up from the toy. “Kyoshi?” Her eyebrows pull together in confusion.

The waterbender looks at her in equal disbelief. “Do you not know about Kyoshi?” Azula shakes her head. “How about Avatar Kuruk?” Another shake. “Yangchen? Roku? Szeto?” Azula grows more frustrated as Mikazuki names more Avatars.

“That is enough. I was not taught about the Avatars in school.”

“How are you and your brother supposed to capture the Avatar if you—” she starts in an accusatory tone that Azula decidedly does not like.

“I said that is enough,” the girl interrupts sharply. “Now are you going to figure this out, or should I be telling Chai Son that you volunteered to take his place?”

Azula points out the buttons on the figure’s hands, and Mikazuki snorts. “Of course you don’t know how to use one,” she mumbles to herself. When that earns her nothing but a confused look, the crew member lifts up the toy’s hand. She presses her thumb against the wheel, quickly rolling it down and then holding the button. Azula’s eyes go wide when a yellow flame ignites from its palm.

The older girl hands the doll to the princess. It takes her a couple of tries — I didn’t make any mistakes, I was simply trying to test Mikazuki’s patience — but eventually Azula is able to create the flame without the use of her bending. She smiles softly. In the corner of her eye, she sees the skirt of Mikazuki's dress billow in the wind as she stands up. Azula continues to stare at the figure’s palm, the artificial light reflecting in her golden eyes.

——

“Princess Azula, don’t you have something better to do than tease your brother?” Jee asks. The girl looks over from where she has chased Prince Zuko to the railing of the upper deck, blazing hands blocking his descent.

A sharp eyebrow raises. “Do you have something better in mind, Lieutenant?” She extinguishes her hands and walks over. Jee watches the boy quickly flip down — Spirits, why does he have to be so dramatic? He’s lucky Anzu didn’t see him — and stick the landing, only for him to teeter to the side when he steps forward.

Jee turns back to the princess, who now stands in front of him. “What did you do for your birthday back at the palace?”

“Fight with Zuko,” she answers breezily.

“Alright… what did you do with your mother for your birthday?”

“She would train me how to fight.”

“And with your father?”

“He would watch me fight with Zuko.” At this point, the princess looks positively bored.

Jee sighs. “Would you like to spar with me?” That gets her attention.

Princess Azula smirks. “You are going to regret asking that. I accept.”

An hour later, Jee walks into the dining hall out of breath and with singed sideburns. He does, in fact, regret asking that.

——

“Do you know how to use this?”

Gan looks up from sharpening his sword to see the princess holding out an intricately carved dagger. He has seen her pull it out of her boot a few times to inspect it when she has nothing better to do, but Gan has never seen Princess Azula use it. He raises his eyebrows, but still nods.

The royal seems conflicted before asking her next question. “Will you show me how?”

Gan smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

——

Before Mother di— left, she used to make something special for the three of them to eat in Azula’s bedroom for the girl’s birthday (it was one of the few times she cooked, having servants and all). Once Mother was gone, the siblings would simply sneak into the kitchens and steal desserts.

It’s difficult to do so now for a variety of reasons:

a. They are on a ship full of adults who don’t trust them.

b. There is a certain overprotective uncle roaming the Kage.

c. Even when bending both himself and Azula into the shadows so as to go unnoticed, Zuko seems to be incapable of walking more than a few yards without bumping into something. In Azula’s opinion, this would be fine if it weren’t for his rather loud swearing. Her annoyed sighs probably aren’t doing them any favors either, but she wouldn’t have to react in such a way if Zuko would just stop thinking the walls are farther away than they really are and therefore think it’s perfectly fine to go careening around corners at high speeds.

d. It’s hard to steal from a chef who is known for their burglary skills. Azula forces the disgusting thought of Hoshi forcing Chai Son to clean the bathrooms out of her mind.

Azula lets out a sigh of relief when they arrive in the kitchen relatively unscathed — ignoring how Zuko is currently rubbing his forehead, of course — and with no irritating crew members chasing after them.

In the past, she has attempted to bend the shadows like her brother, to no avail. It was the first — and only, of course — time that something has not come naturally to her. She took it as a sign from the Spirits that she wasn’t meant to utilize such a cowardly skill. Azula watches Zuko’s technique out of habit anyway.

Zuko puts his weight onto his left leg. At the same time, he holds his hands in front of him, folding them in a beckoning motion with the palms facing to the sides, his elbows bent out. As he slides his right leg over, Zuko maintains his arms’ positioning, but separates his hands outward. It’s like he’s opening curtains, Azula thinks. The room noticeably brightens as her brother brings his arms downward and shifts to balance his weight on both legs again.

Immediately, the two separate and scour the kitchen for delicacies.

-

Gan is patrolling the ship while on night watch when suddenly he hears a raspy voice yell, “Oh Agni watch out!” and another person sneeze. He turns to the source of the noises to see the kitchen go up in flames.

Frankly, I’m a little surprised it took more than a month for the ship to catch fire, Gan thinks. He jogs over to the crew’s quarters, making sure to knock beforehand — I’d have to be an idiot to not see how the ladies look at each other — and then enters to find the cook.

He finds them hanging upside down from their bunk talking to Chai Son while Mikazuki dozes nearby. Both look up when they see Gan approach. He points his thumb behind him. “Kitchen’s on fire.” He lets Hoshi scramble past.

-

Hoshi sprints to the kitchen just in time to see two laughing children run out of it with large bundles of food. They’re not as fast as usual — Princess Azula has to stop in order to sneeze out a burst of flame, and after putting the kitchen fire out, the prince trips when he tries to reach for his sister and misses — but Hoshi isn’t focused on them.

-

When Chai Son catches up, he finds his friend kneeling on the ground and holding a charred zucchini-pumpkin to their chest.

“It’s alright buddy, we can buy more,” he reassures.

Hoshi sniffles. “They’re out of season…” Chai Son pats them on the head.

-

Zuko is the first to burst into his sister’s room. He places the stolen food on her desk, and Azula follows suit.

Both are incredibly excited to gorge themselves. Father doesn’t — didn’t — permit sweets in the palace, saying that the children must be at their top physical performance for their bending training. That didn’t stop him from not allowing Zuko to have dinner occasionally.

There is a small slip of paper on the table that Zuko just manages to read before his sister grabs it.

“Miss you! - Ty Lee.” A heart. (One two. One two. One two.)

-

One pro of being a firebender: being able to heat up food.

Azula claims some of the dasik for herself while Zuko heats the tea with his hands. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind.

They eat the dasik and higashi in relative silence — Azula tries not to comment on how loudly Zuko eats. She knows it’s difficult for him to breathe. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t bring it up a few times, though — and drink the tea that doesn’t quite meet the standards set by their uncle.

Azula is halfway through her khao niao mamuang when her brother suddenly holds up some melonpan and quacks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks through fits of laughter.

“The lines look like the shell of a turtleduck!” That just causes Azula to laugh even harder. Soon enough, Zuko joins her.

One con of being a firebender: inadvertently heating up food that is supposed to be cold.

Zuko lets Azula take as much mochi as she wants — of course he does, if he knows what’s good for him — but reminds her to save some room. He hops off of her bed to grab their last parcel.

The girl smiles when Zuko reveals the kakigōri with a flourish. He hands her a spoon, and both of their eyes widen as they take their first bites. “Mangosteen!” They say in unison, before quickly devouring their shaved ice.

Soon enough, the siblings finish as much as they can — the rest melts. Flavored syrup drips down Azula’s chin. Her brother chuckles and hands her a napkin.

Azula and Zuko get in comfortable sitting positions that they are now familiar with. This is the fourth time they’ve done this routine, after all — two for Zuko, and now two for Azula. Two years with no mother. (Two years with no father, either.)

One upside to having a big brother is he is, well, bigger than her. Azula sits in the space between his legs and leans her head against him. Zuko puts his arms around her (it’s not often, but he’s the only person Azula lets touch her).

Azula hears him clear his throat. Zuko begins to sing.

-

Yong-Yut pulls Taka back from walking directly to the princess’s quarters. “I should be the one to deliver the present. I’m sneakier,” she signs, then holds her hand out for the other woman to place the gold hair ornament in.

Instead, Taka draws it closer to herself. “What? It’s my present to her.”

“Then just give it to her.”

Taka huffs. Yong-Yut rolls her eyes. “If Azula knew it was a present then she would refuse. And anyway, I can be sneaky.”

“Your footfall rivals even that of the komodo-rhinos,” Yong-Yut gestures then nudges Taka’s shoulder.

Taka tries to conceal her smile. “Fine. We can both do it.” She grabs her hand — Yong-Yut decidedly does not blush — and strides down the hall, only to stop them both in front of the princess’s slightly ajar door.

Taka holds a finger up to her lips. Agni, she’s a genius, but does she seriously think I’d be the one to make noise?, Yong-Yut thinks. She stops herself mid-eye roll when she hears a raspy voice. The two of them lean closer to the door to hear better.

Dragonflies, as red as sunset,
Back when I was young
In twilight skies, there on her back I’d ride
When the day was done

Mountain fields, in late November
Long ago it seems
Mulberries and treasures we would gather
Was it only just a dream?

Just fifteen, she went away one day
Married then so young
Like a sister, lost, I loved and missed her
Letters never seemed to come

Dragonflies, as red as sunset,
Back when I was young
Now in my eyes, when I see dragonflies
Tears are always sure to come

Yong-Yut has to pull Taka away when they begin to hear sobs from the other side of the door.

——

After his sister has fallen asleep, Zuko slips out of the room and into the hall. He stops before Uncle’s door, takes a deep breath, and knocks. Uncle answers immediately.

“Ah, Prince Zuko. Care to join me for some tea before bed?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I would like to update you on a simple matter, Uncle.” The man lifts his teacup as a sign to continue.

“It was originally going to be done tonight, but I have spoken with Anzu, and she has agreed to wait. Today is Azula’s day. We will be taking my bandages off in the morning.”

“That is great, Nephew!”

“I think so too. I am excited to no longer be stared at wherever I go.”

Iroh hums and takes a sip of his tea.

Zuko's face falls. Was that the wrong thing to say?, he thinks.

The crew's opinions should be of no importance. Pathetic. Childish. Weak. Stop acting on emotions, let alone feeling so deeply.

Zuko's face goes blank (just like Mom). He bows good night to his uncle and walks back to his own room. Once inside, Zuko locks the door. Just in case.

(Closed doors. Tears. A blank face. He’s doing this because he cares.)

——

In the morning, Azula wakes to find her brother gone from her room.

(An audience.)

-

In the morning, Zuko screams.

(Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily.)

-

In her bedroom where no one can see her (closed doors), Azula stuffs her head back into her pillows and squeezes her eyes shut.

(Agni, those screams. All the Spirits-damned screaming.)

—————

Chapter Text

“Why is Uncle not here?” Anzu puts down her finished breakfast to look at the prince. Over the years, their relationship has become one of reciprocation. An eye for an eye.

She gives straight-forward answers with no sugar-coating. In return, he lets his guard down. She teaches him the weakest points on the human body. In return, he teaches her how to defend herself without bending. She bandages his injuries. In return, he tells her how he got them.

Anzu looks Prince Zuko in the eye. He looks back. “Losing Lu Ten was very painful for Iroh. He doesn’t want to face that pain again.”

The boy places his bowl down and throws his hands up in exasperation. “But I am not even dying!”

“You certainly seemed to be a month ago.” Zuko is silent for a moment, so Anzu continues. “Your uncle blames himself. Depending on how you look at it, he could be trying to save himself pain by not seeing the extent of the damage. Or he is doing this to punish himself. It’s dangerous to let the mind wander.” An eye for an eye. “Ultimately, he is doing this because he cares.”

Anzu doesn’t regret what she said. She never does; she’s a woman of few words, and those few words are always as direct and meaningful as possible. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel bad for causing the pained look on Zuko’s face. It’s gone in an instant, though, as it is soon masked over with anger.

“If Uncle really cared, he wouldn’t have left me and Azula in the first place.” His words are filled with a venom that sounds foreign on his tongue. “My father is the one who really cares. It would be foolish for Uncle to think he could replace him.”

Anzu doesn’t respond, opting instead to take their dishes.

——

Hoshi leans against the railing of the deck as they talk with their friends. They occasionally kick up flames for Chai Son and Mikazuki to hop over while the two of them mop.

“Did you hear that the prince is getting—” Hoshi starts.

“Why do you say “the prince’?” Chai Son interrupts.

Mikazuki casually flicks some — in Hoshi’s opinion, pretty gross — mop water at their friend. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why do you say ‘the prince’?” Chai Son repeats as he wipes his face. “His name is Prince.” Hoshi and Mikazuki both turn to stare at him. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

The fire- and waterbenders both talk at the same time, albeit in much different tones.

“Oh Chai Son… no…”

“What in Agni’s name are you saying?!” Mikazuki’s brown eyes are wide.

Hoshi sees Chai Son’s genuinely confused face and decides to take pity on him by stopping it with the fire. They continue with Mikazuki, though, simply because it’s fun to see her get riled up. “If his name is Prince, then why is he also called Prince Zuko?” they ask.

Chai Son’s demeanor changes to one of relief. “Oh, that’s an easy one. Zuko is his surname.” At that, Mikazuki looks like she’s having a stroke.

Hoshi stifles their laughter. “Then why is his sister called Princess Azula?”

“I don’t know, adopted?”

Mikazuki breaks her silence, gesticulating wildly. “That is not how adoption works at all! Spirits, what the fuck—”

Hoshi sighs and reaches up to put a hand on their friend’s shoulder. “Chai Son, I think we need to have a talk.”

——

Oddly, Zuko notices the mundane things first when he looks in the mirror. His hair is longer, reaching just past his shoulders. He’s even grown a bit taller. Despite the bed rest and lack of thorough workouts, his muscles are still visible.

His eye then zones in on his face — specifically, on his other eye. His left one is squinted and smaller than the other. The iris had once been golden — the color of my fire, the color of Mom's fire — but what is visible of it now is a glazed over — disgusting — shade of pale yellow (You look just like your mother!). Zuko's left doesn’t have eyelashes — those that hadn’t been singed off are now covered by swollen skin. The eyelid is strangely widest toward his nose; the far left is engulfed by drooping — melted — red scar tissue.

Staring into the pool of muted yellow, Zuko feels nothing but rage. (An eye for an eye.) He swallows his fury — it tastes like ash. There is no one to be angry at but himself. It’s all my fault.

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Prince Zuko knows this.

His left side no longer resembles skin.

With a trembling hand, he gently traces the ridges and hardened bubbles of his flesh. The mark blots and swirls at its edges where the flames had licked him. A red tree branch spiders toward his lips, causing his mouth to extend in a crooked smile. My fault.

His freckles create distant trails on a map. The mottled scars of fallen embers burn new destinations into the skin of his right side. (It’s my fault.)

Zuko moves his hair to look at his ear. It is much smaller than its counterpart. The lobe had once been detached, but is now plastered to the side of his head. The scar extends past his hairline. Three spikes mark where Fath— where the thumb, index, and middle fingers had gripped (the other two had dug into his ear).

The bright red scar travels down the side of Zuko’s neck to expand across his chest, waning down to his hip. The thin skin over his left collarbone is now puffy and tender. He doesn’t bother to trace his shoulder — it’s entirely covered in the repulsive scar. The raised skin progresses intermittently down his arm, finally ending at his swollen pointer and middle fingers. The lines of his palm are barely visible.

He would say he’s fortunate — ”You were lucky to be born” — to have three fingerprints intact, but they’re unnecessary. Even without the branding, his right side makes him recognizable as the Fire Lord’s son. (Zuko. Zuko. Zuko.)

He wishes to go back into the shadows and to have never seen the mutilated boy that stands before him. He remembers being unable to do so — candlelight — as the Fire Lord— and the pain— choking on the smoke— brighter than the sun— ”Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!”— Agni, it was so hot— he cares—

As Father stepped forward to teach him a lesson — burn me alive — and Zuko did nothing but watch.

It’s all my fault!

Zuko screams.

-

On deck, the crew grows quiet.

——

Iroh enters Zuko’s room with a tray of tea just as he is sitting down for an exam. The old man sets the tray down and sits on the edge of the bed to watch. Anzu first has Zuko cover his left ear. Perfect hearing in his right. Then his left eye is covered. Perfect sight in his right.

Then his right ear is covered. Anzu snaps and claps multiple times. “What are you doing over there? I can tell that you’re moving but you’re not doing anything,” Zuko says.

The two adults look at each other. Iroh moves so that he is on the boy’s left side. “Prince Zuko, can you hear me?” No response. It’s just as I feared, Iroh thinks. Though the burn itself wasn't enough to destroy Zuko's hearing, the infection that spread afterward was. Iroh moves back out in front of the prince.

Zuko looks up and uncovers his right ear. “Uncle, what’s wrong? Why do you look so upset?”

“We should continue with the test,” Anzu interjects. Iroh is grateful. There is more hope for his eye; Anzu had told him that she had done her best to save it, and it is likely he will still have some vision in his left, even if it is not much. The medic has Zuko cover his right eye with his hand as she holds up a chart. “What images are you able to see? Can you describe them?” Her questions are met with silence.

“Perhaps you should begin with something less complex, Anzu.”

“Do not tell me how to do my job,” she says. She pulls out another chart nevertheless. “Can you read these characters to me, Zuko?”

Another moment with no noise. Iroh is beginning to fear that his nephew hadn’t heard them when the boy speaks up. “I don’t see anything,” he says quietly. He gives the same response even after Anzu brings the chart closer to him.

Anzu’s knees crack as she stands back up to put down her chart. “It is still possible you are able to see light, though. Iroh, stand here” — she points slightly to Zuko’s left — “and light a fire.” The man does as he’s told. “Now, Zuko, without sensing the heat, please point out where you see the light.”

He just shakes his head. “I can’t see anything,” Zuko rasps.

——

Azula walks out of her room as if everything is perfectly fine. And it is. Zuko is simply being a coward as usual. (Agni, those screams.)

Her face is perfectly blank — just like Mother’s — when she walks out on deck. Her movements are perfectly smooth while she spars with Lieutenant Jee. Her map is perfectly drawn when Taka challenges her. Her knots are perfectly tied as Mikazuki shows her. Her mind is perfectly distracted as she spends her time with the crew.

Azula is perfection, as always.

——

Zuko’s hands just barely miss when trying to catch the fabric that Anzu tosses to him. “Here, put these on.”

He holds up a tan sleeveless undershirt from the pile. “What are they?”

“Pressure garments. They will help with the itching and lessen scarring.”

Uncle helps him put the clothing on. Zuko has the undershirt, sleeve, and glove on when all that is left is a mask with holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth cut out. “No way am I putting that thing on.”

“Worth a shot,” Anzu says as she shrugs. The boy shifts uncomfortably in the new garments.

“What is wrong, Prince Zuko?” Uncle asks.

The prince hesitates before answering. “It… makes it even harder to breathe.” Pathetic.

“You can take the chest piece off when indoors if you’d like, but you must keep it on when outside. It will help protect you from the sun. You can take it off for now though, Agni’s rays are much too powerful at this time to go outside,” Anzu says.

Zuko quickly shuffles to pull his tunic on, being careful with the collar around his neck. He doesn’t put his hair in its usual phoenixtail, as it would pull at his fresh scar. He begins to book it toward the door when Uncle stops him.

“I cannot let you outside at this hour. The best healers do not let their patients ruin their own progress,” the medic says.

“And the best princes do not take orders from simple medics.” With that, Zuko stomps out of his room and onto the deck.

-

The firebenders in Hoshi’s family are all very disciplined. Since their first flames, they and their siblings have been conscious of the effects of their bending so as not to harm anyone. Needless to say, Hoshi has never seen a serious burn. Let alone one as gruesome — as discolored, as disfiguring — as this.

They can’t help it. Really, they can’t. They’ve never had a strong stomach — they especially go out of their way to avoid the sight of any injuries — but that doesn’t mean they don’t know it’s an inappropriate reaction to something Prince Zuko can’t help. Still, they run over to the railing where no one can see them throw up the contents of their stomach. They are vaguely aware of Mikazuki patting their back. In the distance, they can hear Chai Son swearing profusely under his breath.

-

“Damn. And I thought you had bad scars,” Gan says as he brushes past Yong-Yut. He doesn’t wait to see her reaction, instead continuing down the steps.

One reason Gan likes to spend his time with the animals is they don’t care either. All that’s important to them is getting enough food, water, and pets, which Gan is plenty willing to provide. After feeding the hawks, he grabs a brush and begins to comb through the coarse hair of a komodo-rhino while he lets himself think.

If asked what home is to him, Gan would only answer with a name. A name with a booming laugh and kind eyes. A name with strong arms and slow reflexes (“Isn’t excess energy firebenders’ whole thing?” “Maybe I’d react faster if I wasn’t so distracted by your handsome face.” “You are such a suckup”). A name that would sing in the morning, no matter how off-key, and never did the dishes without ending up soaked.

A name that is buried beneath stone. A name that doesn’t have a body to be sent back. If asked what home is to him, Gan would say his husband Kasem.

After Kasem died, Gan had been bouncing from ship to ship, going wherever he was told. Doesn’t matter where. Then he left a few too many cages open, lost a couple of messenger hawks carrying information, then boom! He's labeled a saboteur and put on this lousy ship.

Doesn't matter. Gan doesn’t care where he is. His home is dead.

He moves on to the next komodo-rhino. His movements are practiced, smooth. As Gan brushes, his mind can't help but wander to the sight of the prince's milky eye. Unseeing. Empty. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

-

Jee watches as smoke quite literally blows out of Ryuji’s nose. He can’t blow a fuse right now, not here, the lieutenant thinks. “Ryuji, engine room. Now.”

A few minutes after the mechanic stomps down the steps, Jee moves to join him. As soon as he enters, Ryuji speaks. “It makes me so fucking angry, Narong.”

Jee doesn’t need an explanation. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

The other man turns, silhouetted by the fire behind him. “Does seeing a child with those burns not infuriate you?” he accuses.

“It does,” Jee says as he holds his hands up against his chest in a placating motion. “But there is nothing we can do but take orders from him, no matter how much I don’t want to.”

“I would rather take orders from him than the general. Or the Fire Lord, for that matter. How the hell could he let that happen to the prince?!”

“What, are you calling for a mutiny? Treason?” Jee’s voice begins to increase in volume.

“No, but I am saying we have to do something. Where does your loyalty lie, Narong?” Ryuji demands.

“My loyalty lies with the Fire Lord!”

“And when the Fire Lord is willing to let his son be injured? When the Fire Lord is letting the future of our nation burn? What then?” Ryuji takes a step closer.

“Stand down, Ryuji!” the lieutenant barks. “Like I said, there is nothing you can do."

The engineer only gets closer, until he is in the other man’s face. “Stop putting your anger on the back burner! Why aren’t you willing to do something?!”

“Because that will only get more people hurt!” Jee snaps.

At that, the two men take a moment to catch their breaths. Ryuji punches fire in to keep the engine going.

“As your superior,” Jee begins through grit teeth, “I am ordering you to keep your mouth shut. None of us want to be on this ship, but we can at least try and make it tolerable. And that means no more stories about Yong-Yut’s scars. No rumors about what happened to the prince. No more gossip fed to the princess. No more treasonous thoughts. No more bullshit. Am I understood?”

After a long moment, Ryuji gives a sharp nod. Lieutenant Jee strides back onto deck.

——

Azula walks over to where her brother is looking out onto the ocean. She taps her fingernails against the metallic railing in order to gain his attention. She gives him a quick onceover to assess the damage (his possible vulnerabilities).

Shriveled ear. Squinted eye. A lot of red. Smooth scar — well, parts of it, Azula thinks — almost waxy. Melted like candle wax. (He looks like candlelight.)

She turns to the ocean and speaks loudly over the wind. “Mother once called me a monster. Funny, you’re the one who looks the part.”

Azula smirks when she sees the banister grow red-hot under Zuko’s grip.

-

Yong-Yut pauses her work to walk over to Zuko’s right side. They stand there in silence for a moment, until she reaches over to tap his wrist.

A hand grabs her arm. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Yong-Yut looks up from her wrist to his face, caught off guard. Prince Zuko’s left is twisted into a scowl. She stares into his right eye instead. In the depths of its golden pool, there is only pain.

She gives him a sharp nod. He relaxes minutely and lets her arm go.

A few minutes pass before Yong-Yut tries again. She trusts that he can pick up on her shifting heat signature, so she begins to sign. “We’re matching.”

Zuko turns back to her, single eyebrow lifted. “How so?” Yong-Yut points to the red scar extending out of the corner of his mouth on his left side — Agni, if I knew who made him learn to flinch like that, they’d become a bonfire, she thinks — and then to her own cheeks. She gives a large smile to add to the effect.

The boy looks surprised for a moment — as if he had forgotten about Yong-Yut’s own scars — before barking out a bitter laugh. “We are both messed up, aren’t we?”

“I’d like to think we’re the prettiest people here,” she signs.

The prince quickly glances around the ship. “Well, the standard is not very high.” Yong-Yut snorts. Zuko gives a lopsided smirk. The left side doesn’t — can’t — move.

——

Taka is frustrated with the prince. His constant barking of orders and incessant demanding that everyone keeps working is driving her insane. She hasn’t been able to talk with Yong-Yut since Prince Zuko walked out on deck.

Even worse, Taka can’t even be mad at him for it. If she looked like… that then she would grow resentful as well.(An eye for an eye.)

Needless to say, when Prince Zuko demands to speak to her, she’s pretty pissed off. She fights back the urge to grab him by the shoulders and scream, “Who did this to you?!” Instead, Taka bows respectfully.

“How far away is the Western Air Temple?” he asks without any greeting.

“We have not strayed very far from Fire Nation waters, so I would say about a week, though we will need to stop for supplies beforehand.”

Prince Zuko nods. “Very well. You have one week maximum to get us to the temple.” He turns to walk away.

Taka cocks her head to the side. “And why the hurry, Your Highness?”

From where she can see him, Prince Zuko’s shoulders hunch and his hands tighten into fists. He turns his head toward Taka and blows smoke out of his nostrils.

“I must capture the Avatar.”

—————

Chapter Text

Zuko seems to have an obsession with escape.

He grieves the death of the boy he could have been, if only. He buried that body the minute he saw his own mutilated appearance in the mirror.

Zuko’s blood simmers underneath his skin. He knows there is no starting over now. All he can do is keep running. After so much time in the shadows, he fears that when he finally reaches the light of day, it will be nothing to him but blinding.

He keeps his phoenixtail out of respect for the man who used it to hold him down and prevent him from escaping. His respect for — fear of — the man who saw his ugly cowardice and sent him on a wild peacock-goose chase runs deep, to the roots of the boy’s hair, to the soles of his feet, to the wreckage of his mind, to the tips of his fingers, to the seams of his scar.

In some other universe, Zuko got away from his father.

——

Azula has this fantasy that she goes back, all the way back to before everything happened, and starts over.

Haven’t you learned by now? It hurts either way.

One night she listened to one end of a conversation she should not have overheard. Mother did not believe Azula when she repeated the information, telling the girl to stop lying and go back to bed. Her body was found the next morning.

Monster. Mother only called her that word once, but in quiet moments it still reverberates in her head, her heart. Monster. Azula hears its echo when staring at the blue flames that dance in her palm. Monster. Her veins thrum with an unidentified energy that whispers to her. Monster.

All Azula could do was watch as her father tortured Zuko. Candlelight. She swears she saw the face of the sun disc dim, a vast and sudden silence among the noisy and smoke-filled heavens.

That evening she dreamt she listened to one side of a conversation she should not have heard.

She does not watch the skies during the day any more.

She does not look up.

Azula has this fantasy that she gets herself back from her parents, even if it means losing everything she’s done so far, everyone she’s met, everywhere she’s been.

——

Yong-Yut seems to have an obsession with escape. If only. Her hand absentmindedly drifts to her scars.

She has started over too many times to count.

(One final time. A blank slate. Civilian clothing. A new name. A boat. A beautiful navigator. A weird general. A trio of rowdy kids. A chill hawker. A serious lieutenant. A gruff medic. A gossiping engineer. A pair of angsty siblings.)

(A woman with too many identities and too many scars and too many lives half-lived and too many unknowingly-betrayed people left in her wake.)

Every name Yong-Yut has assumed claws at her throat and begs to be voiced but she pushes them down further, further, further, to the burial ground in her chest. There, they are protected by the cemetery gates of her rib cage that look all too similar to earth bent prison bars. The cavity of her chest is filled to the brim with names.

The name of the “son” her parents were proud of with a fiery passion, even despite the child’s lack of bending skills.

The guard who told menial secrets to a princess with ice in her breath.

The intellectual who listened to a spirited boy in a wheelchair with wind in his hair.

The merchant who told stories of her adventures to a boy with constellations in his veins and a girl with glaciers in her bones.

The companion begrudgingly loved by a little girl with eyes of marble.

The secret agent encased in creeping crystal as her face was carved in half and a stone clamped down on her bloodied tongue.

She gasps for breath through body-filled lungs. The smoke that leaves her nose — I fear that if I open my mouth, the resurrected will scream of what I’ve done — whispers names that were last spoken by people who trusted her.

Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut. Yong-Yut.

In some other universe, she has a self to go back to.

——

Taka has this fantasy she plays out when her mind is convinced that the fists are coming, the bed is going to shake, the door will creak open. I escaped. I started over. That should have fixed things.

Taka has this fantasy that she goes back and wakes him up to see the fear reflected back at her in his tired eyes as she holds him down. An eye for an eye.

Taka has this fantasy that he struggles and puts up a fight and scratches her arms as she pushes down further, further, further and he pierces the air with his smoke-filled screams and makes every split lip, every hair pull, every black eye, every fingernail dug into her hips, every fractured bone that she has gotten worth something.

Taka has this fantasy that her husband doesn’t go so quietly.

—————

Chapter Text

Iroh stands to the right of his nephew at the bow of the Kage as the mountains of the Western Air Temple come into view.

“It’d be nice to change the world,” Zuko says abruptly.

Iroh looks at the boy, who is standing ramrod straight with his hands clasped behind his back. “For the better, right?” the older man asks loudly.

Zuko sneaks a glance at him — so he definitely heard me — before continuing to look straight ahead.

Iroh’s brow furrows. “Answer me.”

-

Jee watches the prince roll a map out on the deck for everyone to see. Though it is still early, the boy had been speaking with the navigator for the majority of the morning so far, with the exception of when he had been called to the healer’s room.

The map of the Western Air Temple is marked up, with names written on it. “We will be splitting up in order to cover more ground. Search for signs of life and anything that could possibly help our hunt.” Jee hadn’t noticed until now that Prince Zuko has a slight lisp. Paying closer attention, he realizes that the left side of the boy’s mouth doesn’t move nearly as much as the other side. Despite this, he still speaks with authority.

“After speaking with Uncle, it has been decided that it would be wisest for each pair to include a firebending adult. For safety purposes.” The prince doesn’t sound like he believes that last part. He continues on by listing off the pairs. Him and Yong-Yut — he’s playing favorites, I see — Chai Son and Taka, Mikazuki and Ryuji, Anzu and Iroh, Gan and Hoshi, and lastly, Azula and Jee.

Once every pairing has been given their assignments, Jee speaks up. “I would like to remind you all that we are going to an Air Temple. It’s architecture will be dangerous and likely unstable. And we will see bodies.” The atmosphere grows uncomfortable with that last statement. The man tries not to think about how none of the kids or the siblings have probably ever had to see a dead body before. Well, unless the prince’s statement about his mother’s assassination is to be taken as the truth.

“How ‘bout a signal?” Heads swivel to face Gan. “In case a rock falls or someone gets lost or something. An emergency.”

Jee nods. “Very well. In the event of an emergency, blast fire into the air.” Four hands immediately raise into the air in objection. Jee sighs. “Or just yell as loud as you can.”

“And what about any bodies?” Mikazuki asks timidly. Her soft question gives the lieutenant pause, allowing the prince to interject.

“Does anyone know of Air Nomadic funeral practices?” At that, Jee automatically turns to the navigator, who shakes her head.

“There is very little information available about the Air Nomads, and what is available — at least to me — was written by Fire Nationals or is a translation. From what I've read, they had these things called sky burials, but I don't believe they will be useful to us. They require both human flesh and vultures to tear it apart." Her voice takes a more ponderous tone as she continues longer than needed. "I assume it had some sort of spiritual meaning — I admit I was not looking for that information, though I doubt I'd be able to find it even if I was — but it was regarded as an efficient way to dispose of a body."

Prince Zuko grunts in acknowledgement, eyebrow furrowed. “Then cremate any bodies you find. It may not be correct, but it’s the best we can do.”

——

“I’ve heard that this specific air temple is built entirely upside down!” Chai Son tries not to freak out over what he overhears Mikazuki tell Hoshi behind him on the staircase leading down the cliff side. He… doesn’t succeed.

Oh Agni oh fuck how is anybody going to walk into the temple if it’s upside down? Oh shit they’re all gonna fall! What if I’m revealed as an earthbender because I can walk on it oh NO—

——

Upon entering the main temple with the group, Zuko is mildly impressed by the architecture. The upside-down buildings have tall archways that lead to open rooms for maximum airflow, with what Zuko assumes are bedrooms off to the sides of some corridors.

He hears Uncle’s cracking joints as the old man sits down. He looks up at Zuko. “Nephew, you should go to Wan Shi Tong’s library and look up ‘Leaves from the Vine funny’.”

Zuko stares at him for a moment in complete bafflement as to what the fuck that is supposed to mean. Spirits, Uncle and his stupid uncle riddles.

He ignores whatever his uncle just said, instead ordering his crew to split up into their respective sections. The prince, Yong-Yut, Uncle, and Anzu stay in the main temple. The latter two sit down in the central hall so that they can be easily found if needed, and also so they do not strain themselves.

Before he can begin exploring, Uncle calls Zuko over to him again. “Would you like to learn a bending trick?” Zuko doesn’t understand why he didn’t also propose this to Azula, but nods his head anyway. He is always eager to learn new bending techniques. He sits down where the man gestures beside him.

“Chilly here, is it not?”

“Get to the point, Uncle.”

“I know a way to warm your entire body using your Internal Flame…” Zuko admits he tunes out a bit after that. It’s just so…mundane.

Zuko doesn’t hear what Anzu says — she is situated on his left — but he is able to sense Yong-Yut sitting down next to the medic. He turns to the two women out of curiosity. When Anzu sees him looking, she raises an eyebrow. “Need to know how to communicate with any potential patients,” is the only explanation she gives.

“Prince Zuko, are you listening?” The boy snaps back to attention and nods. Apparently this doesn’t fool the man, because he begins again. Agni, give me strength. “In fact, I learned this strategy while studying the Nomads.” Pffft, firebending is superior. “They used airbending to maintain their internal temperature.” Boring. “Because of this, it requires some focus and meditation.” Hate it already. “Though, it can also be used as a combative tactic.” Now hold on a second—

Zuko’s renewed interest must be apparent, as a smile settles on Uncle’s face. “Are you ready to learn the breath of fire, Nephew?” The boy nods. “Very good. Now sit in padmasana, and I will instruct you.”

Zuko does as he is told, sitting in his usual meditation pose with crossed legs, feet placed on top of the opposite thighs, and his back straight. The prince closes his eyes upon his uncle’s instruction. “Your stomach is the sea of chi. As you breathe deeply, feel the waves crest on your exhalation. Let the heat of your Internal Flame spread through your veins.”

The boy listens carefully and focuses on the heat. He is initially caught off guard by the feeling of flames licking at his throat. On his next exhale, golden flames burst forth.

Zuko did not expect to get that so quickly. Nothing comes naturally to him; he even struggled to begin shadowbending. He opens his eyes again to see Uncle beaming at him. “Nicely done, Prince Zuko!” The boy has to admit, the pride that swells in his chest feels nice.

-

You know those days when you’re like, ‘Life is already so Spirits-damn weird, this might as well happen?' Yeah. That’s how Gan feels watching the cook of the fuckin’ Fire Nation royal siblings’ ship shoot fire out of their feet in order to propel themself to different levels of an abandoned Air Temple. And get this! Hoshi doesn’t even remember learning how to do that!

Agni, it’s going to be a long day, the hawker thinks.

——

Azula knows that fire is the superior element, of course. But she has to admit that the other elements are… formidable. Azula knows the definition of the word — I don’t read the dictionary in my free time for nothing —

formidable

adjective.

inspiring fear or respect through being impressively large, powerful, intense, or capable.

She doesn’t mean that the other elements are fearsome in any way, no. That would be weak. But she does recognize that they are worthy of respect.

Looking down at the cavernous — carnivorous — mouth below, Azula feels uneasy at the prospect of being able to just walk out into the open air. It is strikingly similar to the discomfort she feels when staring into the depths of the ocean for too long. The princess suppresses her shiver as a breeze encapsulates her body. Azula has to admit, the possibility of being devoured whole terrifies her.

——

Somehow, Chai Son has gotten Taka to join a conversation as they start with a quick precursory search of their section of the temple. Well, Taka is the one who is genuinely searching. The boy is just trailing behind her as he speaks.

“I don’t know what you see in her. I mean maybe it’s just ‘cause you two are like, a whole decade older than me. But like imagining kissing those scars? Bleh.”

She is very gorgeous to me!, Taka thinks. She shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “You don’t have all the facts.”

“Which are?” Chai Son asks as he kicks a pebble along the floor of the open pagoda.

Taka sighs — and she’ll admit, it’s a pretty dreamy sigh. “Woman…”

Chai Son rubs his chin as if thinking. If he’s even capable of thought. “Ok yeah I can get behind that,” he says, then jogs to catch up with her.

-

The general consensus on the ship is that Chai Son is the third tallest. He has no clue why; he and Lieutenant Jee are the exact same height, and Chai Son is still growing. Doesn’t matter. Point is, Taka is taller than Chai Son — taller than everyone on the Kage — though by only three or four inches. And yet, she still manages to knock her head as she walks through the stone doorway, despite Chai Son being able to pass through the threshold without the need to duck.

The boy knows that he’s no genius, and that’s fine by him. But really, he expected better of Taka than to send a large blast of fire at the offending structure, which was unstable to begin with. And he expected way better of Taka than to stand right where the doorway was about to topple.

With no time to push the woman aside or call out, Chai Son’s body acts on instinct. His right leg slides forward as his torso leans back slightly. His left arm is held in front of him and his right one is brought backward before he switches the two. As Chai Son’s right arm quickly pushes forward, palm perpendicular to the floor, the stone of the doorway slides back into place.

When Taka turns back to him, the crew member tries to quickly cover for himself by standing straight with his arms behind his back. Ok, maybe the whistling is a bit overkill, he thinks.

Chai Son looks back at the woman when she clears her throat. Here it is. I knew this was gonna happen eventually. Taka’s eyes are wide. ”Monster!” “Get out of my sight!” “Unnatural” “Just keep it to yourself” “Disgusting!” “You’ll never fit in” “Why do you do this to yourself?” He gives a shaky grin. No one must know. “Oops?” She has her fire. I have earth and she has her fire and I wouldn’t do anything to stop her.

He grows more uncomfortable underneath her amber gaze as the emptiness stretches on. Release me! Just say it!, his mind screams. Just fucking say it!

The navigator finally breaks the silence after what seems like several minutes. “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Uhhh…” Truth is, that’s a very good question. Chai Son doesn’t remember ever not being able to do that.

Taka waves her hand as if shooing away the idea. “Actually, it doesn’t matter.” She crosses her arms. Her demeanor isn’t hostile like Chai Son thought it would — should — be. Instead, she just seems curious. “Who else knows?”

The boy clears his throat. “Uh, no one.”

“Why have you been hiding it?” That throws Chai Son for a loop. Doesn’t she know the answer? Doesn’t she know that this makes him a monster? The enemy? Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is for someone like him to be working for the future Fire Lord? Spirits, of course she doesn’t, she’s a colonial.

Just as the crew member comes to this realization, Taka seems to come to one herself. She continues to speak in a hushed voice despite the lack of proximity to the rest of the group. He’s grateful for that. “Does it hurt? Holding back?”

Chai Son huffs out a laugh. How does she know? Despite stopping at a port for supplies and moving the doorway just now, he can still feel the residual aches begin to ease up. Aftershocks. “All the way down to my bones.”

Taka seems to regard him for another moment, then pats him on the shoulder as she walks by. “Well, good to know that I won’t have to do any manual labor today.”

——

The first thing Jee notices is the lack of damage to the temple’s infrastructure. Strange.

The second thing he notices is that almost all of the bodies are in what must have been the communal bunk rooms. The singed shades are drawn.

The third thing the lieutenant notices is that stationed outside many of the doors are larger skeletons. Protecting the rooms and their contents. For one room, Jee has to move bones aside so they do not jam the door. Even in death, the woman is still guarding the children from the Fire Nation.

-

Azula doesn’t like it here. The navigator had told her some of what she knows about it before they arrived. The Eastern and Western Temples were female-only. Girls trained their bending here. They ate their meals here. The Nomads did not have the same family structure as the Fire Nation, but even unknowingly, girls spoke with their siblings here. Even unknowingly, they may have been cared for by their mothers here. They played here. Girls sang and danced and meditated and dreamed and learned and exercised and laughed and told stories here.

Many of the skeletons are too Azula-sized for her liking.

——

Despite his fury, Ryuji carries the bodies in his arms as delicately as he can. The air hangs heavy with restless Spirits.

-

Mikazuki washes soot marks off of the walls and ground. After washing the bodies that she and Ryuji collected, the waterbender moves on to the other parts of the sanctuary. She cleanses those bodies before they are cremated as well. In the Fire Nation, it is called yukan. Washing of the corpses with warm water.

It is not enough. Her people did this. No matter how much water the girl uses, ash will remain in the crevices of the temple’s carcass. Holiness is in the hands even if it is the head that is always haloed. Mikazuki wonders if her hands will ever be truly clean again.

——

Despite the heaviness in Gan’s heart, the skeletons feel too light in his arms, almost as if the bones are hollow like a bird’s.

-

After being bathed by Mikazuki, the cook notices that some of the bones look almost transparent. Hoshi lights the fire and watches as the skeletons melt like glass. Despite the flames, a chill runs up their spine. The smoke is quickly blown into the cavern.

——

Iroh hears his nephew’s reaction from down the hall. The temple amplifies voices. The man does nothing but stand by and watch. His brother was right in one respect, at least. Suffering will be — has been — Zuko’s teacher.

-

As a medic, safety is sort of Anzu’s whole thing. Sitting with Iroh in the central pagoda with her supplies ready in the event of an emergency, she doesn’t have to face the carnage. That’s a first. That gives her plenty of time to think.

The temples were rest stops for many adult airbenders as they traveled the world. Avatar Yangchen was born here. Later, when reincarnated as Kyoshi, the Avatar even sought refuge here once. They were safe havens. But sitting in this sanctuary of bones, Anzu can’t help but think that nobody is safe.

——

With both of their bending abilities, Taka and Chai Son make quick time. They join the prince and Yong-Yut in the main temple to help.

In one bedroom, every girl is still tangled — no, resting — in her faded and moth-eaten blanket. Even the older airbender is. Smoke inhalation. Taka moves on quickly. In a few rooms farther away are skeletons in flowing orange robes with wooden necklaces surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers. Phalanges that had once produced flames now clutch at their own throats.

As Taka carries a master airbender in her arms, she feels someone tug on her braid, but when she turns around, no one else is there. A peal of laughter floats on the incoming breeze.

-

“This isn’t right.” Chai Son looks up from the femur in his hand. The prince stands nearby, cradling an airbender wrapped in a blanket in his arms. The older boy ignores how similar his position is to when Azula makes him carry her. Careful. They’re all too young, Chai Son thinks. All three of them. Zuko, the princess… the Air Nomad girl in his arms.

“There’s… there’s no way to justify this.” Zuko seems to weigh his words carefully.

“Fire Lord Sozin found a way to explain it. The Avatar,” Chai Son says.

The prince shakes his head. “That doesn’t make it fair.”

“Since when have things been fair?” Chai Son asks bluntly. Looking at the Fire Prince’s melted face, at the blanket, at the leg bone in his hands, he knows the answer to his own question. Not today. Not the day we first — Agni, why does there have to be a first time? — heard the prince’s screams. Not one hundred years ago. Not the night that little girl burned to death.

The boy clears his throat. “Father is greater than Fire Lord Sozin. I trust whatever he plans to do with the Avatar once I capture him.”

——

The group of four is silent as they work. Zuko doesn’t like it. He feels as if he is being watched, listened to. The wind carries whispered voices and laughter with it. “The wind will carry you.” When Zuko begins to hum, Yong-Yut joins him.

-

Toward the end of the day, Yong-Yut walks into one of the last unsearched rooms. There, she sees Chai Son lift a slab of rock and—

Actually, she doesn’t stick around to see what else he does. He didn’t know she was there. Of course not. She has had plenty of experience hiding, disguising herself, being silent. Yong-Yut walks briskly back to the main hall.

Physically, she is in the Western Air Temple. She knows that. Her mind doesn’t seem to get the memo though. The woman squeezes her eyes shut against visions of moving rock. It’s in vain; in the darkness of her eyelids, she remains in a cell in Omashu.

It’s silent except for Yong-Yut. No, not yet Yong-Yut. Right now she is named Qianru. Either way, she’s all alone in the cell, King Bumi’s sole prisoner.

Yong-Yut Qianru knows how this goes. She was trained in all possible situations, including the one where she gets caught and is held prisoner by an enemy nation. And so she knows how to talk her way around the questions that are thrown at her every time the interrogator comes around to her cell. The king only watches with a wide, faraway gaze as Qianru is beaten to a bloody pulp every time the interrogator realizes she has evaded his questions.

It’s not like there’s much to say, anyway. She was still in the process of gaining the king’s full trust as his advisor before she could move onto her real mission — find any evidence of correspondence between King Bumi and Prince Iroh (it also wouldn’t hurt to take note of any of Omashu’s weaknesses along the way) — when she was somehow caught.

Qianru spits blood in the interrogator’s face. Red liquid sparkles down his beard. She grins wide. “You got a little something there.” She tries to point to her own face, but the stone manacles that encircle her wrists stop her from doing so.

“It seems like you’re rather enjoying yourself,” King Bumi’s piercing voice crackles. Amusement laces his tone.

Qianru wipes her mouth on her shoulder before turning back to the king with a smirk. “Now that you mention it, I could be better.” Her voice is confident. On the lower end yet clear, bright and mischievous. Despite all of her martial training, her main weapons are her sharp ocher eyes and her upturned mouth. Who knows how many Earth Kingdom battalions have been taken down and Fire Nation lives have been spared thanks to the information she has seen and shared.

(Ever since this woman with many names became, well, a woman, she has been confident as can be. This version of her — Qianru — takes that to the extreme: invincible, untouchable, and outspoken. Everything brings a devious playful smile to her face.)

(The woman who is currently named Qianru has always been rather good at getting into character.)

“But I am always down to have a little fun,” she finishes.

King Bumi lets out a cackle that bounces around the prison cell and reverberates in Qianru’s ears. “Then let’s play a game.”

When Qianru wakes up — she doesn’t remember ever falling asleep; she must have been hit or drugged — she can’t speak.

When she wakes up, she feels sharp stone blades sitting against the corners of her mouth. She immediately begins to struggle, only to feel a heavy collar around her neck. She tries to cry out for help, but the blades that are forced into her mouth keep her from doing so.

“How fun!” King Bumi calls from behind the prison bars. Qianru has trouble focusing on him as panic floods her veins. “I’d snap out of it if I were you. That creeping crystal isn’t too patient!” He snorts at his own joke. Qianru desperately grabs at the collar around her throat, only for the contact with her skin to cause the jennamite to grow. She can feel a padlock — which is strange, given that it’s crystal — along the collar, and when she moves even slightly she can hear the chain that fixes her to the wall rattle. She hears a similar rattle when she tries to remove the blades from her mouth.

“The key to your survival is right in front of you, my dear. All you have to do to stop that crystal from piercing your throat is step forward and give me a big smile.” Bumi is sent into a fit of wild laughter by his own words.

Qianru doesn’t even think about the consequences. She lunges for the key. The cold stone blades tug at the tissue of her cheeks, beginning to split them in two. She lets out a sharp cry. The pain is so intense she almost misses the king shushing her.

“Did I forget to mention that this is a silent task?” he tuts. A stone quickly flies out and snatches her tongue, clamping onto it tightly.

Blinding terror threatens to force her to give in. But she can’t. She’s better than this. The crystal slithers up her neck, causing little red beads to bloom where it pricks her skin.

Qianru runs to the key.

Her face is split in two.

She can’t help the low, animalistic sound of raw pain that is born from her throat.

Almost immediately, the stone clamps down on her tongue with a snap. She can vaguely feel the stone and tongue fall out of her (her jaw no longer in the way to hinder the path that gravity chooses for it).

Qianru’s shaky hands have a mind of their own as they open the lock; adrenaline is the only thing that is fueling her.

She throws the collar away from her and crumples to the ground. Her hands numbly find her lower jaw and only come back covered in the slick red blood that oozes out of her. Her jaw hangs fully open, allowing the king full view of her lower canines and her severed tongue.

All she does is scream.

When Yong-Yut opens her eyes again, she is next to a pile of bones. Sitting near a heap of countless dead girls whose names have been long-forgotten, Yong-Yut wants to laugh. How fucking fitting. Or maybe scream. She chooses silence instead.

——

Zuko cups his flame in his palm as he holds a vigil for the dead. (A heartbeat.) If he strains his hearing ear, he can make out the tinkling of glass wind chimes. The temple has other chimes as well — metal tubes in every corner of each pagoda. Hanging in every cardinal direction — one for each temple, each of the four Winds — they create melodies and ward off evil Spirits. It is clear that the glass chimes were decorative, intended to cast colorful illuminations, but after a hundred years they have been eroded down to the point of opacity.

In the dead of night, eight flames — one blue, one gold, and six orange — guide the souls of the Western Air Nomads into the Spirit World.

—————

Chapter Text

Hoshi sits down between Mikazuki and Chai Son from passing around cups of tea. Everyone is sitting around the fire on deck as the Kage drifts in the serene waters. Questions and stories are passed around, interspersed by the occasional side conversation. Despite the nighttime chill, Hoshi thinks it’s pretty cozy.

“Alright I got a question,” Gan says. He is lying backward and propped up by his elbows. “Worst injury you’ve ever gotten, go.”

“You’re the one who asked the question so you should go first,” the lieutenant says.

Gan shrugs and turns so his back is to the fire. He lifts up his shirt to reveal three long scars running diagonally down his back. Claw marks. “Word to the wise: do not turn your back on an angry albatross-falcon.”

Answers — and scars — continue to be shared from around the circle. A long sword slice on the shoulder for Lieutenant Jee. Poison tea for General Iroh (Hoshi doesn’t catch the entirety of what Anzu mumbles at that, but they do manage to hear her say “too many times”). A rock to the left arm for Ryuji. “Just a few scratches and bruises” for Anzu (“Some patients can be quite uncooperative when panicked.” Hoshi doesn’t miss the pointed look the healer sends to the prince. Neither does he. “I wasn’t panicking. I just didn’t know where I was, and your answer of 'the ocean' wasn’t very helpful, Anzu”). A foot on the verge of frostbite for Mikazuki.

“How about you, Hoshi?” the waterbender asks.

“Uhhh…”

“You have those scars on your wrists,” General Iroh helps out. Hoshi looks down at their wrists. Faint scars loop around the circumference of both of them. When did those get there?

“Oh, right. This. Um—” They run through the maze of their mind, searching for some sort of memory, but all that comes up is fog. (A faint flicker of recognition. Hoshi remembers candlelight.)

Chai Son is all smiles when he interjects. “I once got scratched by a platypus bear!” He is lying on his stomach with his feet kicked up and head resting on his hands.

Hoshi takes the change of conversation in stride. “And why were you so close to a platypus bear?”

“It looked like it really needed a hug,” the boy pouts. “I saw a circus passing through and they kept all their animals in cages! I just had to let it go.” Classic, Hoshi thinks.

The next person is the princess. “I do not get injured,” she sniffs.

“How about you, Prince Zuko?” Chai Son asks from beside Hoshi.

The boy stares at the deckhand for a moment, eyebrow raised before furrowing again. “Look me in the eye and ask me that again,” he says roughly. That’s not good.

Chai Son looks up at the prince’s face, his feet kicking back and forth. “What’s the worst injury you’ve ever gotten?” he repeats with a curious smile. Agni, it was nice knowing him, Hoshi thinks.

After staring at the crew member for another moment, Prince Zuko silently unties his robe — is his face not the worst one?!, the cook thinks in alarm — and slips his left arm out of the sleeve. Hoshi hears Mikazuki gasp next to them. Everyone else is silent. The scar is… fuck. It’s huge. The side of the prince’s torso that isn’t marred and inflamed is spotted with various smaller, fainter marks that are more like Jee and Gan’s scars. Agni. What the fuck.

The Fire Prince stares into the orange flames in front of him instead of at his target audience. Shadows dance across his blank face. His raspy voice is devoid of emotion when he speaks. “It is a burn.” Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. “I was cowardly. It was my fault.”

A blue flame suddenly blooms to the side, illuminating the princess’s cold smile and wild eyes. “Would you like to find out how it felt, Chai Son?”

General Iroh quickly claps his hands together with a smile thrown on his face. “Whose turn is it next?” The prince shuffles his robe back on. Hoshi pats Chai Son’s shoulder to ensure that he’s ok. When their friend turns to them, he looks more confused — how could this happen? who let this happen? — than threatened. The cook shrugs and pats his shoulder again. They steal a glance at Mikazuki, who is glaring daggers at the princess.

“Yong-Yut’s turn,” Gan says.

The woman in question lets all eyes land on her — no, not her. Her scars — before smiling wide. The fire glints off of her empty orange-brown eyes as she sticks out her tongue. When out, it barely passes her bottom lip, and its end goes straight across instead of being rounded. Holy shit someone chop—

“We’re stopping with the personal questions right now,” Taka says sternly. “Let’s move on.”

“Scary stories!” the princess exclaims. Ah yes, Hoshi thinks, that’s exactly what we need right now.

——

“There once was a renowned firebender,” Ryuji begins.

“Oh great here we go,” Jee grumbles. Meanwhile, the royal siblings both look immediately captivated. As Ryuji continues his story, the three kids quickly become interested as well.

“He and his wife ran an elite firebending academy on a small remote island, and were known for their innovative abilities.” As he speaks, the engineer shapes the flames before him into images that match his story. Princess Azula claps her hands in excitement; beside her, her brother’s eye is wide in awe. Ryuji smiles in satisfaction. This is what he does. This is what he is. He is made of stories.

“The man thought he had it all: a loving wife, an interesting job, and the children that he trained and looked after. He devoted himself to his work because of the joy it brought him. But eventually, his wife grew worried and told her husband that he needed to take a break.”

“When he arrived home on the island, catastrophe had struck.” The flames form a building before growing brighter, then receding back into the shape of a normal campfire. Ryuji hears someone gasp. “No one knows what happened, but the firebender returned to a burnt down academy. The occupants had been dead for days, with maggots festering in their flesh.

“Some say the firebender went mad from the grisly sight. Others say he simply gave up on life. Some go so far as to claim that he was running from the vengeful families of his students. Either way, he ended up abandoning civilization to live in a cave on the far side of the island. The villagers believed that he wouldn’t be able to survive without Agni’s presence.”

The fire becomes a hollow cave. Human flames walk past its mouth. “For years, many people reported hearing someone, something in that cave. It had been so long that the firebender’s legacy had already begun to live on as a story told to the island’s children — a tale of complacency, a warning about cowardice.

“One day, local teenagers who had grown up with the story grew curious and decided to investigate the sounds that emanated from the cave. They packed supplies for the trip; those who weren’t firebenders carried weapons on them. The group forwent bending and lanterns, instead using the bioluminescent foxfire that grew in the cave to light their way. Despite all of this, they were not prepared for what they would find.”

Looking up, Ryuji sees the princess looking absolutely ecstatic. The prince is leaning toward the man with his right ear facing his direction. The three kids are all huddled close. The navigator clutches Yong-Yut, who is bright red.

“The firebender seemed to have undergone de-evolution. He was reborn in the dark, molded by it. His skin was pale to the point of near translucency, allowing the group to see his seemingly glowing veins. The man’s — if he could still even be called that — dark auburn hair had grown long and matted, trailing after him like a tail as he moved about on all fours.

“It was a miracle he had survived at all; the firebender seemed to get his energy from the glowing fungi that surrounded him. But in the near-darkness, sight was not a necessity. The group of teenagers would not get too close out of fear, but the survivors would later recount that it looked as if his eyelids were cauterized shut.

“And when the creature raised a clawed palm, foxfire bloomed in his green flame.”

——

“There’s no way I’m living up to the standards Ryuji just set,” Anzu says. “But I do have a story.”

“We would love to hear it, Anzu,” Iroh smiles. “You have always had such a way with words.” She rolls her eyes at that before beginning to recount the tale.

“Airbenders always trained outside or in wide open rooms. You all saw that in the temple.” There are nods from around the circle. “Well, there’s a good reason for that.

“An Air Nomad was once meeting with friends in the Earth Kingdom to catch up. They were all gathered similar to how we are right now, but in an airtight, enclosed room created by earthbenders. The nomad showed her friends many airbending tricks, not realizing that every time she bent, the air pressure in the room increased,” Anzu explains matter-of-factly.

“She bent many times throughout the night, so much so that when she opened the door at the end of the evening, there was an act of explosive decompression.” Anzu expects that to cause a large reaction, but all she gets is a gasp from Taka. She’s the only motherfucker here who can handle me. The medic sighs at the rest of her audience’s lack of understanding.

“Because the earthbent room was a sealed system, opening the door allowed air from inside to rush out. The pressure in the room dropped so greatly — and so rapidly — that air inside the people’s lungs was not able to leave their bodies safely. Everyone’s blood boiled immediately. As she was the closest one to it, the airbender’s body was instantly shot through the partially open door. She was bisected at the abdomen, and her internal organs were propelled a great distance out of her thoracic cavity.”

Anzu only receives horrified — and confused — stares, with the exception of Azula, who looks like she just died of happiness and went to the Spirit World. Eh, I did warn them.

——

“I have a story,” Yong-Yut signs to Taka, who then tells this to the group.

“But technically she can’t tell the story,” Mikazuki whines.

“Then maybe you should learn how to communicate with your fellow crewmates,” Zuko snaps.

“You do have a good point,” the general says to the girl, before turning to Taka (not Yong-Yut. The shorter woman glowers at the man). “How will she tell the story?”

“She is literally right here!” the prince fumes. “If you are speaking to someone, you address them!” Noticing how the campfire has grown at his outburst, the boy takes a calming breath before continuing. I’ve taught him well. “Just because someone is unable to speak does not mean they deserve to be ignored,” he grits out. Zuko turns to Yong-Yut. “I apologize for Uncle’s lack of consideration,” he signs.

“It’s not your fault,” she replies. “Are you willing to translate? It isn’t very long,” Yong-Yut then asks Taka, who agrees immediately.

“Long before the war, before the North Pole had become so isolated,” Yong-Yut pauses briefly so Taka can speak, “A group of waterbenders was exploring a series of underwater caves near Full Moon Bay in the Earth Kingdom.

“One younger tribesperson became too curious and split off from the group. They found what seemed to be a large undiscovered cave with a soft, spongy floor. Just as the rest of the group caught up outside the cave, the bender entered alone despite the warnings. Immediately, the mouth of the cave snapped shut.

“The others used their bending to try to save them. The benders could hear their friend cry for help as they resorted to using their hands to try to pry the entryway open. There was a clear division where the entrance had once been, and the group could feel ridges underneath their hands. They tried to force their way in, to no avail.

“Running out of air, the group was forced to leave the bender screaming inside.” Here, Yong-Yut let silence fill the space for a moment.

“When the explorers returned to the spot, the shell of the "cave" was once again open. And inside was a large, perfectly shiny pearl.”

—————

Chapter Text

Back at the palace, Mother would sometimes read theater scrolls to Azula and her brother before bed. They were entertaining, and the two would often reenact the best action scenes together. But the stories often lacked a sense of… maturity. Most of the descriptions were focused on the styles of clothing or how dazzling a character’s eyes were or how deeply the lovers kissed. Bleh. No thank you.

One time, the siblings were acting out the final battle from Love Amongst the Dragons. Mother scolded Azula for suggesting that Zuko should use long red ribbons to represent blood when she — as the Dragon Emperor — slays the Dark Water Spirit. She still doesn’t understand why; Mother loved the Ember Island Players’ effects. But needless to say, Azula is now having the time of her life.

“Now I’m no storyteller, so don’t go gettin’ your hopes up,” Gan says while sitting up.

“No one said they were,” the lieutenant comments. Azula rolls her eyes. Killjoy, she thinks. She’s a realist as well, but she can’t deny that everyone deserves a little entertainment every once in a while. And besides, there are only so many times I can ambush Zuko when he least expects it before it gets old.

The hawker ignores Jee’s interjection. “There once was a great firebender of noble birth. He was powerful but too sure of himself. He accepted any sparring challenges that came his way, certain that he could take anyone, and he did so in front of an audience. It was during one of these challenges that he met his end.” That piques Azula’s interest.

“The man wasn’t satisfied that he was just facing off against an earthbender who was claimed to be a prodigy. He gloated that he could beat her with his hands tied behind his back. Unbeknownst to the woman, he had a trick up his sleeve: he could breathe flames like a dragon.

“It was a surprisingly fair fight. The earthbender learned quickly that trapping the man’s feet was ineffective, as he would blast fire from his mouth. She became increasingly frustrated as he used the match as an excuse to show off. Wanting to end the fight sooner rather than later, she bent stone around his head to pin him to the arena floor. The firebender writhed on the ground, but refused to surrender no matter how many times the woman told him to. Eventually, his body grew still.

“Fearing she suffocated him, the earthbender removed the rock that covered his head. It was evident from his burns that he had used his breath of fire.”

“I can breathe fire!” Zuko interjects seemingly suddenly. Azula has seen him straining to hear Gan — who is toward his left — throughout the tale. Clearly, this is the first time that he’s picked up on this detail of the story. The girl admits that she is mildly impressed when a golden flame dances upon her brother’s breath. When did he learn how to do that?

“Is this what happened to your face?” the hawker quips back casually.

Zuko’s face immediately darkens as he turns away once again. “I don’t like this story anymore,” he mumbles, arms crossed. Azula rolls her eyes. So dramatic.

Gan continues his story. “As I was saying, the man must have used his breath of fire to try to break the stone, but instead it reflected back into his face. Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily, but when they tried to move his body out of the arena, what was left of the melted skin on his face slid right off.”

At that, Azula feels her brother shift uncomfortably next to her. Doesn’t matter. She likes the story. It is not entirely realistic — if he truly was such an amazing firebender, he would have found a way to escape. That’s what I would have done — but still original.

——

“Once, a firebender was traveling with friends in Eternal Flame Cave—” Ryuji begins.

“Why do so many of these stories involve caves?” Chai Son interrupts.

“Because they provide a multitude of terrifying storytelling opportunities,” the engineer snaps.

“Ok ok no need to get defensive,” the boy tries to placate.

Chai Son settles back in, leaning against Hoshi. Ryuji gives him one last glare before continuing his story once again. “Parts of the cave are situated above a reservoir of natural gas that was accidentally set alight by a bender many years ago, and continues to burn to this day, hence its name. The system has many different tunnels and chambers branching off of the main cavern, so the group decided to split up.

“While exploring, the firebender stuck her torso into a hole” — Agni, that’s a funny word — “to investigate what was inside, but only found a dark cavern. She tried to fit her arm through the hole” — Chai Son can’t help but snicker at that — “in order to light the way, but found that she was stuck.

“She struggled to escape, even tried to blast through the rock, but it was all to no avail. The woman paused in her attempts so as to avoid draining her strength. When she did, she could hear something moving inside the darkness.” At that, Chai Son grows serious and grabs Hoshi — who in turn is holding onto Mikazuki — in fright.

“The firebender struggled anew, growing more and more desperate with each passing minute. She called out for her friends. The echoes of her unanswered screams — along with the skittering that seemed to be growing closer — taunted her. Fire erupted from her feet in order to catch the attention of anyone nearby. One of her friends did notice from afar, but wrote it off as the cave’s eternal flame slipping through cracks in the ground. The woman soon grew tired from her efforts, succumbing to the darkness that enveloped her top section.

“Later, when the group finally found her, they pulled her out by the legs while shouting encouragement to missing ears. When she had been freed, the friends stared at the bite marks gracing the bender’s shoulders that led up to nothing but the open stump of her neck.”

——

Mikazuki escapes Hoshi’s clutches to hold up her hand. “I have a story,” she offers timidly. The girl balks a little when the group turns in her direction.

“My grandmother told me this true story early on in my training. I was originally taught only about firebending fighting styles, so I had learned to power through when I encounter a challenge. Or to just destroy whatever was causing the problem.” Mikazuki huffs out a nervous laugh. “I was incorrect, of course. My aanaa told this to teach me about how waterbenders are supposed to adapt and use others’ energy against them and redirect it.”

She steals a glance at her friends. Hoshi nods to her, while Chai Son gives her a thumbs up. Mikazuki takes a deep breath before truly beginning. “There once was a Southern waterbender named Ujarak. He was ruthless in a fight and very stubborn, and had settled many disputes by simply freezing his adversary.”

Mikazuki grows more confident as the words flow freely off her tongue in a steady rhythm (a heartbeat). “One day in Amiraijaut — the season when velvet falls off caribou-oxen's antlers — Ujarak was told not to travel, being warned that an early snowstorm was expected. But of course, he didn’t listen.” (One two. One two. One two.)

“After the storm had passed, other villagers went out to look for him. It wasn’t usually expected for anyone to survive a blizzard, but the searchers joked that if anything, Ujarak had probably made the storm bend to his will, not the other way around. And they were right in one aspect: the man did survive the blizzard. At least, initially.

“The search party looked high and low for him among the snowdrifts. They were close to giving up when someone spotted a lone caribou-ox that had strayed from its herd. From a distance, it looked like it was shedding, with long, stringy velvet hanging off of its red antlers.

“When the group approached, they found that the animal’s legs were frozen to the ground. If it weren’t for the ice, the caribou-ox wouldn’t have been standing — its stomach was impaled by a large icicle. As the wind howled around the group, it was clear to them that the animal had fallen victim to a bender.

“They never did find Ujarak’s body. But if the villagers had looked closer, they would have noticed that the caribou-ox had already shed its velvet.” Here, Mikazuki pauses for a moment to consider whether or not she should give such a graphic description in front of the children, before continuing. “Ujarak must have encountered the animal, who probably thought he was a competing male during the mating season. The waterbender was never one to go down without a fight.

“If only the villagers had looked up at the caribou-ox’s bloodstained antlers. Then they would have noticed the torn skin and shredded intestines hanging off of them like a halo around the dead animal’s head.”

——

“Do you have any stories?” the princess asks Taka, to which the woman shakes her head. The navigator rolls her eyes at Azula’s dramatic huff.

Either Jee has finally thought of one, or he’s had enough of the girl’s pestering, because soon enough he grumbles, “I have one.” This ought to be good, Taka thinks. “But I’m making it fast.”

“Not many know the story of Avatar Kun, and not just because they were the Earth Avatar from multiple cycles ago. Though most Avatars are told of their abilities once they have turned sixteen, Kun’s spiritual identity was not revealed to the world until they were well into their twenties.” Taka is surprised — she’s supposed to be the resident Avatar researcher, and yet she had never heard of Kun until now.

“You see, they were a member of the Hami Tribe; the Si Wong Desert is a vast area that is impossible to cross. And with only hot sand around, it was unlikely for Kun to ever need to bend any other elements. Even so, sandbending is very similar to waterbending, so if they ever did waterbend, no one would be able to tell.

“Their identity as the Avatar was revealed while trading with the beetle-headed merchants. The story goes that when the business deal didn’t go in Kun’s favor, they had intended to bend the sand around the merchants. But somehow, they ended up ripping the water out of a merchant’s body.

“Kun was immediately taken by the merchants to the nearest town. They were then sent to Ba Sing Se, where they were greeted by the Earth Queen and forced into training. Being forced from their home and sent all over the world to learn bending types they had never even seen before was a great shock to Kun. It’s been said that they went mad with the pressure of being the Avatar. Unwilling to accept their responsibility, Kun fled.

“Who witnessed their final acts is disputed. Some say their tribe; others, the beetle-headed merchants who had stolen them in the first place. No matter who it was, it must have been a grisly sight to see.

“In a fit of insanity, Kun bent the surrounding sand to cover them from shoulder to toe, then heated their skin. In the first ever case of glassbending, the Avatar then had the melted sand cover their head. The glass slowly hardened as they suffocated to death, stained red by their blood.

“Legend has it that their bodily statue can still be found somewhere in the Si Wong Desert, buried in sand.”

——

Ryuji is Zuko’s favorite storyteller, he has decided. Gan is his least favorite, and not just because the boy couldn’t hear half of it. The prince pushes down the hurt that bubbles to the surface when he remembers the hawker’s joke about his scar. The crew's opinions should be of no importance. Pathetic. Childish. Weak.

“A rich and noble earthbender once lost her eye on the battlefield,” Ryuji begins. Zuko turns his right ear toward him to hear better. “She was given a fake one with an iris made out of green crystal to compensate, but she wasn’t allowed back into the army because of her partial blindness.” Thank Agni the Fire Nation allows anyone to fight. If I was from the Earth Kingdom, I wouldn’t be in command right now, Zuko thinks.

(Weak. Pathetic. Coward. Pitiful. Cripple. Broken.)

“The woman loved how the jade eye looked and was showered in compliments for it. She quickly became vain. When the eye lost its dazzling effect on others, she ripped out her fingernails and replaced them with crystals.” Should I be worried about how happy Azula looks because of this?, the prince thinks.

“That wasn’t enough for the noblewoman; she wanted to look like a living gem. She began to spend hours at a time bathing in water that had tiny minerals and crystals in it. The effect was to make her skin shiny and glittering. Over time, the different minerals filled her pores, giving her an opalescent sheen.

“Eventually, when the earthbender looked in the mirror, she would see jewels embedded in her cheeks, in her shoulders, in her hips. Only her real eye remained unaffected — that she had to keep in order to observe her own beauty. Showered in affection, she became further obsessed and increased the amount of time spent bathing in the crystals. With this, she gradually had more and more trouble moving.

“One day, the woman had a servant prepare another crystal bath in preparation for a royal function. The maid helped her into the tub before leaving her to soak. Later, she knocked on the door, asking for permission to enter so that she could ready her for the party.

“When the servant girl entered the bathroom, she found the noble earthbender’s completely petrified jeweled body lying stiff in the bath. She held a hand out in front of the woman’s mouth to check for the heat of a breath as the bathwater continued to steam around the body.

“During the autopsy, they had to use a chisel to crack her crystalline body open. When they did, they found her heart still slowly beating.”

One two. One two. One two.

—————

Chapter Text

“I am not wearing my pressure garments on the beach.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I am not.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“This is stupid!”

“As a medical professional, everything I do and say is in fact the wisest course of action. You are going to wear the garments.”

“But what if I want to swim?”

“I have waterproof variations.”

“I’m fine without them!”

“It is a waste of your time to be embarrassed about being seen with the pressure garments on. It is an uninhabited island, no one is going to see you but us.”

“I am not embarrassed. The crew’s opinions are of no importance to me.”

“Prince Zuko put the damn glove back on.”

“You can’t make me!”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Argh! I am not wearing the garments and that is final!”

“Spoiled brat,” the lieutenant mutters while passing by.

——

Azula watches studiously as Taka grinds a small log of wood into a stone block. The girl has worn thanaka before, though only when sneaking out of the Academy with Mai and Ty Lee.

I wonder what they’re doing right now. Azula hasn’t heard from either of her friends since her birthday, even though she had sent a response to Ty Lee’s letter later that same day. It’s been weeks now.

“That should be enough.” The princess focuses again on the task at hand. Taka swipes a finger along the stone block to gather as much of the light tan paste as possible. Azula moves her head back a fraction of an inch when the woman brings her hand up close. (“You don’t want to end up like your brother, do you Azula?” “No, Father.” “Then do not act so cowardly. I expected better of you”). She nods, and Taka begins.

It’s not often, but Zuko is the only person she lets touch her. Azula is on her way to becoming the most powerful bender in the world — besides Father, of course — but sometimes it can feel… comforting… for Zuko to… be there for her? No, that’s not it.

It feels nice that… oh, what’s the word?

Sometimes Azula thinks… I should’ve gotten this right the first time. I need to be better.

It’s good when… Azula can feel that Zuko’s here… with her… and not… not with her (behind a closed door, drowning in Mother’s teary eyes, burning in an arena, wrapped in sterile, untouchable bandages, in a golden urn etched in sakura because he got himself killed like Mother, like a fool (“like he deserves,” Father’s voice hisses)).

(mono no aware

phrase.

the pathos of things; an awareness of impermanence and transience.)

(If she had her own dictionary and hadn’t had to borrow a copy from the woman who is currently painting her face, Azula would add her own definition in the margins: “knowing everything will be gone too soon — everyone will be taken from you — and all you can do is watch.”)

The girl doesn’t close her eyes — that would denote trust, and trust indicates safety, and safety means not being touched, that’s for Zuko, we made a deal, Father promised—

Azula doesn’t close her eyes, but she does allow her calm facade to gradually become reality as Taka gently traces down the bridge of her nose with a manicured finger.

(I saved Zuko, but in doing so I lost Father. An eye for an eye.)

The princess is loath to admit that she inherited Mother’s nose, while Zuko was lucky — for once — to receive Father’s wider one. Both siblings have Mother’s ovate face shape, though they are still growing; Azula is hopeful that her bone structure will become more defined like Father’s. She is sick of being reminded of royal portraits of Mother when looking in the mirror.

While the navigator then applies her own, the princess looks at her reflection. The paste dries quickly on her naturally warmer skin. The thanaka is not as noticeable due to the lack of high contrast against her complexion, but looking closely reveals carefully painted leaves resting on her pale cheeks. Taka gives herself matching ones that accentuate her natural beauty. (“You don’t look like Mother.”)

When Azula steps out on deck, her brother doesn’t have a shirt on and is yelling obscenities at Anzu while a piece of cloth burns on the ground between them. What else did I expect?

——

“Last one to the treeline gets a free egg!” Chai Son calls. He bypasses Gan, who is leading the komodo rhinos off of the ship to roam, and dashes down the beach.

“That’s not how it works!” Hoshi yells, scrambling to pull their boots off while Mikazuki jumps off the Kage and runs across the water.

Sand isn’t exactly Chai Son’s thing, but he’ll take what he can get, just as long as he’s on land. Despite the run, his breathing eases up as his feet kick up the grains. It feels like sunlight blooms in his chest. This is gonna be fun.

——

Every new piece of information Yong-Yut learns about the royal siblings astounds her.

She has had some difficult missions in the past: either she had trouble getting anything out of people, she got attached, or what she learned was so baffling — so wrong — that it would throw her off her game. But she always ended up getting exactly what she needed. She has to admit that despite all the obstacles, she was damn good at her job.

Yong-Yut is different now (a blank slate). She was too recognizable to be sent out again, too unwilling to talk to be kept around, too knowledgeable to be allowed to roam about as a citizen. And there’s the kicker. A woman who has spent the majority of her life blending in wherever she goes — new name, new hairstyle, new backstory, new motive — only to end up an outcast on a ship with no destination.

The point is, Yong-Yut has had to force things out of people, for better or worse. But now she’s no longer an agent, and yet she’s being told information freely — not for better or worse, but for… nothing. The prince and princess — the former more so than the latter — will imply macabre things about themselves, their family, the palace, in such a casual manner that you’d think it meant nothing to them. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Case in point:

Zuko stands now at the shore, observing as the crew finishes bringing anything that may be needed for their day of relaxation out of the ship. His torso is bare, just like most of the men present; everyone is dressed appropriately for a day at the beach, — or “fun in the sun”, as the general called it. Sometimes Yong-Yut wonders what is going on in his brain — with the most coverage anyone (me) has only being a full-coverage yet light robe.

The prince seems to be unfazed by the amount of stares he is getting. His scar is more gruesome in the light of day; Agni’s rays highlight every bubble of flesh that never popped, every small eschar that has yet to fall off and heal naturally, every piece of melted tissue that wasn’t deserved. It’s probably just a trick of the light, but for a split second Yong-Yut thinks she sees the outline of a hand over the boy’s left eye.

In fact, Zuko seemed to be more bothered from his shouting match with the medic than the staring. (“I know I’m a healer, but…” Anzu said, unsheathing a knife. “Even while bedridden and blind, I kicked your ass, and I can do it again,” the prince scoffed. General Iroh shut that one down fast.) Well, no. Everything seems to bother him, actually. This just doesn’t seem to add to his usual distress.

When Yong-Yut stands next to the boy, he asks, “What in Agni’s name are my sister and Taka wearing on their faces?” As if that’s the most pressing issue right now, not the fact that we’re currently docked at a neutral, empty island with dwindling supplies because not only are we looking for a long-dead legend while banned from most ports, but someone just had to set the kitchen and almost all of its contents on fire. Oh also did I mention that you’re a thirteen year old who a) is in charge of an entire ship and b) has a fresh burn so massive that you spent the first few days on said ship comatose?

Yong-Yut doesn’t tell the prince any of this, of course. “Thanaka. It’s a type of cosmetic. It also protects the skin from sunburn,” is all she replies. “It is harmless,” she quickly adds when she sees him scowl in Princess Azula’s direction.

Zuko hums, his expression easing ever so slightly. “They are both firebenders, but I suppose it is reasonable. Sunburns are not pleasant.”

“When have you ever gotten one?” When Zuko begins to reply, Yong-Yut stops him, then makes him restart while signing also. “You need the practice.”

The prince shrugs. “I gave myself a few sunburns the first few times I attempted to…” Zuko pauses here, clearly trying to think of how to communicate properly. “To shadowbend,” he says aloud. Yong-Yut smiles. He’s a fast learner, yes. Shadowbending isn’t even technically a thing, yes. He’s trying hard, yes. But Zuko’s interpretation is still… amusing.

He points his hands at each other, with his right one hovering above the left, then twirls his right hand in a clockwise motion while spinning the other in the opposite direction. “To turn around.” That’s… kind of… no, that’s nowhere near “bend”.

Zuko then holds his left hand with his index finger pointed upward in front of the right hand, which is in the same position, before pulsing both hands forward twice. Much closer this time, Yong-Yut thinks. Zuko did just sign “shadow”, but the verb form; together, he signed “to turn around, to follow”. Eh, you win some, you lose some.

Yong-Yut doesn’t correct him, instead allowing the boy to finish speaking. “I had been hurt worse, but the sunburns were surprising. They came at bad times, when I was trying to hide.”

“A pleasant side effect of wearing this” — the woman touches her headscarf — “is that I don’t get a sunburn on my scalp,” is her only response. Internally, her mind is racing with questions. Is that even possible, to give yourself a sunburn? Why were you willing to risk hurting yourself if you knew what was going to happen when you tried? How had you been hurt worse, even before receiving that scar? What — no, who — were you hiding from?

——

“Care for a sparring match?” Azula asks, turning toward her brother. Of course that’s the first thing they want to do on their day off, Iroh thinks.

Zuko smirks. “You’re on.”

The siblings clear a section of the beach to be their designated sparring area. It’s not optimal at all: pits and small dunes create an uneven surface, emphasized by the slight slope down to the water; the sand provides very little purchase; other than the small rocks, shells, and occasional twigs that have to be avoided when traversing the beach, the area is very open, with nowhere to hide or play off of; the lapping waves not only make the lower end of the shore slippery, but also create a considerable amount of noise.

It’s clear that this playing field is advantageous to Azula, who has a preference toward direct attacks. Iroh will be very surprised if Zuko comes out victorious; when his bad hearing, difficulty with balance, poor vision, and tendency to try to find cover are taken into account, it seems as if he doesn’t stand a chance.

Iroh sits on a towel out of the possible line of fire next to Anzu in order to watch. “No biting or scratching is allowed,” he reminds the children.

“Don’t do anything that could send either of you to the infirmary,” Anzu adds.

Iroh nods in agreement. “You win the round once your opponent taps out. Speaking of that, do not be afraid to admit your defeat. It is still honorable to do so after putting up a good fight, and it is best to avoid injuring yourself,” he continues.

“And Prince Zuko?” The boy looks up from scratching at his left arm. Anzu slaps his hand away while muttering about how, “if you wore your pressure garments, then it wouldn’t itch so much”. “For the sake of fairness, no shadowbending.” Zuko grumbles, but agrees to the conditions anyway.

At that, the siblings get into position on opposite sides of the area. When Iroh calls go, the match commences. His niece is precise; her movements are practiced, smooth. Zuko, meanwhile, is slower than he used to be; his muscles are still stiff on his left side, and eventually his breathing comes out as wheezes. The princess uses her brother’s disabilities to her advantage, focusing on attacking his left. It’s a smart move, but I still feel sympathy for my nephew. There aren’t any rules against it, though, so I won’t intervene, Iroh thinks.

Soon enough, Zuko is knocked onto the ground. His sister looms over him with azure fire dancing between her fingertips. A flicker of fear flashes across the boy’s face as he sneaks a glance at Iroh. Odd, the man thinks as he takes a sip of tea from a thermos that Hoshi has brought out. Despite whatever is going through Zuko’s mind, he eventually comes to a decision and grudgingly taps the ground in defeat.

After that, every round follows the same general format. Zuko begins by attacking Azula head-on, while she lets him tire himself out. Then, she switches to offensive maneuvers, causing him to use defense, until ultimately he is on the ground and forced to tap out.

Despite the unsurprising outcomes, Iroh still continues to watch; it’s fascinating to see Azula completely in her element. The crew must think so too, as most of them are also sitting or standing nearby to watch.

After a few rounds, Anzu forces the siblings to take a break. “Watching you two is making me tired,” she says, but Iroh knows that she is concerned over the sound that Zuko’s breathing is making, as if every exhale rattles his ribcage like prison bars.

The children sit near the older pair. Iroh offers tea and compliments to them both. “You are both doing very well. You put up a challenging fight Zuko, and your determination is admirable. And Azula, you have intelligent strategies; well done using your opponent’s weaknesses against him.”

That seems to give Iroh’s nephew an idea. “Uncle, could you repeat the rules again?”

“Why of course. No biting, scratching, or shadowbending. Generally, nothing that could cause grievous injuries. One of you must admit defeat for the round to end.”

“And that is all?”

“Yes. Anything else goes.” Zuko seems to mull this over as he continues to catch his breath and hydrate. Eventually, he stands up, and his sister follows.

“Ready to lose again, Zuzu?” Azula mocks. The prince doesn’t answer, focusing on positioning himself instead. Iroh calls go, and the round starts.

It begins as typical, with Zuko trying to overpower Azula. It seems more meaningful this time, though; more restrained, more energy conserved. Iroh realizes that the boy is driving her toward the side of the area where the audience sits. While doing so, Zuko subtly shifts the sand with his feet, covering up stones. It isn’t precise at all — that’s understandable, given the circumstances, but still confusing. Why try to hide the stones at all if they are still partially visible? The man suppresses the need to sigh. Oh no, he probably thinks they’re completely covered and just can’t see them.

Eventually, Zuko has led Azula so that her back is to the audience, while his is to the waves. The girl doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference from the past rounds. The siblings continue their usual format — now is the part where Azula forces her brother to become defensive.

He does switch to defense, that is true. But again, it feels… different. It no longer feels forced, instead as if this is what Zuko had planned. He usually uses a combination of dodging and dispersal to avoid the blasts Azula sends toward him. Now, the prince mainly darts out of the way — only blocking the fire when he’s too slow to move — while still keeping to his respective side.

Azula’s intense flames hit the water, causing more and more steam to arise with every shot as she advances. Iroh smiles as he realizes his nephew’s objective. If he can’t shadowbend, then he’ll find other ways. He adapts.

The condensation hangs heavy in the air, making visibility difficult. The princess’s blue fire fails to cut through the fog, instead reflecting back at her. She moves forward, then trips over seemingly nothing. The stones, Iroh realizes in awe. It is a minor slip up, but just as the girl begins to regain her footing, Zuko lunges out, blasting fire at her feet. Already unsteady to begin with, Azula is unable to land gracefully like usual. She falls forward onto the ground. Zuko steps over her to block any chance of escape.

The entire beach is silent for a moment, the only sounds being the rolling waves and distant cawing of gulls. Iroh can’t see the fine details through the fog, but he imagines his niece is glaring intensely at her brother. Eventually, she huffs in annoyance before tapping the ground. “I yield.”

——

A glint of blue in the sand catches Gan’s eye. He grabs it then holds it up for others to see. “I just found some sea glass.”

Lieutenant Jee looks at him, unimpressed. The man then bends down to scoop up some sand. When Jee straightens up, he maintains eye contact with Gan while melting the contents of his cupped palm. “I just made some sea glass.”

“Do you seriously need to suck the fun out of everything?” Gan asks. He receives a shrug in response. The hawker goes to throw the glass into the ocean, but thinks better of it, opting to tuck it into a pocket of his trousers.

——

Chai Son stands next to Mikazuki at the shoreline. After being caught not-so-subtly trying to copy her movements, the boy is now being taught waterbending forms. Mikazuki had laughed at first, thinking it ridiculous that a nonbender would want to learn. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you were, like, secretly a waterbender or something?” she joked. Chai Son had pretended to laugh along.

Mikazuki swirls the water around her, her katas forming a smooth dance. The deckhand tries his best to imitate her, but it all feels in vain. Standing next to his friend’s iridescent bending, Chai Son’s jerky, awkward movements feel all wrong. It’s not a new feeling for him.

It feels treasonous, almost — learning new ways to bend the element of his nation’s enemies. The guilt eats Chai Son up inside. How can he live like this? Secretive? Divided? Dishonest? His own existence is disloyal.

When he isn’t doing something with it, Ryuji’s left arm is always slightly bent, the result of being hit by a stone in battle. If he knew, if the others found out, if Taka told anyone… they would despise Chai Son. No one must know.

Hazel eyes with a hint of yellow. The color of betrayal.

Hazel eyes with a hint of green. The color of envy.

Oh, what Chai Son would do to not be an earthbender.

——

“I bet I can make the best sandcastle here,” Ryuji declares. Why is everything said between all of us always some sort of challenge?, Hoshi thinks. The engineer’s statement causes strong reactions from everyone present, aside from Gan.

Jee pushes his hands down — Hoshi thinks it’s funny to imagine he’s dribbling a ball — as a signal to hush everyone. “There’s only one way to settle this.”

“Agni Kai,” Taka says, pounding a fist into her palm and smiling.

The lieutenant looks at her in mild concern. “No… What I meant was a sandcastle building competition… Are you ok Taka?”

“I call pairing up with Zuko!” the princess says, grabbing her brother’s arm. With that, the group divides itself up naturally. Hoshi finds themself paired with Mikazuki. The remaining teams are the royal siblings, Anzu and General Iroh, Ryuji and Lieutenant Jee, and Yong-Yut and Taka. Chai Son is by himself after insisting that he can win alone. That leaves Gan as the judge.

-

“Beauty is pain. But you know what’s also pain? Having a disfiguring scar that covers almost half of your body.”

“Agni, give it a rest, Zuzu! All I said was that you look less disgusting now that you’ve finally washed your hair. Now shut up and hand me a bucket.”

-

Taka has never made a sandcastle before, and apparently, neither has Yong-Yut. They make a good team, though. While her partner runs to grab two buckets, Taka begins to think of a plan of attack. She experiments a little by trying to form shapes first with the dry sand on the main beach, then with the wet grains from where the waves break.

Once Yong-Yut is back, the navigator tells her their strategy. “We should use one bucket to hold water, and the other to shape the sand. Use a minimal amount of water to wet the sand before using the second bucket to create mounds. We’re going to have to use trial and— Mikazuki what are you doing?”

Taka and Yong-Yut look up from where they are sitting on the beach to see Mikazuki standing nearby, clearly listening in. “Oh, uh. Nothing!” the girl says, before turning on her heel and running down to where the cook is staring at the sand in confusion. “Hoshi! I just came up with a brilliant idea all on my own!” Mikazuki calls.

-

“Alright, this is just like Ember Island,” Azula says. “I’ll make a perfect recreation of the palace while you destroy the competition.”

“Tell me once you’re done so I can add decorations.”

“Have I ever failed to do so? You have your orders, now move out soldier!”

Zuko salutes and runs off to do what he does best: kick things, yell, and make the crew upset.

-

“Are you really that good at making sandcastles?” the lieutenant asks Ryuji.

“Nah. I was just getting sick of having to see the women making goo-goo eyes at each other. But clearly that didn’t work out,” Ryuji says, gesturing to where Yong-Yut is slowly pulling an upside-down bucket off the ground. The small pillar of sand sticks together, which is apparently a reason for Taka to hug Yong-Yut, who turns red. Spirits, when will they put two and two together.

“Well, we were the ones who suggested this whole thing, so we have to do something,” Jee says.

“Take a nap?”

“Very funny.” Ryuji lies down anyway. Jee nudges him with his foot. “Get up. We have to build something.”

“Hm, what’s that? Sorry, can’t hear you over how comfy this beach is.” Ryuji looks up when he hears Jee’s footsteps walk away. When the lieutenant comes back out of the ship, he is carrying the two shovels from the engine room. Ryuji narrowly dodges the shovel that is thrown at him.

“Start digging,” Jee says. The engineer does as he’s told, curious as to what he has in mind. After a good amount of shoveling, the lieutenant steps back and gestures at the hole. “Alright. Get inside.”

Ryuji lifts a brow. “Damn. I knew one of us was going to snap and kill the other eventually but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

Jee glares in his direction. “You can lie down and I’ll bury you. I won’t cover your head.”

“Aw you really do care,” Ryuji says, putting his hand on his heart.

“One more word out of you and you’re getting a mouth full of sand.”

-

“What if we build a moat?” Mikazuki asks. Hoshi agrees that it’s a good idea, at least in theory.

In practice… not so much. Despite all their efforts, the pair ends up with a pool of water surrounded by a disheartening wall of sand.

“I think it needs more water,” Mikazuki says while scrutinizing the “castle”.

“It does not need any more water,” Hoshi says.

Mikazuki pouts. “That’s what you said last time.”

“No more water.” When the cook next turns their back, Mikazuki bends some more water into their pool. For some extra flavor, she thinks.

-

“I have come to kick down your sandcastle,” Prince Zuko declares, his hands on his hips.

Jee looks up from where he is whittling a stick in the shade. “We don’t have one. I buried Ryuji.”

The boy frowns. “That’s not a sandcastle.”

“Then what do you suggest we do, Your Highness?”

Prince Zuko doesn’t reply, instead searching the ground for something. He returns soon enough and places a shell on Ryuji’s hair as the engineer sleeps. The boy turns back to Jee. “Can I kick your sandcastle now?”

The lieutenant suppresses a smile. “Go right ahead.”

As the boy begins to pull his leg back, Jee begins to regret his words. He remembers how — just moments ago — instead of climbing up like any reasonable person who can’t reach would, the Fire Prince had simply bent a lower branch of a lychee-date palm tree toward him and slammed down on it with his ankle. It snapped off the trunk, allowing him to bring the entire branch to his uncle, who asked for some fruit (“You shouldn’t be eating miscellaneous fruit you find, Uncle!” “But we’re running out of food!”).

“Wait!” the lieutenant calls out.

That has the desired effect of making the prince stop in his tracks, along with waking Ryuji up. It also has the not-so-desired effect of making Jee the target of the boy’s ire. Prince Zuko glares at him. “You said I could do it.”

“Do what?” Ryuji asks, still a bit groggy. The other two ignore him.

“Just… be careful. Don’t use your full strength.”

“Fine.”

“Be careful doing what?” the engineer repeats, more alert now. His question is answered with a swift kick to the side of the head, causing the shell on top of his hair to fall off and sand to fly into his eye. “Watch it!”

“That was not my intention.” Jee has to cover his mouth with a hand to try to stifle his laughter.

“Like hell it wasn’t,” Ryuji mutters. The engineer tries blinking the grains away, to no avail. He ends up just squeezing his left eye shut. “Hm. Well at least now we’re matching,” he says, looking up at the prince. Does he seriously have no survival instinct?, Jee wonders.

Prince Zuko scowls down at the engineer, then turns. As he runs back to his sister, the boy kicks up sand, which flies into Ryuji’s other eye. One look at his face that is flushed with anger causes Jee to burst out laughing. That boy sure is lucky Ryuji’s buried right now.

-

“I used to make sandcastles with Lu Ten,” Iroh says. Anzu looks up from working on their admittedly shitty sculpture. Her friend doesn’t talk about his son much. “This was back when my nephew was still a baby.”

Yong-Yut, who is sitting nearby with Taka, signs a question. Anzu catches “Z-U-K-O” and the word “baby”, but that’s it. The healer feels a bit bad that Yong-Yut has to dumb herself down to communicate with her, but hey, at least she’s made an attempt. The two have so far only focused on words that would be needed in a medical emergency, like parts of the body, “problem”, “hurt”, numbers, “pregnant” — “No problem,” the woman had signed. “Why not?” “Can’t.” “...if Taka gets pre—” “No!” — “good”, spelling, “broken”, et cetera, et cetera.

“What was Zuko like as a baby?” the navigator translates.

“Don’t answer that question!” The prince throws a fireball at the older pair’s sandcastle as he runs by. Meanwhile, Iroh lights up at the opportunity to embarrass his nephew.

“Prince Zuko was the chubbiest baby! It was quite amusing to watch him try to travel around on his chubby legs,” Iroh laughs.

“He had Princess Ursa’s eyes,” Anzu adds.

“You knew him as a baby?!” Taka says, baffled.

“The little bastards were delivered by yours truly. No need to thank me,” Anzu jokingly gloats.

The navigator laughs at Yong-Yut’s signed response. “She said, ‘I was actually going to say that this is all your fault.’”

Iroh chuckles before continuing. “Both of them look so much like their mother. She was always so patient with them. Ursa still devoted most of her time to her son, even when pregnant with Princess Azula.” The man smiles. “I would often have tea with her out in the garden — nettle leaf, specifically — while we listened to Zuko babble to us; he started speaking later than most, so my son would make a game out of trying to translate.”

“He also had quite the tantrums,” Anzu says.

“Some things never change,” Taka mutters. Yong-Yut elbows her in the stomach.

Iroh ignores the interaction. “Once Princess Azula was born, he would carry her around and make up stories about every portrait in the palace. A lot of them ended with the person in the painting being eaten by a dragon.” The siblings in question walk over to the group, seemingly done with their sandcastle.

“I was a perfect baby,” Azula says while flipping her hair.

“You threw up on me so many times!” Zuko says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“And who was the genius who thought he could pick me up?”

“...me.” Zuko sighs.

-

Zuko stands with his sister, flanking their sand palace. He admits that most of it was Azula’s doing — and thank the Spirits for that, because it looks nothing like home; I wouldn’t want to take credit for it. She probably does remember every single detail of the palace, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into ability to recreate it in sand. She’s still ten, for Agni’s sake.

The siblings still present their creation as if it is their pride and joy. Zuko is all smiles when he explains his additions. He points to what is supposed to be the turtleduck pond — it was Azula’s idea to actually add water to it. Maybe that’s where we went wrong. Next to the pond are four different objects that he spent a good amount of time searching for between throwing fire at Mikazuki and Hoshi’s puddle and pushing Chai Son into the water.

(“Why isn’t your hair wet? I just dunked you!” “I dried it by utilizing my bending.” “Lucky duck!” Zuko’s quack in response sent Chai Son into hysterics.)

“That one is Father, because he is the strongest of the family,” Zuko says, gesturing to the smooth black stone that is the size of the prince’s hand. “Mom is the stick next to it. It is… unfortunately not quite realistic — she was taller than him.” He then points to a piece of brown seaglass. “That’s me.”

“Why, because you’re broken?” Azula asks, smiling wide. She thinks she’s so clever.

“I just thought it was pretty, you don’t have to be so harsh about it,” Zuko frowns. “Azula’s the shell because she’s empty inside and tiny.” He laughs as his sister tackles him, destroying their sand castle.

-

Apparently, Mikazuki’s waterbending practice was worth something to Chai Son. He’s no master, but it did make bending his sandcastle — away from the others, of course — a whole lot easier.

“It ain’t much, but it’s honest work,” Chai Son says, gesturing to his creation. He meant to add a third turret, but got sidetracked when he had to fend Prince Zuko off from jumping onto all of his hard work. It’s still pretty good, if I do say so myself. Especially compared to Hoshi and Mikazuki’s pool — ”It’s spicy, try it!” “I am not drinking your seawater.” “If you were a real judge, you would. Prince Zuko even boiled it for us.” — General Iroh and Anzu’s campfire, Taka and Yong-Yut’s stomped-on mounds, the royal siblings’ pile of trinkets, and Jee’s… Ryuji?

“Chai Son wins,” Gan says after only a second of deliberation.

——

Hoshi looks up when the prince sits next to them while they prepare dinner. He wrinkles his nose at the amount of lychee-dates. “We need more food and supplies.”

“Really? Personally, I could eat these bad boys for days,” the cook jokes, attempting to get a positive reaction out of the boy. If anything, his frown just deepens.

“We may have to. The next occupied port is a week away.” Prince Zuko looks across the water, where lanterns are so close to the island that Hoshi can see them flicker. “But the nearest Earth Kingdom one is a lifeboat ride away.”

Hoshi catches on quickly. “Given the fact that the last time you tried something like this you set my kitchen on fire, I assume you don’t have much… professional experience?” The prince nods. The chef rubs their chin in thought. “I’ll go on night watch tonight. We can plan more then.”

—————

Chapter Text

The prince meets Hoshi on deck of the Kage once the others have gone to bed, as promised. Thank Agni I don’t have to make him go back and change, the chef thinks, taking in his all-black attire. “Why are you bringing your swords?”

“We are going to an Earth Kingdom town at night. Firebending will be easily seen. And anyway, today is the aphelion; our bending is slightly weakened, so it will not be of much use.”

“We won’t have to bend if we don’t get caught.”

“You have a point there.”

“Tie your hair up in a bun so it doesn’t swish around,” Hoshi says. They finish braiding their hair down their head, leaving two short pigtails at the nape of their neck. They quirk an eyebrow when Prince Zuko hesitates. “You do know how to do that, right?”

“Uh—”

“Spirits, you're useless.”

“Hey! It is not like I could just tell my servants to stop doing their jobs!”

“Whatever. Just let me do it. You’re already loud enough.”

The prince scowls at them and stomps over to the crate they gesture to. He hesitates before sitting down. Hoshi starts to reach for his hair when a hand catches their wrist. “Yank my hair, touch my scar — touch anything other than hair for that matter — or step out of line in any way, and we are having Hoshi flambé for dinner tomorrow. I am only letting you do this for the sake of our mission,” he growls. The cook nods vigorously, their eyes wide. “Now make it quick.”

Hoshi speaks in a whisper voice as they work. “Now you’re not gonna like this last thing—”

“What have I said about speaking up?” Prince Zuko snaps. Hoshi frowns; the two of them have been loud enough already. We should really get going soon if we don’t wanna get caught sneaking out, they think.

“What is up with you and volume?! I’m being exactly loud enough,” Hoshi whisper-yells. “I was actually just saying that you’re loud as fuck. You need to be careful in order to not get caught.”

They can feel heat start to emanate from the boy. “I am at a perfectly reasonable volume,” he hisses. “And anyway, I am able to be stealthy. Shadowbending, remember?”

“It’s night, dumbass!”

“I do not care!” Prince Zuko says, voice growing even louder.

“Ssshhh!” Hoshi stops with the prince’s hair so they can try to hear if any footsteps are approaching. None. “Agni, do you have a hearing problem or something?”

“And so what if I do?!” He whips around to face them.

That pulls Hoshi up short. I didn’t expect him to actually answer. They both stare at each other, as if even the prince is surprised at what he said.

“Prince Zuko—”

The boy scowls again before grabbing the sacks he had brought out on deck. He quickly walks over to the lifeboat and throws them inside, leaving Hoshi in the dust. Why hasn’t he told anyone?, they think. They follow him and help lower the lifeboat down.

The pair rides in silence, giving the cook a chance to think.

Hoshi’s older sister — Shizu! Her name is Shizu! (Hoshi smiles when her name comes to their mind easily) — is deaf. She has been since birth. A good amount of people on their island are deaf or have hearing impairments as well. So they know how to… not “deal” with people with hearing loss, because it’s not like they’re burdens, but… Hoshi is experienced. Most people on their island know sign language, even if they don’t have any hard of hearing relatives. Hoshi has had quite a few interesting conversations through sign with Yong-Yut; they admit they’re a little rusty, and the dialects are a bit different, so the woman sometimes has to repeat herself or try to explain in other ways.

Shizu is stubborn and… I remember… There was this one time when… She would always… Both of us were quiet… She asked…

Nevermind.

Point is, Hoshi gets it. They think. They don’t know what caused the prince’s hearing loss — Maybe it has something to do with his scar? I don’t know, I’m just a cook, not a healer — but they know how they should accommodate for a stubborn little shit like him.

They look over at the prince, who is watching the lanterns of the nearby town shimmer on the crest of the waves with his arms crossed, having refused to help row. Hoshi clears their throat loudly to get his attention. “You’ll want to try to conserve your energy.”

The boy startles and turns to look at them in confusion. Hoshi puts the oars down and signs what they can remember – it’s too dark to see, but Prince Zuko has his weird heat sense thing going on, so I’m good. “Save your energy,” they repeat. “It will help with breathing quietly. We can go slower if it means not getting caught.”

The Fire Prince turns back to the water, leaning his arms on the side of the boat. “I do not need your pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s strategic.” Hoshi picks the oars back up and begins to row again. If their hunch is correct and he’s only hard of hearing where he was burnt, and not in both ears, then he should be able to hear them fine when he’s facing that direction. “When jumping off of things, land first on the ball of your foot, then you can roll your heel down. It will reduce noise and hurt your ankles less.”

Hoshi moves on to non-hearing related advice. “Only take what we absolutely need, so little that its absence won’t be noticed. Don’t overload your bags, it’ll tire you out to have to carry all of it. We should split up to cover more ground, but stay close enough to each other in the event of an emergency.” The boy nods along.

They both hop off of the boat at the shore. “You should probably put your bandit hat on now,” Prince Zuko says. “Personally, I-I do not have one, but I modified this theater mask.”

Hoshi puts their balaclava on, the only hole in the fabric showing their eyes and the bridge of their nose. The prince puts a blue and white mask on – Hoshi doesn’t recognize it, not being able to afford going to the theater growing up.

“We look good,” they say.

“Yeah. We do.”

——

Zuko is a little slower than usual, what with the long day at the beach and now the aphelion dwindling his strength. Nevertheless, he is able to keep up with Hoshi’s quick movements without straining himself too much.

Anzu treated him well — as always — and was able to keep him still during his first few weeks of healing so he would not suffer any scar contractures. Even so, the skin around his joints is still tighter than it should be.

His grip on his left dao is looser than that of his right — squeezing his left hand together can get painful, and his hand is weak. Zuko may not need his swords at the moment, but it is comforting to feel their weight in his palms. Mai used to say the same thing. She runs with her arms extended behind her back and knives ready at her wrists. He smiles at the thought of her — he has missed his friend dearly.

The prince runs along the rooftops with Hoshi, dropping down when they find stalls that will be of use to them. The wind seems to carry him.

Zuko admits that his companion is fantastic at what they do; they are capable of staying completely silent, even when they find a single zucchini-pumpkin in stock. Still, their eyes crinkle in glee as they place it inside one of their bags. Zuko smiles underneath his mask.

——

The pair are resting on the top of a building, both with their masks off in order to drink from their canteens. Hoshi wipes their mouth on their sleeve then smiles. They’ve missed nights like these. Having someone doing it alongside them isn’t too shabby either.

Prince Zuko suddenly shoves his mask back on, caps his canteen, and unsheathes his swords. “Someone’s coming,” he whispers. Oh right, Hoshi thinks. Heat sense. They pull their balaclava back on, and both recede higher up on the roof, away from the edge.

Seeing that the boy is straining to hear — and see (ha, short) — what is happening below, Hoshi begins to sign what they can. They hope Prince Zuko can understand them despite his lack of fluency, along with the dialectical differences. “There are two people. They seem to be fighting. No. One person is following the other, who is trying to get away.” The two people come closer to the building the duo is crouching on, making it easier for Hoshi to make out what is happening.

“It is a man following a woman. She is crying and… her robe is ripped at the bottom.” The young adult doesn’t know how much they should tell the boy. They don’t think General Iroh would appreciate them telling his nephew the disgusting words the man is calling the woman.

A sharp cry rings out. Hoshi winces in sympathy. “She got hit in the face. He… has cornered the woman…” They aren’t willing to continue watching.

“We have to help!” the prince signs.

“No we do not!” Hoshi gestures back before grabbing his arm to stop him. The two of them should be getting out of here.

He’s much stronger than they expected, and is able to break free of their grip easily. “I can’t just stand by and watch!” The boy silently jumps down from the top of the building, landing on the balls of his feet before rolling his heels down.

-

When the Crown Prince had been reduced to nothing but a whimpering pile of bandages lying in the extra cot in Anzu’s room, his sister would often read to him. Her book of choice was the dictionary. Luckily for him — I don’t know what I was more likely to die of, infection or boredom — she hadn’t gotten through very much of it at all before he was allowed to get out of bed. He still remembers some of them, though; the definitions would help distract from the pain.

abominable

adjective.

causing moral revulsion; worthy of or causing disgust or hatred.

That’s what this man is to him. Abominable. Zuko’s no idiot. He knows what that man was planning to do to that poor woman.

He sneaks up on the man from behind and slips a sword up to his neck, though it’s a bit difficult, considering Zuko’s relatively short stature. His dual dao are a bit too big for him; the prince trained under Master Piandao, but Father pulled him out of lessons abruptly before he could make his own blades. Instead, Zuko inherited the pair that Lu Ten had made with the master.

The man quickly lets go of the woman. Zuko steals a glance at her; she’s on the ground, shaking, but as far as he can see, she only physically suffers from a split lip and bruised jaw. Because of this distraction, the man is able to elbow the prince in the stomach and free himself. The stranger pulls out a knife.

-

Hoshi drops down behind the prince. Despite the obvious size difference, he seems to be really holding his own against his opponent.

The thief sidesteps the struggle — they feel a strange surge of pride when the man swears at the challenge — to help the fallen woman. They kneel down beside her to be on her level, and extends out their hand. The woman takes it, and after Hoshi helps her up, they run out of the alleyway and away from the fight.

——

The man — who has been able to get a few scratches and punches in — loops his arm around Zuko’s neck in a tight grappling hold. His left hand — his weaker hand — drops its sword and reaches to claw at the arm that chokes him. His opponent is taller than him, so only the tips of his toes are in contact with the ground. His already labored breathing turns to wheezing. He’s dimly aware of a cold blade held against his right side. His heartbeat pulses in his ear (One two. One two. One two).

His right dao is held at an awkward angle. Zuko is losing air fast. Right as a searing pain fills his right abdomen, he straightens his arm and jabs his sword upward with all his strength and a cry of pain.

Even in his weakened state, plunging it in is more difficult than it should be. The tip of his dao is met with resistance before finally piercing flesh — like an awl that the palace leatherworker used. He doesn’t know how deep it is, if it’s enough to render the man unconscious. He feels hot liquid spray above and onto him.

The man’s arms loosen a bit in surprise or pain, but maintains a hold around the boy. This gives Zuko enough mobility to drop his heels down to the ground, causing the man to tilt forward on his back with him. Zuko then heaves his whole body upward again to cut in deeper. It isn’t pretty or efficient, but it’s all he can do with so little air.

He twists the blade for good measure. He’s not sure what, but he thinks he feels something snap. Hot, sticky blood sprays onto his mask and hair and chest and blade and arm.

-

As soon as Hoshi has gotten the woman to safety, ensured that she’s ok, and told her which foods will aggravate her bleeding lip, they run as fast as they can. They shouldn’t have left Prince Zuko for so long.

Their boots pound against the road in time with their racing heartbeat.

One two. One two. One two.

-

Zuko turns around to face the man, who is still leaning against him. He lights a fire in his palm (a heartbeat). He glances at the injury; the point of his sword bore a hole in the man’s neck. The carotid artery is cut raggedly.

The man’s eyes are wide in shock. They are green. That should make this worth it.

(An eye for an eye.)

He’s just some Earth Kingdom scum. He deserves it just for that — the circumstances of his birth.

(“Lucky to be born.”)

But when the boy sees his own golden flame (dragon’s fire) flickering like candlelight in the reflection of those terrified eyes, all he can think of is his mother.

Zuko quickly extinguishes the flame and shoves the man off of him, much harder than necessary. Blood drips down from the inside of his mask to his face. He is barely able to catch his breath before he has to rip his mask off and doubles over, vomiting up his meager dinner. He can hear the man choke on his own blood behind him.

Done retching, Zuko leans against the cool stone wall. He can’t run away, can’t hide, can’t escape. He’s afraid of leaving. All he can do is watch.

The dark, oceanic sky holds an opalescent pearl that casts light on the bloodstained face of the boy. He heaves in huge breaths of the cool night air, holding onto his bleeding wound.

-

Footsteps lead toward the alley. When Hoshi arrives, it seems as if the man’s eyes had drooped a long time ago. The pool of blood on the ground is stagnant and small, intermingled with the dust on the ground; most of it is on the boy.

-

The heir to the throne and child of the Sun lives.

-

“No one must know. Unless… you want to tell your uncle.” A minute shake of the head. “Then no one will know.”

A beat of silence. Hoshi doesn’t quite know what to do. All they know how to do is keep moving. “We should both have our masks off when we get back to the ship.” A nod. “You can try to wash off once we get to the shore.” Another shake of the head. Hoshi understands — in the near darkness, the inky black ocean would be a comfort to no one.

More silence. A lull. The boy breathes shakily beside them.

“I just killed a man.” His voice is empty. When Hoshi looks at him, his face is blank.

“…That’s… rough, buddy.”

He snorts humorlessly. “Understatement of the century.” The two lapse back into silence for a moment. This isn’t safe. We should be leaving, Hoshi thinks, eyeing the body.

Zuko clears his throat and looks at them. “Have you… ever…?” His face is open, begging for a reprieve, for relief, for reciprocation.

Hoshi shakes their head. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he says just as softly.

“Don’t remember. Not much up here.” They knock on the side of their head, then turn back to face the other side of the alleyway. “I mean, I probably have. We are at war.” It’s a fact of life (of war).

-

There is no glory in death. No honor. No catharsis.

catharsis

noun.

the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions; cleansing.

Isn’t that ironic? In search of purification, all Zuko has ever done is contaminate himself. He wishes to scream until his voice is raw and bleeding, to wash away the soot that sullies his tongue — fury. It tastes like ash — to expel this pain and anguish that slithers from the depth of his stomach up to his throat and past his bared, snarling teeth. Flames lick at his jaw and curl around his molars, begging to escape. But all he ever does is dig his hands deeper into the cool, dark earth.

He sees red.

Every night he yearns for refuge, begs for rescue, cries for recovery, prays to the Spirits for a release. For revenge. An eye for an eye.

And the only response he ever gets back is remorse. And more repression. And residue of a life half-lived (mono no aware). And a requiem for an unscathed boy who would sing with his mother and tell stories to his baby sister, who would joke with his uncle and dance with his cousin, who would fight for his father and speak up for his people.

He has been clawing at the ground to deepen the chasm, gravel scratching his palms and dirt getting underneath his fingernails. He churns earth that hasn’t seen the light of day in millennia. He is all cracked skin and bruised knuckles and dislocated fingers and burnt-off prints and calloused thumbs and soil.

His hands are muddy and worn from digging the boy’s grave. He wonders if they will ever be truly clean again.

Zuko is still angry. Spirits, is he angry.

It may not be right (is it ever?), but he is angry at the woman for not running away faster. Angry at the man for hurting him. At Hoshi for leaving him. At himself for being so weak, so useless, so pathetic.

Angry at — no, not angry. I could never go so far as to be mad at him — Frustrated with his father for teaching him nothing if not how to fight. With his father for teaching him the pain of surrender. With his father for teaching him a lesson.

”Suffering will be your teacher.”

Zuko is angry. But deep down — all the way to the marrow of his bones — he is tired of learning.

——

Hoshi looks down at Zuko as they make their way back to the lifeboat. That’s a… concerning amount of blood. Their eyes widen in alarm when they spot the thin blade protruding from his right side.

“You uh… got a little something… right there…”

The prince grunts. “I know. It is staying in.”

——

The siblings have a routine of watching the stars together. They silently agree to do so when either one is awoken by a nightmare.

The siblings have a routine of watching the stars together. But when Azula goes to her brother’s room, he’s gone.

——

Zuko and Hoshi walk back in silence.

His head is tilted up toward the usual comfort of the infinite black sky and innumerable stars above him. The cosmos hangs its head in sorrow. He searches for constellations, but all he finds are eyes cast downward in shame, doing nothing but watching. (An audience.) His head feels a little faint.

Their head is tilted down to stare at their hands, the unique fingerprints that will never change. They search for the lines of their palm, but all they find are craters coated in dried blood. They wonder if their hands will ever be truly clean again.

With heavy bags of supplies and heavier hearts, the stretch of darkness ahead of the pair seems endless.

——

“I am going to go find him.”

“I’ll go with you, Your Highness. I need to make sure Hoshi is ok.”

“Neither of you girls are going out there. Lieutenant Jee said that the lifeboat is missing; they obviously left of their own volition. There is no need to worry or wake anyone else on the ship.”

“But Uncle—”

“You can not get everything you desire, Princess Azula! Your brother is completely fine, and I believe Hoshi to be a responsible young person who will not let him get in harm’s way. Now go to bed.”

“Fine.”

“You too, Mikazuki.”

“Yes, General Iroh.”

——

aphelion

noun.

the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is furthest from the sun.

Walking back to the Kage — back into the shadows — Zuko has never felt furthest from the light.

——

Chapter Text

The ocean’s arms, pulled by the bending of the moon, welcome the lifeboat freely. The gentle waves are too relaxing for the panic that has found itself in Hoshi’s chest. They have to nudge Zuko with their foot multiple times to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. Hoshi doesn’t care that the prince scowls at them every time they kick him; they’re just glad he’s not gone (yet).

——

Iroh sits out on deck to wait for the two missing people. Anzu sits across the pai sho board from him, a first aid kit lying next to her just in case. Lieutenant Jee stands nearby, surveying the waters. I am upset that Zuko and Hoshi would take advantage of our leniency like this, but I do hope that the lieutenant will not be too harsh on the cook. The three of them engage in intermittent conversation.

Iroh scribbles a word on the back of the pai sho scoresheet and holds it up for the two others to see. “There is only one thing worse than dying.” He then writes his nephew’s name above the word so it reads, “Prince Zuko dying.” The general shows the page once again.

“Prince Zuko,” Lieutenant Jee answers way too quickly.

“No—”

——

Zuko is faintly aware of sneaking onto the ship and Hoshi helping him to the infirmary. The cook offers to help, but the prince refuses, telling them to put the supplies away instead. It’s my fault; I don’t want to be even more of a burden.

Zuko slips into Anzu’s room and immediately grabs the bandages. He lights a small lantern and sits on the cot that he spent so much time on when he first arrived on the Kage. Unable to take his tunic off without pain radiating out of his side, the boy rips it further to get a better look. He doesn’t know how deep it went, but the knife itself is small.

Zuko takes a deep breath before grabbing hold of the handle of the knife with his left hand. He begins to pull at it, despising the sensation of his flesh resisting against the tug of the blade. He is soon forced to stop when the pain becomes unbearable, when the sound of metal dragging against tissue becomes overwhelming, when the amount of blood becomes too much. His lower lip starts bleeding from biting down on it to muffle any noises that dare to try to escape his mouth.

Zuko breathes again, not daring to look down or think too much. He grits his teeth and quickly rips the blade out. He can’t help but let out a choking gasp as spots swarm his vision. The small knife falls from his weak hand. The boy digs his fingernails into his palms until he is certain that he isn’t going to black out.

He shoves gauze against his wound. Red quickly seeps through the pure white. Now is time for the hard part, Zuko thinks. He lights a stream of fire from his burnt fingertips. He begins to shakily bring it toward his injury when a familiar voice cuts through out of nowhere.

“I thought I taught you that cauterization requires a much steadier flame.”

-

The prince doesn’t respond to — or even look at — Anzu, but he does pause. She walks over and grabs his wrist. He jumps a little at the contact. “Let me.” Zuko finally looks up at her with a wide eye. “You know I’m not going to go out of my way to hurt you,” she jokes lightly. Anzu gently pushes him back so he is lying down. He doesn’t resist.

The healer grabs more bandages, gauze, and a suture kit. “I don’t know about you, but I’m no fan of the scent of burnt flesh.” No answer comes from behind her. After placing her equipment on the nearby table, she sits down next to the cot and begins to clean the boy’s wound. It’s a relatively shallow gash, but still takes a considerable amount of time to stop bleeding profusely. “If you’re going to be awake for this then I need you to promise to tell me if the pain gets unbearable.” The boy gives a small nod. “Now don’t move.”

Whenever Zuko woke up for the first few days after being burned, all he would do was scream and thrash around. It’s understandable; he was terrified, blinded, and in insufferable pain. But Anzu couldn’t get any work done, Azula kept complaining, the prince could hurt himself and risked contracture, and it pained Iroh too much to watch. It was easier for everyone involved to give the boy anesthetic until the worst of the pain was over.

Not only is this injury relatively mild, but the medic is also running low on anesthetic; she needs to save it for the worst of the worst. And besides, Prince Zuko is used to having to be stitched up.

“Care to tell me what happened?” The only response she gets is a wince as the needle enters flesh again. “You know you’re going to have to tell me at some point,” she tries again. Still no answer. “Suit yourself.” She continues to stitch in silence.

Anzu speaks again once the boy’s injury is fully closed. “Where’d all this blood come from?” It’s not perfect, obviously — she can tell from the splatter patterns that it must have sprayed onto his chest from behind, but the blood on his face had dripped — but the red that stains Zuko’s tunic and face almost mirrors his scar.

“Don’t worry, most of it isn’t mine.”

Anzu raises an eyebrow. “Care to tell me whose it is?” Zuko shakes his head; apparently, he’s done speaking for the night. The healer sighs. “Fine. Go to sleep.”

——

Hoshi goes to check in on Prince Zuko in the morning, but is stopped by the medic; she says that he’s fine, but doesn’t want to see anyone. Hoshi sighs and goes back to their friends, who are chatting away about nothing in particular. They try their best to engage in the conversation, but keep getting distracted. Hoshi excuses themself and walks back into the kitchen, where they spend the rest of the day ordering and reordering their new supplies.

At dawn, Lieutenant Jee said he was letting them off easy by making them mop the deck. Seeing the trail of blood that led to the infirmary was punishment enough for Hoshi.

——

“Uncle is going to be furious that I disobeyed him.” Anzu glances up from the scroll she is reading to look at the boy, who is staring up at the ceiling.

“No he won’t. He cares about you.”

“If he really cared, then he would be furious with me.”

——

Zuko knows that he should be upset. He knows that what he did should be devastating. But right now, he just feels empty. (Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.) He had barely even registered what happened in the moment; all he remembers right now are the basic facts. It doesn’t matter. It’s just another mistake in a long line of them. It’s all my fault.

Zuko knows it’s going to hurt eventually. (Don’t you know it hurts either way?) But right now he is comfortably numb, even to the fire that blazes in his heart.

Tomorrow he will be angry. Or maybe a few days from now, every little thing will irritate him until he blows up in somebody’s face. He knows it’s not right (is it ever?), but sometime soon his anger is going to bubble to the surface, and he will ignite in flames.

And someday it will start hurting.

It may be months from now when he feels the aches begin, or he realizes that he doesn’t remember the last time he smiled, or he slowly slips into madness. Or maybe it will be years from now, and the raw pain of his own creation will hit with the suddenness and subtlety of a volcano, overflowing out of him, weeping rivers of flames, shuttering, spewing ash, cracked and empty.

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Prince Zuko knows this.

He also knows that one day, his own raging fire will burn through him from the inside out.

But right now, his face is blank.

——

When Azula knocks on the door to Anzu’s room in the morning, she is turned away. She isn’t allowed to see her brother no matter how many threats she makes to the medic.

When Azula asks Taka why the Kage isn’t staying another day at the island like it had been originally planned, the navigator only shrugs and says that her uncle suggested the change.

When Azula corners Hoshi and demands they tell her what happened last night, the cook says they were ordered to keep quiet.

When Azula is playing pai sho with Uncle Iroh, she doubts he will answer her. The princess has noticed that he often ignores her. Maybe he has a hearing problem like Zuko, she thinks. He is pretty old. So she (loudly) asks how her brother is doing instead. The general answers that question, at least, saying that Zuko is injured but in stable condition, and that even the man hasn’t seen him.

Azula frowns. She hates not knowing. It — the knowledge, the secrets better left unsaid, the searching, the blackmail, the listening, the superiority of knowing more than others — is her form of control, and right now she feels it slowly slipping through her fingers. She’s so distracted she doesn’t notice until it’s too late that she has fallen right into Uncle’s trap on the pai sho board. For the first time, Azula loses a round of the game.

——

Over the years, Anzu and Zuko’s relationship has become one of reciprocation. An eye for an eye.

Anzu begins to ask the boy questions, knowing that eventually he will want to talk. Better sooner rather than later, she thinks.

(He has yet to tell her how he ended up in a ship infirmary with second- and third-degree burns ruining his Agni-kissed skin.)

“I am going to ask you questions that you need to answer truthfully. I will not tell others,” Anzu says bluntly. Zuko hesitates before nodding his head. “What happened?”

“I was stabbed.”

“I see that. By whom?”

“A man.”

“Why?”

“Because I attacked him. It is my fault.”

“And why did you attack him?”

“Because he was going to attack a woman.”

Anzu pauses for a moment. “Why did he stab you, then just leave you alone?”

“Because I stabbed him back.”

“And so did he run off?”

“Uhh... yes! Yes. I... I did not see where to.” Zuko has always been a horrible liar.

“You agreed to tell the truth.”

“He… did not run away.”

“Where did he go then?”

The boy shrugs. “The Spirit World.” There it is.

I knew this was going to happen eventually, Anzu thinks. Just not so soon. Even Zuko’s father was already sixteen when he first killed. Anzu can still remember the echo of Ozai’s frustrated shouting reverberate down the palace’s long hallways.

She and Iroh had been courting at the time — it had been brief; Anzu realized she doesn’t swing that way (or any way, for that matter), and Iroh had too many flings during their time together — and a man arrived in the palace infirmary. Anzu tried her best as the healer’s apprentice, but the badly burnt servant couldn’t be saved. Unsalvageable. He didn’t even have any flesh left to patch together. Even so, all she could do was watch as he took hours to die.

That was the first time Anzu saw death. There was nothing holy, nothing honorable, nothing right about it. It was only sloughed off skin, coughed up blood, and pleading for the end to come.

When Iroh confronted his brother about it, the teenaged Ozai said the man was useless, a waste of space that just got in his way.

Anzu looks back at Ozai’s son, who is lying in the cot he suffered in. Thirteen. He’s only thirteen. The boy turns his head to look at her and try to gauge her reaction. A gold eye (Ursa’s) meets two dark brown ones. Not for the first time, she wonders who blinded him, who burned him, who blackened his charred flesh.

(Anzu knows Zuko. Azula may be a far superior bender than him, but he isn’t capable of making such grave a mistake as to burn his own face off. He knows not to fly too close to the sun.)

“Where’d you get him?”

“Took me a couple tries, but the carotid. It took a minute at most,” he says plainly.

Anzu nods her head. This is Zuko, not Ozai, she reminds herself.

——

When Zuko finally falls asleep that night, he sees a faceless man with eyes the color of foxfire. When he wakes up, he cries out for a mother with eyes made of dragon’s flames.

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut again quickly, but he feels arms wrap around him gently, avoiding his injury. He doesn’t have much feeling on the left side of his face — with a great deal of his nerves destroyed, he can only sense pressure there — but he can feel a beard scratch against his forehead. The boy’s breathing slows again as he allows his muscles to relax into the warm figure.

Just as Zuko begins to doze off again, he faintly recognizes the smell of tea.

—————

Chapter Text

“Alright, what do we think happened to the prince this time,” Ryuji asks. The crew — with the exception of Hoshi, who Ryuji waited for to go back into the kitchen before asking his question — is sitting in the dining hall eating breakfast. The portrait of Fire Lord Ozai looks down on the table. With the royal family and medic in the infirmary again, it feels a lot like the first week on the Kage. It’s been what, two? Three months? Spirits, does time fly, the engineer thinks.

“We’re not placing bets,” Jee says. “It isn’t right to joke about the Crown Prince’s injuries.”

“Since when are you the moral standard?” Gan asks. The lieutenant shoots him a glare. “And besides, it’s probably no big deal. We’ve all seen how dramatic he can be.”

“Maybe they were both kidnapped?” Mikazuki posits.

“Who would want to kidnap Mr. Zuko?” Chai Son asks from beside her.

The girl thinks for a moment before replying. “Maybe whoever it was actually wanted Hoshi, and he just got in the way.”

Chai Son taps his chin with his spoon, getting congee on himself. Does he think anything through?, Ryuji wonders. “That does make more sense.” He faces his friend, rice porridge still dripping off his chin. “If I had to kidnap anyone on here, I’d probably pick you or Hoshi.”

Mikazuki rests a hand on her chest and smiles fondly. “Aww, that’s so sweet.” The interaction baffles Ryuji. Am I missing something here? Is this really what kids are like these days?

“Whatever happened, it was probably something stupid,” Taka says, diverting the group’s attention away from whatever the hell that just was. Ryuji sees Yong-Yut roll her eyes.

“You’re saying that as if you didn’t get stung by a jellyfish-urchin just a few days ago,” Gan replies.

“My eyes are far away from the ground, it’s understandable that I didn’t see it!”

Ryuji snorts. “What if he somehow burned the other side of his face off? I bet he got too cocky with his bending.”

“Have I ever told you how much I don’t like your theories?” Jee says to him.

The engineer smiles proudly. “Multiple times a day.”

-

Azula’s eyes scrutinize her brother as he lies in the extra cot in Anzu’s room once again. He was stabbed, that much is obvious. But the girl doesn’t know why. The circumstances surrounding Zuko’s wound are… curious, to say the least.

She knows not to ask him about it; the princess doubts Zuko would answer her, much less with Uncle in the room as well. Spending (at least) fifteen minutes lecturing him on every way that this is a result of his own mistakes certainly didn’t help Azula’s case either. Not to mention the jabs she made at his injured side to get her point across.

That’s fine by her, though. She enjoys the mystery. She’ll be able to get clues out of her brother eventually. With their search for the Avatar being indefinite, Azula seems to have all the time in the world to solve this puzzle.

-

Anzu told Iroh to not ask any questions. She’s a woman of few words, and those few words are always as direct and meaningful as possible. So when she repeats what she has already told her friend about the severity of Zuko’s wound, it is simply to prove to the boy that his uncle knows very little.

“It didn’t hit anything serious. He’s lucky he still has a bit of baby fat.”

Anzu hears the prince huff from behind her. “I do not have that,” he says sternly. Anzu just knows Princess Azula is rolling her eyes from where she sits next to her brother. The medic ignores him, continuing to address Iroh.

“In the medical community, the official term is “baby chub”. You should be thankful, Iroh — your nephew’s baby chub saved his life.”

The general wipes away a few stray tears as he speaks. “It truly is a miracle. Thank the Spirits for your baby chub, Prince Zuko.”

“I am once again asking for your silence,” the boy says authoritatively.

-

“And I hope this means you have learned your lesson to not sneak out?” (“Suffering will be your teacher.”) Uncle’s tone is serious, but not cold in any way. Why isn’t he angry? It’s what I deserve, Zuko thinks.

“Yes, Uncle.” (He’s doing this because he cares.)

——

“What happened?” Chai Son asks Prince Zuko.

The boy doesn’t even spare him a glance up from the map he is looking at. “I challenged the Earth King to a duel and won.”

Chai Son’s mouth goes round in surprise. “Wow! You’re so cool, Captain Fire,” he gushes. The deckhand is pretty sure he hears Ryuji whisper, “Knew it!” to himself from nearby.

——

Life on the Kage grows calm (well, as calm as possible for a boat full of disgraced Fire Nationals searching for the sole Spirit-blessed master of all the elements). After a couple of weeks, Zuko’s injury has largely healed. Still, Anzu has advised him to be wary of overexerting himself.

Right now, he is sitting out on deck reading a scroll about Avatar Roku. Chai Son sits next to him, having offered to help go through the prince’s large collection of texts in order to find information that could aid their search. Azula is meditating toward the bow, while Hoshi lies nearby in a pair of short pants and their wrappings, sunbathing. Uncle and Taka — who are teaching Yong-Yut how to play pai sho — continuously have to avoid being sprayed as Mikazuki practices her bending forms.

Below deck, Lieutenant Jee is taking a nap, and Ryuji is working in the engine room. Earlier, Gan had gotten Anzu to come with him to check on one of the komodo rhinos that seems to have fallen sick.

Life on the Kage has grown calm, but that also means it can get boring. Zuko doesn’t like the (relative) quiet that settles in the air. It’s disconcerting. (“The wind will carry you.”)

Zuko’s going home, he knows it. He has to. He can’t continue to burden Uncle and Azula, keep his crew away from their homeland, interrogate every local he comes across, chase a ghost, leave more ashes (more bodies) in his wake, carry any more skeletons, carry any more weight, carry any more pain.

He can and will capture the Avatar. Or else all of this —

A man with a hole in his neck and fear in his eyes abandoned in an alleyway; a hollow temple filled with charred bones; a burnt down kitchen; a week spent in bedridden agony; a crew that is growing to hate the sound of their captain's voice; a soft bed where a golden-eyed mother would sing her children to sleep that seems as far away as the stars themselves; a young, loving (weak) boy choking on dirt and crying for help, for mercy — “I am your loyal son!” — as he is buried in a self-made grave; a crushed division that could have been saved if a prince had just risen and fought!; a mutilation at the hand of a father (a thousand scorching suns, a sightless and milky eye, a ragged voice that will never fully heal, a deaf ear, an arena full of screams and flesh-tinged smoke, an ugly, disfigured, melted, horrid face) —

All of it will be for nothing.

(41st. 41st. 41st.)

Zuko’s hands shake from clenching the scroll so tightly. When he puts it down, the segments underneath his fingertips have burned away. Zuko’s going home, he just knows it. But… might as well talk to everyone while they’re still here to listen.

“It says here that Avatar Roku married a woman named Ta Min. Azula, didn’t Mom say that is her grandmother’s name?”

His sister doesn’t even turn to him. He doesn’t bother to think about why he can still hear her well. “Must be a coincidence, brother.”

Zuko hums. “I do not know… it is written that they had a daughter named Rina together…”

Azula scoffs and finally turns to face him. “The Avatar is our enemy. There is no way that we are related to one. And besides, it is not like a weakling like you could possibly be a descendant of an Avatar.” While Zuko fumes at his sister, he’s vaguely aware of the sound of Uncle taking a rather long sip of tea.

-

“You guys can name all the way back to your great grandparents?” the cook asks from where they are lying down.

Azula tilts her head to the side. “What, like it’s hard?”

“To be fair, there is an entire hall of royal portraits at the palace,” her brother adds.

“And yet you still have not memorized their names,” Azula says in a sing-song voice.

Zuko scowls at her. “I had better things to do!”

“Like what? Play around with swords that you will never have to use?” She smirks when that gets a reaction out of him.

“If you’re so high and mighty about it, then why don’t you draw a family tree?” Taka challenges with a smile.

Azula agrees, if only to prove her superiority. It takes some threatening (and kicking), but she is eventually able to make Zuko give her a piece of parchment, a brush, and an inkstone. “I shall start with our great grandparents, as that is the generation of note.”

The princess’s brush strokes are smooth, practiced. I could do this in my sleep. When she has finished writing, she hovers a fiery hand over the parchment to help dry the ink faster. She holds it up for all to see.

“Should someone check it?” Yong-Yut asks. Azula is proud that her own ability to understand sign language has improved greatly. Not that she’s surprised, of course. She was born lucky.

Zuko moves to grab the parchment from her, but she slips away before he can do so. “You are biased,” Azula explains. She ignores the smoke that blows out of his nose and hands the family tree to Uncle Iroh.

The general scans its contents. The princess notices his smile slip ever so slightly; from the angle of his eyes on the page, she deduces that it must be from reading cousin Lu Ten’s branch. Or maybe Aunt Etsu’s. Was the inclusion of birth and death dates too much?, she wonders before quickly brushing that thought aside. It doesn’t matter how it makes him feel. The information is accurate.

“Nicely done, Princess Azula,” Uncle says while placing the page face down on the pai sho table. The girl beams. The man stands and excuses himself to fetch another kettle of tea. She doesn’t fail to notice Yong-Yut silently taking the parchment and beginning to read through it. Sneaky, the princess thinks.

-

“What’s your family like?” Chai Son asks Hoshi, nudging them with his foot. Like this, they want to say. Like all of you.

“Want a family tree?” the cook asks, pushing his foot away. Their friend nods, so they snag a piece of parchment from Zuko, who calls out in anger. They stick their tongue out at him before sitting down at the inkstone that the princess had left out.

Hoshi doesn’t remember certain things. They know they should, but often when they search for information in their mind, all they find is blotted, streaked, and crossed out words. It’s sort of like someone had been looking for komodo chicken in the market and, not being able to find any, took some sea slug instead so they wouldn’t leave empty handed. Except the sea slug is memories of Hoshi’s past, and the komodo chicken is… they don’t know what, exactly. I’m no poet. I’m just the cook.

But they do remember the feeling of someone looking for something in their mind, asking them questions, chasing memories. Then candlelight when they didn’t have any answers.

Hoshi doesn’t remember certain things. But they’ll be damned if they ever forgot their family’s names. They write their parents’ down carefully to avoid smudging. “My father’s name is Nikko. He’s a nonbender. He raised my siblings and I alone after my mom, Palila, died in childbirth. Dad talked about her a lot. He…” Hoshi pauses and closes their eyes to think. Their voice is wistful when they speak again.

“He would say that she was made of music. That when she sang, the lark-warblers would… they would stop to listen. That her fire dancing was the most beautiful in the entire nation… That every night, she sang lullabies to her babies with a clear voice made of… of sunlight. That she… she was constantly tapping her feet, or… bouncing a child on her hip, or drumming a rhythm on pots like it was her own heartbeat.” (One two. One two. One two.)

Hoshi wipes their eyes. They can’t let their tears blot the ink (can’t make it so easy to forget). They wave Mikazuki — who is hovering worriedly nearby — away and suck in a breath to steady themself.

“Taiyo and Atid are my twin brothers. Atid is older than Taiyo by a few minutes and will never let him live that down.” Hoshi adds them to the tree in their respective order. “They’re twenty nine years old but still pull pranks all the time. They’re so inseparable that they even enlisted together.”

“Shizu is twenty four and deaf.” Hoshi writes down her name before putting the brush down for a moment. “Dad taught us all how to talk to her,” they sign to Zuko. The boy smiles a bit in return. “She’s stubborn and lets everyone know her opinions on matters.”

“Then there’s me.” Their name — 星, star — is written. Their movements are practiced, smooth. Certain. Unforgettable. As unchanging as the lines of their hands and the constellations of the night sky.

“Lani is only… ten? Yeah, ten months younger than me, so she will be turning twenty one as well in the fall. She still likes to be babied though, and always made me do her hair. I didn’t mind it though. It always felt more like I was talking to a friend than to a sister.

“Keahi is nineteen and super hot headed. When he was still in school, he’d always be getting in trouble for starting fights, setting fires, y’know, the usual. Dad was usually too busy working to talk to the headmaster of the school, so Taiyo and Atid would take turns pretending to be him.

“And last but not least, Fudo is the baby of the family at eighteen. He’d spend more time reading about bending forms than actually executing them. We all teased him a bit for being the youngest and not being as athletic as the rest of us.” Hoshi frowns when a memory floats to the surface. “Keahi would sometimes take it too far, though. This one time, he accused him of killing Mom.”

Hoshi is pulled out of their thoughts by Princess Azula. “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”

The question throws them off guard. “It’s… been a while since I saw them.”

“How long?” Zuko asks, eyebrow creased.

“I think… a year? Maybe two? I don’t quite remember.”

Hoshi frowns down at the parchment. The ink has dried and therefore won’t smudge, so they fold it up and place it in their pocket. Just in case.

-

Yong-Yut pays close attention as Mikazuki speaks about her family. It’s a lot of names, but the woman is used to having to memorize long strings of information. And besides, she is made of names. This is nothing.

“My aanaa is named Hama. She was taken from the Southern Water Tribe when she was about twenty.”

(“My aanaa’s dad was a waterbender, you know.” “Really?” “Yep! That’s where I get my bending from. When she was younger, she had a best friend named Hama who was one too!”)

“Taken?!” the prince and princess exclaim in unison. Mikazuki blinks up at them from where she is now sitting with the inkstone. “I cannot speak for Zuzu, but at the Academy I was taught that the battles in the South Pole were to spread our culture,” Princess Azula clarifies.

“Well… yes, they were. Taking away the waterbenders helped with that.” Zuko looks stricken at this new information. In his expression, Yong-Yut momentarily sees a little girl dressed in blue upset when her older brother kicked down her snowman. Then another girl — this one dressed in purple and from the opposite side of the globe — whose tears became a frozen sea on her cheeks when she woke to find her favorite guard covered in blood (an audience).

“Aanaa said there were still some left when she was taken though! And the ones who were taken were just imprisoned, not killed.” Oh no, Yong-Yut thinks. She doesn’t know. The woman tries to ignore the image of the braided girl shakily holding up an orb of water with a proud smile on her face.

(“I’ve been practicing this one a lot. Mom says I’m almost as good as someone with a master to teach them!” “It must have taken a lot of work.” “Yeah. Sokka always gets mad when I drop it on him though.” “I can tell you do it on purpose, Katara!” the boy interjects. Yong-Yut — no, not Yong-Yut. Nukilik. Right now, her name is Nukilik — laughs at the siblings’ squabbling.)

“My dad, Iseul, is the oldest of her six kids. The others are Paitoon, Aputik, Ngoen, Uki, and Si Fah,” Mikazuki continues, adding each of her father’s siblings’ names to the sheet. “Paitoon died in the war when I was only two years old.” She adds an X next to his name.

“My mom’s name is Khun Mae. My older brothers are Dak-Ho, Ezume, and Cupun, and Hwan is our younger brother.” The waterbender adds each of their names in turn. “Dak-Ho is twenty five years old and a firebender. Ezume is — or, was — two years younger than him. He and Cupun, who's twenty two, were super close because they're both nonbenders and were so close in age. But…” Yong-Yut notices Mikazuki falter for a second. Her brown eyes darken underneath her bangs. “Ezume got sick and died when he was fifteen. The local doctor refused to treat a Water Tribe boy. Dad had us move back closer to his parents after that.”

Mikazuki’s voice is tight as she continues. “His eyes were such a bright blue…” She sniffles and pulls herself up straighter. “Mom taught him and Cupun how to fight as nonbenders. Meanwhile, Dad taught Dak-Ho and Hwan, who is seventeen, how to firebend.”

“Strangely, all of my cousins are girls,” Mikazuki continues.

“How many do you have?” Zuko asks.

The older girl thinks for a moment. “Nine.”

“The probability of them all being girls is highly unlikely,” Princess Azula says, her eyebrows creased in contemplation.

Mikazuki shrugs. “Well, that’s just how it happened.” Her movements are fluid as she draws on the parchment. “Aputik had Chantara with her first husband, Hinata. After he died in battle, she married Sud and moved to his hometown. They had Kallik and Pensri together. Despite Aputik and both of her husbands being firebenders, only Chantara can bend.

“It’s always fun when Uncle Ngoen and his family come to visit. Neither he nor his wife Kalaya are firebenders, and yet one of their daughters — Malina — is. Her older sister Sadzi isn't a bender either.

“My aunt Uki is a firebender while her wife Aki isn’t, but get this! Two of their three daughters are earthbenders!” Chai Son, who has been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, makes a strange noise. It seems to go unnoticed by Mikazuki, though. Yong-Yut narrows her eyes at the boy. “They adopted them from the colonies. Apparently, there are a lot of abandoned children there that are half Earth Kingdom, half Fire Nation.” Again, Chai Son makes a quiet reaction. What is up with him?

Princess Azula perks up. “Taka is from the colonies!” She turns to the navigator. “Are there a lot of earthbenders where you are from?”

“Yu Dao has been part of the Fire Nation since before the war, but yes, there is a good amount.”

“Did you know any?” Hoshi asks.

“My husband’s an earthbender.” Yong-Yut’s eyes go wide. Oh shit. Have I… have I been flirting with a married woman this entire time?!, she thinks.

Taka glances over to her. “Don’t worry, he’s dead.” That… slightly helps.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Taka,” Hoshi says.

The woman waves them off. “No need to apologize. He had it coming.” Now we don’t have time to unpack all of that.

Yong-Yut doesn’t have a chance to ease her heart before Chai Son finally speaks. “Are your aunts ok with that?” His voice has a tremor to it that it has never had before. “Their kids being earthbenders?”

Mikazuki shrugs. “I mean yeah, they’re still Fire Nation, right? Even if they weren’t born in the colonies, they’re growing up here and their moms are from here. They’re their daughters, of course they love them.” Chai Son nods pensively, eyes adrift. “The hardest part is that neither of them know exactly how they’re going to teach them. Their oldest daughter, Kishi, is seven and can firebend, so Uki trains her. Tamako is only five years old, so she only really uses her bending for making simple dolls and toys.

“Joo-Eun only started very recently. The first time she bent, she was throwing a tantrum because Hwan wouldn’t pick her up. She was hitting the ground a lot like three year olds do, and rocks kept popping up from it!” Mikazuki laughs lightly into her hand at the memory before adding another branch of her lineage to the piece of parchment.

“My aunt Si Fah and her husband Kiet’s child is named Bun Ma, and she’s just the cutest! She’s turning two soon.” Mikazuki looks up with a conspiratorial smile. “I’m secretly hoping she’ll be a waterbender like me. She’s going to be one, I can just feel it.”

“What about your mom’s side?” Hoshi asks.

“I actually don’t know too much about my mom’s side, other than that there are at least some firebenders in her family.”

“And why is that?” the prince asks.

The girl shrugs again. “Her family disowned her for marrying someone who’s half Water Tribe. She refuses to talk about them.”

-

“Alright Taka, your turn,” Chai Son says casually, taking the still-dripping brush from Hoshi and offering it to the navigator. Taka is thankful that Mikazuki’s reflexes are fast enough that she’s able to shoot out a hand and bend the ink away before it drips onto Taka’s kimono. “You can’t just casually drop the fact that you’re married to an earthbender in conversation. C’mon, give us some details!” Chai Son says with a laughing smile.

Taka takes the brush hesitantly, irritated that he isn’t letting her drop the subject. “Very well. I’ll start from the very beginning.” She draws out the branches of her tree with rapid brush strokes. “My great-great-grandfather, Yamada Natsu, was the first Fire Nation mayor of Yu Dao. He brought his wife, Saengdao, and daughter, Kazane, with him. Prior to its colonization, Yu Dao was home to people who were ethnically Earth, along with a smaller portion of people who were Tianzhu.”

Hoshi raises their hand. “What’s Tianzhu?”

“The Tianzhu peoples are an ethnic group that’s unaffiliated with any one nation and instead have been influenced by them all,” Taka clarifies, happy to flex her knowledge. “Their origins are unknown, though they were spiritual brothers of the Air Nomads. They have family structures similar to ours, but were nomadic, leading to admixture with various other groups from all four nations. Currently, the most populous pockets are located in the Earth Kingdom near the four Temples. The Tianzhu group closest to the Fire Islands and the Western Air Temple is in Yu Dao.

“My maternal great-grandmother, Kazane, married an Earth Kingdom man named Xu Shanyan,” she continues as she swiftly writes her relatives’ names. “Their eldest child, my maternal grandfather Angkhan, became mayor of Yu Dao after Shanyan’s death. He married a nonbending Fire Nation woman named Hachi, and together they had my mother, Suzu.”

“This is a lot to take in,” Chai Son says, drawing in the air as if performing calculations. “So, like, your mom has as much Earth as Mik has Water?” Taka nods yes. “That’s wack.”

“Were you close to your grandparents at all?” Mikazuki says hopefully. “You keep talking about everything so objectively.”

“My grandfather was assassinated a few months before I was born,” Taka says, turning up her nose.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Taka!” Mikazuki says, her hands flying to her mouth. Next to her, Hoshi winces and Chai Son lets out a “yikes.” Mikazuki’s eyes become sympathetic. “My grandfather was killed shortly before Dak-Ho was born while trying to break up a bar fight. He survived the war, fell in love, built a life for himself, only to die like that,” she says somberly. “Aanaa has always held some disdain for the Fire Nation, but she always said he was ‘one of the good ones.’ He must’ve been, if he married her. I wish I knew more about him.” Mikazuki looks up at Taka with a glum expression. “I’m sorry Taka, that must’ve been tough.”

Taka rolls her eyes. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. If my grandfather was anything like his wife, then he would have treated me quite poorly.” She adds her parents’ names, alongside her own, to the paper. “I was born out of wedlock when my mother was nineteen. My parents, who met at a noble banquet, married to try to avoid the shame.” She breathes out a laugh. “It was quite the scandal, actually. My mother would have been banished for it if she wasn’t her parents’ only child. They needed an heir, after all.” Yong-Yut touches her hand and looks at her with concerned eyes, but Taka only waves her off. “I’m fine, really. My grandmother wouldn’t have had such a problem with it if my father wasn’t Tianzhu. I could always tell on her face that she was disappointed that I don’t take after my mother’s looks.”

The three kids exchange worried glances, while Yong-Yut continues to look at Taka in concern. Taka brushes them off and instead directs her spiel toward the prince and princess. Surely they understand that this is just how noble families are, she thinks. “Meanwhile, my great-grandfather on my father’s side, Mangal Vikram, was a famous spiritual healer. He married a woman named Saanvi and gained a lot of power in the community because of his healing. They had multiple children together, including my grandfather, Neeraj, who then went on to marry a woman named Anushka, who then went on to give birth to my father, Ishir,” Taka says casually as she fills in their names.

“My father became mayor of Yu Dao upon my maternal grandfather's death, and I was born shortly afterward,” she continues. “I have three younger siblings: two brothers, Zitin and Jiro, who are eight and twelve years younger than me, respectively, and one sister, Deepti, who is ten years younger than me.”

“Woah your siblings are, like, practically our ages,” Hoshi says.

Chai Son taps his chin in thought. “So if we all marry one of Taka’s siblings…”

“My mother would never allow her children to wed anyone below our rank,” Taka sniffs. “And besides, none of you would become mayor even if you were able to marry into our family. Zitin is destined to become mayor after my father passes, and if he is unable to take over then Jiro is next in line.”

“Are women skipped over in the lineage?” Princess Azula asks with curiosity.

“The women of my family are solely meant to be married off. If my parents had not had my brothers, then my husband would have become mayor,” Taka replies, frustration simmering underneath her words. “My father has always been busy with lawmaking and administrative duties. My mother is a true lady, running the household and being in charge of the social aspect of nobility, including marriages. My sister, Deepti, was due to be wed this past spring, however her betrothed’s family called off the wedding once I was arrested.” I understand why. I wouldn’t want to marry a woman whose sister just murdered her spouse either, Taka thinks. Yet it still caused my mother and sister undue stress. I didn’t mean to dishonor the family. I just needed to get out.

“What about you?” Prince Zuko asks, thankfully skipping over the whole “once I was arrested” part.

“My mother arranged my marriage to General Zhang Satra, an Earth and Fire man from Yu Dao who hid his earthbending from the public,” Taka says, keeping her voice carefully neutral. “I did as I was supposed to, and we married when I was fifteen.” I suppose I was married so early so as not to risk repeating my mother’s actions, she thinks.

Though it seemed to work a little too well. Despite General Zhang’s best efforts, Taka — thankfully — never bore his children. Whether the struggle to conceive was due to him or her, Taka doesn’t know, nor does she care. She’s satisfied in knowing that at least that’s one thing he never took from her.

“Fifteen?!” Mikazuki says. “That’s only a couple years older than Prince Zuko! How old was your husband?!”

“Thirty-four.” A year older than my mother at the time.

Mikazuki gasps. “Agni above,” Hoshi says. Chai Son mutters out another “yikes.” The two royals seem unfazed. Princess Azula herself has told Taka about how a certain captain has been trying to win her hand despite being over thirty years her senior. Taka feels Yong-Yut’s hand on her own again. It helps ground her from all the unpleasant memories attached to her husband’s name. Taka breathes deeply and keeps her tone polite and neutral. “It is no matter. He died in his sleep a little over a year ago.” She stares down at the family tree before her, her eyes boring into his name. “I am free of him now,” she says, more quietly.

-

This is the moment Chai Son has been dreading. Actually, there is a fair amount of moments that he’s dreading. Talking about his family is one of them. How do I explain without revealing too much? How do I satisfy them? How do I let my friends in without seeing the real me?

How do I tell them that I don’t remember the color of my mother’s hair? That I can’t place the accent that found a home on my father’s tongue? That I’m all alone?

How do I tell my friends that my name was chosen for me by soldiers who took me away from my family? That the person they know as Chai Son isn’t real? That once this Fire Nation name is stripped away from me, I’m nothing but a monster with no family?

He watches Mikazuki add more water to the well of the inkstone. The inkstick in his hand is made of soot and animal glue (“Ashmakers,” a voice in his head hisses. Whose is it? Mom’s? Dad’s? An aunt, uncle, cousin? Chai Son will never know. He has a voice but no name, no identity to attach to his backstory).

His heritage calls him a traitor. If his friends knew who he is (who he isn’t), they would rip him to shreds. Taka… Taka’s different. She said it herself, she even married an earthbender. She doesn’t count. He’s their enemy.

Chai Son stops himself from grinding the inkstick in a circular motion. Even after all this time, he still has to remind himself that it’s ”not natural, not proper” to do it that way. (“In the Fire Nation, we push the inkstick back and forth. Who taught you to do it in such a manner? Barbarians?”)

He then suddenly draws his hand back from grabbing the brush. “I…” Chai Son looks up at Mikazuki. He hopes that she will understand. Her family is much larger than his — she actually has one — but she’s not…whole either.

The crew member doesn’t know exactly if Mikazuki understands, but she seems to take pity on him and shoos the others away, much to the royals’ chagrin. It gives him time to think.

Chai Son has run away from every home he was put in. I just didn’t fit in. He traveled around until eventually some authority caught him and put him in an orphanage or with some random family with an open space at the dinner table. Some way or another, they all ended up finding out about his bending. So he’d run. He enlisted as soon as he turned sixteen so he could see more of the world while avoiding the orphanages.

The bones that occupy Chai Son’s body don’t feel like his own. He feels like he is back in the Western Air Temple, trying to match a femur with its long-dead owner. A sorrow tends to fill the cavity of his chest that he can’t shake no matter how often he bends.

“It is unhealthy for a bender to resist their nature.” The thing is, Chai Son doesn’t know what his nature even is. He’s divided. The confusion erodes his brain. Sediment deposits itself in every crevice of his body.

(Coal still lines the skin underneath his nails. He wonders if his hands will ever be clean again.)

(Isn’t that fitting? Stone that was made to burn. The perfect medium.)

(Every night, Chai Son stares into open flames.)

Growing up in the Fire Nation, the boy has been taught to bare his teeth and power through. But he feels this primal urge to rip out his canines and sink his feet into stone and tear at his hair and pierce his skin with sharp rock and refuse to give in, refuse to adapt for others, refuse to cave, refuse to move.

He plasters an easygoing smile on his face when Hoshi checks in on him, saying he’s just tired from reading all day. In reality, he’s tired of moving from place to place. He’s an earthbender for Agni’s sake. He needs to be rooted somewhere. Chai Son just wants a home.

——

That night, Hoshi traces their family’s names with their finger. They comb through their hair with a wooden hairbrush. Engraved on its handle in shaky scorch marks is the name Lani. Next to that, in delicate carvings graced with songbirds is the name Palila. When Hoshi falls asleep, they dream that a woman hums them a lullaby.

—————

Chapter Text

amusing

adjective.

entertaining; often used to refer to Zuzu’s temper tantrums.

apologize

verb.

to admit weakness.

astrolabe

noun.

a tool in Taka’s possession that is used to determine the latitude of a ship at sea by measuring the sun's noon altitude.

atelophobia

noun.

the fear of imperfection; the fear of not being good enough.

Avatar

proper noun.

a childish dream; a ghost.

banish

verb.

to send one out on a fool’s errand.

betrothal

noun.

an engagement that is unwanted by both parties.

brother

noun.

a male sibling; someone who can be counted on to be there.

synonym: idiot.

cartography

noun.

the science or practice of drawing maps.

circumnavigate

verb.

to sail or travel all the way around the world.

colonization

noun.

the action or process of settling among and establishing control over the native people of an area for one’s country; an entirely justified means to spread our great nation’s influence.

constellation

noun.

a group of stars forming a recognizable pattern that is traditionally named after its apparent form or identified with a mythological figure, the best of which is the Azure Dragon.

control

verb.

to have knowledge that others do not.

correspondence

noun.

communication through letters sent by messenger hawk; something that friends are unable to maintain.

destiny

noun.

a foolish notion believed only by stupidheads like Zuzu.

digress

verb.

to deviate or wander away from the main topic or purpose in speaking or writing; depart from the principal line of argument, plot, study, etc.

dude

noun.

an uncivilized slang term used to refer to an individual or as an interjection, primarily by Chai Son.

earthbender

noun.

the enemy; scum.

epitaph

noun.

a phrase or form of words written in memory of a person who has died, especially as an inscription on a tombstone.

father

noun.

a male parent known for his strength; someone to impress at all times.

synonym: leader.

fear

noun.

an emotion that is not meant to be felt, let alone expressed.

synonym: weakness.

formidable

adjective.

inspiring fear or respect through being impressively large, powerful, intense, or capable.

gut

verb.

a partially informal term meaning to cut open and take out the intestines and other internal organs of a person (or animal).

heir

noun.

a person legally entitled to the property or rank of another on that person's death, despite however undeserving they may be.

idiot

noun.

a member of the Kage’s crew, excluding Taka.

joy

noun.

an emotion felt when sitting around a campfire and listening to stories.

jugular vein

noun.

any of several large veins in the neck, carrying blood from the head and face.

justified

adjective.

a word often used in reference to Father’s punishments for Zuko.

kaleidoscope

noun.

a large word used in entirely different contexts in order to confuse Chai Son.

lie

verb.

to exaggerate the truth; to tell stories.

merciful

adjective.

showing or exercising restraint from delivering the harshest of punishments, which in most cases is death; see the definition of “justified”.

mono no aware

phrase.

the pathos of things; an awareness of impermanence and transience; knowing everything will be gone too soon — everyone will be taken from you — and all you can do is watch.

monster

noun.

a girl with blue fire.

mother

noun.

a female parent who is supposed to care for her children; see the definition of “trust”.

namesake

noun.

one who is named after another or for whom another is named; an ancestor — for example, Grandfather — whose legacy should not only be lived up to, but surpassed.

nursemaid

noun.

a woman or girl employed to look after a young child or children; a palace nuisance.

opposition

noun.

nonsense that is to be disposed of promptly.

paranoia

noun.

a constant state of being.

prodigy

noun.

a person, especially a young one, endowed with exceptional qualities or abilities; see the definition of “monster”.

queen

noun.

another word for a female Fire Lord; a future.

repression

noun.

the restraint, prevention, or inhibition of a feeling, quality, etc; the correct course of action.

safety

noun.

the condition of being protected from or unlikely to cause danger, risk, or injury.

synonym: brother.

antonym: fear.

trust

noun.

something that is rarely present, if ever.

uncivilized

adjective.

not considered to be socially, culturally, or morally advanced; not a member of Fire Nation nobility.

uncle

noun.

a strange man who smells like tea and tells bad jokes.

antonym: father.

vascular

adjective.

relating to, affecting, or consisting of a vessel or vessels, especially those which carry blood.

volunteer

verb.

to freely offer to do something, usually for one’s own benefit or in order to ask for something in return at a later date.

wrench

noun.

a rather odd looking tool owned by Ryuji that is used for gripping and turning nuts, bolts, pipes, etc.

xylography

noun.

the art of making woodcuts or wood engravings that is practiced by Lieutenant Jee.

youth

noun.

the time between childhood and adult age; a short period of one’s life.

zebra-tiger

noun.

a carnivorous ungulate, that, despite its trademark stripes, easily blends into its natural habitat; warning from Gan: do not approach.

'Zula

proper noun.

a nickname.

—————

Chapter Text

With time, Zuko seems to become more like his father. That should be a good thing, should it not?

Both have long black hair and wide noses with strong bridges.

Both are quick to anger, especially toward those who are beneath them.

Both had no military history before assuming leadership positions.

(Zuko has tried to take some notes from the other leaders on the ship. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have Uncle’s kindness and likeability, Taka’s regality and intimidating height, or Jee’s patience. He’s running out of options to make his crew respect him. So he has to resort to anger and fear. Like Father.)

Both have deafening yells.

Both know that firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily.

Both are murderers.

(Mom is a murderer too. But that does not matter. She is a traitor of our nation. She killed Grandfather. All the more reason to forget about her. And besides, when trying to no longer live in Azula’s shadow, being like Mom is the last thing the prince could want.)

(It’s true that the circumstances were different — one, of a mother in the gauzy lantern light of the palace, the other of a brute in the darkness of an alleyway — but both murders were committed by a member of Sozin’s bloodline nonetheless. Both were witnessed by Zuko. Both left the perpetrator covered in blood. Both were cruel. Both were preventable. Both were deserved.)

Zuko seems to be a lot like his father. That should be a good thing, should it not?

When he falls asleep at night, he sees sad golden eyes turn to a single wretched pale yellow, then to a pair of terrified foxfire, before finally settling on a cold amber gaze. And in it, he can see the reflection of a boy — one that Zuko despises, has muddied, is envious of, has buried in the rotting earthen cavity of his chest — that is burning.

——

One day — when Zuko was still lying in the extra infirmary cot — there was no sound.

The pain had lessened enough that he was finally capable of thought. Before, all he could do was wake up. Be filled with excruciating pain (except for his face. Oh, no — his face was completely, terrifyingly numb). Scream at the horror of it all. Feel the pierce of a needle in his arm. Black out. Repeat.

Zuko was capable of thought, and he wondered why there was no noise. And only darkness. He slowly lifted his right hand; he could hear the muted snap of his fingers from his right ear, but not from his left. He gingerly felt along that side, his fingertips only finding bandages. His knuckles brushed against his closed lips — the boy may not have been able to hear his labored breathing, but he certainly could feel the heat of it.

From there, he found the edge of his bandages again and peeled them back. Strangely, he couldn’t hear or feel it.

Zuko traced the lake of his lips from right to left, until his mouth spilled into an oddly textured tributary filled with stones (bubbles) and mud (sloughed off skin), and slick with… water? No. Water isn’t that thick. Blood. His hand was covered in it.

He must have made a noise, because the next thing he knew, the door banged open. Zuko could sense that a person entered, but in his pained and overwhelmed state, he wouldn’t realize until later that it was Uncle.

The boy tried to tell whoever it was what was wrong, but he couldn’t and he was confused and it hurt. When Zuko was finally able to open his mouth — I took off the bandages, why is it stuck?! — all that came out was a hoarse cry that tasted like bile. After that, he just couldn’t stop.

——

Zuko is tired. The Kage’s most recent stop saw Chai Son getting lost, Ryuji starting a bar fight, and still no Avatar. After spending the entire evening lecturing the crew, he then stayed up all of last night.

(When Uncle told him to go to bed, the prince insisted he needed to scour more documents, hoping he missed something. Which he did do. He just left out that he couldn’t sleep because of the guilt eating him at the thought of one of his crew getting lost or seriously hurt — or worse — under his supervision. He didn’t even realize until this morning that he had been scratching at his itchy left arm, so much so that segments of his scar cracked and bled.)

Needless to say, Zuko is all wound up. He does not seem to notice the difference when Yong-Yut stands to his left at the bow of the ship. He can rely on his heat sense to listen to her.

The prince knows that it’s wrong (isn’t it always?), but he often can’t stand to look at Yong-Yut’s face. All it does is remind him of his own reflection. (After getting his bandages off all those months ago, he ordered that the only mirrors onboard be confined to the crew’s quarters, where Zuko would never go.)

(There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage.)

Her scars may be precise, while his mimics a lightning strike, but they’re still too similar for him to bear. Too deliberate. Too silencing.

(Zuko tries to stay quiet when not ordering his crew. He has grown somewhat fluent in sign language. His lisp and ragged voice grate on even his own nerves, fueling his ever present anger. He wants to reach a hand up to try and open his damn mouth, but is afraid that all that will get him is a hand caked in blood.)

At least Yong-Yut smiles. (Zuko doesn’t. He looks like his father.)

Still, her presence can be… comforting. Their conversations are interesting, but it’s never awkward when they lapse into silence.

Yong-Yut reaches a calloused hand out to tap on his shoulder. One two. One two. One two.

He gets it, he really does. Zuko is only ever touched by Azula or Uncle, but the latter never asks to do so, while the former only does so when sparring or for her own benefit. It seems as if Yong-Yut is in a similar position. She and Taka are… close, but she doesn’t even let the navigator touch her much, and even then, it’s never skin to skin contact.

Touch is overwhelming. It walks hand in hand with pain. Clothes help a bit — they provide another barrier between flesh and fire, skin and fingernails, chest and punches — but it is best to avoid contact altogether. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t get lonely sometimes though.

He instinctively grabs her pale wrist. (A heartbeat.)

Zuko wants to blame it on sleep deprivation. Or stress. Or trying to balance time with his family with his quest. Or a lifetime of outstretched hands that only ever cause pain. Or his father, who has taught him nothing if not how to fight.

Whatever the reason, the prince subconsciously heats up his palm. Yong-Yut’s skin grows red as a strangled noise escapes her throat. The prince’s eye widens when he realizes what he is doing and immediately drops her wrist (weak).

“Ozai!” Uncle snaps.

It’s not even his own name. Of course Zuko knows that. His hand still flies to cover his face anyway. Just in case.

When he looks back up, Uncle’s face is stony. That’s never good. He can sense that Taka is now escorting Yong-Yut to the infirmary. “I mean, Prince Zuko.” He flinches again when the general puts his hand on his shoulder. “We are going to your room.” His voice is cold as he directs the shaking boy down the stairs and along the corridor. I knew this was going to happen. Uncle said it wouldn’t, but it always ends like this. He lied to me, he promised.

(Don’t you know it hurts either way?)

Zuko shakes as he pulls his tunic off. His weaker hand has trouble untying the knot of his sash, causing him to panic more. He can feel the door close behind him.

(This is actually how the prince first learned heat sense. It never helped — it hurts either way — but he still tried his best to prepare himself whenever he could feel the fire whip being lit behind him.)

“I am so sorry Father,” he blurts out before clapping a hand over his mouth. (“When will you learn to be quiet?!”)

His shoulders quake. The man behind him stands still. That confuses Zuko more. Father never hesitates. And he’s never this quiet. The boy wonders why he didn’t bring Azula in to watch.

“I am so so so sorry, it was a mistake!” It won’t help, never does — don’t you know? — but he continues to plead.

“I-I am willing to accept any… any punishment you see fit.” I hurt my friend. This is what I deserve. It’s unfair of me to get so upset.

“I’ll… I p-promise to be… to be better next time. But please…” Zuko despises the pathetic quake of his voice, his dragging lisp that would disappoint any tutor and infuriate Father to no end.

“But p-please… no,” he chokes out.

The boy tenses, waiting for the blow to come. But it doesn’t, and that’s no good. If he wasn’t hyperventilating before, then he is now. Maybe not the fire whip this time. Maybe… maybe it’s something else.

He just hopes Father remembers to take any rings off his fingers. It hurts either way.

When Zuko turns around, Uncle is standing above him, silhouetted by the lantern light. His face is pained. He’s doing this because he cares. The boy looks down and squeezes his eyes shut. A tear manages to escape. Zuko wishes he could do so as well. “Please…have m-mercy,” he sobs.

There is nothing he can do now. (Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.) Shadowbending will be of no use. (Candlelight.) His fate is sealed. (41st. 41st. 41st.)

He looks back up at the man, trembling on his knees behind a closed door. No audience, not even ‘Zula. The man reaches out to him. The prince is no fool; he knows this time that it is not to offer comfort (weak, childish, pathetic). His breaths come out in short, ragged pants.

Zuko stares into a cold amber gaze. And in it, he can see the reflection of a boy that is burning.

(Don’t you know it hurts?)

It won’t help, never does — if anything, all it has ever done is leave his voice a shadow of its former self — but Zuko screams.

—————

Chapter Text

Agni, those screams. Azula hates to admit it, but Uncle is the only person who could understand how that sound makes her feel. He looked away — like a coward — but he was forced to hear Zuko burn just like she was.

As members of the royal family, they were given front row seats in the arena. From there, Azula could hear everything. Every gasped plea of her brother’s, every sizzle of flesh.

(Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Princess Azula knows this. She also knows that afterward, Father didn’t seem fazed at all.)

(Still, she swears she saw the face of the sun disc dim, a vast and sudden silence among the noisy and smoke-filled heavens. It was only once, but Azula can’t seem to shake the image of Agni’s face darkening in time with Zuko’s shadowbending. Flickering like candlelight. She does not watch the skies at daytime anymore. She does not look up.)

But above all the noise, she could hear all the Spirits-damned screaming.

Azula walks swiftly down to the infirmary. Uncle is… busy, to say the least. (She quickly pushes the ideas of what exactly the man is doing to Zuko out of her mind. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to watch.) But Anzu is very similar to Uncle. She was present when Zuko was incapacitated, as well. She knows how destructive Grandfather’s sons can be.

(She is the only other adult onboard that reminds Azula of home.)

Even if they don’t talk about it, Anzu will understand. She has always tried her best to do so. When the girl pokes Zuko’s injuries, the healer explains why they look that way instead of scolding her like Mother. When Azula burns a servant’s leg, the woman asks why she felt the need to do so instead of praising her like Father. When the princess is carried into the infirmary by her brother, still wide-eyed in shock, Anzu describes how she is treating the palm print on the girl’s face instead of turning a blind eye like Uncle. When Azula wants silence, the medic gives her it instead of complaining loudly like Zuko.

Their relationship is not so much one of reciprocation as it is one of responsiveness. Cause and effect.

Azula turns down the corridor to her left — the one that isn’t reverberating screams — and enters Anzu’s room without so much as a knock.

——

This is Zuko, not Lu Ten.

Iroh is not equipped with the right experience to deal with this. So he sits. And waits. He has always been patient. He laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred days, for Agni’s sake.

Still, Iroh finds it difficult to stand by. And yet that’s all he can do: watch. The man busies himself by preparing a pot of tea — Ah, I have taught my nephew well. The greatest of men always keep a pot of tea in their room in case the occasion calls for it. And most times, it does — as the boy tires himself out. He certainly inherited his father’s lung capacity, Iroh thinks, finding it difficult to ignore such loud yelling.

-

This paranoia that floods Zuko’s veins, this striking fear, this melting grief, this blinding fury, it all remains when his screams — a eulogy for a dead boy — dissipate. It smells like burnt flesh. It tastes like ash.

He is left panting, flickering. There is no catharsis.

-

“You would be foolish to think I would hurt you, Prince Zuko,” Iroh says, back still turned. No response except for ragged breathing. I cannot say I am surprised, he thinks. The man thinks he hears a small whimper as well.

Iroh turns around, only to find that it looks as if he is alone in the room. He restrains himself from sighing. Instead, he sits at the low table in the center of the bedroom and places the teapot on the surface. “It would be a pleasure for you to come and join me, Nephew,” Iroh says to the space in front of him. He feels like he is attempting to speak to a Spirit.

Something flickers in the periphery of Iroh’s vision. He turns to see Zuko appear in the corner of the room, leaning back on his arms as if he had scrambled away. The boy makes no attempts to move, instead continuing to gather his breath. His eyes occasionally flicker up to his uncle before quickly averting away.

The general tries to smile, but is sure it must look more like a grimace. “Thank you, Prince Zuko. Now why don’t you join me?” He motions with his hand from the prince to the empty cushion. Iroh’s question — or was it my gesture? — has the opposite effect, only causing Zuko to lean farther back into the metal wall and curl into himself. This is going to be harder than I thought. Iroh doesn’t miss how the boy turns away — no, hides. Protects — the left side of his face.

Iroh pours the tea into two cups, causing pleasant-smelling steam to waft into his face. “Very well,” he says, continuing their one-sided conversation. He is growing used to having them with Zuko. “Then you can take this chance to put your tunic back on.”

After hesitating, the prince does as he’s told slowly, watching the man like he is a dhole-cobra waiting to strike. He has too much muscle mass for a thirteen year old, Iroh thinks. The general suspects that in his time away from the palace, Ozai had intensified Zuko’s already rigorous training routine. Iroh admits that his brother has taught his own son nothing if not how to fight (or surrender).

Zuko eyes the cup that is placed in front of him warily. “Do not worry Nephew, it is not poisoned,” Iroh tries to joke. The prince hesitates for a moment longer before taking a sip and frowning. “Unless your preferences have changed, I know that sweet teas are not your favorite. Chamomile is soothing for the throat, though,” the man explains.

Zuko places his cup down and moves to stand up, but his uncle stops him. Iroh makes sure not to raise his hand this time, only speaking firmly. “You must stay here until you finish it, Prince Zuko.” The boy frowns and grudgingly settles again. Iroh watches him until he takes another sip. Satisfied, the general lets them fall into a comfortable silence as they drink their tea, allowing his nephew to adjust.

-

Sometimes Zuko wonders if pain is hereditary. That would explain Azula’s cold apathy — like Father — and blank face (just like Mom’s). And Zuko inherited Mom’s depth of feeling, her passion.

(He is filled to the brim with love and pain with nowhere to put it down because he’s always running and hiding and chasing and escaping and running, running, running. So he carries it all with him. His eyes weigh heavy with unshed tears. He has always had his mother’s eyes.)

And, well… these days, Zuko seems to be a lot like his father.

It’s all my fault.

Is it, though? All this pain had to come from somewhere.

Maybe that’s why everything is so unbearable.

Maybe that’s why Zuko’s quickened heartbeat sounds like a clock counting down his demise. (One two. One two. One two.)

Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to ever shut up; all those too-strong emotions spill out of him with the intensity of a waterfall.

Maybe that’s why he has been destroyed beyond all recognition (“You look just like your mother!”).

(Maybe that’s why Zuko is a monster. Like father, like son.)

The prince takes another sip of his tea and tries to control his breathing. He doesn’t understand what Uncle is doing. The man is just sitting there, drinking his tea. He doesn’t look mad at all, which makes no sense. He’s the fearsome Dragon of the West, for Agni’s sake. He’s Father’s brother. Maybe he is just pretending. Or maybe he is waiting for me to mess up again, Zuko thinks.

Come to think of it, Zuko doesn’t remember ever seeing Lu Ten with any scars. Whenever he asked his cousin where he got a bruise or scratch from, the older boy would say that it was from training or roughhousing with friends. Funny, that’s almost exactly what Zuko would always tell Uncle or any curious tutors.

(Once — before Mom started training me, when Azula had only been bending for a couple of years — one of his first bending instructors made the mistake of asking Zuko why he had welts on his chest during one of the rare times Father came to observe. The man was fired on the spot (literally). The prince was instructed to wear a tunic during training from then on.)

He never saw Lu Ten with any scars, though. Strange. Lu Ten is — no, was — a nonbender; his skin is supposed to burn easily. Then why didn't he have any scars? Zuko just can't seem to wrap his head around it.

He asked his cousin about it one day, about Uncle Iroh. Lu Ten said his father loves him. That settled it for the young boy; surely that meant that his cousin had scars too.

Maybe love means being naive. The problem is, being naive gets you killed. Or burned. But doesn’t love just mean wanting to be better for someone? Doesn’t being loved just mean letting yourself be hurt by those you care for?

(Like taking a hit to the face for his younger sister. Like receiving blow after blow from his father. Like being scorched by the sun for his people.)

(41st. 41st. 41st.)

And Agni knows that it hurts when coming to terms with the lessons he is learning. (“Suffering will be your teacher.”) So yes, Zuko may not understand what Uncle is doing, but he does know that Father loves him. He’s doing this because he cares.

-

Iroh assumes the silence has stretched on too long, as his nephew’s hands shake — his left more than his right — when he sets his tea down. It’s dangerous to let the mind wander.

“Prince Zuko.” The boy in question startles, his eyes flicking to the closed door. Iroh tries not to show his concern on his face. “What is troubling you?”

“Nothing,” the prince rasps.

“What made you so scared?”

“I was not scared.”

“My question still stands.” Iroh has his theories (“I am so sorry Father!”). But maybe it is nothing more than the family resemblance.

Zuko shifts uncomfortably. “You were going to punish me.”

“And why is that something to scream about?” The general is no idiot. He was at the Agni Kai. But that event is an… outlier. At least, I hope.

Zuko evades the question, asking one of his own instead. “Is it because I am not your son?”

“What do you mean?”

“You will not punish me because I am not your son, right?” This is Zuko, not Lu Ten. “But I am in your care. Surely Father gave you permission.”

“Your ‘punishment’ will be that you will have to apologize to Yong-Yut. But I am not finished speaking with you, Nephew.” Iroh makes the boy take another sip of tea before he continues. “Why did you burn her?”

Zuko doesn’t make eye contact. “I am my father’s son.”

“Prince Zuko, why did you burn her?”

“…Because I thought it was going to hurt.”

“Thought what was going to hurt?”

“Touching.” Iroh’s brow creases in worry. Who… conditioned him to feel that way?, he thinks. Even more concerning is the fear that flickers in Zuko’s eye after admitting it. The man has seen it far too many times to find it odd anymore.

“I am not angry,” Iroh reminds the prince.

“It does not matter what you are feeling. You could say that you are angry or frustrated or disappointed, but it does not matter. It hurts either way.” Dread pools in the pit of Iroh’s stomach. His nephew sounds so hopeless. Like everything always ends in pain; it’s inevitable. He’s so young, Iroh thinks in despair.

“You can trust me.”

“And I am supposed to believe that?” Who made you so unwilling to?!, the man thinks.

“When have I ever caused you pain?” How can I fix this?

“When have you ever prevented it?” Zuko snaps. His uncle is taken aback by the glare that has never been directed toward him before. “Even Mom would try. She would always give up though. She was so weak that she gave up on living. But even she would try to stop him.” His rough voice is taut with warning.

“Stop who?”

“Oh, do not give me that stupid old man shtick, Uncle!” Zuko roars. “You know who! And you did nothing! You couldn’t even watch!” The boy heaves in breaths. “Now get out of my room!”

Iroh hurries out, closing the door behind him. So my fears have been confirmed. He walks back to his room, enraged at his brother for what he has done to the poor boy. At himself for what he hasn’t done to help.

——

Taka paces around the tiny infirmary. She entered under the pretense of helping with translation between Yong-Yut and Anzu, but in reality, she wants to ensure that she’s ok. It’s a minor burn — both in size and seriousness — and won’t scar — firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily — but it still has Taka fuming.

“He can’t just do that, he can’t just hurt you and get away with it!” An eye for an eye.

“I’m fine, really,” Yong-Yut signs.

“But that doesn’t make what Prince Zuko did ok!”

“Pffft, you are just lucky that you and Zuzu are companions,” Azula interrupts. “He once fractured a nursemaid’s arm because she stepped on his feet.” The girl snickers in remembrance. “He is such a dum-dum that he forgot she couldn’t even see him in the shadows.”

Taka and Yong-Yut stare in horror. Azula looks at them in mild shock. “What, don’t tell me you didn’t treat your servants in such a way?” she directs to Taka in amusement. The woman shakes her head. What the fuck.

——

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Prince Zuko knows this.

Still, he feels awful when he sees the bandages circling Yong-Yut’s wrist. His stomach lurches at the all too familiar scent of burnt flesh and antiseptic.

He must swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness. It would be the honorable thing to do, after all.

-

Yong-Yut can’t blame Zuko for what he did.

She was made into a weapon and told to find peace.

He was born into bloodshed and sent to find the one person who can end the war.

You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that still does not change its nature. It was foolish for Yong-Yut to think he would need touch (comfort). Weapons do not weep.

So she forgives him.

—————

Chapter Text

Must be the rainy season ‘round these parts, Gan thinks as he watches miniature streams glide down the porthole. The rain drips into the hollow of his heart.

The Kage’s crew’s quarters are filled with mementos. The blue sea glass that Gan picked up on the beach sits neatly on the tiny ledge next to his bunk. His husband, Kasem, had the most beautiful eyes: one was brown, the other blue. They would always light up at the sight of sunshowers. Kasem made Gan learn to love the rain. It has been a few years, but thinking of him still leaves a dull ache in the hawker’s chest that worsens with the pitter-patter of the rain. One two. One two. One two.

The Kage’s crew’s quarters are filled with mementos. In the bunk below Gan’s, Chai Son keeps a small stone that is shaped like a heart; he says he found it on the beach as well. The boy’s cheery demeanor doesn’t seem to be dulled by the dreary weather as he gets ready for the day. Chai Son slips on a smooth stone bracelet that Gan has noticed he always has on.

Across from the pair, Hoshi hangs their torso off of their bunk to wake Mikazuki up, who covers her face with her pillow and groans. “I don’t rise with the sun like you do,” she mumbles.

“Sun’s not out today, silly peacock-goose!” Chai Son says as Hoshi snatches the pillow off of her face, fluttering the papers that both benders have hanging up with adhesive. Gan has seen Hoshi trace the names on their tree before going to bed. Mikazuki has two papers, one with another — rather large — family tree, the other from the time the princess had challenged her to paint using her bending.

Gan can’t quite tell if the painting is subpar because of the bending, Mikazuki’s skills, or the fact that Princess Azula insisted that the waterbender paint the girl’s additions. Taka had tried to give advice as well, claiming that she studied art, but was quickly shut down by both girls. Gan watched purely for entertainment. The result is a not-so-accurate depiction of the Kage’s occupants.

Black ink swoops above Mikazuki’s drawing of herself, her black bangs easily identifying her. On one side of her is Hoshi holding up what Gan thinks is a zucchini-pumpkin but could just as easily be a first attempt at a flame. On Mikazuki’s other side is Chai Son smiling with swirls coming out of his extended hands.

“Chai Son is not an airbender, Ryuji.”

“He looked really nervous at the temple, Princess!”

“We all did.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that he’s hiding something.”

“You say that about everybody.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side, Gan!”

In the painting, the general smiles as he holds a pot of tea. Anzu stands next to him, frowning. Gan himself is riding a komodo rhino and holding several messenger hawks. The drawing of him seems to be commanding the birds, as several of them are attacking the lieutenant and Ryuji.

There is a heart between Yong-Yut and Taka, which was drawn by Mikazuki when the navigator had her back turned. Gan is pretty sure Taka isn’t a literal giant whose body should extend the entire length of the page, but given the heights of the painting’s creators, he isn’t surprised. Mikazuki has seemed to accept her role as Chai Son’s armrest. Meanwhile, Prince Zuko makes fun of his sister’s small size every time General Iroh says he thinks the boy has grown.

Of course, Princess Azula is front and center in the painting, as requested. She holds a flame in her palm. Her brother is next to her.

“Make Zuzu look mad,” Princess Azula requested.

“Uh, you sure I can disrespect my superiors in such a way, Your Highness?”

“Make him look really ugly.”

The edges of the paper are singed lightly from where Prince Zuko had tried to burn it when he saw the depiction of him. The left side of his drawing is almost entirely darkened, and an arrow points to him from the word “stupidhead”, written in the swooping handwriting of royalty.

“Why is there a yin and yang symbol?”

“That’s your face, dum-dum! Can you not tell?”

“I do not like it.”

“As future rulers, we should support the arts; they are an important facet of our culture, after all. Now thank Mikazuki.”

“I am not thanking her.”

“After your own crew member put in such hard work? For shame, Zuzu.”

“I do not care how much work was put in, her painting is bad!”

“I’m right here, guys.”

The Kage’s crew’s quarters are filled with mementos. Ryuji’s ledge houses a small wood carving done by Jee. Gan is impressed by how well done it is, considering the fact that the lieutenant created it while on their “vacation” on the beach. It depicts Ryuji’s head stuck in the sand, both of his eyes squeezed shut. There is an inscription carved into the sand:

You are the bane of my existence. Fuck you.

Jee Narong, 96 AG

The lieutenant himself keeps a portrait of three kids — two girls and a boy — propped up against the wall on his shelf. (No one has asked who they are. Everyone here has left someone behind in some way.)

After receiving his carving, Ryuji insisted on making something for Jee as well. That ended up about as well as one may expect. Jee now has a crudely sewn patch reading, “Women want me, fish fear me” stitched into his uniform, which he wears like a badge of honor. The Fire Prince threw a hissy fit when he saw the addition to his uniform, saying that it is not up to code, but luckily his uncle was able to get him to allow it.

Yong-Yut walks back into their quarters to put her used nightclothes away. She always goes to the washroom before anyone else is awake so she can change in privacy and isn't seen by the men without her headscarf. She didn’t bring anything of sentimental value from home — does she even have one? — so Taka had bought her an expensive ocher headscarf that matches her eyes. Can they be anymore obvious?, Gan had thought at the time.

Taka swears as she knocks her head on the ceiling — which is often the alarm clock for the non-firebenders — before sliding off of her bunk. Gan is average height, thank you very much, but standing next to Taka makes him feel tiny; she barely has to hop up when getting onto her bunk, she’s that tall.

Despite being wealthy, she didn’t bring a keepsake from home either. Yong-Yut has gotten her a new dictionary, though, to replace the one that the princess has taken for her own. Taka uses a dried fire lily — also courtesy of Yong-Yut — as a bookmark.

Seeing that everyone else is up, Gan groans and shoves himself out of bed. Might as well get today over with.

——

Anzu keeps a memento with her in the infirmary. It is an informal portrait of Fire Lord Azulon’s grandchildren. Nothing special. The portrait was commissioned by Princess Ursa; Anzu had tried to find one that included the woman, to no avail.

“Didn’t know you cared so much,” Ryuji says, gesturing to the small painting. He has chronic pain in his left arm that worsens during storms. Speaking of that, I should check on Prince Zuko later, the medic thinks.

“I don’t.” At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Uh huh,” Ryuji says, unconvinced. “Who’s the older kid?”

“Prince Lu Ten, Iroh’s son.” In the portrait, the eleven year old boy stands, leaning against a tree in the royal gardens. The artist perfectly captured his gap-toothed smile and flowing dark brown hair.

“Huh. I didn’t know he had a son.” The healer isn’t surprised; Fire Lord Azulon was ashamed of having a grandson who couldn’t bend. “Where’s he now? This whole Avatar hunt thing seems to be a family affair, after all.”

Anzu takes the portrait off of the wall and hands it to the engineer. “He died.”

Ryuji looks up in shock. “When?”

“Two years ago.” The woman then answers what she predicts his next question to be. “He was eighteen.”

“Fuck,” the engineer breathes out. He rubs at his left arm. “How’d it happen?”

In this war torn world, Anzu has found that people take what little relief they can get. She tries to give it when she can; she is a healer, after all. Considering why Ryuji is in the infirmary in the first place, she suspects he’s dreading hearing anything along the lines of “crushed”. Rain taps at the porthole as the silence draws longer.

Anzu sighs. “Siege of Ba Sing Se.” She can still see the tear tracks that wiped away some of the dirt on Lu Ten’s face, the blood that was coughed up from a gap-toothed mouth. Her face is stony as she continues, lost in thought.

“I tried my best, but I had so little supplies and too many patients. There were so little bandages that—” Anzu clears her throat. “Maggots bore into what was left of his arm. The entire encampment was so unsanitary, with dirt covering everything. It would always feel like you were chewing on sand.” Ryuji nods along, having experienced something similar himself. They may currently be surrounded by their element’s opposite, but Agni, is it better than all the dirt.

“I was able to put his intestines back in and sew him up, but it wasn’t enough. I’m not sure what killed him first, blood loss or infection. Either way, Lu Ten died a few nights later, before Iroh could see him.”

Anzu isn’t a storyteller. She’s a woman of few words. Still, she relents whenever Iroh asks her to repeat everything that happened. By reinforcing the facts, she hopes she hasn’t been letting her friend’s mind wander.

“I’ve heard a story passed around that a Fire Prince’s body was stolen,” Ryuji says solemnly. “Is it true?”

Anzu nods. “Like I said, too many patients and too little medics to keep track of them all.” I should’ve done better. “Our enemies got a real kick out of hanging a Fire Nation prince’s body from Ba Sing Se’s Outer Wall. Stopped the siege right in its tracks.”

“Earthfuckers,” Ryuji growls.

The healer’s face twitches minutely. She shoves all of the painful memories aside and points at the portrait that the engineer continues to clutch in his hand. “That’s Prince Zuko, of course.” The four year old clutches to Lu Ten’s sleeve with one hand and holds the other up in merriment. Anzu remembers the young boy’s idiosyncrasies with fondness. As a toddler, Zuko had a tendency to reach his arms up and smile widely when he had reason to be excited; this habit carried on until he was about five years old.

Ryuji’s eyebrows raise. “Damn. Wouldn’t have guessed. It’s weird to see him without… y’know…” He gestures vaguely to the left side of his face before turning back to the painting. “And I assume that’s Princess Azula?” the engineer asks, referring to the round-faced one year old perched on Lu Ten’s hip. Her tiny hand holds onto her cousin’s shirt, and she is bundled up in a light pink robe. Anzu nods.

It was difficult for the portrait artist to get the princess to look straight ahead for even a moment, as she was always too busy taking in every aspect of the world around her. Anzu remembers Ursa telling her through laughter how she had to bring Ozai outside, as he was the only person her daughter would focus on.

Ursa was so happy in those days. Ozai was satisfied (for now) with the potential that baby Azula had, and allowed Ursa to care for her as she wished, but had not yet grown outright malicious toward his son.

Ursa was so young — only Hoshi’s age — when she had her first child, and immediately fell in love with him. She devoted as much time as possible to her son. Anzu would hear whispers around the palace about how odd the new princess is, barely allowing the nursemaids to care for Prince Zuko. Many of the palace staff brushed it off as naivety; Anzu called it love.

Both parents were ecstatic when Princess Azula came along; Ursa because of her love for Zuko, Ozai because of his dislike. Still, Anzu was shocked by how much happier Ozai was at their daughter’s birth than Ursa.

——

Azula knows that the royals on the Kage have brought keepsakes with them on their journey.

Zuko has his dao — originally Lu Ten’s — hanging on the wall of his room. While gathering clues as to what exactly happened the night that he was stabbed, Azula had noticed traces of dark blood in the grooves of the right sword. My brother may be dumb, but not enough to stab himself. She currently watches as Zuko storms off onto the rainy deck to yell at the clouds for hindering their search for the Avatar. On second thought, maybe he is dumb enough.

Candles can often be found lit around the portrait of Lu Ten that Uncle Iroh keeps. When he first saw it, Zuko had been upset that he wasn’t able to choose which one of Mother to bring. Doesn’t matter. All portraits of Mother were burned or put in long-forgotten storage in the month following her death.

(If it weren’t for her own reflection, Azula would have difficulty remembering Mother’s face.)

The princess is the only resident of the Kage to keep their mementos with them. Gan says she is getting better with handling her dagger, but still has a long way to go. Zuko has given her some tips, which she promptly ignores.

Even with all the time spent in Agni’s presence, the bright pink of Ty Lee’s ribbon has yet to fade.

——

Despite his bending abilities, Uncle still worries about Zuko once he has gotten back inside from the rain. So that’s how the prince finds himself bundled up in multiple robes sipping tea in the dining hall. I have to admit, it is cozy. The crew members of the Kage have been drifting idly about when it is not their shift to run out and work in the rain. Zuko tunes in and out of conversations while his sister and uncle play pai sho next to him.

“What did you have for lunch today?” Hoshi asks Yong-Yut. They have taken far more shifts than necessary to make up for Chai Son, who isn’t able to bend himself warm, so the crew was left to fend for themselves for the midday meal.

Yong-Yut signs in reply, completely serious. “Look, there are some things that I keep to myself, that are my business…” Zuko stops paying attention after that.

“So when are you free to show me some firebending tricks?” Mikazuki asks Taka.

“I’m forever trapped in my own personal hell so I am never truly “free”, but I guess I don’t have plans tomorrow afternoon.” Zuko shifts his focus.

“I didn’t come here to make friends,” Ryuji says to Jee off to the side.

“No one asked you to come at all. Aren’t you supposed to be in the engine room?”

“Why did you come?” Zuko interrupts. Both men look at him. “I mean, why did you leave wherever you were before to work here on the Kage?” The boy pats the floor — which, in a stroke of genius, he had Mikazuki clean before sitting down — appreciatively.

Ryuji lifts an eyebrow. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

Jee snorts. “I don’t think anyone here really did.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Look, Your Highness, I’ve had a long day.” Ryuji rubs his left arm, which Zuko has seen him do often. His scar aches with the storm as well, but he isn’t going to make that known to all by touching it.

“It is only an hour past noon.”

“Save this for later, around the fire.”

“We cannot do that with the storm.”

“Then the crew’s quarters.”

“Disgusting.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather lie in bed than be stuck sitting on the cold metal floor.”

“Did somebody say slumber party?!” Chai Son suddenly bursts into their conversation, soaking wet. From nearby, Mikazuki bends the water off of him and Gan, who just ended their shift.

“Nobody said that—”

“It’s midday, for Agni’s sake—”

Chai Son ignores Zuko and the engineer, instead continuing to speak as he goes to hug Hoshi for warmth. “I don’t know, it sounds a lot like we should have a slumber party in the bunkroom…”

“Everything’s all set outside, and I just checked on the animals. There’s nothin’ more to do today,” Gan adds.

“Whose side are you on?” Jee accuses Gan, who just shrugs.

“A bonding experience sounds lovely!” Uncle adds. Oh Agni. Gross.

——

“Watch out below!” Chai Son calls out before diving right onto his two friends. They both let out grunts as the boy lands across them. It took some accommodating — the three friends sit together on one bunk, Yong-Yut and Taka on another — but the crew made room for the three royals and Anzu. The woman and general sit together on Chai Son’s bunk, while Zuko and Azula take Hoshi and Taka’s, respectively, after their uncle had to split them up from a fight. Chai Son didn’t exactly hear what it was over, something with the prince turning a mirror around? Why is that something to fight over?

Chai Son is interrupted from his thoughts when Hoshi hits him with a pillow and then tries their best to look innocent. He tackles his friend, and Mikazuki quickly joins in with her own pillow. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Jee quickly shuts them all down.

“You’re all on thin ice,” he warns.

“I’m on a bed,” Mikazuki says, looking puzzled.

“It’s an expression.”

Hoshi looks down at what they are sitting on. “This is a mattress?”

Chai Son suddenly perks up. “Oh! Oh! I have a question!” He waits excitedly to make sure the others are listening. “What’s everybody’s favorite color? I’ll go first, mine’s olive.” He smiles.

“Pink for me,” Hoshi says. Chai Son laughs at the weird feeling of hearing them through their chest, where his head lies.

“Mine’s cinnamon,” Mikazuki says, poking at her friend’s knees.

Chai Son frowns. “But that’s not a color.”

“Yes it is!” she says, immediately defensive.

“No it isn’t! Hoshi, isn’t cinnamon a food?”

The cook pats his head. “Sorry buddy, but it’s a color as well. Just like how your favorite is olive. That's a food too.” Chai Son stares at them in disbelief.

“My favorite color is red,” Princess Azula says from above and beside the trio.

“So original.” Chai Son can’t see him, but that voice could only be Zuko. And besides, the prince is the only person who would dare make fun of Azula.

“Like you could do any better!”

Zuko huffs. “Mine is black.”

“That is stupid.”

“You are wearing it right now!”

“That is beside the point.”

Chai Son tilts his head backward to look at Taka and Yong-Yut upside down from the bunk beside him. “What about you?”

Yong-Yut signs something that the deckhand doesn’t understand; Taka says it’s teal. “My favorite is orange,” the navigator says, looking at Yong-Yut with a smile. They’re so cute together! I wonder if they’ve ever considered dating?, Chai Son thinks.

“Gold,” Ryuji answers from where he is lying in his bed. He kicks Jee’s bunk above him, causing the lieutenant to drop the wooden ball that he and Gan had been tossing between each other. “What about you, asshole?”

Jee waits until he has grabbed the ball and climbed back into his bunk before answering. “…lilac,” he says gruffly. Ryuji snorts from below, so the other man leans down and throws the ball at his stomach. Chai Son stifles a laugh. I just really like being with my family.

“Mine’s blue,” the hawker says once he has been passed the ball again.

“Peach for me.” Taka starts to open her mouth to reply, but Anzu continues. “Yes Taka, I know my name means apricot. You’ve told me. Multiple times.”

“My favorite color of them all is the delicate yellow of a jasmine bud,” the general says wistfully.

The princess is quick to reply. “How poetic, Uncle.”

——

“The turtleduck is a noble creature to have as a favorite animal, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, Brother.”

——

“If you had to choose what type of bender to be, but couldn’t choose your own element, which would you choose?”

“Easy, fire,” Mikazuki answers. She tugs on Chai Son’s — who has switched positions to rest his head on her lap — hair lightly. “How ‘bout you?”

Her friend startles. “Oh! I’m an— I mean, I’m not a bender… obviously, but uh… I’d choose fire or— or earth.”

“Oh c’mon, you can’t choose more than one, that’s unfair! Hell, then I guess I’m the Avatar!” Ryuji remarks.

There is a clamor in the bunk above Mikazuki's head. “You're what?” the Fire Prince's rough voice snaps.

“Easy, Nephew. It was simply a joke.”

Chai Son huffs. “Fine. Then I guess, uh, fire?”

“Right answer,” Jee says, holding his cup of tea up in toast.

——

“I cannot answer this question. I have never lied, and therefore do not have any bad ones to choose from.”

“Agni, you're even lying right now!”

“Name one time I have ever lied.”

“You once convinced me that eggs are not real!”

“That is not a lie. Are you sure you have your facts right, Zuzu?”

“I— wait— Uncle?!”

“Do not worry, Prince Zuko, eggs are in fact real.”

——

“I have the sharpest memory,” Jee announces. “I’ve never forgotten anything.”

“You left me stranded at a port three weeks ago,” Ryuji counters.

“That was on purpose.”

——

Zuko can sense that Agni has descended across the cloudy skies by now, but the rain has yet to cease. His sister has moved to the bunk that he has stayed in, complaining that Yong-Yut and Taka are “yearning too loudly”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Right now, Azula is curled up against him, fighting against sleep. Zuko’s not entirely sure if she’s genuinely tired, what with the lack of sun, or if she’s feigning it so everyone knows just how ”boring” they are.

“-And that’s the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” Gan finishes.

“I have a question,” Zuko says.

“I bet it's stupid,” his sister says beside him, her eyes still closed. He elbows her.

“I have a very non-stupid question,” he amends.

“Everything sounds stupid coming out of your mouth, what with your incredibly stupid lisp.”

“My lisp is not stupid.”

“‘My lithp ith not thtupid,’” Azula imitates in an over-growly voice.

Zuko glares at her. “I do not sound like that.”

Azula covers her left eye with her hand. “My name’th Hthuko and I thound thtupid and I have a very dithguthting thcar. My thithter ‘Hthula ith the betht firebender ever.” Zuko’s hearing may be subpar, but he doesn’t miss his crew’s quiet laughter. His face burns with embarrassment.

“Stop impersonating me at once!”

“Thtop imperth—”

“Alright, break it up you two,” Uncle interrupts. Zuko glowers at his sister, who smiles innocently before leaning against him once again.

The boy huffs. “As I was saying—”

“Thaying,” Azula echoes.

Zuko growls in frustration before breathing deeply. “You know, ‘Zula, if you like having a lisp so much, why don’t I give you one to match mine?” He — jokingly! It’s all a joke — lights a flame in his right hand, directly in front of his sister’s face.

“Prince Zuko!” The boy is rather proud of himself; he only flinches a little when Uncle snaps at him.

“I was not going to do it in earnest,” Zuko grumbles, closing his fist to extinguish the fire.

“No need to fear, Uncle. Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. Zuzu’s much too weak of a bender for it to be effective.”

The prince elbows his sister in the stomach — hard — in order to finally shut her up. “As I was saying, I am wondering why exactly everyone is here.”

“What do you mean, Prince Zuko?”

“Ryuji said earlier that he did not choose to be employed on the Kage. Is that true for everyone here?” There are nods and murmurs of assent from around the cabin. “Why?”

“We… are not in the Fire Lord’s favor,” Lieutenant Jee answers carefully.

Zuko scowls. “You mean you are criminals?” That… explains a lot, actually, he thinks.

Jee shrugs. “One could say that, yes.”

“I’m not!” Mikazuki chimes in from the bunk below. She peeks her head out and looks up so that Zuko can see her. “But I guess Fire Lord Ozai didn’t trust that I wouldn’t sink any Fire Navy ships when I enlisted.” And yet he still put you with me?

“I’m not either. But you knew that,” Anzu adds.

“Though you should be locked up for your tea preferences,” Iroh says into his cup.

The prince nods. “What are the rest of you here for?”

Zuko hears Hoshi’s voice from below. “I have a feeling being convicted of burglary is probably the tamest one here.”

Taka points in their direction. “Question is, what did you steal?”

The boy can sense Hoshi’s shrug. “Just some jewelry and clothes, a lotta gold pieces too. Y’know, the usual.”

“That’s a shame,” Ryuji comments.

“Oh yeah? Then what were you convicted of?”

“Conspiracy and attempted assault.”

“Of whom?” Anzu asks.

Ryuji waves his hand in the air. “Some dickhead captain I used to work for who was real sketchy around the younger crew.” Ryuji looks angry at the thought of him. Zuko suppresses a shiver. He really hopes he never has to cross paths with that man. “Fucker would do anything to get a promotion, no matter how sneaky or potentially harmful it was. He’s probably the least honorable person I’ve ever known.” The engineer looks around the cabin. “And that’s saying something.” Zuko frowns.

Lieutenant Jee sends a blast of fire at Ryuji for kicking his bunk again. “Treason,” he answers in between flames. Spirits, and I’ve been trusting him?, Zuko thinks.

“I was convicted of tax evasion,” Gan says, leaning back in his bed.

“Really? That’s pretty lame,” Mikazuki says.

The animal handler smiles. “Nah, sabotage of Fire Navy vessels.” The prince is beginning to realize that maybe none of these people are supposed to be on his ship.

“I’ve been charged with so many things,” Chai Son admits. “But I packed my bags before they caught me every time.” He smiles proudly.

“Care to tell us what, exactly?” Zuko asks, praying to the Spirits that it’s not as bad as treason.

The deckhand begins to count on his fingers. “Evasion of authorities, releasing dangerous animals in public — you guys already know about that one — ownership of explosives without a permit, false impersonation of a federal officer—"

“That is enough, thank you Chai Son,” Uncle says with a smile.

Zuko hangs his head over the side of the bunk. “How did you get caught?”

“I tried faking a passport.” The older boy looks sheepish. “But in my defense, Volcanostan is a totally convincing country name!”

Taka pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’ve been over this, Chai Son, lava is not a fifth element. It is molten rock.”

“Then why does the Fire Nation have volcanoes on almost every one of its islands? Check and mate.”

“Have you traveled to every one?” Gan asks, looking impressed.

“Almost. I’m wanted on eleven Fire Nation islands.”

“How interesting!” Azula pipes up. “Zuzu is wanted in none of them!”

“Hey!” His sister snickers.

“What are you here for, Yong-Yut?” Hoshi asks, having moved on already. Everyone in the room turns to look at the woman, who has been silent this whole time. She always is, sure, but she usually joins the conversation through sign language.

She hesitates to look around the cabin before signing. “Knowledge of state secrets.”

Lieutenant Jee scoffs. “They were afraid you’d blab? How ironic.”

“Or perhaps there is more of a story behind it?” Uncle asks. The woman pretends to lock her mouth shut with a key. “I see. I’d like to remind everyone that they will have to explain themselves in full eventually.”

“Key word is eventually,” Ryuji adds.

“I would prefer sooner rather than later.”

While everyone else is already turning their attention to Taka, Zuko sees Yong-Yut gently touch her scars. He wonders if they’re hurting from the storm too.

“Alright Taka, fess up,” Gan says.

The navigator shrugs. “Murder of a high ranking military officer.” Oh fuck. The cabin falls silent, save for the drumming of rain on the metal ship. One two. One two. One two.

“Did he deserve it?” Azula asks, voice so quiet that Zuko wouldn’t have been able to hear her if she wasn’t directly next to him.

Taka’s amber eyes flicker to Zuko before locking on his sister. A manicured hand brushes a curl out of her face. “Absolutely.” An eye for an eye.

Both siblings smile. “Good.”

——

Azula has always been good with words. While Zuko stuttered and hesitated, she lied and told stories. She was born lucky.

The stars are obstructed by storm clouds tonight, and yet she still sits out on deck with Zuko, who holds an umbrella above them.

The girl has finally been able to identify the feeling that laces its way through her veins. Azula smiles as lightning splinters the sky into two divisions. She is made up of currents.

She can’t do it yet, no. But she’s in no hurry. That’s one more thing she has always been better at than Zuko: patience.

Azula rubs her sleeve on the fabric of the umbrella vigorously as her brother watches, unimpressed. She laughs when Zuko jumps a little at the static shock she gives him.

—————

Chapter Text

Zuko has mixed feelings about ports. Yes, it’s a nice reprieve to get away from his crew. Yes, it’s great to be on steady land. Yes, the ports are necessary for obtaining supplies. And yes, they are his only hope for finding the Avatar.

That doesn’t mean he has to be grateful, though. In fact, there is plenty for Zuko to dislike as the Kage docks once again, this time in a large town named Huoshan.

Zuko has yet to grow accustomed to strangers’ reactions to… well, him. It’s a given that the slovenly Earth-born commoners don’t have the best manners. Still, the prince expected more out of the Fire Nation soldiers that occupy the area. Higher ranking officers, upon the arrival of their nation’s crown prince — and princess, I guess, but that’s less important — always try to mask their feelings. The mustached man who stands before Zuko now — who simply goes by Wongyai (no official title, not sketchy at all) — is a case example.

As the royals approach on the pier, Wongyai and two soldiers behind him bow deeply to the pair. Zuko can barely hear Wongyai speak as he keeps his head bowed over his sign of the flame. At least he knows not to lift his head until he is acknowledged; it’s the proper thing to do. “Crown Prince Zuko, Princess Azula, we are honored to have you here.”

“You better be,” Azula snipes.

Having been spoken to, Wongyai lifts his head, speaking while doing so. “If you are ever in need of any—” He cuts off quite suddenly when his eyes land on the prince. Zuko scowls. The officer clears his throat and averts his eyes before hastily continuing his spiel. “If you are ever in need of any… assistance, then you may ask any of my soldiers that are posted throughout town.”

Zuko nods. “You are dismissed.” The boy is aware that the officer lingers still as he turns to order his crew off the ship, scar facing the man. Anzu stays on board, claiming that she needs “alone time”. Gan leads their komodo rhinos out onto the dock, Uncle already perched on one. When Zuko turns to face Wongyai again as the crew disembarks, the officer gulps and quickly walks away.

Zuko has yet to grow accustomed to strangers’ reactions to him.

He walks through town with Yong-Yut, asking anyone who will stop about any possible sightings of the Avatar, local myths, suspicious occurrences, anything that may help.

Zuko may be completely blind on his left side, but he can still sense the shifting heat signatures of a mother shielding her child’s eyes as he walks by. It’s my fault.

Zuko has yet to grow accustomed to strangers’ reactions to him. Shopkeepers avert their eyes. A girl even younger than Azula starts crying. A group of teenagers points and laughs. Soldiers stand and stare. My fault.

The worst thing about it? If Zuko was in their place and saw himself, he’d do the exact same. If Zuko came face-to-face with a milky eye half-covered in red, sagging scar tissue, he’d hate the owner just the same. It’s all my fault.

——

Taka has taken to sparring with Chai Son when the Kage is docked. The pair stands in a clearing of the forest at the base of Huoshan’s Great Mountain. The playing field isn’t as large as it should be, but it is far away from where the others could find them. And that’s enough.

Taka helps Chai Son train so that he can be more effective in a combat situation. So he won’t be in so much pain when he’s stuck on the ship for weeks at a time with no chance to bend. (It’s not a matter of lack of materials — Taka knows that Chai Son wears that stone bracelet for more than just style — but rather lack of places to escape to.) And besides, they are two of the tallest occupants of the Kage besides Lieutenant Jee, who can get a little… predictable.

Those are the facts of the matter. How Taka feels about it is unimportant (that’s what I tell myself).

(Taka helps Chai Son train so she will finally get used to being around earthbending. So the night won’t draw her memories up like a bucket with well water. So she doesn’t have to be so afraid. So she won’t wake up in the middle of the night and scramble for purchase when her head continues to swim with memories of stone and smoke.)

(In the light of day, the sleeves of her kimono cover where manicured hands dig into her upper arms for purchase. It’s a pain that’s all her own.)

He’s pretty good for no training, Taka thinks, aiming a ball of fire at the stone that is sent in her direction. Though he isn’t used to combat. She surrounds herself in flames instead of avoiding the debris that is sent flying by the collision of the two elements. Chai Son doesn’t seem to be as quick, grunting in pain.

“You can stand your ground all you want but you need to know your limits,” Taka advises, dropping low to kick a stream of fire toward him. Chai Son hops from foot to foot in order to avoid her assaults. He lands on his left foot with the other in the air and teeters precariously. Taka blasts another flame at his feet. He falls backwards with his legs flailing out from underneath him.

Right as Chai Son’s hands hit the ground behind him, he uses his momentum to lift his legs into the air in a split-second handstand — gripping and shifting the circles of earth underneath his hands so he can change his arms’ positions without dislocating his shoulders — then vaults himself backwards. He lands with his boots planted firmly, facing Taka with a fist full of stone he pulled from his time on the ground. Chai Son quickly rolls the ball of stone toward the woman’s legs. This is all done in a matter of seconds, leaving Taka no time to process enough to avoid the rock effectively. That's going to bruise.

There’s this game among the more common people in Yu Dao. Taka has never played it herself, so she doesn’t know the specifics, but she has seen it enough to understand the basics: a ball of stone is rolled into a set of pins, and whoever knocks the most pins down wins. Or something like that. And Chai Son just… used it in a fight?

Not bad. “You need to bend your knees more,” Taka says instead of voicing her thoughts.

They continue to spar. Taka helps him practice his earthbending, and Chai Son teaches her some hand-to-hand combat.

(“There are these drugs that can be used to get rid of your bending for a short while. You should learn nonbending fighting just in case.”

“And why do you know this?”

“Oh, uh no reason.”)

Manicured hands are left bruised, knuckles bloodied. It’s Taka’s own fault — a pain that no one can take away from her because it’s all her own — and Agni, does it feel good.

-

Azula frowns at the tremor that spooks her komodo rhino mildly. “I did not know that this area was prone to earthquakes.”

Her uncle hums from beside her. “I do not think it is, Princess Azula.”

——

Mikazuki grabs Hoshi and Chai Son’s hands and leads them to a building. She’s been bored waiting around for her friends as Hoshi shopped for food and Chai Son taught Taka how to fight like a nonbender — as evidenced by the scratch on his cheek — so the girl has taken her time exploring the town of Huoshan.

The group has started to take turns finding anything to do when docked. So far Hoshi has taken them to a restaurant (“Sometimes it’s just nice to not have to cook for once, y’know?”) and Chai Son has started a rock skipping competition that he was unfairly good at. And so now it’s Mikazuki’s turn.

They stop suddenly in front of a building. “You can open your eyes now!” Mikazuki says excitedly. Her friends uncover their eyes and peer up at the sign on the building.

“Why are we at a tattoo parlor?” Hoshi asks, unimpressed.

“To get tattoos, duh.”

“But I’m not even eighteen yet!” Chai Son looks downtrodden.

“Well, when’s your birthday?”

“A couple months I think.”

“That’s close enough for me! And besides, you’re tall, it’ll work.” Mikazuki loops her arm through Chai Son’s and grabs onto Hoshi’s sleeve to drag them inside.

-

Hoshi has given themself the unofficial job of making sure that their friends don’t get into too much trouble. So naturally, they were hesitant to allow this to happen. I can’t just let them waltz into every nondescript tattoo parlor we find, for Agni’s sake!

But now that the three of them are here, well… might as well.

Hoshi and their friends had agreed to get “matching” tattoos — “Elbows or below,” Mikazuki had decided — of “things we love” (another decision made by the waterbender). None of them knew the exact subject matter of each others’, though. “The surprise is the fun part!” Chai Son had said.

So basically not matching at all, Hoshi thinks.

Mikazuki slowly peels off the bandage on her forearm, glancing up every once in a while to nervously check that her friends haven’t left her where she stands on the market street. Hoshi gives her a reassuring smile.

Mikazuki finally takes the entire bandage off, revealing a small sun with tongues of fire swirling organically around its face. Inside it is the outline of a shining crescent moon. “It’s to honor my heritage,” she says.

“It’s wicked pretty,” Chai Son breathes. Hoshi nods. It’s stunning.

“Thanks guys.” Mikazuki’s lips quirk into a smile. “What about you?” she asks Chai Son, covering her healing tattoo once more.

The boy grins. “This one means a lot to me.” He quickly rips the bandages off of his elbow. On the section of skin between the knobby bone and the actual bend of the arm is just one character, 肘.

Hoshi sighs. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“I thought we agreed to get something that’s special to us!” The waterbender’s bangs are ruffled from slapping her forehead.

“It is special to me!”

“There is no way on earth that a tattoo on your elbow that just says ‘elbow’ is meaningful to you!”

“Well it is!”

“How?!”

“Watch this.” Chai Son elbows Mikazuki playfully in the stomach, causing her to break out of her faux anger and bring her hand up to her mouth as she laughs.

“I’m gonna drown you one day,” she says between laughter.

“I know,” Chai Son responds fondly. “How ‘bout you, Hoshi?” He nudges them with his elbow as well.

“It’ll fade a bit faster because it’s on my hands, but I don’t care,” Hoshi says offhandedly. They hold their fists up with a flourish. It’s a bit awkward, what with the first word having five characters and the second only four, meaning that Hoshi has to show their right thumb but not their left. Across their knuckles are the words ズッキーニ and かぼちゃ.

“Zucchini-pumpkin!” Mikazuki and Chai Son read in unison.

——

Ryuji thinks that everything about what the group is doing right now is completely stupid.

First of all, it’s a given that we're not going to find the Avatar, especially not in some rinky dink town like this of all places. Ryuji himself is searching for the truth about their confusing circumstances, so he must consider all possibilities — including the one that the Avatar is in fact out there — but it’s a stupid quest nonetheless.

Secondly, Prince Zuko refuses to allow the group of crew members and royalty to split up — despite the general saying it would be more effective to do so — because, “Last time we split up, we did not see Chai Son for two days!”

(“My bad!” the teenager had yelled from behind the group.)

Third, they are currently inside a Spirits-damned mountain that locals have warned is actually a dormant volcano.

Fourth, the three numbskulls will not. stop. singing.

“But I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more!” Mikazuki, Hoshi, and Chai Son belt for the seemingly fiftieth time, as none of them remember how the song ends. “Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!” Even worse, Hoshi is the only one of the three with an actually pretty singing voice.

“Will you shut up already?!” Prince Zuko barks from the front, his voice echoing along the walls of the tunnel.

The group of three ignores him, continuing on. “When I’m working—”

Ryuji hears General Iroh hum along as well. “Stop it, old man!” Prince Zuko hisses.

“Someone needs to teach that kid respect,” Jee mutters from beside Ryuji. The engineer snorts.

Soon enough, the pack comes to a fork in the tunnel system. The prince motions for them to halt while he consults with the navigator.

“I don’t trust like that,” Ryuji says to the lieutenant.

“What do you mean?” Gan asks, having overheard.

“For all we know, she” — he jerks his head in Taka’s direction — “is leading us straight to our deaths.”

“Why’re you suddenly so distrustful of her?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ryuji is growing exasperated at this point. “I don’t understand why none of you seem to be bothered by the fact that she’s the only one here who has killed off the battlefield!”

At that, the entire group goes quiet, including the prince and the woman in question. Ryuji narrows his eyes. “Or is she?”

“Ryuji, just admit that you’re uneasy because you’re afraid of caves and go.” I never should’ve told Jee about that.

The engineer crosses his arms. “Nuh uh, there’s no way that I’m letting this go. How many of you have killed people outside of the war?”

“Let us keep moving,” the prince states gruffly, beginning to turn to walk away.

“No no, let us stay,” Princess Azula insists amusedly with a wave of her hand. “I would like to know as well.”

-

Yong-Yut has become very good at reading people. Almost the entirety of her previous career was based around her keen observation skills, after all.

Anger and frustration are always easy to pick out: lips frown, eyebrows crease, teeth grit, fists clench, throats sigh, hands pinch nose bridges, and mouths shout. Any combinations of those are always evident.

Nervousness and discomfort, on the other hand, are much more difficult. They reveal themselves in a variety of ways.

Mikazuki is an easy one, as she’s an all-around nervous person. She often speaks too quietly and occasionally picks at her nails.

Gan, on the other hand, was a tricky one to get. He doesn’t seem to ever be affected by much. Yong-Yut has noticed, though, that his tell is avoiding eye contact. She thought maybe it was her appearance, or he has a thing with scars — even she has trouble looking Zuko in the eye sometimes — but no. When Gan tries to hide his anxiety, he averts eye contact — even if it’s just by looking over someone’s shoulder — no matter who he is speaking with.

Taka tends to pace, and when she doesn’t have room to do so, she then straightens her body up. She lifts her chin, folds her hands in front of her, and tenses her muscles. Ladylike.

Ryuji cracks his knuckles. If he has already cracked them too recently, then he moves onto his neck, then his wrists, then his back, then his knees, then— you get the point.

Anzu’s usual deadpan expression is broken by minute facial twitches: usually her right eye squints slightly, though it is sometimes joined by a quirk of the upper lip.

Hoshi runs a hand through their hair. When they’re really uncomfortable, they’ll twist strands between their fingers or spend their time trying to put it up with a hair tie. (Yong-Yut has noticed that they always seem to be doing something.)

Chai Son stutters his way through uncomfortable situations. On the very rare occasion that he is not speaking, he gets his excess energy out by fidgeting.

Lieutenant Jee will cross his arms. It’s a good cover, Yong-Yut has to admit, as it could easily be taken as hostile or intimidating. But she’s no fool. No matter how rigid his stance may be, he doesn’t seem to realize that he sways from side to side.

General Iroh’s tell is nothing. No, really. He literally does nothing. If the old man doesn’t walk out of the room, then he stays put and seemingly shuts down.

Princess Azula doesn’t seem to have any tells. At least, not that Yong-Yut can pick up on. Strange. Children are usually the least capable of controlling their emotions. Zuko, on the other hand, somehow always senses the girl’s discomfort. So the deckhand has learned to listen for the specific tone of the prince’s voice when he quietly checks in on his sister.

Despite only being thirteen ("and a half!"), Zuko’s voice has already deepened for the most part. That, combined with his lisp and the grating texture of his voice, makes it quite difficult to understand what he is saying when trying to speak quietly. In spite of this, he still manages to get the point across to anyone who just so happens to overhear.

Every word Zuko utters has so much emotion behind it — even past the usual anger — that anyone paying attention can easily tell how he is feeling through subtle changes in tone alone (which is in direct contrast to Princess Azula’s wide range of tones: sharp or sarcastic). Or, well. That’s Yong-Yut’s opinion at least. Then again, not many have the same training — not many are as good — as her. So maybe not that easily.

Other times the woman covertly watches the siblings sign to each other before she has to stop herself because I’m not like that anymore. I don’t have to know.

Speaking of Zuko, he has a tendency to touch his scar. Nothing he does is ever subtle, is it?, Yong-Yut wonders. When he isn’t shouting, the boy shows his anxiety by grazing his fingertips over the fading pink skin of the top of his left hand. A couple times, when he thinks nobody is paying attention to him, Zuko has traced the ridges of his left cheekbone.

(Yong-Yut herself? She clears her throat. Luckily, she has perfected making even that silent, unless she is totally caught off guard.

She mimics those around her. She straightens her clothing or stands leaning to one side or widens her eyes or drums her nails on a surface when she knows she’s supposed to. That way, she fits in more. That way, no one can truly know when she is off-put. That way, she plays her part like she was taught. That way, no one can truly know her.

Yong-Yut has always been good at blending in.)

That being said, it’s rather easy for the woman to figure out the answers to Ryuji’s question. She knows about herself, obviously, and Taka has already told everyone of her own crime. The deckhand can’t say she’s surprised when Jee crosses his arms in front of him; he may hide it well, but she can tell that he has a temper to him somewhere beneath the surface.

Gan is a bit of a shock. Then again, he may be staring at the ground for other reasons.

Hoshi’s hand drifts to their short hair, but their eyes dart over to Zuko. Yong-Yut looks over to the boy as well. He rubs at his left arm. Oh no.

-

“Ladies first,” Gan gestures to Yong-Yut, who is standing closest to him.

He has been learning how to sign — it’s not like there’s much else to do — but still has a long way to go. Luckily, Taka translates what Yong-Yut says for the entire group. “It was sometimes required on missions.” That’s not mysterious or anything, not at all.

“Well that clarifies nothing,” Jee says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Sounds like you’re hiding something,” Chai Son teases in a sing-song voice.

The lieutenant glares daggers at the boy, who is seemingly oblivious to the tension in the cavern. Jee must see something in Chai Son's face that cracks his resolve, as he grudgingly begins speaking, crossing his arms once more. “Fine. Killed an old buddy of mine during an Agni Kai a while back. Happy now?”

“What was it over?” General Iroh’s eyebrows crease.

“Just some political disagreement. It doesn’t matter.”

“Ugh, we are wasting time!” Prince Zuko blurts out. He storms off into the branch of the tunnel to the left. Princess Azula rolls her eyes and follows him, and soon so does the rest of the group.

Ryuji catches up to Gan and falls into step with him. “Have you done anything?”

The hawker sighs. Better to just tell the truth and get it over with. “It was an accident, but yes.” He glances sideways at the other man, lips tight, before looking back ahead. “Komodo rhinos aren’t known for their delicate steps.”

“That is a pathetic way to go,” Princess Azula sneers. Does she really have to eavesdrop on every conversation?, Gan thinks.

“You sayin’ you want your brains squeezed out by an animal’s foot?”

“I would like to amend my statement: that is a fascinating way to die.”

-

Zuko and Hoshi walk together. Neither speak, and Hoshi keeps fidgeting with their hair, but the boy still finds it comforting nonetheless. They are the only person who could understand him right now. No one must know.

“May I speak with Prince Zuko alone for a moment?” Hoshi nods mutely to Uncle and falls back to be with their friends.

Zuko touches his scarred (weaker) hand minutely as he begins to walk with his uncle in silence. Release me! Their footsteps tap out a heartbeat (One two. One two. One two). Zuko’s pulse quickens in anticipation. Just say it! In the depths of the mountain, there is no sky for Zuko to find comfort in. He does not look up. Just fucking say it!

“Grief divided is made lighter.”

The boy’s head shoots up, his face open with surprise before he quickly scowls. Stupid uncle riddles, he thinks. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“But you know what I am going to ask, yes?” Uncle looks over at him, a single brow raised.

Zuko hesitates. “...yes.”

“It is best to cross the stream where it is shallowest.” It’s yet another stupid proverb, but Zuko gets the point.

“You have to promise not to be angry with Hoshi about this.”

“I don’t see what they have to do with this, but yes. I promise, Nephew.”

Zuko takes a deep breath. “Do you remember the night that I was stabbed?”

The man’s face contorts in confusion. “Yes…”

“Yes. Well. Um.” The prince coughs to clear his throat. “I stabbed someone too.” Uncle doesn’t respond, so Zuko continues, pace quickening. “He was an Earth Kingdom man, so it’s ok. I think. And he was going to… hurt this woman that he was following and yelling at. Well, he had already hit her, but he was going to do more.” Zuko barely pauses for a breath. “It is not like all I could do was watch! I needed to help!” Uncle needs to understand, he needs to.

“We started fighting and he was choking me and I dropped one of my swords and I couldn’t escape because I’m weak and he was so much bigger than me and then he stabbed me so I had to do it back!” An eye for an eye.

Zuko pants. Thinking back on that night, he is left with nothing but anger. Agni knows it hurts. He doesn’t dare to look at Uncle in the moment of silence that follows his outburst.

“You did the right thing, Prince Zuko.”

The boy looks at the man in shock before schooling his features once more. “What?”

“You never should have snuck out in the first place, but if you had not then who knows what would have happened to that woman. You have enough training and sense that I trust that you truly had no other options.”

“Father has taught me nothing if not how to fight,” Zuko mumbles.

“I am happy that you are safe, Nephew.”

The boy scoffs. “I'm Zuko, not Lu Ten. You have no reason to do this.”

“It is my job. Even if I was not tasked to do so, I would still want to take care of you.”

“It's rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it's you or your sister.” Zuko doesn’t miss how the addition of Azula seems to be a bit of an afterthought.

“And I am to believe that you would do so, even if it brings no benefit to you?” Zuko says sardonically.

“Cynicism is not wisdom, Nephew.” Uncle's voice sounds tight. “I am not angry with you, but simply saddened that it has come to this. But I still care for you. I will no matter what.”

This is uncharted waters for Zuko. But maybe love — or at least part of it — means being naive. That’s what it is, right? Yeah. Love.

The prince’s voice is soft when he speaks again. “Does ‘Zula know?”

The question can be taken two different ways, but Uncle seems to understand what exactly he means. “I have not told her. Your sister is very intelligent though; she will most likely find out sooner rather than later. It may be best to tell her yourself.”

“But what if… she sees me… different?” For the monster I am.

“I think, if anything, she will respect you even more for it, Prince Zuko.”

——

“Damn, I can’t make ice. Who knew it’d be so hot in here?” Mikazuki says while doing some basic katas. The group has finally reached the mountain’s magma chamber, its heat almost stifling.

“All of us,” Princess Azula answers. “We are currently inside a dormant volcano. Are your cognitive functions working properly?”

The two other royals stand near the younger girl. The bubbling magma muffles their voices, but Mikazuki is still able to hear their exchange.

“It is a beautiful sight, is it not, Nephew?”

“Take that you stupid volcano.” Prince Zuko angrily throws a stone at the pool.

Yong-Yut and Taka stand to the other side of Mikazuki’s friends. The girl catches the tailend of the navigator’s sentence, something along the lines of, “-beautiful as your eyes.” Meanwhile, the three older men — save General Iroh, of course — stand farthest away, taking turns trying to push each other into the molten lake.

Mikazuki focuses back on her own conversation when Hoshi makes a joke. “What if we had Chai Son try? He is a much better waterbender than you.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Despite his sarcasm, Chai Son still takes a stance that Mikazuki assumes is supposed to be one of her waterbending forms. “Watch and learn.” He winks, then waves his arms in front of him while shifting side to side.

Mikazuki laughs at just how clunky his movements are. “You need to loosen up. Bend your knees some more.”

“Aye aye, captain!” He shakes out his limbs before trying again.

“Why are you staying in one place? Move around!” Hoshi adds.

“And who gave you so much authority on waterbending techniques?” Mikazuki crosses her arms.

“Who said I’m talking about waterbending? If Chai Son really wants to make it to the big leagues, he should learn to firebend.”

“Ah yes, of course.” Mikazuki bows with the sign of the flame to their younger friend. “We are your humble bending masters, Avatar Chai Son.”

“That has a nice ring to it,” he says, lunging while punching the air.

Princess Azula, as always, eavesdrops on their conversation. “If Chai Son really is the Avatar—”

“Chai Son is the Avatar?!” Prince Zuko interrupts.

“It is simply a joke, Zuzu.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” he grumbles.

“Anyways, if Chai Son really is the Avatar, then he should be able to airbend. The only way we can prove that is by seeing if you can hold your breath longer than average.”

“Chai Son don’t listen to her.” He ignores Mikazuki’s warning, but hey, it was worth a shot.

“Ok bet!” Chai Son gulps in a huge breath before closing his mouth, cheeks puffed out.

“Agni, you are really doing it,” Taka adds from the side.

Hoshi intervenes as soon as their friend’s face turns purple. “Spirits above, I am begging you to breathe.”

Chai Son finally lets go of his breath and leans over his knees to gasp for air. Both of the royal siblings burst into laughter. “Did I win?” he asks between pants.

Mikazuki pats his back. “There was nothing to win, buddy.” Chai Son harrumphs and straightens back up.

Hoshi hums. “Firebending depends on the breath. As your master, I have decided that you must practice that first.”

“And as your other master,” Mikazuki begins in a falsely stern voice — I have to channel my inner Prince Zuko for that — with her hands on her hips, “I demand that you drop and give me twenty! Go! Go! Go!” Chai Son yelps and scrambles to start doing pushups.

Hoshi pushes Mikazuki aside lightheartedly. “As your firebending master, I advise that you learn how to extinguish fires once you move on from your breathing exercises.”

The girl bumps Hoshi with her hip. “As your waterbending master, I’m commanding you to name every body of water in the world!”

“Oh shit, uh… the ocean!”

“Wrong!”

“I mean, he has a point, Mik—”

“Everytime you answer incorrectly I’m gonna add more weight,” Mikazuki says, climbing onto Chai Son’s back. He manages to continue doing pushups but soon stands up, causing Mikazuki to fall off. She yelps before realizing that they are all nowhere close enough to the magma pool that she could fall in. “You can’t treat your master like this!” she calls between laughter.

“But that was fifty!”

“I only said twenty though!”

“Bold of you to assume I was paying full attention.”

Hoshi clamps a hand down on Chai Son’s shoulder. They are failing to stop smiling while trying to speak in a sage voice. “Our next step, young pupil, is the flying phoenix kata. Now give me your best shot.”

“I don’t even know what—” He is cut off by a splash of water to the face. “Hey!”

“You would have been able to deflect that if you weren’t so busy neglecting your waterbending training, Avatar Chai Son. Now copy my form.” Mikazuki’s movements are practiced, smooth, as she does the kata that her friend had first attempted.

She lets Chai Son run through the movements and turns back to Hoshi. “They grow up so fast.” She rests a hand on her chest.

“Pfft yeah right,” Hoshi scoffs. “You’re not teaching him shit.”

Mikazuki gasps in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh I do.” Hoshi wiggles their eyebrows.

“Hmph. Well, you would know about teaching shit. You are a firebender, after all.”

“Oh, it is on!” Both shift into bending stances, but are interrupted by the third friend.

“Oh shit, guess I really am a firebender!”

Mikazuki looks over at Chai Son, who is where she had left him to practice the form she gave him. And sure enough, he is still running through that kata. But where Mikazuki’s water would usually flow between her arms, there is a stream of lava.

—————

Chapter Text

Hoshi is… confused, to say the least. They don’t know if they should be happy or not that no one else has heard or seen Chai Son. Hell, I don’t even know what any of this means, let alone how I should feel about it.

For whatever odd reason, Mikazuki does seem to know how to feel. After a moment of shocked staring, her face suddenly breaks into a wide grin, before she runs and launches herself at Chai Son. The boy yelps and manages to bend the lava — which is a thing he can do now? — back into the main pool before he is tackled to the ground by their squealing friend.

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you!” Chai Son says between laughter. “Hey, you’re the one who taught me!”

“Can I teach you more?”

“Of course!”

Hoshi hovers nearby as the two stand back up. This is just… really, really confusing. Neither of their friends seem to notice, as Mikazuki begins to show a form while Chai Son watches. Hoshi takes a deep breath and tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

Chai Son told us he couldn’t bend. But now he can. But it’s lava?

Wait… where do the waterbending forms come into this?

Lava? Why lava?

He’s seventeen, he should’ve known if he could bend by now!

Lava, of all things…

Everything about this is so messed up.

Did he make the lava himself, or did he get it from the lake?

I need a raise, I’m not paid enough to put up with this.

Lava?! Is that… is that fire? Chai Son said it’s fire. But didn’t Taka say something about it being earth? This is so confusing! I’m no geologist, I’m just the cook.

Why is Mikazuki not freaking out about this?!

Hoshi is broken from their spiral of thoughts when they hear Mikazuki call out in excitement. The chef looks over to see Chai Son pushing his hands back and forth in front of the pool of magma in a move that they’ve seen the waterbender perform a million times before. But this time it has a distinctive… Chai Son feel to it. His movements are much more angular, his legs bent more, where Mikazuki would usually flow like she’s the water itself. A small section of the lava — or is it magma? Ugh, what’s the difference?! — pushes and pulls with the boy’s movements in a small wave.

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be the only one who noticed. “Chai Son,” Taka hisses from nearby. The three friends all look over to her. She shakes her head, looking solely at the whateverbender.

“Is something wrong?” Mikazuki asks, face conveying her worry plainly.

The navigator steals a glance at Yong-Yut, who is watching General Iroh try (and fail) to disrupt the royal siblings’ bickering. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”

-

Yong-Yut looks up at Taka when she touches her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” Taka is gone with the three youngest crew members in tow before she can even react.

Yong-Yut doesn’t seem to be the only one who noticed. She watches as Zuko seems to retreat from his argument — I’m beginning to think this is just how the siblings converse normally — leaving General Iroh to reprimand Princess Azula. In the split second that it takes Yong-Yut to check behind her that the men are distracted, the prince has seemingly disappeared. But she’s no fool.

The woman uses her shoulder to push herself off the wall of the cavern that she had been leaning on. She takes two steps, then reaches out. It’s a shot in the dark, but she ends up catching Zuko by the arm. She can’t see him, but she thinks she hears a sigh. A flicker, then Yong-Yut’s vision of the room dims ever so slightly.

-

Chai Son seems to have an obsession with escape.

It gets tedious sometimes, thinking of all the what-ifs. How much happier Chai Son would be if he was a firebender. How lost he would be if he was sent back out to wander the Fire Nation again. How different he would be if he had stayed in the Earth Kingdom.

He grieves all the boys he could have been, if only. It seems as if at every pivotal moment in his life, Chai Son is indecisive. So he runs and ignores the feeling of another possibility — another boy — going up in flames in the hollow of his chest.

(“Why do you do this to yourself?”)

Chai Son has this fantasy that he starts over, but the memories of aching joints and a woman’s (Mom’s?) screams and other scared orphans and coal dust under fingernails all tell him that there is no escape.

(“Don’t you know it hurts either way?”)

-

“Quiet.” Yong-Yut rolls her eyes at Zuko’s signing. It’s endearing how often both he and Taka can forget.

The pair follows the sounds of echoing footsteps. Once they are crouching down behind a stalagmite, Zuko breathes deeply and presses his hands outward. The room brightens. Yong-Yut looks at him in awe.

“Stop staring.” The woman turns her attention back to the group that stands in front of them.

-

“Care to explain what just happened?” Taka crosses her arms.

“Chai Son is a bender!”

The woman arches an eyebrow at the boy, but continues to speak to Mikazuki. “And did he specify what kind of bender?”

“Yeah, fire?” the girl says, seeming to catch on that that isn’t the right answer.

“I’m no expert,” Hoshi begins, “but isn’t lava, like, a mix of fire and earth or something?” They ponder for a moment longer before their head shoots up in Chai Son’s direction. “Wait, does that mean you’re really the Avatar?!”

At that, Taka thinks she hears something shuffle from her left side, but brushes it off to focus on the topic at hand. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to any of you, but lava is not fire. Never has been, never will be.”

“But it’s so h—”

“Just because something is hot does not mean it is fire,” Taka says, cutting Chai Son off.

Mikazuki and Hoshi look at each other with twin expressions of confusion. “Then why…?” the latter drifts off.

Taka looks steadily at Chai Son. Hazel eyes with a hint of green look back. (An eye for an eye. Reciprocation.) “You need to admit this to them as much as you need to admit it to yourself.”

-

“If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

Chai Son had overheard General Iroh say this to his nephew when the prince had recently gotten his bandages taken off. Thank Agni that Zuko hadn’t understood his words either, or else I never would’ve cracked the code.

“We must let ourselves be known to others in order to be truly loved, no matter how scary it may be.”

No one must know. Chai Son looks over at Taka. But she does. And we’re friends. If anything, he has grown closer to the navigator ever since she found out.

Release me! He doesn’t have to tell them everything. Just say it! The words push at Chai Son’s teeth, begging to be voiced. Just fucking say it!

Chai Son is a product of all of the people he has given a bit of himself to.

He wears an industrial piercing with a charm in the shape of the sun in his right ear that his first girlfriend gave him. He throws his head back when he laughs like his favorite houseparent did. The surname he put on his enlistment form — Dangda — is actually that of one of his childhood best friends.

Chai Son is a product of all of the people who have given him their time (given me a chance).

He looks at his two friends. They have handed him pieces of their hearts that Chai Son has selfishly made his own. When Mikazuki cries over her family, he hurts too. When Hoshi can’t remember the words to a song, he misses the melody just the same.

It’s insensitive, he knows that, but these pieces are his own to keep. He has learned how to braid hair from Mikazuki, how to (somewhat) play the kuai ban from Hoshi. He has watched them train side-by-side in order to use their bending techniques as his own.

(Isn’t that ironic? The very thing that could alienate Chai Son from his friends is still laced with his love for them.)

He drinks up all of these little moments because he knows they won’t last. He relishes in his friends’ smiles like they are made of Agni’s light because he knows that the rainy season always comes eventually. He gorges on happiness because he knows that there will be days that he goes hungry.

When they eventually kick him out, find out just how much of a fraud he is — how the person they know as Chai Son is just a body filled with dead possibilities and memories of others — at least he will have these pieces to carry with him that say I loved these people. I loved them so much that I can’t seem to put them down.

If someone asked him what happiness was, he’d say a dimpled smile and choppy black bangs. He’d say over-seasoned roast duck and a clear singing voice.

Agni knows just how badly Chai Son wants to give back to them. But still, the thought of having to lose all of this and run away again is terrifying.

His friends have so bravely bared their hearts to him, and what has he done except put another wall up?

Mikazuki pushes her nerves aside to defend her friends from teasing, Hoshi serves the two of them extra food because they like knowing that they are both cared for, and what has Chai Son done?

His friends hang their family trees up not just for themselves, but for all to see because they are proud of their families, and what has Chai Son done?

He owes this — an eye for an eye. Reciprocation — to both his friends and his family. And at the end of the day, aren’t they one and the same?

-

“I’m an earthbender.”

Well, that’s all the information I needed. Frowning, Yong-Yut moves to sign to Zuko when the lighting dims. Taking that to mean that he’s in agreement with her, the pair make their way back to the cavern as quickly as they can.

-

Hoshi is… still confused, to say the least.

Today has been really strange. It has felt like things have been repeating, yet Hoshi is still thrown for a loop by the outcome. Take just right now, for example. This is the second time in, what, twenty minutes? that Mikazuki has flung herself, squealing, at Chai Son. Yet it’s still a baffling reaction.

It’s not that Chai Son is an earthbender — ok, well, it sorta is — because Hoshi doesn’t have a problem with earthbenders. They had much more immediate matters to deal with than the war while growing up. Maybe dropping out of school early has something to do with it, Hoshi doesn’t know, but they’ve just never really understood how people — even their youngest brother, Fudo, who’s always asking his teachers for more books to read — can bring themselves to despise the Earth Kingdom so wholeheartedly.

Then again, it’s not like they’ve met any earthbenders before this. Well, at least that I remember.

Even more confusing is just how shocked Chai Son looks. It… it hurt seeing their friend flinch when Mikazuki began to move.

Speaking of, the waterbender is currently brushing dust off of her pants as she stands back up and asks Chai Son to show her some moves. She really does go with the flow, huh?

Hoshi looks over at Taka, who raises her eyebrow at them, as if daring them to oppose any of this. Why does she know? Why didn’t Chai Son tell us first?, the chef wonders.

Their confusion is interrupted by the sound of footsteps (One two. One two. One two), which is quickly drowned out by the crash of a stone. Hoshi can’t quite make out who has arrived through the settling dust, but they can identify Ryuji’s angered voice.

“You’re a fucking earthbender?!”

-

Unlike a lot of the others here, Gan doesn’t really have a stake in any of this. Do I ever? He just followed everyone else when the prince had run in, shouting about rocks (or something like that), because staring at lava can get a bit boring when you’re all alone.

Ryuji, on the other hand, seems to have every single stake ever. He seems even more pissed than the general, which is strange because — if the engineer’s rumors are true — his own son was killed by earthbenders. Meanwhile, Ryuji’s over here still alive and kickin’, and making that everyone else’s problem.

Gan doesn’t stop the man when he stomps by him. Neither does Princess Azula, who, despite being most likely the most powerful one of them all, simply watches with a pleased look on her face. She turns to the prince. “Nicely done, Brother.”

Jee, however, does stop Ryuji, who still tries to lunge toward Chai Son. The boy takes a step backward, but otherwise doesn’t try to defend himself. Odd, Gan thinks, given the fact that he just proved that he most definitely can. Everyone saw him throw that stone.

Mikazuki steps in front of Chai Son, waterskin uncapped and hands poised to bend; Hoshi soon joins her after a moment of hesitation. Seeing the hurt look Taka sends to Yong-Yut from Chai Son’s side, Gan can’t help but think that, they’re not even dating, why is this such a big deal, Spirits give me strength.

-

This is all just way too entertaining for Azula.

“Why the fuck are you defending him?” Ryuji snarls.

“Fuck off!” Mikazuki calls.

“Not helping,” Taka murmurs.

“Traitors!”

The hawker throws a pebble at Ryuji. “Get it together, man. You’re making an ass of yourself right now.”

“Pick a side, Gan!”

“Enough!” Zuko barks. Azula smirks. Wow, look who’s using their big boy voice. “Neither of you are in the right,” he continues, looking between Chai Son and the engineer. “Ryuji, I am ordering you to stand down. You are in no such position to decide on and administer any punishments.”

“As if you are,” Lieutenant Jee grumbles, voice too quiet for Zuko to hear.

Zuko turns back to the offending boy. “Chai Son, we will need to speak without any interruptions.” He pointedly directs that last part toward the engineer. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I— uh, yes sir.”

Zuko nods and addresses the entire group. “We have already determined that the Avatar is not located here, so there is no use in staying. Now walk civilly back to the ship.” Ryuji begins to speak, but Zuko continues, voice growing louder to override the man. “I do not care what you think. You are doing as I say, whether you like it or not. Now shut your mouth and get moving.”

Azula is all too delighted to watch Ryuji’s face turn red as he glowers at her brother. He shoves the lieutenant off of him. “Whatever. I wanted to get out of this fucking mountain anyway.”

While Uncle goes to lead the group, the princess waits alongside her brother — who is flanked by Yong-Yut on his other side — until everyone else is moving in order to bring up the rear.

Stealing a glance at the woman allows Azula to come to the conclusion that Yong-Yut’s glare that is directed toward Chai Son isn’t one of malice, as she had previously thought, but instead one of wariness. That’s something to investigate. Azula believes there is more of a reason than simply the fact that the Earth Kingdom is the enemy nation.

Speaking of, Zuko seems (for once) rightfully angered; earthbenders are scum, after all.

“You know, Zuzu,” Azula begins. “This could prove to be useful.” Both of her companions look at her as if she has grown two heads. “Chai Son’s idiocy may be entertaining, but not enough to make it worth keeping him around. We can make his bending helpful to our cause.”

“Just get to the point.”

“Don't rush me, Brother,” Azula snaps before continuing to speak connivingly. “Earthbending is inferior to firebending, as are all other elements, but it is still valuable for our objective nonetheless. Do you really think you can defeat the Avatar with just your fire?”

Zuko glares at her. “It's all I have.”

“You're being foolish. You're the one who got us banished, it is your responsibility to enable us to return.”

“You got yourself banished. I had my reasons.” Zuko leaves the, “that I am never going to tell you,” left unsaid. Azula still gets the point.

“As did I: you were being a complete idiot.” (He took far too long to burn.) “You are constantly getting into trouble that I have to fix for you because you are too weak to do anything but cower. If you don't want to take my advice, then fine by me, Zuzu, but just know that all of this is your fault.”

Azula skips ahead to interrogate Chai Son, leaving her brother in the dust (as always).

-

Zuko is loath to admit that maybe — just maybe — Azula is correct. (It’s all my fault.)

Father selected this crew for him for a reason. He wouldn’t have hired criminals for his son unless they could be useful. Father wants me to come home. That must be why he chose Mikazuki and Chai Son; with three of the elements, Zuko will surely be able to capture the Avatar and return to the Fire Nation. There’s no doubt about it.

He’s doing this because he cares.

——

Taka is just beginning to realize that maybe… I should have checked that the kid’s actually ok.

“It’s actually quite, uh, simple really.” Chai Son rubs the back of his neck from his seat around the fire. Mikazuki squeezes his hand while Hoshi puts their arm around his shoulders. The boy gives them both a wobbly smile before breathing deeply. “I think… Well, what I remember is…”

“Just get it out,” Ryuji says gruffly, earning him a deadly glare from the waterbender.

“No interruptions,” Prince Zuko hisses.

“Um well,” Chai Son continues eloquently, “it’s not super clear ‘cause I was young, I think five? Maybe four? But I-I was born somewhere in the Earth Kingdom that ended up being invaded. Or… or something like that.

“I don’t know what happened to my parents, but I guess we got separated, ‘cause uh… because some soldiers found me and took me back to the Fire Nation. Maybe they thought I was from here, maybe they, like, wanted me to grow up in a better place or whatever, I don’t know, but I ended up being put i-in an orphanage. They weren’t very… well, nice there, so I ran away.

“Whenever I was put somewhere, I’d find different reasons to leave. I— I’d get in a fight, or the houseparents wouldn’t like my attitude, or I’d rub my foster siblings the wrong way, or whatever.”

He laughs humorlessly. “This one time, one of the housefathers got drunk — they did that sometimes — and he got real mad when I was walking away from him, and, well…” Chai Son turns and lifts his hair up, revealing a faded pink scar at the base of his neck. Taka’s throat burns when she realizes it is in the shape of a handprint.

“What happened to him?”

Chai Son turns back to the prince’s direction and shrugs. “Nothin’. He got to keep his job, so I took that as my cue to leave.”

Prince Zuko frowns. “But his entire job was to take care of you! Why was he not fired?”

“Yes, why wasn’t he, Your Highness?” Taka pipes up. She may have been taught to stay quiet from an early age, but her pessimistic and argumentative nature call for her to speak up. “Children’s institutions are managed at the federal level. If you have been paying attention, then the abuse that is rampant in the system shouldn’t be news to you.”

“It is not. That does not make it any less infuriating,” the boy grits out before addressing Chai Son once again. “Then why did you not stick up for yourself?”

The earthbender shrugs yet again. “I escaped. I was just a kid, that’s kinda all I could do. I mean, I don’t think it was cowardly or anything, because it saved me, y’know?” Prince Zuko only responds with a frown.

“And your bending?” General Iroh asks.

“Oh! Right, uh… I don’t really remember ever not being able to do it.” Chai Son slips his bracelet off of his wrist and begins to shape it in various ways. “I try not to do it, because… well, i-it’s not good, so. Yeah. But sometimes it hurts too much, s-so I just do this. Sometimes Taka spars with me.” That earns the navigator a few glares.

——

Zuko dismisses the rest of the crew for the night, leaving only himself and Chai Son on deck.

Uncle had told Zuko not to make rash decisions based off of the circumstances of Chai Son’s birth (“Lucky to be born”).

Zuko inspects the other boy. Chai Son’s eyes look to be hazel with a hint of yellow. But maybe that is just the dying fire reflecting off of them. His hands continue to fidget with his bracelet, molding it over and over again into a ship, then the elemental symbol for fire, then a bowl, then a tiny tsungi horn.

Zuko clears his throat, causing the earthbender to look up at him from staring into the open flames. “I assume that it is painful to go for long periods of time without bending.” Chai Son nods. “Very well. You may stay, but I have some conditions.

“That” — Zuko points to the bracelet — “is all you can use to bend when onboard. No using it against others. If Ryuji ever becomes comfortable around bending, then you can help him with the coal in the engine room. But that is a strong if.” Zuko pauses to think for a moment, remembering his friend’s discomfort when she saw Chai Son bend. “I advise that you steer clear of both him and Yong-Yut while bending for the time being.

“If you would like to spar with someone when we are docked, then you must get my approval first. You will be supervised in ports until it is certain that you are not meeting with and spreading information with the Earth Kingdom. No more secrets. Is all of this understood?” The deckhand nods eagerly. “Then you are dismissed.”

Chai Son stands up and bows with the sign of the flame. “Thank you.” He stands back up, looking the boy in the eye. Zuko clenches his fists at the sight of flecks of foxfire in Chai Son’s pools of hazel. “Really, I mean it. Thank you, Your Highness. My loyalty is to the Fire Nation — to you — and the Fire Nation only, I swear.”

The prince waves his hand dismissively. “Now get out of my sight.”

Chai Son smiles wide and strides over to the door. He calls over his shoulder. “‘Night, Zuko!” His footsteps down to the crew’s quarters echo loudly.

Zuko sighs, rubbing his left eye tiredly. “Good night, Chai Son.”

—————

Chapter Text

“You know, Nephew, I have heard stories of a Spirit-touched princess from one of the Poles.”

“That is a useful lead to say the least. Which one?”

Iroh smiles.

“Uncle, which Pole?”

The man takes a sip of his tea.

Zuko sighs. “You did not bother to check which one, did you?”

“I am a very busy man with many things on my mind. Also yes.”

Iroh watches his nephew turn to the navigator. “Taka, just take us to whichever Pole is closest.”

The woman answers without looking up from the pai sho board. “The South Pole is about a month away. We can stop by the Southern Air Temple along the way if you’d like.”

Zuko frowns. “Let’s head straight for the South.”

Iroh smiles. “Wise move, Prince Zuko.” He slides his white lotus tile forward.

—————

The air is beginning to get chillier the farther south the Kage goes, so Hoshi sits next to Chai Son to help warm him up while watching the siblings spar. Growing up with only one nonbender in the house — Dad would never admit if he was uncomfortable — it’s strange for Hoshi to think that anyone would need warming up.

They can tell that it’s been affecting Chai Son. He’s managed to summon lava a few more times in the past couple months, but any hopes of doing so again seem to be lost with the cold wind. It doesn’t help the boy’s spirits that Taka has said that sightings of land will be much fewer as they continue closer to the pole.

The cook turns their attention to the sparring match before them. Princess Azula is already smiling, knowing that she is bound to win, while Zuko sheds his tunic.

Hoshi knows it’s wrong, but his scar is still hard to look at. Not because it’s gruesome, no, but because of the possibilities surrounding it. Hoshi doesn’t want to admit to themself that fire — maybe even someone’s fire, Ryuji has posited (most of the crew has brushed that theory aside) — is capable of hurting anyone that badly.

“Why don’t you do us all a favor and cover up, Zuzu.”

“I am taking advantage of the warmer weather while it lasts.”

“I don’t know why you think it is appropriate to go shirtless when you have only gotten more disgusting since we left the palace.” Why is she so cruel?

“Father isn’t here.” What does that have to do with anything?, Hoshi thinks.

“And yet you still flinch like he is. Pathetic.”

Zuko attacks first with a shout.

—————

Azula reminds Taka a lot of herself. All too willing to please.

(“That’s a good girl. You understand how lonely it gets on the front, don’t you, Taka?” “Yes sir.”)

The perfect daughter.

(The princess’s eyes flick over escape routes upon entering a room.)

Taka is less willing to admit that Prince Zuko reminds her a lot of herself as well. All too proud to back down without a fight.

(The prince’s shoulder is painted with the faint lines of being shoved against a mirror.)

The disgraced eldest child.

(Taka loves her crooked nose. It was a bitch to get, sure, but she knows her mother would throw a fit if she saw it. I even reset it all by myself.)

—————

Uncle eventually makes Zuko keep a mirror in his room (There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage).

“I can’t keep putting your hair up for you, Prince Zuko. You are almost fourteen years old. It is best to learn for yourself.” Unwilling to admit why he doesn’t want to and unwilling to take advantage of Uncle’s kindness, the boy accepts.

Zuko keeps his phoenixtail out of respect for the man who gave it to him. In the Fire Nation, hair ties a person to their family; it’s a gift from their parents.

Just like his hair, Zuko keeps his scar uncovered out of respect for the man who gave it to him. He doesn’t hate how his scar looks, but what it represents. The mark of the banished prince. Of a disgraceful son.

(Just like his hair, his scar is a gift bestowed by a parent.)

—————

Azula loves her father. Any loyal daughter would.

(To love someone is not synonymous with missing them. The girl pushes that thought out of her mind.)

—————

“I would love to tell you about my nephew as a baby. What would you like to know?” Sitting in Chai Son's bunk with their friends, Hoshi is able to see the boy across from them glare at Yong-Yut for prompting General Iroh. The Kage’s occupants are, once again, settled in the crew’s quarters. (“It’s too warm to work, too cold to stay outside!” Chai Son had complained. Most agreed with him. “Weaklings,” Zuko replied, breathing out a flame.)

“Oh!” Mikazuki holds up her hand as if she is still in school. “Bending stories! Those are always fun.”

“Stop giving him ideas.” Zuko turns his nose up and looks away when Mikazuki sticks her tongue out in response.

“As a baby, Prince Zuko’s eyes would always widen when he saw someone bend,” General Iroh begins, oblivious to his nephew’s disdain from the bunk above the man. “He would often try to crawl into his mother’s lap to try to grab her flame.” Hoshi smiles at the thought. Zuko himself may find it embarrassing, but it’s nice to hear that he wasn’t always… well, like this.

“So you can imagine his excitement when he made his first flame,” Anzu adds.

“How’d it happen?” Gan asks.

“It was quite the event when it happened!” the general begins. “The entire family — with the exception of my father — was present.”

“It must not have been that exciting, as I don’t remember it,” Princess Azula mocks.

“That’s because you were only a baby, Princess. Prince Zuko was three years old at the time.”

“That’s pretty early,” Ryuji adds, looking mildly impressed. Hoshi themself first bent when they were five, which is considered average; parents usually wait until their child is seven years old at the latest to fully recognize that they are a nonbender.

“Whatever,” Zuko huffs. “It is a miracle that I can bend at all; Father said that he didn’t see the spark in my eyes when I was born.”

“To be fair, your father was not present when all the candles went out the moment you were born,” Anzu comments.

“That was Mom’s doing.”

“Ursa may have been a powerful enough bender to multitask, but extinguishing all flames in the room probably wasn’t her priority while giving birth.”

“Whatever the verdict is, we all know Zuzu is weak. Now continue the story, Uncle.”

“Thank you, Princess Azula.”

“I didn't do it for you. I want this story over with.”

-

“Very well.” So is General Iroh just not going to acknowledge how disrespectful Princess Azula is?, Ryuji thinks. “I was in the garden, watching as my brother’s family got their portrait done.” Both Mikazuki and Chai Son lean forward to listen. “I sat next to the portraitist, as I had to get Prince Zuko’s attention many times because he was always looking at his mother.”

“Ha! Mama’s boy!”

“I was three years old!” The prince sends a blast of fire that the engineer dissipates quickly.

“My son was also sitting nearby, painting his own portrait.” Ryuji turns his attention back to General Iroh at the mention of his son. From what he’s heard, no one else knew about the prince. Luckily for them, Ryuji set the story straight for them.

(“Stop spreading stories about a man’s privacy.”

“This is one of our country’s princes we’re talking about, Narong! As citizens, we deserve to know about the inner workings of our government.”

“Inner workings of our government? That’s a child’s death you’re talking about. Now let the general grieve in peace.”)

“Prince Zuko was sitting on his mother’s lap—”

“Despite it being customary for the heir to be closest to the father,” the boy mutters.

“As I was saying, he was sitting on his mother’s lap—”

“Wait wait wait,” Chai Son interrupts. “I need the full picture.” He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed, as if picturing the scene takes a great deal of mental energy. It probably does, Ryuji thinks. “How old was Princess Ursa?”

“She had recently turned twenty four,” Anzu provides.

“Wait, that makes her…” Mikazuki counts on her fingers. “Twenty one when Prince Zuko was born.”

“Woah that’s, like, my age.” Hoshi’s brow creases. “I can’t have a kid right now, that’s so much pressure.”

Chai Son pats their hand. “What are you gonna name it, buddy?”

“That means Princess Azula was held by her father,” General Iroh continues as if no one had interrupted. “The pollen in the air must have been affecting him, as Prince Zuko sneezed. To all of our surprise, his sleeve caught on fire!

“After Princess Ursa quickly extinguished the flame, my nephew began to cry out of shock and buried his face in his mother’s robes.”

“It was silly of me, I grew up around fire,” Prince Zuko says flippantly. Duh, you’re the Fire Prince. Ryuji doesn’t get a chance to voice his thoughts.

“Hey, I’d cry if my arm caught on fire. It probably hurt like hell.”

“That’s because you are not a firebender,” the boy responds to Gan. “Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily.”

The hawker points to his own face. “You sure about that?”

“You take that back!” Prince Zuko jumps off of the bunk to approach the man, but is stopped by his uncle.

“Seeing her brother cry,” General Iroh continues as he pulls his nephew back to sit beside him, “only caused Princess Azula to begin to tear up.” The man chuckles. “My brother had had very little experience with children up to that point, so immediately handed the baby over to Princess Ursa, not expecting his wife to then give him the tearful Prince Zuko.

“Once he stopped crying, Ozai told his son that he was quite proud of him.” The general pats his nephew’s shoulder as the boy smiles minutely.

“Pffft. Well I first bent when I was only two years old.”

General Iroh takes his hand off of the prince’s shoulder and smiles. “Princess Azula almost burnt our vacation home down.”

Ryuji looks up at the girl. She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’m so good, I did it in my sleep.”

“Stop acting so proud, Azula,” Prince Zuko says, climbing back up to the bunk. “You say that as if I didn’t have to carry you out of the fire because you were still having a nightmare.”

——

“Ryuji and I have been thinking,” Gan begins.

“That’s a first,” Yong-Yut signs.

The hawker rolls his eyes. “Everyone here most definitely has a swear that could be attributed to them.”

“Barring the ladies, of course. Out of respect,” Ryuji adds hastily.

Taka lets her hands fall out of a bending position. “Damn straight.”

“I’m opting out of this,” Hoshi says.

Anzu pats their knee from where she sits across from them. “Wise decision.”

“This is an unsuitable topic given your audience.” Jee jerks his head toward the royal siblings.

“See, this is what makes you the resident bitch,” the engineer says pointedly.

“Asshole,” the lieutenant mutters.

“No, I’m the dickhead. Gan’s the asshole.”

Chai Son raises his hand. “Oh! Oh! Me next!”

Gan points at him. “Bastard.”

“Ha ha yes!” He high fives Mikazuki.

“General Iroh,” Gan bows with a flourish. “We bestow upon you the title of the ship motherfucker.”

“I must say that it is rather suitable. How much thought did you put into this?”

“Way too much,” Taka answers for the pair.

Ryuji turns to the Fire Prince. “And last but not least—”

“I am perfectly willing to turn you into a human torch.”

“Your Highness.”

The boy blinks in surprise. “What, that’s it? That’s not a swear.”

“Giving it to you makes it one.” Gan quickly ducks from the ball of fire that is sent his way.

——

“Babies are cute. We should get a baby on board.”

“Worst decision you’ve ever had,” Gan rebutts. Clearly he hasn’t heard my throw-Ryuji-overboard plan then, Yong-Yut thinks.

“Why would we get a baby?” Anzu asks.

“Because they’re cute, were you not listening?” Taka snaps.

“Sympathy points!” Yong-Yut signs. “It’s hard to say no to someone if they have a cute baby depending on them.”

“We already have Azula,” General Iroh points out.

“I am not the ship baby. If anyone’s the ship baby, then it’s Chai Son.”

The boy in question looks up, his hair in pigtails that were done by Mikazuki. “Hi guys!” he beams.

“Nah, he’s too old,” Ryuji dismisses. “Though he does make a good case.”

“Then what about Zuzu?” The entire group looks over at the prince, who only glares back with his arms crossed.

“Yeah no. That’s a face only a mother could love.”

Yong-Yut throws a small flame at Gan to get his attention. “What’s wrong with his face?”

“Oh uh—”

“Say shit like that again and we’re using you as animal feed.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“Let’s say,” Taka says, beginning to direct the conversation back to Yong-Yut’s original point, “in this hypothetical situation, everyone onboard, for whatever reason, agrees with the presence of a baby. Where would we obtain one?” The navigator looks at her.

Yong-Yut blushes. “Make one?”

“Gross!” Zuko calls out.

“It has to be the two most attractive people.” Ryuji rubs his chin, thinking.

“Objectively, that is Taka and Gan.” I regret suggesting this, Yong-Yut thinks when Anzu names the navigator.

“Woah woah woah.” Gan holds his hands out. “Who says I swing that way?”

“I am not attracted to men,” Taka says bluntly. Yong-Yut releases her breath.

-

“But I thought you had a husband?” Mikazuki scratches her head in confusion. Don’t remind me, Taka thinks.

“We were officially betrothed because both of us had something to gain from marrying the other.” An eye for an eye. Reciprocation.

“Huh? Why?” Hoshi asks from in front of the waterbender as she braids their hair.

“It’s a common practice among nobility.”

“Mother and Father’s marriage was a political union,” Azula backs Taka up. “Mother was of an upper class standing and known for her bending abilities.”

“Not to mention that nobody else would marry Ozai,” Anzu mumbles into her teacup, causing Iroh to chuckle.

“When were you married, Lady Taka?” General Iroh asks.

“I was fifteen, though I was tall enough to look older.”

“But that’s illegal!” Ryuji bursts out.

“Like I said, it’s a common practice among nobility.”

-

“I have been betrothed since I was seven years old,” Zuko says.

“Ah yes,” Uncle says from beside him (Zuko had to move to sit next to his uncle because he “caused too many disturbances”, whatever that’s supposed to mean). “What is her name? Min-Ji?”

“Mai,” Azula corrects.

“Mali is quite a lovely young woman. Quite the acrobat.”

“Her name is Mai. And Ty Lee is the acrobat, not Mai.”

“Then you must be speaking of the one with the knives.”

“There are only two of them,” Zuko grits out.

“Fifty-fifty chance. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, Prince Zuko.”

“Sorry but who are we talking about?” Mikazuki interjects.

Zuko’s brow softens at the memories of the girl. “Mai. She is a daughter of nobility. She specializes in throwing knives. She’s… my friend.”

“She was my friend first,” Azula scoffs. Whatever.

“And do you like her?” Hoshi asks, an eyebrow raised.

“She is my friend, yes.”

“No, do you like like her.”

“...No……”

“Well were there any other girls at the palace who caught your eye?” Chai Son asks.

Oh no, Zuko thinks. “I…” I could lie. But Azula will see right through it. “I don’t think I am… capable of… like liking any… girls.” Zuko can’t help but blush. Childish.

“Cheers I’ll drink to that.” Gan holds his tea up in toast.

“There’s no shame in that, kid,” the lieutenant assures.

“I like boys and girls!” Chai Son pipes up.

“So do I!” Hoshi high fives their friend.

“And I like everyone,” Mikazuki says with a flare before high fiving both of her friends.

Zuko is mildly aware of all of this going on as he avoids looking at his uncle. He winces when he senses a hand reach up, waiting for the blow to come. But it doesn’t. Instead, the hand squeezes his shoulder. Zuko looks up to see Uncle smiling at him.

“Hmph. It doesn’t matter who you like. Affection should be of no importance.” Azula looks at her nails.

“Whatever happened to your crush on Ty Lee?” Anzu asks.

“Nothing! I never had one.”

“Hm. Well anyway,” Zuko begins, “If I am to be Fire Lord then I must sire an heir. I am more than willing to put aside my own emotions for the benefit of our country. I am lucky to be engaged to someone who I am on good terms with… At least, I think I am. I was unable to see her before my banishment.”

“You couldn’t see anyone after it, either.” Gan narrowly avoids the large blast of fire that Yong-Yut sends his way.

——

“Wait, is General Iroh the only one here with kids?” Chai Son asks.

“Not unless someone’s hiding something,” Ryuji answers.

“Speaking of children, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Lieutenant Jee, who the subjects of that portrait are?” Anzu voices the question that has been on Chai Son’s mind ever since he first saw it.

The man straightens up. “My children.” He grabs the painting. “Sumiye, Kaori, and Vidura.”

“Where are they now?” Hoshi asks.

Jee puts the portrait down quickly. “Dead.”

So suddenly the air in the crew’s quarters hangs heavy with grief. General Iroh is the one who speaks first. “I have lost a child as well. My condolences.” His voice is gentle. “The only truly dead are those who have been forgotten.”

“What happened, Narong?” Ryuji’s voice is unusually careful.

“After training, I grew disillusioned with the war.”

Ryuji’s disposition shifts back to normalcy. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew I was getting your whole life story.”

“Why?” Taka asks the lieutenant.

“I didn’t like what I saw, what other soldiers were doing.” Chai Son doesn’t like the glazed over look in Jee’s eyes. The whole room holds its breath. “Burning entire villages down, raping women, killing entire families. That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I enlisted so my kids could live in peace.

“I grew angry, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I was too blinded by my rage to notice how much of a mess I was making. I placed some bets against the Fire Nation. A dispute I had with a friend led to an Agni Kai that he died during. Eventually, I fell in with the wrong crowd and got tied into a group of sailors who were planning on a mutiny against our captain.

“We were all put on leave before the plans could be executed. And when I got home, my house was burning down.” Jee’s fists clench. “My reckless actions led to my family’s deaths.” He breathes deeply, closing his eyes. When they open again, his voice has lost some of its edge. “Unlike the others at the Boiling Rock—”

“Mai’s uncle is the warden there!” Princess Azula interrupts.

“Small world,” Gan responds.

“Your little friend’s uncle had me imprisoned for eight years.”

“I never said he was nice.”

“As I was saying,” the lieutenant resumes, “unlike many others at the Boiling Rock prison, I learned my lesson from my suffering.” He looks at Prince Zuko. “My loyalty is to the Fire Nation and Fire Nation only.”

The Fire Prince considers him for a moment before responding. “I’ll take your word for it. I have visited the Boiling Rock; it is not very… humane.”

“I, for one, find the coolers to be a rather ingenious invention.” Lieutenant Jee shivers at the princess’s comment.

Chai Son taps his chin in thought. “So that’s why you give such good hugs. Because you’re a dad.”

Jee startles at the change in topic. “I have never hugged you.”

“Yeah but I can just tell.”

“Everything you say astounds me.”

—————

Iroh has — unfortunately — grown used to hearing Zuko scream in his sleep.

——

Patrolling during nightwatch can be hunger-inducing. Hoshi will kick her ass in the morning, but Yong-Yut stops by the kitchen to grab something to eat, passing through the dining hall on her way.

She soon realizes that she is not alone.

Flickering light dances on the shadows of the wall. Golden fire illuminates a tear-streaked, lightly freckled face that stares up at the portrait of the Fire Lord. Yong-Yut moves on quickly.

-

Would I have done what you did?

Zuko’s tears blur the image of his father beyond recognition.

I like to think I’m a bigger man than that.

(Zuko. Zuko. Zuko.)

——

Azula wakes up with a gasp, clutching at her throat. The air behind her closed door is suffocating.

(“You are safe here, Princess Azula.”

“I may be younger than Zuzu, but I am not as foolish as him.”

“Have I given you any reason to distrust me?”

Azula is good at reading people. She’s really good. Uncle showed no signs of lying. Which means there is something that she must not know. And Azula hates not knowing.

“You are a father, after all.”)

The girl chokes on memories of smoke and the scent of burnt flesh that had filled her nostrils. She squeezes her eyes shut against the image of a boy haloed by orange (Father’s) flame.

But embers burn brightest in the shadows.

Unwilling to watch, she acts.

Azula’s tongue lies heavy with guilt in her mouth as she wraps a blanket around herself. Tendrils of sleep and terror still cling to her as she opens her door.

——

Uncle and Father are so different that it’s almost laughable. No, it most definitely is.

Laughter bubbles up from Zuko’s throat and spills out in a flood. He tilts his head back and cackles over the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Imagining just how hysterical (how weak) he must look just adds to the hilarity for Zuko.

Zuko is a product of all of the people he has loved. Agni knows it hurts.

His legs speak of childish games of chase. His feet yell of carrying a sister. His calves spin tales of katas and kicking, of stealing and sprinting.

His eye speaks of bedtime stories and theater scrolls. His iris tells of turtleduck feathers and a mother’s bending prowess.

His parted lips speak of music nights. His teeth grit on invisible sand. His tongue tastes of tea and desserts. His chin sings of bandages and anesthetic.

His fingers tap out messages between companions. His calloused hands unravel knots that are given to him to figure out how they are tied. His wrist beats out a trusting pulse (One two. One two. One two). His index fingers link in the sign of “friend”.

His shoulders hum of an uncle’s comforting pats (carry the weight of a cousin’s legacy). His back whispers of no new scars. His neck tells of short fingers teaching him how to put his phoenixtail up. His collarbone speaks of spilled tea and a man who is willing to help.

His hair brushes past his collarbone and grazes his aching chest. His skin rages with scars. His freckles create distant trails on a map that all lead to a lost cause. His muscles scream of too many days training, too many katas repeated, too many punishments received. His ribs warn of a cold glare and disapproval. His sternum hisses rumors of a buried boy. His lungs wheeze out oaths of loyalty and pleas of mercy. His heart burns with his love for his father.

Zuko’s body shakes with laughter, before doubling over with sobs.

——

Azula finds her brother eventually. He silently lets her lead him out to the deck. She sits down on the blanket she has laid out — I always think ahead — and expects him to join her.

Azula had dreamt that she listened to one side of a conversation she should not have heard. She looks up. Stargazing goes both ways (an eye for an eye). The constellations blink back at her.

-

Yong-Yut stands up and lights a flame in her palm the moment she hears footsteps. She accidentally kicks a helmet across the deck. Gan needs to learn to put his shit away, she thinks. Across the deck, Princess Azula shoots her a glare as she tugs her brother toward a blanket that has been laid out. The woman sits back down next to Taka, who is also on nightwatch.

“You must have superhuman hearing,” Taka signs, “because there’s no way I could have heard that.”

“Years of practice.” The navigator breathes out a laugh while peeling one of the lemon-clementines that Yong-Yut had retrieved.

Yong-Yut takes the slice that Taka offers her, their hands brushing. She sneaks a glance at the siblings to try to hide her blush. “What do you think they lose sleep over?” It’s nosy, I know, but old habits die hard.

Taka looks over as well. She looks even more beautiful in the moonlight. “Home.”

Yong-Yut doesn’t miss the saddened look on the other woman’s face when she turns back to her. Yong-Yut takes a slice of lemon-clementine and puts it up to her lips. Taka accepts with a small smile.

——

“I dream about him too, you know,” Azula whispers after some time.

“You must sleep like a baby.”

“Stop being so self-centered, Brother.” The princess doesn’t even have the energy to elbow him in the ribs right now. She turns back to the stars. The full moon’s brightness hurts her eyes. She cannot look away. “I see him burning your face off.”

Zuko gulps. “He cares about us.” He cares about me! There’s no reason for him to care about you, the girl thinks.

“You took so long to burn.” Azula despises the crack in her voice.

The boy looks up at the inky night sky, mouth pulled into a frown. “I am so sorry, ‘Zula.”

“You better be.” She buries her head in his shoulder.

She feels him rest his cheek on her hair. “I’m ok, really.”

“You sure do act like it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“No need to worry, your screams get your point across.”

Zuko pushes away from his sister. “What are you talking about.”

“You scream in your sleep, dum-dum. Or—” Mentally, Azula falters for a moment, though she doesn’t show it of course. Or maybe that’s part of my dreams, too. She should never admit uncertainty. Uncertainty is a form of weakness and weakness always leads to exploitation or punishment. Azula continues, voice stronger. “I hate your screaming. And I hate your stupid commands and I hate the sound of your voice.

“I hate your ugly scar and I hate your stupid persistence and I hate your foolishness and I hate how weak you are and I wish I could hate you like Father wants me to!” The air feels alive with electricity (she can’t control it yet, no. But Agni does it feel good).

“Maybe then I wouldn’t be stuck here! If I had just done as he had asked then we would all be fine. It would have been too late for Anzu to save you and none of this would have happened. You would have been dead and we would all be far better off because of it.” (“You were born lucky, Azula. Do not forget that.”)

-

It is unnerving for Taka to see Azula, who is usually so calculated, get as close to yelling as she is probably capable of. The woman stands up quickly and pulls the princess from where she looms over her brother. Yong-Yut seems to have had the same idea, as she pulls the prince away as well.

“We’re splitting you two up. This is getting out of hand.”

Prince Zuko glares at Taka. “Do not hurt her.”

The navigator’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Not unless she gives me a reason to.” At that, the princess begins to struggle anew. “That is a joke, Azula.”

The girl stands still. “I knew that.”

Taka’s manicured fingers pinch the bridge of her crooked nose. “I have no clue what your conversation has been referring to, but the only alternative for most of us here is imprisonment. Maybe even death. So no, we wouldn’t have all been fine.”

Azula crosses her arms in front of her. “That is no importance to me,” she sniffs. “I am solely focused on getting myself home.”

“I want to go home just as much as you do!” the Fire Prince interjects from where he stands with Yong-Yut.

Taka holds the princess back once again, but allows the conversation to continue. “But that is not how it is going to happen, is it? Father will realize his mistake and invite me back home, while you rot away on this ship. Crown Princess Azula has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Father wants me back!” He sounds way too sure about that.

“No he does not. And after what he did to you, I find it hard to believe that you would want to return at all.” Taka exchanges worried glances with Yong-Yut at the words, “what he did to you”.

“Then why is it any better for you to go home?!”

Taka tightens her grip to prevent Azula from lunging forward. “Because unlike you, Father won’t set my face on fire!”

-

Zuko is immediately hurt by Azula’s words (childish). What else is new? But even she looks shocked by what she said.

Yong-Yut makes a choked noise from Zuko’s right. “Holy shit,” Taka breathes.

“You do not know anything about me,” the boy directs to the two women. He takes a step backward. Yong-Yut begins to reach out for him. Old habits die hard: Zuko flinches (weak).

“I said, you don’t know anything about me.” He can feel furious tears begin to well up in his right eye (pathetic). No one must know. Zuko runs back to his room, his ankle catching against a helmet that was thrown haphazardly on the ground, leaving a tiny trail of blood.

-

“No one must know,” the princess warns. The pair watches her walk back to her quarters with a blank face.

Yong-Yut can’t help it. Hot tears slide down her cheeks. He looked so scared. She looks at Taka desperately. Her thumb taps against her forehead in the sign for "father" (right where Zuko’s scar begins, oh Agni—). The navigator nods solemnly. Yong-Yut wraps her arms around herself. The night air suddenly feels much colder.

Taka opens her arms out. Yong-Yut steps into them gratefully. They fit together like puzzle pieces. Yong-Yut hears the other woman’s quavering words of reassurance as she lets herself cry for all the people she has been forced to be, for the woman who holds her in scarred arms, for the little girl who trusts no one, for the boy who was burned by his father. For the unfairness of it all.

——

“Mikazuki.” The girl awakens quickly; her sleep had been fitful anyway. “Mikazuki,” Taka’s whispered voice repeats. Someone sniffles nearby.

“I’m up.”

“Can you take over the night watch?” In response, the waterbender rolls out of bed. Eyes now adjusted to the dark, she pulls her boots on while watching Taka sit in bed next to Yong-Yut.

On deck, Mikazuki pulls her hood up. It was strange at first, but the smell of the fur is now comforting to her. The seedy Earth Kingdom merchants that sold the crew their coats had claimed that it’s a genuine South Pole anorak.

Mikazuki closes her eyes and tilts her head up to bask in Tui’s light. The Moon Spirit’s full face pushes and pulls La’s waves with such strength that Mikazuki can hear them through her hood.

The full moon strengthens her, too. Inside, eleven hearts beat separate rhythms (One two. One two. One two). Auk.

The girl opens her eyes once again and smiles. She stands as tall as the large glaciers that surround the Kage as she begins her bending forms.

A small trail of blood, now frozen, leads away from a helmet. Mikazuki’s movements are practiced, smooth, as she lifts her hands up. In an instant, the blood is flicked over the side of the boat.

—————

Chapter Text

Mother,

I do not like it very much here. General Zhang is treating me well enough, but I still miss our family. I want to go home.

Your loyal daughter,

Mangal Zhang Taka

—————

Ursa traces words on her son's tiny hands and repeats the sounds until he finally says them clearly.

(Ursa has found that he likes to quack like a turtleduck. She finds it adorable. Ozai not so much. To be fair, it was not her wisest moment when she brought her two year old to a ”very important meeting, make him be quiet!” with the High Sage.)

When her son sleeps fitfully, she swirls her fingertips along his arms and recites stories until he falls asleep. She holds his hand as he tries to hop over puddles, her other arm full of scrolls to read to him. She carries him in her arms as he dozes, his small body so warm (my husband may say that he isn't a bender, but I still hold out hope). She listens to him babble on about Agni knows what and taps out a rhythm on his hands, his shoulders, between his eyes, on his rarely-still feet (One two. One two. One two).

To her, he is the sun itself.

(There is an ancient legend of a boy who, on the cusp of freedom, flew too close to the sun. His father wept for the boy and his naivety. Ursa calls it love.)

(Firebenders' skin doesn't burn easily. She can fly as close to the sun as she'd like.)

Ursa traces words on her sun's son's tiny hands. ("Never forget who you are.")

(Zuko. Zuko. Zuko.)

—————

Mother,

General Zhang has left for the front again, thank the Spirits. He has begun to expect me to actually conversate with him lately. I very much prefer ignoring each other’s presence in the household, especially with the number of crude remarks my husband sends my way.

Though I dread how lonesome it tends to get here. None of the servants speak to me unless I am ordering them around. I am ashamed to admit that for a period of time I had befriended one of the servant girls, Xiu. The general My husband caught wind and promptly fired her. I suppose it is for the best. Ladies shouldn't be mingling with their workers.

My twentieth birthday is approaching. May I visit home? I promise I’ll be good; I won’t get in your or Father’s way.

I haven’t seen you or the others in many months. How is Zitin’s bending training going? How are Deepti and Jiro’s studies? Please let me know when you can.

Your daughter,

Lady Zhang Taka

—————

My dear Yeona,

I will be arriving home sooner than expected. I cannot wait to see your beautiful face again! In the meantime, give the kids my love. I'll be home within the month.

All my love,

Narong

——

In his new cell at the Boiling Rock Prison, Jee Narong writes his first tally mark.

—————

Ozai sits in the courtyard with his wife, watching their son repeat his katas. Zuko’s movements are uncertain, his body uncoordinated. Ozai’s eyes sharpen at the boy’s instructor, who has obviously not been doing their job correctly.

Ursa tugs on the man’s sleeve, pulling his attention to Azula. Their two year old toddles over to her parents, face and hands covered in dirt. Ursa laughs lightly at the sight. Ozai waves his hand toward the little girl and refers to the woman beside him. “Clean her up, will you?”

“I am not your servant, you know.”

“But you are my wife. Go deal with your daughter.”

Ursa sighs and scoops Azula up, causing the girl to squeal in delight. “Now what were you doing, my little star?”

“Digging.” Ursa sits back down with her daughter in her arms and grabs the towel that is offered to her by a servant. It’s unlikely the towels would be put to any use anyway. It’s not like Zuko is working nearly hard enough to work up a sweat, Ozai thinks. In front of them, Zuko’s teacher instructs him to practice his breathing techniques.

“You know I’ve told you to stop doing that, Azula.” Ursa wipes the dirt off of the toddler’s face in a swirling motion before pecking her cheek. “And what did you plan to achieve?”

“I find worms!” Ozai is mildly impressed with her way with words. Her brother, on the other hand, only mumbled and imitated animal noises when he was her age. Shameful.

Ursa cleans Azula’s hands off and taps her palms with manicured fingers. One two. One two. One two. “You are a princess. You shouldn’t be digging in the garden or looking for worms. It’s not ladylike.” The girl tries to wiggle out of her mother’s grasp, even tugging at the woman's long hair.

Before he knows it, Ozai is being handed his daughter. He looks down at the toddler, then back up at Ursa. He points at Azula. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Ursa huffs in exasperation. “Take her. I’m done dealing with her antics.”

“You owe me, woman.” Ozai grudgingly takes the child. Azula soon grows bored simply watching, thank Agni, and gets off his lap to run toward her brother.

“Zuzu! Watch out!” The boy peeks up before quickly extinguishing the flame in his palm to catch his little sister.

—————

Private Boonyasak Ryuji,

Your honorable sacrifice has not gone unnoticed. To compensate for your injury, you have been assigned to a new task in the Fire Nation Navy. Training will begin in two weeks. In exchange, you have been ordered by request of Fire Lord Azulon to never speak of the origin of your disability. Your willingness to continue in the military is highly appreciated.

—————

Jee adds his 730th tally mark. Two years since he let his family down.

—————

Mikazuki stops in front of the announcement board on her way to the market. Her family is helping Aanaa run her inn, so they have to go into town for supplies often. Mikazuki is still getting used to the village (still getting used to Ezume not being around).

She and her brothers have created a game with making up stories around the wanted posters. Cupun points to one of a man with a nose ring. “He totally got caught cheating in a komodo chicken fight.”

“How do you even cheat at that?” Dak-Ho asks, ever the skeptic.

“Woah, check this out!” Hwan points to another poster. “He’s, like, my age!” Mikazuki peers over her younger brother’s head.

Cupun lets out a low whistle at the portrait of a smiling boy with missing teeth. Underneath is the boy’s name: เด็กชายซุกซน. “‘A mischievous boy.’ Huh, guess that’s fitting.”

“Why is he wanted?” Mikazuki asks.

Hwan adjusts his glasses. “It says he ran away from an orphanage. Among other things.”

“Oh no! We should help get him back.”

Dak-Ho steps in and lifts a flame to the poster. The paper catches easily. “Dude! What the hell was that for?!” Cupun pushes his older brother.

“There’s probably a good reason he ran away. It’s best to leave him be.”

—————

Gan has never wished he was a firebender more than he does right now. He rereads the letter over and over, his eyes burning holes in the parchment. ”Kasem”. “Killed in action”. “Landslide”.

(41st. 41st. 41st.)

Gan has never wished he was a firebender more than he does in the weeks that follow the letter. He’d burn the whole world down for what it did. Instead, hot blood drips down his hand. The handle of his knife is slick with blood as he watches himself bring the blade up to his topknot in the now broken mirror.

(“Have I ever told you how pretty your hair is?” Kasem’s hands comb through the strands. The dawn’s light filters in through their bedroom window.

Gan looks up, making eye contact with a mismatched pair of brown and blue. “Jealous?”

“You wish.” Gan smiles softly and reaches up to place a kiss on his forehead.)

Gan has never wished he was a firebender more than he does in the months that follow, after the searing anger has been extinguished, leaving nothing but a burned heart. If I was a firebender then I could’ve taken his place. If only.

—————

1,825 tally marks.

—————

Azula has always been good with words. While Zuko stutters and hesitates, she lies and tells stories. She was born lucky.

Also unlike Zuko, she understands the importance of image. At any inconvenience, her brother wears his frustration plainly on his face. That's not to say he actively disregards how he is perceived — both siblings wear masks — just that he is often not conscious of it. Azula's emotions are a footnote, a flickering candle; Zuko's are an omnibus, an inferno.

She supposes it's reasonable for her brother to not take note of his appearance. He stays in the darkness a great deal of the time, after all; his body a smudged name in rooms full of paper lanterns and polite words, of shadows and sharp orders, of high ceilings and higher expectations, of closed doors and closed minds.

For Azula, meanwhile, appearances are everything.

(Lines drawn between her freckles connect to form constellations (a legend written among the stars). Zuko’s freckles form distant trails on a worn out map with borders and ports that are constantly being erased and redrawn, destination (destiny) unknown (lost).)

Over time, Azula learns to make her face unreadable. Her inky black eyebrows arch condescendingly. The delicate brush strokes that form her golden eyes sharpen analytically. The ink blot of her lips pulls up in a smirk. Anyone who takes the time to decipher her will only get the simple translations of "utterly pleased" — isn't that what they want from a typical seven year old? — and "above you in every way".

And behind closed doors, her mask is repainted to resemble a blank page (just like Mother's). (Meanwhile, temporary Fire characters are written on her brother's body with every one of Father's blows. เจ็บ. Pain. 愛. Love.)

—————

General Iroh,

I will see you again when victory is obtained.

Your loyal and loving son,

Lu Ten

—————

Ursa,

I regret to inform you that Lu Ten has passed away. I am on my way home. Iroh has told me that he has to make a few stops before arriving as well.

Anzu

—————

Another tally mark. The 2,316th, to be exact. The news of Fire Lord Azulon's assassination causes commotion in the mess hall. Jee continues to eat his breakfast as a fight breaks out over the newly crowned Fire Lord Ozai's competence. The guards don't try to break it up, even start placing bets. It isn't long before one prisoner is stabbed.

May Fire Lord Ozai be more merciful than his father, Jee prays to the Spirits as he steps over the pool of blood.

—————

Fire Lord Ozai,

My deepest condolences regarding the death of your father a few months ago. He was a powerful leader. It must be difficult to have to live up to his legacy, though I do not doubt your abilities. Don't take that as a challenge.

Because you are new here, I shall offer you a piece of advice:

Secret agents are most successful when they are kept a secret. It was a shock to me as well, really. Too bad "Qianru" couldn't keep her mouth shut. She's a feisty one, I'll tell you that. Couldn't learn to hold her tongue without a little help. Don't worry, I'm treating her very well. She's been all smiles recently.

Because you are new here, I'll give you a pass this time. Generous, I know. No need to thank me. But let this be a warning to you. This is no laughing matter (well, for you).

King Bumi of Omashu

-

Ozai places the letter on his desk, disgusted by the king's informality. He checks the canister given to him by the palace hawker again. Something rattles inside. He tips the contents of the tube into his palm.

He has heard stories of the crazed King of Omashu. And yet, Ozai is still shocked when he holds a clear jar up to the light.

Inside is a newly preserved human tongue.

——

King Bumi of Omashu,

I am willing to bargain. I have arranged for transportation; the meeting location is marked on the disclosed map. If you return your prisoner to us, I promise no harm will come to your city at the hands of the Fire Nation.

Fire Lord Ozai, son of Fire Lord Azulon, grandson of Fire Lord Sozin

——

Fire Lord Ozai,

Alright. No take-backsies.

King Bumi

—————

Mother,

I have done something terrible. May my actions free you from the burden of my presence. I know that they have most certainly freed me.

Lady Zhang Mangal Taka

——

Under house arrest, Taka reads. She studies maps and draws paths and writes notes. She plans her escape.

—————

"Speak."

Yong-Yut continues to stare straight ahead (well, the woman who is later known as Yong-Yut, that is. Right now she is nameless. Ironic, isn't it?). The bandages covering the lower half of her face get her point across for her. They feel not dissimilar to the gauzy hospital bedding beneath her.

"Write."

A brush and parchment are pushed into her hands. The blank page reflects back at her. She shakily places the writing utensil down on her lap.

"We need the information."

The woman knows how to sign (silence is key to a successful mission). She folds her arms across her chest instead.

Every day it's the same routine. "Speak." "Write." "Give us the intel." She's been here so long that the medic that first treated her — the woman never got to know her name — has moved on. She has not quite learned how to tune the voices out yet — old habits die hard — but she still tries nonetheless.

—————

It is customary in the Earth Kingdom to grind the inkstick against the stone in a circular motion; back and forth in the Fire Nation.

Chai Son is a product of all of the people who have given him a chance.

He pushes the inkstick back and forth just like Housemother Nabi taught him. She may have been harsh in her teaching style — "Who taught you this, barbarians?" — but she sometimes snuck him extra food. So yeah, Chai Son liked her.

Dangda. It's the closest I'm going to get to a family name. In truth, it's another stolen facet of him. Chai Son still misses playing games in the streets with his foster brother Pravat. But as usual, Chai Son became a burden on the Dangda family; he ran away as soon as he overheard that they would have to start rationing in order to accommodate for him.

He brings the brush down to his enlistment form.

—————

Jee sits up in his new bunk on an old ship. Instinctively, he turns to add a tally mark for another sunrise. He pauses. I'm out. I'm free. Still, the metal walls are all the same.

—————

Father,

I do not like it very much here. Uncle Iroh is treating me well enough, but he does not compare to your greatness. I am prepared to be received back in the Fire Nation at your command.

Your loyal daughter,

Princess Azula

—————

Dear Azula,

Happy birthday! I wish I could spend it with you. :( I appreciate your letters. I haven’t been able to answer any of them because I’ve just been so busy. I’ve spent quite a lot of time away from my sisters.

Mai has been teaching me how to throw knives. Isn’t that so cool? She still hasn’t gotten her back handspring yet, but that’s ok, practice makes perfect. I don’t mind having to teach Mai the same moves, though. — here was a rather lengthy explanation of everything that has happened in Caldera City — My aura’s never been pinker!

How are you doing? Say hi to Zuko for me!

Miss you!

- Ty Lee <3

—————

Dear Lani,

How are you doing? I miss you and our family. How long have I been gone? I wonder how things have changed since I left.

I’m doing fine here. The royals are much different than I originally thought, though I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I’m spending most of my time around Mikazuki and Chai Son, though. Mikazuki’s a waterbender! And we found out just a couple weeks ago that Chai Son can bend lava! Our group is only an airbender away from being a full Avatar cycle.

Life on a ship is fine. It’s interesting trying to challenge myself with the limited food options. It took me a month or two to really get my sea legs, but after that I’ve been fine. Though I do miss waking up to the sounds of birds.

I miss you! I’d say that I wish you were here, but I know that this whole situation totally takes some getting used to.

If I remember correctly I know how much you value honesty and openness and all that gushy stuff, and that’s exactly why you’d hate it here. I mean, Mikazuki has been straight with us since the beginning about her bending. Chai Son only told us very recently how he ended up here. But that’s it; not even Prince Zuko has told us anything. When asked, all he says is that he has to “restore his honor”. I know I’m not entitled to anyone’s “tragic backstory” or whatever, but it’d be nice knowing who I’m surrounding myself with. Or why we’ve all been sent here. Or what happened to me.

I hope I will see you and everyone else soon. Maybe you’ll even be able to meet my friends!

Love,

Hoshi

-

The chef hovers a warmed hand over the letter to dry the ink, just as they had seen Princess Azula do. It’s not exactly necessary; most of it had dried in the time it took them to finish writing. They took their time to make sure that none of it smudged.

Hoshi stares at the letter. They had known since the moment that they asked Zuko for a piece of parchment that they wouldn’t be able to send the letter. If this were anyone else in my shoes, it’d be funny how I can’t even remember the name of my hometown. But unfortunately, it’s me who has to deal with this.

After rereading the letter, Hoshi carefully rolls it up and places it among their belongings. Just in case. Because if something’s in writing, it makes it certain. Concrete. Like the lines of their palms and their unique fingerprints that will never change, that will never give a name other than Hoshi.

They wish they could talk to Lani about this in person. Their sister’s advice may not have always been the most helpful, but it always made Hoshi feel better to have her there listening. Maybe she could even help them remember.

It’s true that Lani wouldn’t like all the secrecy onboard the Kage. But if she were able to see the dynamics for herself, she’d be frustrated with her sibling’s lack of honesty as well. That’s what’s frustrating for Hoshi: that they are being honest, and yet at the same time they haven’t told anyone the full truth. Because I don’t know the full truth myself.

Among the facts, Hoshi sees flashes of uncertainty. They write a list in their head.

Fact: They joined the army soon after (or right before?) their twentieth birthday.

Uncertainty: They don’t know if they enlisted or were drafted.

Fact: If twenty year old Hoshi had seen what they have now — the slumped-over body of a man in an alleyway, the hatred in colonists’ eyes when the crew passes through a town, the fear on Chai Son’s face whenever Ryuji catches him bending, the melting glass skeletons of long-dead Air Nomads — then they certainly never would have enlisted.

Uncertainty: If they have always felt this way about the war.

Fact: Whether they liked it or not, Hoshi has fought against earthbenders (they don’t exactly remember this, and sure they were just a cook, but it’s a bit of a given). They certainly remember visions of fields of dead soldiers, half-buried almost like crops.

Uncertainty: How long they had been fighting. Or which nation those soldiers were from.

Fact: Their last full memory — however blurry it may be — from before the strange gap in their mind is of a wall. So specific, I know. Their division was stationed outside a large wall that soared above their head. Hoshi stared up at a freshly killed body dressed in Fire Nation reds that swayed in the breeze from where it hung on the barrier. It looked as if whoever put it there took the time to secure the bones and meat with stone. Even so, it was missing an arm.

Uncertainty: If the body is still there. If it still is, it must be skeletonized by now.

Fact: Nearby, another soldier — a friend? — said that the body is of a lost prince. That the General had ordered their retreat because of it.

Uncertainty: If that’s true. On board the Kage, Hoshi counts two princes and a princess.

Fact: Despite the fact that they were going home, the earthbenders continued to assail them with stone. It was only reasonable to defend themselves.

Uncertainty: If Hoshi won that last fight against an earthbender. They don’t remember the end of it.

Fact: Everything became uncertain from there on out.

Uncertainty. No, not a total uncertainty. More like glimpses of memories, like flickering candlelight that allows only certain unrelated words to be read on a page in the dark spot in Hoshi’s mind: Shackles on their wrists. A gag in their mouth. The starry night sky reflecting on a lake. Men with rocks for hands. Or were they gloves? Questions. “How long?” “When is the next attack?” “Where are you going next?” And those are just the ones that Hoshi can think of now. (“What are you willing to do to get out?”) Then candlelight. With each pass of the flame, they had more and more trouble distinguishing which words were theirs, which memories were in their own handwriting.

Fact: After that, things somehow went back to normal. Well, as “normal” as it could get.

Uncertainty: How the hell Hoshi got back with their division. Did I escape? Escape from where? Was I sent back? By whom? Was I rescued? If so, from what?

Fact: Nobody would tell Hoshi what happened or how long they were gone for. They were ordered to stop asking questions and go back to the way things were.

Uncertainty: Why they thought sneaking into an officer’s tent to steal several bags of gold pieces and jewelry was the best way to pay for a trip back home. To be fair, I was not in my right mind at the time.

Fact: For their crime, they were sent to work on the Kage. Though they have a feeling that’s not the full reason (what did I do?).

Uncertainty: If Hoshi has always had such difficulty remembering. Or if they always will.

—————

Father,

I hope all is well in Caldera City. Under your rule, I know it must be.

My fourteenth birthday is in three months. I have decided to set course for the South Pole, where we will arrive in about a month. As we approach the South Pole, I am further filled with hope that I will be able to celebrate with you in the Fire Nation. I promise I will be better this time. I shall not let you down.

Your loyal son,

Crown Prince Zuko

—————

A messenger hawk lands in snow. A braided girl quickly fights off her brother and manages to bring the animal inside. As her grandmother checks on the bird, the girl notices a canister attached to it with a strange design of a flower.

-

Snowbank,

I assume that you are aware of my present situation. We have been sailing in Southern waters searching for the Avatar for some time now. Unfortunately, we have had an incident with a certain someone who shall go nameless getting too cocky at the wheel and steering us into an iceberg.

I am asking for you and your tribe’s understanding as we make an emergency landing not too far out from your village. We will not interact with your tribe unless we are called to do so. It is my understanding that your son is the chief; I hope that you will speak to him so there will be no possibility of miscommunication. We will be staying for only a few days to make repairs.

Please take care of Commander Zuzu for us before we arrive as well. My niece is not very keen on animals, but insists that if anything happens to the bird then she will kill everyone onboard. I am taking her for her word.

Grand Lotus

—————

Chapter Text

Mikazuki stands with the rest of the crew of the Kage on the deck to watch Taka attempt to steer the damaged ship through ice floes. The vessel may be capable of breaking through ice, but General Iroh advised that it would be best to avoid any further possible damage. The navigator is doing fairly well considering her lack of experience — and how distracting Prince Zuko and the general must be trying to guide her — but it’s just taking so long.

“...Lemme drive the boat.” Mikazuki turns to face the ship’s stern and brings her hands up. Seemingly understanding her plan, Hoshi dives over to the railing to hold on tight, dragging Chai Son along with them. Good idea, the waterbender thinks. With a breath and flourish of her hands, she freezes her feet to the deck to anchor herself in place.

“Mikazuki, this is not a good id—” Before Lieutenant Jee is able to finish, the girl begins to push and pull the waves to build up momentum. The lieutenant grumbles and clutches the side of the boat.

“Finally, somebody is using their brain.” Still, Princess Azula grabs the railing tightly. Yong-Yut — who has been banned from going anywhere near the steering wheel — and Gan do so as well.

Mikazuki’s movements are practiced and smooth. She has never had to bend this much water — the people in her village were relatively understanding, but it was best not to make a show of her abilities — and she welcomes the pulling of her muscles. She takes one last glance behind her to check the distance to shore. Assured that the wave is large enough, she thrusts her arms down and behind her.

Chai Son lets out a whoop as the Kage cruises to shore on the large wave. Once she is sure that she is steady, Mikazuki unfreezes her feet in a swift motion and dashes to the front of the ship. As the coast approaches, she leans slightly over the railing and extends her arms up, wrists bent downward. The water in front of the ship freezes. She does this multiple more times until the vessel slows enough to not crash into the shore.

As the Kage comes to a stop, Mikazuki turns back to the deck with a smile on her face. Chai Son meets her halfway as she walks back to her friends. “That was sick!” Mikazuki blushes and stammers out a thank you.

They both look to their other friend, who is leaning over the railing and oh Spirits are they vomiting? Gross. “Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, Hoshi. I forgot you get seasick so easily.” The chef offers a weak thumbs up without turning around before retching again.

Mikazuki turns to the sound of shoes clambering onto the deck. Anzu appears from out of the infirmary, glasses askew. “What the fuck was that?!”

The healer is followed almost immediately by Ryuji, who pants heavily from the quick climb up the stairs. “What the fuck was that?!” he exclaims.

Before anyone can answer, Taka bursts out from the bridge. “What the fuck was that?!” Mikazuki hears Yong-Yut chuckle at the repetition from behind her; the waterbender would do so alongside her if the engineer and navigator’s ire wasn’t potentially directed her way.

Prince Zuko leaves the wheelhouse as well, swords drawn. General Iroh’s face is serene as he walks behind the boy. “Are we being attacked?”

“Do not worry, Your Highness.” Lieutenant Jee walks up from behind Mikazuki and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Mikazuki was just helping out with our time efficiency.” He offers a small smile down to her.

——

You would think that in a land of soft, cushion-y snow, everybody would be out of harm’s way. Anzu is rather quickly proven wrong. The crew really has a knack for doing that, don’t they?

Chai Son seems to set a record by immediately running out and vaulting himself face first into the snow. It’s an understandable sentiment — it seems to be almost everyone’s first time experiencing the substance — but still foolish. He soon leaps back up and frantically dashes back over to where Iroh is helping Anzu step out onto land.

“Anzu, my face is frozen!”

The healer takes one look at the boy. “Your face is not frozen.”

“I think I’m dying!”

“Your face is just cold.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

Anzu takes the boy by the arm and leads him over to Hoshi. “Warm his face up, will you? And dry his coat off while you’re at it.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

The medic scoffs in response and turns away to survey the crew for anything that she could be useful for. Ryuji’s arm always bothers him with the cold, but there’s not much Anzu can do about it past the soothing salve she had given him earlier. And having forced Zuko to put moisturizer on his scar this morning, Anzu has crossed everything off of her chronic pain checklist. There’s always work to do though.

After asking Taka about the objects’ location, the healer walks back out of the ship with a log of thanaka wood and grinding stone in hand. She smirks as Azula naturally drifts over to her — just as expected — with her face betraying curiosity. After grinding the wood against the wetted stone, Anzu takes off her mitten and swipes up some thanaka with her finger. She begins to approach the princess’s face before the girl stops her.

“Do not touch me.”

“The sun is out for almost twenty hours a day at this time of year. You need some on.” Azula doesn’t relent, instead staring at her with sharp golden eyes as if daring the woman to go against her wishes. Anzu groans internally. Why did stubbornness of all things have to be the family trait? The healer stares right back at the girl.

Taka and Yong-Yut wander over to also put thanaka on before then passing it to Mikazuki, who, in turn, offers to also help Chai Son — whose face is “miraculously” still intact — apply some. In this span of time Anzu has made absolutely no progress with Azula. Sensing that she will never relent, the healer picks up more of the paste and holds her finger up again.

“I am putting it on your face now and you are not stopping me. Don’t make me get your uncle involved in this,” Anzu says firmly. Before the child has time to respond, the woman holds her in place by the shoulder and applies the thanaka in quick swipes. Anzu gets a few swift kicks to the shins for it, but hey, at least I’m getting the job done.

——

“Woah, I didn’t know that snow comes in different colors!” Hoshi pauses in their attempt at setting up a tent to point out at a patch on the ground.

Gan looks over from the other side of the tent. “What flavor do you think it is?”

“I mean, it’s yellow, so I guess lemon-clementine? There’s only one way to find out though.”

-

“Um, Anzu?” The medic turns around from where she has been explaining to Zuko that, “yes, it is completely normal for wet hair to freeze. No, the elements are not attacking you for personal reasons. Yes, I have taken your opinion into consideration. No, the universe is still not out to get you.” She pushes her glasses up with a mittened hand.

“What’s wrong, Hoshi?”

The chef rubs the back of their neck. “What happens if someone eats yellow snow? Asking for a friend.”

“Hoshi.” The young adult refuses to make eye contact. “Did you eat yellow snow?” They smile sheepishly while absentmindedly twisting a lock of hair around a finger. Anzu sighs. “Go try to make yourself throw up. We don’t know what diseases you could’ve been exposed to. And just… don’t do it again.” Hoshi nods and promptly runs off toward the edge of the water.

“Anzu.” The woman turns in the direction of Iroh’s voice. He smiles at his friend. “Why don’t you take a break? You have been working nonstop ever since we arrived.”

As if on cue, Anzu hears the sound of cracking ice from behind her, then a splash. Lieutenant Jee’s voice emits a load of fake curse words (even submerged in freezing water, he refuses to swear). Anzu sighs tiredly and pats her friend’s hand. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

——

As Yong-Yut helps to set up their small encampment, she can’t help but let her mind wander. It’s hard to keep up a conversation when her hands are busy. She tries in vain to squash down the guilt that rises like bile in her throat from her proximity to the Southern Water Tribe.

Yong-Yut takes pride in her abilities. What they were used for, on the other hand? Not so much. She would always avoid the aftermath of her missions, instead diving right into the next one. She silently prays to the Spirits that the Southern Raiders did not succeed. If they did, then Yong-Yut would be to blame for the little waterbender’s death. If they did, Mikazuki and her grandmother would be the last of the Southern benders.

I’m different now. That wasn’t me. Yong-Yut doesn’t quite know who she is right now. But she does know who she wants to be: A loyal soldier. A woman Taka could love. A good friend. A person the prince could look up to.

(She has tried to wear her scars with pride. So maybe he will do so too. But ever since she found out who gave them to him, she’s been less sure that that’s the route to take. How can one be proud of their own pain? Of how they’ve been wronged? She’s still trying to figure that out for herself.

Yong-Yut is beginning to think that — in circumstances like this, specifically — pride is like forgiveness: unnecessary. She hasn’t had to forgive the king for what he did to her because she never blamed him; she knew that she ran the risk of punishment the moment she stepped into enemy territory. But with no one to blame, she’s been left with an empty body that could only be filled with grief.

Yong-Yut hopes Zuko never forgives his father. Because if he lets go of his resentment, then what will be left but pain?

And besides, it’s too difficult to find pride in her scars right now. And from the boy’s reaction, it seems like he won’t even admit to himself what happened. So right now, Yong-Yut’s just aiming for toleration, acceptance. Baby steps.)

(Yong-Yut thinks of the prince as a sort of a weird younger brother. She doesn’t remember if she actually has any younger siblings. She doesn’t really try to; that requires digging through her chest to find her longest-buried self.

Ichiro. “Firstborn son”. The name is so old, so masculine, so not Yong-Yut that she hasn’t thought of it as hers in a long time. And still, it remains etched on her ribs; you can’t erase carvings on bone no matter how sick you are of breathing out names. She isn’t Ichiro, never truly was, but she still carries all of those possibilities with her in the cavity of her chest.

A short epitaph lies underneath the name of the dead: In memory of everything I should could have been and everyone I left behind.)

——

Taka has been accustomed to silence for years — the all-consuming vacuum of an empty house full of no one to talk to, the quiet left behind when the echoes of shouting have faded, the deafening din of loneliness, the void that opens up when there’s no one to listen — but not to this kind. Instead of being stifling, Yong-Yut’s quiet is comforting, as if giving her a choice.

When the two of them make contact — which has started to become more commonplace as both of them become more comfortable with it — they leave their hands free. An arm loops around a shoulder, feet bump into one another, a chin rests on the top of a head, a pair of elbows link — all still very much tentatively, of course — but no matter what, they keep their hands free.

Taka is beginning to welcome the quiet moments. Because in them are not closed fists but instead open palms; an offer. As if to say I’m ready. To speak or to listen, to confess or to support, to negotiate or even to argue. I am ready when you make the choice.

——

“How long do you expect it will take?”

Ryuji looks at the ship to assess its damage in order to respond to Prince Zuko. A long open streak runs through the starboard side, high up enough that the vessel hadn’t risked sinking. The broken metal’s sharp teeth point inward.

“Well unless dipshit over there” — Ryuji jerks his head over to where Mikazuki and Hoshi are burying Chai Son in the snow — “suddenly invents metalbending, I’d say a few days. At the very most a week.” He purposely leaves out that it wouldn’t take so long if it weren’t for the cold air and his pained arm.

Ryuji may be frustrated with the temperature, but he still enjoys the work. He hadn’t originally chosen engineering as a career path for himself, but has grown to like it after so many years at it. The usual fueling of the engine can get monotonous, sure, and yes, maybe Ryuji thinks it gets much more entertaining on deck with the others, but that doesn’t mean he hates his job.

Once he gets himself going he stays invested. He welcomes the mental challenges alongside the physical labor. It’s like working out a puzzle. And when the work gets methodical, he can allow his mind to drift to other stories that need explanations.

That’s the word for it. Explanatory. Ryuji enjoys his job because he likes being able to take something apart to figure out how exactly it works; in a world filled with muddled facts, mysterious secrets, and murky motives, the transparency is refreshing.

People like to call Ryuji a rumor spreader. He calls himself a storyteller. People like to call him a liar. He says that he’s offering theories. And in his line of work, well, sometimes he has to use trial and error. Same goes for finding out the truth.

Ryuji is not going to allow himself to just be another cog in the machine that spins in the direction that he’s told to. And besides, it’s not like he was a necessary part; there are plenty of others to take his place when a gear tooth breaks.

——

“Zuko, look at this! Ancient symbols.”

“That is a phallic drawing.”

Chai Son quickly throws his writing utensil the stick that he just so happened to be holding in the opposite direction. “What? No. I think it’s supposed to be an arrow.” He waves the waterbender over (he’d get Hoshi in on the joke as well, but they’re busy helping Gan keep the animals warm). “Mikazuki can you decipher this?”

The girl walks over and covers her laugh with her hand at the sight before quickly schooling her features when the prince looks her way. “Ah yes, my grandmother told me of these. With no available parchment, the Southern Water Tribe tells their stories through oral tradition, though it is not uncommon to see drawings in the snow.” Mikazuki places her hands in her sleeves like General Iroh does so often. “But I must consult with Taka.”

Chai Son smiles over at Zuko as Mikazuki runs over and points Taka — and by extension, Yong-Yut — in their direction. The boy glares back. “You can’t fool me.”

While Taka walks in circles around the entirety of the drawing, Yong-Yut brings her right hand up to her face with her index finger pointed upward; her middle finger is extended perpendicularly and taps her nose twice. Chai Son gives himself a mental high five for actually knowing what that sign means.

Zuko turns to the woman. “My thoughts exactly!” Chai Son tries to stifle his laughter.

While the prince is turned away, Mikazuki tries to subtly fix the shape of the drawing after it has been stepped on. “Taka, what do you think the mysterious symbol could possibly mean?”

Taka puts a hand on her chin as if deep in thought. “It seems to be in a language that is no longer spoken, but I think I can decipher it. It will just take some time.” She sends a wink to Chai Son. Zuko throws his hands up in exasperation while yelling, which seems to attract the attention of the rest of their encampment who aren’t working.

General Iroh wanders over with a steaming cup of tea in hand. “What is going on— Oh my what a lovely drawing.” The man smiles.

Zuko shoves away the coat that the medic tries to put on his shoulders. “Anzu, you’re a woman of science. Tell me you know what that is.”

She glances over at the crude drawing. “An archaic glyph, next question.” She pushes the anorak toward him again. Chai Son releases his breath. I seriously thought she was gonna give in for a second there.

Zuko throws both arms in the direction of the center of everyone’s attention. “That is obviously a penis!”

Mikazuki and Chai Son stare at each other in awe. “Prince Zuko just said penis!” he whispers. The waterbender covers her mouth with a gloved hand to soften the sound of her giggling.

Princess Azula steps beside Taka. “It looks to be in the writing system of the proto-sandbenders.”

“You are lying like always.”

“Were you not paying attention in history lessons, Zuzu? Very soon after the dawn of bending, there had been earthbenders living here in the South Pole that were related to the Water Tribe. But after a war between the two, the earthbenders fled. They ended up in the Si Wong Desert, where they learned to bend sand by mimicking the waterbenders’ ability to bend the many shifting particles of snow.” Damn, she’s committed, Chai Son thinks.

Lieutenant Jee nods along, a blanket draped across his shoulders. “Ah yes, Ryuji has told me about how many members of the Hami Tribe have blue eyes.”

Yong-Yut signs something. Meanwhile, Chai Son’s eyes go wide as he fully processes Princess Azula’s spiel. “Wait, there’s earth here? I thought it was just ice!” He turns to his friend. “We’re searching for land after this.” Mikazuki salutes in response.

Taka snaps her fingers, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “I think Yong-Yut’s right. It’s pointing us in the direction of the Avatar!”

If Zuko hadn’t been angry before, then he sure is now. “It is pointing to the ocean!”

The lieutenant scratches his head. “Why would the Avatar be in the waters surrounding the South Pole?”

——

Taka leans against one of the two walls that Mikazuki had made around one side of the encampment to block it from the wind, trying to adjust her coat as she does so. It had been too loose, as there hadn’t been any available in the market for someone of both her height and “feminine proportions” as General Iroh called it (Anzu took one for the team and gave him a stern talking to after that comment and the hand gestures that accompanied it). During the journey to the South Pole, Taka has been able to sew her men’s anorak to fit her better, though the shoulders still manage to be too wide.

(The two children’s coats were too large for them as well before being adjusted. Based on what Ryuji has told her about the raids, Taka has taken that as a good sign.)

(It’s much easier to steal clothes off of a corpse than a living being.)

“All I’m saying is that it is unfair to hold onto your prejudices in the face of new information. At that point it’s just excusing cruelty with false ignorance.”

Prince Zuko swings his flaming fists downward in exasperation. “Ugh! It is not unfounded, it is factual! Even our textbooks state that the Water Tribes are barbaric.”

Taka rolls her eyes. “Hey Azula?” The girl looks up from the astonishingly accurate map of Caldera City that she has been drawing — with her uncle’s help of course — in the snow. “Would you please give the definition of barbaric?”

The princess recalls the definition with astonishing speed. “Barbaric. Adjective. Savagely cruel; exceedingly brutal.” Her eyes slide over to her brother. “Though I suppose you could also mean the second definition. Primitive; unsophisticated.”

“Traitor,” the prince mutters. So glad to know that our next Fire Lord is a master in diplomacy, Taka thinks.

“About that first definition,” the navigator begins, “I think it’d be fair to say that it isn’t exactly ‘savagely cruel’ of the Southern Water Tribe to refrain from attacking us despite us being on their land.”

“If I may interject—”

“No you can’t,” the Fire Prince snaps.

“I have no stakes in this argument besides the shame that comes from witnessing your inability to defend your point, Brother. Stop being so ungrateful.” Azula rolls her eyes. “You are taking this discussion out of context, Taka. The Southern Water Tribe is not attacking because they know we would defeat them.”

“Or maybe because they’re not as brutal as you think.”

Mikazuki passes by with a basket of laundry on her hip. “How do you think they know we would defeat them if they haven’t had to face the Fire Nation’s cruelty before?”

“It’s not cruelty, it’s just strategy,” Prince Zuko growls. “We had to fight back after they attacked us.”

“‘Fight back’?! We destroyed their way of life because they tried to do something after the Fire Nation slaughtered the Air Nomads! It would have been wrong of them to do nothing but watch.” Taka’s pretty impressed; this is the most heated she’s ever seen the waterbender get.

“Ugh! It doesn’t matter what you think, you are naturally biased toward the Water Tribes.”

The young woman begins to stomp away, calling over her shoulder. “Says the heir to the dragon throne!” Get him, Mikazuki!

“Regarding the second definition of barbaric,” Taka says, bringing the boy’s attention back to her, “just one look at the tribe shows that they’re a functioning society that isn’t in the early stages of their development.”

“What a foolish piece of evidence! Just one look at the tribe shows that they are in a state of disrepair and destitution. You’re just proving Zuzu’s point.” The woman likes the princess, she really does, but Agni, can she get annoying sometimes. Still, the navigator manages to keep her cool; she has had years of practice, after all. She is completely composed — ladylike — when she speaks next.

“Do not project your opinions onto me, Azula. Now I do not know when the last raid was, but—”

“Mikazuki!” Prince Zuko calls. Taka frowns. Who taught these children that they can just speak over everyone they please?! The waterbender looks up. “When was the last raid?” Shouldn’t the Crown Prince know about this sort of stuff?

The girl shrugs. “Aanaa was taken in 42 AG, and she said the raids had been going on for seven years at that point.” Her eyes look distant as she thinks, frowning. “I… didn’t really realize that they probably continued after that though. Aanaa says that there were still some waterbenders left when she was captured.”

From beside Mikazuki, Yong-Yut puts down the tunic she had been drying — Hoshi had had to teach her how to do that without scorching the cloth; she doesn’t seem to have any prior knowledge in all the domestic bending skills that Taka finds so mundane, but instead only combat ones — and signs something.

Taka’s eyes automatically find Yong-Yut when she enters a room but still, the deckhand seems to have a knack for blending in wherever she goes. Because of this, Taka asks her to repeat herself.

“Four years ago. In 93.” Multiple emotions seem to flit across Yong-Yut’s face before landing on a neutral expression. The navigator doesn’t blame her. Seeing smoke from a bonfire drift above the tribe’s walls, Taka can’t help but grimace at just how fresh their pain must be (at how much it must sting for the Kage’s presence to reopen their wounds).

Prince Zuko’s scowl has deepened when Taka turns back to face him. “Well. As I was saying, given the isolation and harshness of the environment, their reconstruction efforts are impressive in such a short amount of time.”

“That does not detract from the large gap in terms of advancement between our two nations. We have buildings and palaces, but look at what they have!”

Instead of following the direction of Prince Zuko’s gesture to once again look at the village, Taka frowns down at her manicured nails; the polish is chipped on one of them. “I hate to admit it as much as you do, Your Highness, but look around you. Seems similar to anything?”

The Fire Prince kicks at the base of the nearest tent in frustration. “The circumstances are different.”

“You’re right, they are. The Southern Water Tribe has an igloo, a complete wall, and multiple functioning boats.”

Prince Zuko grows closer and points at Taka accusingly. “What’s your problem?! Why do you even care so much?”

The woman steps forward as well, looming over the boy. “It’s not that I care, it’s that I am being logical. If the Water Tribes were as uncivilized and disorganized as you assume, then the Fire Nation never would have targeted them. Those are the facts of the matter. How I feel about it is unimportant.”

The two stand there for a moment, glaring at each other. Sparks fly out of Prince Zuko’s mouth as he growls. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. “You are insufferable,” he spits before stomping away, right through his sister’s drawing.

—————

Chapter Text

Zuko shoots up from his bed roll, panting. His breathing slows as his eyes adjust to the near darkness of the tent. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I’m in the South. He attempts to shake the image of Father’s flaming palm. (Which one?)

(Oh Agni why does there have to be more than one time?)

(One two. One two. One two.)

(Throne room or stage arena? One two. Splattered blood or burning flesh? One two. Mom’s glassy eyes or Uncle’s closed ones? One two. Grandfather’s hands on my arms (one) or Father’s in my hair, on my face (two)? A shadow or a blazing sun? One or two?)

Zuko grabs his parka with shaking hands and makes his way out of the tent. The stars may not be out, but it will be comforting to watch the skies nevertheless.

——

“Lieutenant Jee.” The man in question looks over at the source of the rough voice. Prince Zuko had sat down about a half hour ago on the tarp that is laid out on one side of the campfire to try to meditate, but as soon as he became aware of Jee’s presence, he started to fidget and look like he wanted to ask something. Seems like he finally decided. “Do you think… Or, given your experience…”

Jee raises his eyebrows. When the prince doesn’t continue, he turns back to his wood carving, this one being of the Kage. Gan and Yong-Yut stand — or sit — on night watch on other sides of the camp as well. If you could even call it night watch. With the darkest shade of the sky at the end of the polar summer being the deep cerulean of nautical twilight, the crew learned from their first day that it is wisest to nap in shifts during the sunlight hours as well.

Easier said than done with a group of almost entirely firebenders. If Jee was truly in charge, he wouldn’t be taking complaints from anybody. But alas, this is not the case. Instead, he faced the wrath of two cranky monarchs two days ago when they woke up outside for the first time in their lives.

Princess Azula is capable of sleeping past sunrise, thank the Spirits, but that does not necessarily translate to being able to sleep “on the cold hard ground like a peasant” (her words, not mine). As is usually the case, her brother was even more bothersome, waking up the moment the sun peeked over the horizon and immediately making that everyone’s problem.

Jee thinks that demanding sleep schedules must be a royalty thing — General Iroh had to be awoken by several nudges of his nephew’s boot — what with their cushy upbringing. But even Taka, who is by all means a member of nobility, easily accommodated to the night watch during their first weeks aboard the ship, saying something about staying on guard in bed at night anyway.

Everyone else is used to it. Mikazuki for bending reasons. Anzu for taking care of ailing patients who wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t stayed up all night with them. Chai Son claims to be able to sleep, “anywhere, anytime” due to being on the run so often. Hoshi has said that stealing is made easier under the cover of night (which was not the answer Jee was looking for the time the cook had gotten back on the ship with a bleeding crown prince in tow). Jee was warned early on in his prison sentence to never turn his back to a cellmate. The rest, like the lieutenant, are accustomed to being woken up at odd hours by superiors on the battlefront. At least, I assume Yong-Yut is. The story of her past has left even Ryuji stumped.

Presently, Prince Zuko crosses his arms and turns away. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.” He sneaks another glance at the lieutenant. “Though you do look rather stupid right now.”

“All I’m doing is using a blanket.”

No response. The pair lapse into momentary silence once again, watching as Uzume — the Spirit of the dawn — slowly beckons Agni to fully rise. Prince Zuko tries and fails to suppress a shiver as a frigid breeze traipses across the tundra. “You were in the Boiling Rock.” He doesn’t say it like a question, but Jee feels obliged to nod his head in agreement. The Fire Prince nods to himself as well, eyes staying plastered to the vast expanse in front of them. “So you must know about the cold.”

Jee frowns and straightens his back. It’s a vague statement, likely meant to throw off any outsiders that just so happened to be listening — which they are not — but the man understands. The rest of the crew wore faces of plain confusion the time Princess Azula had mentioned the coolers. “What is it that you would like to know, Your Highness?”

Prince Zuko’s speech is halting. His lisp is out in full force with the cold likely numbing whatever feeling — inhibiting whatever mobility — that remains in the left side of his face. “Do you think… Is there such a thing as… a firebender dying and it… it isn’t warm?”

The prince sighs, dissatisfied with his choice of words. He’s never the most eloquent speaker, and his lack of sleep is certainly doing nothing to help. Jee sits patiently, waiting for him to try again. Prince Zuko collects himself, brushing his hair out of his face so his profile is visible to the man. “Have you ever heard of a firebender’s death causing the temperature in the room to drop?”

Now where did he get the idea for that?, Jee thinks. He places the pocket knife and block of wood down on the tarp and studies him for a moment. The Crown Prince shuffles out of seiza to hug his knees. The position, his loose, windswept hair, the puffy sleeplessness that surrounds his eye, the nerves behind his question, the roundness of his face, even the newfound softness of his voice…

Jee realizes with sudden clarity that the person before him is a child. He knew this before, of course, but not with such depth; a label based on the magnitude of Prince Zuko’s age alone, not his disposition. He is a child tasked with the impossible, a child left with nothing but anger. Jee’s own son was his age when he died. The prince boy finally turns to peer at the man and—

Agni above. Jee can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the suddenness of the sight of Prince Zuko’s burn scar. Only thirteen. Vidura’s age.

The boy grimaces and turns away at Jee’s reaction, and that’s no good. The man tries to actually think through his question. In truth, he has never heard such a thing. Firebenders dying from the cold? That, Jee is all too familiar with. Heat settles like a weighted blanket. But the cold… the cold is violent. Heat may be stifling, but the absence of it is piercing, shattering, stabbing.

“I suppose this question would be better suited for Anzu, but I’d say it is certainly a possibility, even if it sounds like something out of one of Ryuji’s ‘scary’ stories. The firebender would most likely have to be very powerful for it to occur, though.” Prince Zuko, now facing Jee once again, looks minorly relieved. The man dares to speak again, hesitant to break this fragile peace. “Why do you ask?”

The boy looks behind him to both sides. It’s almost endear— nope. Not that. Amusing. I meant it’s almost amusing, considering his heat sense. For a moment, the lieutenant considers the possibility of the strange question having something to do with his thermal detection.

Prince Zuko’s voice is small when he speaks again. “I wanted to be certain I didn’t imagine it.” The man doesn’t speak, making room for the other to continue at his own pace instead of pushing further. And besides, I couldn’t utter a word right now if I tried. Spirits, what has he been witness to?

Prince Zuko rests his scarred side on his knees to look out on the snowy expanse before them. His voice is hollow. “Sometimes I— I see it happening again. In my dreams. A-And it was so cold when I woke up that I thought I was still there. ‘Zula says there’s no way a firebender could do that though. She says I am just being overdramatic.”

The boy startles when Jee clears his throat, seemingly having forgotten that the older man was there. The lieutenant tries to keep his voice soft. “See what happen, Your Highness?”

Jee braces himself for when the Fire Prince will start shouting, telling him to mind his own business like usual. Anger flashes across Prince Zuko’s face, but he doesn’t retaliate; instead he just looks tired. “When…” He quickly glances at the pocket knife on the ground and curls back in on himself.

Now I may not know what that’s supposed to mean but I sure as hell don’t like it, Jee thinks. From the bucket he is sitting on, he leans down and grabs the folded knife. Making sure that the prince is watching, Jee tosses it into the snow to his right side. That’s going to be a bitch to find later.

The man looks back over to Prince Zuko expectantly. The boy gulps and speaks quickly. “When Mom died. That’s what I see.” Jee feels a pang in a tiny section of his heart (the same section that remembers the sounds of a child’s screams before he managed to put the fire out). Only thirteen.

The silence must stretch on too long while Jee searches for the right words, as Prince Zuko speaks again. “It is unimportant. I am too old to be having nightmares anyway.”

Jee speaks before the boy can begin to stand up. “How did she die?” Hey, I never said I had tact. And besides, all that gushy stuff is General Iroh’s forte, not mine. And it’s not like Prince Zuko seems to know how to react to his uncle’s words of comfort.

A frown. “Bleeding out from a stab wound.” A shaky breath. “It took so long. The knife stayed in.” A single golden eye peers up at Lieutenant Jee. “Anzu says blood freezes between 26.6 and 28.4 degrees. Mom breathed out steam.”

“That is… tough to hear. My condolences.”

“It does not matter. Azula says it was my fault anyway. I just pity the servant who had to find her body.”

“That doesn’t detract from the horror you were forced to experience, though.”

“I should have looked away. If I could not have helped, then I should have at least looked away. Given her some dignity in death. But all I could do was watch.”

Jee tried to avoid other prisoners at the Boiling Rock. Instead he opted to observe. It wasn’t super uncommon for some inmates to couple up, or sometimes be sent in with family members. Often, after the crowds dispersed, Jee would see a sister left staring at the burned body still attached to the whipping post. Or a friend would try to split up a fight and would be left with wide eyes as their friend goes down. Or a man would struggle with guards to try to enter the infirmary when his partner got sick.

How often Jee would see the loved ones of the dying and think, Why don’t they leave? Why do they stay to watch?

And now he understands. “It’s because you had no other choice.”

—————

“Rise and shine!”

Hoshi doesn’t even try to struggle as Chai Son pulls their sleeping bag out of the tent. He drops their legs in the snow. Hoshi sits up. “I’m taking this to mean it’s time to make breakfast?”

Chai Son nods eagerly before leaving the chef to it. They hear their friend call out, “Good morning, sunshine!”, to which Prince Zuko’s voice snaps, “Do not call me that! Nobody can call me that!”

Unfortunately, Hoshi doesn’t know enough about the South Pole beyond the basics to determine with certainty which animals are edible. They don’t hunt but Yong-Yut has said that she’s a decent archer, and Gan and Prince Zuko have their swords. That would work, right?

Ok, maybe swords aren’t the most ideal weapon for hunting. Either way, Hoshi had asked Gan about the topic, and his reply was a resounding no. The animal handler emphasized that he knows how to care for animals, not kill them, so no he in fact does not know which parts of the cuttlefish are safe to eat.

Hoshi kneels on the tarp in front of the campfire, allowing themself to think while they prepare the crew’s breakfast. They miss food from back home. They can control the cooking fire and warm containers in their hands for reheating, sure, but it’s just not the same.

From what Hoshi remembers, many dishes are cooked in imus — ovens made out of pits in the ground — on their home island. Which is not very reasonable to build in the permafrost of the South Pole. Next time we go to some uninhabited (and unfrozen) island, I’ll have Chai Son help me build one, then I can finally make some kalua pig.

Cooking was a bonding experience with Dad, who tried his best to spend an equal amount of time with each of his children when he wasn’t working. Hoshi once tried to teach their friends some of the basics, but all that ended up happening was Mikazuki made a disgusting mixture of sauces for Chai Son to try. Still, the chef has tried to keep note of which dishes and ingredients the crew prefers.

Mikazuki likes ocean kumquat, which Hoshi is thankful for, as it is ideal for storing on ships. She has said that they are similar to sea prunes, so her grandmother would cook them whenever she got homesick. Mikazuki doesn’t like ash bananas, as they are imported from Hing Wa Island, which is only a two days journey from her village, so she ended up eating way too many of the fruit growing up.

Chai Son’s favorite dish is loco moco, which is strange, as Hoshi had thought that it was a traditional dish specific to their home island (has he passed through? Would he know the name of my village?).

Hoshi loves zucchini-pumpkin, of course. They didn’t get it tattooed on their fists for nothing. Their favorite dish, though, is laulau. The chef’s stomach rumbles at the thought of pork wrapped in taro leaves.

Hoshi has to admit, Lieutenant Jee’s choice of tom kha khai — chicken in a sour coconut milk soup — sounds pretty good.

Both Gan and Prince Zuko were appalled that Ryuji’s favorite dish is roast duck, no matter how common it is.

Speaking of the hawker, Gan likes khao niao mamuang. It makes a lotta sense; mango sticky rice is a great vegetarian option.

Hoshi had never heard of wappani before Taka told them about it. It starts off as miso soup with fish and vegetables — pretty normal — but is then heated by dropping hot rocks into the flask to bring it to a simmer. She had me in the first half, I’m not gonna lie. The chef was amazed at the people of Yu Dao’s ingenuity in blending and incorporating their bending styles.

Never one to back down, Ryuji once accepted Yong-Yut’s challenge to see who could eat the most extra spicy fire noodles, effectively shutting the engineer up. Gan won a lot of money in bets that day.

Hoshi was a bit thrown off by the new information given to them by Anzu that apparently, the upper class just eats the raw tentacles of the sea slug instead of the entire animal smoked. So wasteful.

General Iroh prefers sashimi, which differs slightly from the poke that Hoshi grew up on. Instead of being cut into cubes like the chef’s village’s dish, the formal delicacy calls for thinly sliced raw fish.

Princess Azula is adamant that mochi is, in fact, a dish by itself.

Zuko says that his favorite is stuffed crab, but Hoshi is pretty sure he has a soft spot for melonpan. Once, after serving the dessert, the chef heard the prince quack softly to his little sister.

—————

Mikazuki tends to go with the flow. Her pain is never violent like Aanaa’s would get — snapping at anyone nearby, threatening villagers, going on angry tirades — but instead… almost banal. It’s a mundane ache that the girl has grown used to.

The stomach is the sea of chi. But in her hands Mikazuki feels like she is always carrying buckets of emotions. Her arms have grown numb to the weight but it’s still frustrating when the water overflows and spills over.

She has spoken to Chai Son about it. He understands what it’s like to… well, to be so close to not being Fire Nation.

(Taka should experience it as well, being from Yu Dao, but the navigator has said that it’s never crossed her mind; her birthplace was colonized before the war even began. And besides, Taka has said that she doesn’t think much about her heritage, not because of lack of knowledge about it like Mikazuki — the older woman’s family tree (at least, on her mother’s side) can be easily traced by walking through a hall of portraits — but because she just doesn’t care much.)

Chai Son says he knows how it feels. That all the what-ifs pulse at his temples. Sometimes he can’t tell if his jaw hurts from giving so many fake smiles or holding back from bending. His pain is physicalized. Mikazuki can’t relate; the wounds inflicted on her heart weren’t even hers to begin with (they were her father’s. And before that, her grandmother’s. And even before that, the Southern Water Tribe’s). But she does know how it feels to wonder what she could have been.

Mikazuki wishes she could say that it comes in waves: the aching. The yearning. Because with every push there is also a pull; for every lap on the shore there is also a retreat. But not for Mikazuki. There is no undulation, no fluctuation. Just a still pool. A shallow one, yes, but so stagnant that algae has grown on the surface; the water is so murky that it doesn’t reflect.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing to look back on? The waterbender has Aanaa, sure. But the woman is growing older, beginning to forget.

She has her aunts and uncles and cousins, sure. But at the end of the day, they pledge their allegiance to the Fire Nation and Fire Nation only.

She has her father, sure. But he seems to pick and choose which Water Tribe traditions to honor.

(Dad tried to hide his proud tears when he took Mikazuki ice dodging when she was fourteen; she was the first of his children who got to dodge actual ice, even if she had to make it herself. He may tell stories, but he never bothered to learn any of the Water Tribe songs that Aanaa sings. He always grimaces when his mother serves Water Tribe food when they eat as a family. ”Don’t tell your father this,” Mom had said once, “But I think it would have been rather romantic if he had given me a betrothal necklace when he proposed. The one Ngoen made for Kalaya is so pretty.”)

Mikazuki has the stories, sure. But they’re not her memories. Even with some of her people’s history passed down to her, her Fire Nation education and upbringing are always at the forefront of her mind. The Moon Spirit may have bestowed upon her waterbending, but Mikazuki finds herself praying to Agni more often than not. She feels fragmented, detached.

(The Spirit of the Southern Sea was fragmented too. Clinging to the side of the boat, Sedna fell into La’s waters when her fingers were chopped off to become the various types of seals.)

Mikazuki feels like nothing is truly hers because there is always something to contradict it.

Not her name; Aanaa says her father was a fool to give her the name of an ashmaker.

Not this crew; she has a family back home waiting for her.

Not her hair; in the Fire Nation, hair ties a person to their family as a gift from their parents.

(When Dak-Ho enlisted, Dad helped him cut his hair into a wolf tail. Mikazuki had once put beads in her hair, but Aanaa was upset when she saw the small red and gold spheres. But once, when her cousin Chantara came to visit, Aanaa commented on how the girl’s blue beads matched her eyes. Her cousin Sadzi’s face is framed by two loops of hair.)

Not this snowy tundra; as much fun as it is to be surrounded by her element, Mikazuki misses the warmth of her homeland.

Not her skin; Mom wouldn’t allow her to get tattoos like her aunts and Aanaa.

(Mikazuki remembers tracing the lines that arc across her grandmother’s tan skin with gentle care; the girl doesn’t know the meaning of every one, and she’s afraid that as Aanaa grows older, she may never find out.

Aunt Aputik’s are subtle bands across her fingers, representing where the Spirit Sedna was cut. Now that Mikazuki has been to an Air Temple, she sees a resemblance between the double forked lines on her aunt Uki’s forehead and the airbender tattoos from the temple’s murals. When her aunt Si Fah had her baby, Aanaa gave the woman swerving lines around her collarbone; the amauti, a parka for carrying children.)

Not this anorak; she has heard Ryuji and Jee speak in hushed tones over where the merchants — or as the men said, “pirates” — obtained them.

Not even Mikazuki’s blood; her veins may look blue through the palest patches of her skin, but she bleeds red just the same.

—————

Zuko squints in the bright daylight. With Agni awake for almost the entire day, he has found that it feels like he’s drowning; drunk on the blood of the midnight sun. His own blood, red as a fire lily, simmers from the power of the Sun Spirit’s rays.

Zuko pauses to catch his breath in between katas. He sees red (two bright pools of blood — Grandfather’s and Mom’s — freezing together on the stone floor of the throne room. And Zuko, a darkness in between).

He sees red (his other side, the left, only sees a permanent shadow).

He sees red (from anger, from rage, from the bleeding heart that has bloomed in his chest).

Uncle has offered him breaks from his training, warning that the heightened bending power does not fix his lack of sleep, but the boy has declined. (Father has taught him nothing if not how to fight). Zuko just needs to blow off some steam.

—————

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“...Out? Hunting?”

“Nice try.”

“You know you can’t stop me.”

“It’s not safe out there!”

“I overheard Dad say that it’s unlikely that they’ll attack. They’ve been here for a few days now; if they wanted to, then they would’ve already.”

“That’s all well and good, but I doubt those ashmakers would take too kindly to anyone wandering into their camp.”

“I’m not going into their camp, just close enough to watch.” The brother’s eyebrow quirks up in response. “Stop acting like I’m being ridiculous! Did you see the size of the wave that pulled them here? It had to have been a waterbender!”

“Unless they somehow kidnapped someone from the North, I doubt a Fire Nation ship has a waterbender on board, much less one who willingly works with them. They probably just got lucky and got pushed along by the remnants of a tsunami.”

“As if that’s any likelier.”

“It is! The tectonic plates that formed the Patola mountain range likely caused an earthquake that created that huge wave.”

“Uh huh…”

“Hmph. Well, even if it was some silly magic water, what do you plan on doing?”

“...Maybe I can learn from them…”

“You can’t just go up and ask for help from an ashmaker!”

“Well I can at least watch their forms!”

“No you can not. I’m not letting you just walk off to die alone.”

“Then why don’t you come with me?”

Tui and La, I hate the polar puppy eyes. “...Fine. Here’s the plan.”

—————

Chapter Text

“We’re gonna go land hunting!”

Gan leans over to Anzu as the three knuckleheads begin to march off. “How long do you think it’ll take ‘em to realize that the mountains behind us are made of rock?”

The healer seems to weigh her options. “An hour. How about you?”

The animal handler watches as Hoshi mounts Chai Son’s shoulders to get a better view. “I don’t think they will,” he muses.

—————

“I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you leave. Or at the very least learn how to disguise yourselves better.”

Two Water Tribe children look over at Azula’s sneering voice in twin expressions of terror from behind a large snowbank. The princess smiles. “Or would you like to learn what happens if you don’t?” Azure fire dances and winds around her pale fingertips, reflecting in their wide blue eyes.

That seems to snap the boy out of his stupor as he quickly yet silently picks up his spear. Azula doesn’t even flinch when he points the sharp edge at her throat, instead noting how he puts himself between her and the Water Tribe girl. A potential weakness, if it comes down to a fight. Azula is indifferent to either outcome.

Her eyes scan the pair. The boy is a bit less than a head taller than Azula, just slightly shorter than Zuko and from the fit of his parka, most likely not as physically fit as him either. Zuko may be worthless in many ways, but I’ll give him credit where credit is so rarely due.

Either way, Azula acknowledges that she still wouldn’t be much of a match for the Water Tribe boy in a nonbending fight using her strength alone. Speaking of, the tribesman’s feet are planted firmly in the snow with his arms awkwardly yet determinedly holding the spear toward the princess. Not a bender then.

Azula eyes the club attached to his belt at his hip and the harness strapped across his chest that holds another unknown weapon on his back. He likely has more concealed under his clothes as well. Definitely not a bender.

The girl behind him glares daggers at the princess. She is taller than Azula, four inches at most, but does not give off the power that comes from her height. That’s funny. No weapons. Instead, she only has a canteen slung around her shoulder. Azula almost would have thought that the girl’s stance — though much less certain — and flask were similar to Mikazuki’s, if she hadn’t known that there were likely no Southern waterbenders left.

The Water Tribe girl is fairly pretty, with her face framed by two dark brown loops of hair. The boy’s is the same shade, though in a completely different style. Azula glances quickly between the two, beginning to realize something. Along with the color of their hair, the Water Tribe pair have the same strong noses and defiant chins (the same hatred in their oceanic eyes). Combined with the boy’s protectiveness, that could mean—

“Careful. Don’t want to hurt your sister swinging that around, do you?” The matching looks of surprise on the pair’s faces cement Azula’s hypothesis regarding their sibling relationship.The boy shakes his head to clear away his shock and charges toward the princess, who quickly sidesteps and sticks her leg out so he trips and lands in an adjacent snowbank.

“How interesting! A warrior who doesn’t know how to fight.” Azula revels in the “warrior’s” furious expression before waving a dismissing hand. “No matter. I am not here to begin a conflict.”

“That’s a first,” the boy grumbles, dusting snow off of his parka. Whatever tone he had been aiming for is lost in the crack of his voice. He could be younger than Zuzu, Azula notes.

The Water Tribe girl crosses her arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Is it not obvious? To warn you not to come any closer. And besides, the crew can often get boring. It would be a shame if they found out that two Water Tribe peasants were spying on them, though.”

“And why do you think we’d listen to you?”

The boy nudges his sister, mumbling, “Don’t ask her to prove her point.”

“Fine. And why do you think “the crew” would listen to a word you say?”

Azula smirks and looks at her nails. “I am Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, daughter of Fire Lord Ozai and second in line to the Dragon Throne. It would be rather stupid of them to say no to me.” When the princess looks up, the Water Tribe girl’s face is painted with worry. Her brother, meanwhile, only lifts a disbelieving brow.

“Yeah. And I’m Prince Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, son of Chief Hakoda and heir to that’s a load of seal-fox droppings.”

Azula lifts her chin. “What, would you like me to get someone here to prove it?”

The siblings fervently disagree before the Water Tribe girl sticks her hand out. “I’m Katara, by the way.”

Azula simply peers at her outstretched hand. “I do not recall asking, peasant.” Katara splutters in anger. Sokka has to hold her back, but his brow is furrowed as well. “I thought we agreed to be civil?” Azula muses.

“We never agreed to anything, ashmaker!” Azula backs away from the girl’s lunge so that she is no longer behind the large snowbank and is now within view of the camp.

“Oh Zuzu—!” She calls in a singsong voice. Her brother looks to her from his training, still in a fighting stance with swords drawn, not too far away from where the princess stands. She glances back at the Water Tribe siblings, who have flattened themselves against the side of the snowbank. Despite the angular weapon — that Azula astonishingly doesn’t know the name of — that Sokka now has poised to throw, both siblings wear expressions of uncertainty. Azula changes her mind at the last second. “You look stupid!” she calls instead.

Zuko brings his swords down by his sides. “That one was weak.”

Despite her better judgement, Azula continues to rile him up. What? It’s just too easy! “I’ll take your word for it. You know all about weakness.”

“Do not take the bait, Prince Zuko,” Uncle says from the sidelines. Killjoy, Azula thinks.

Not yet done with her entertainment, Azula rethinks her decision once again. She sneaks another peek at the two people in the snow. This is going to be fun. “I have something I need to talk to you about, Zuzu. Away from adults.” Her brother begrudgingly obliges, putting on his parka — which Uncle hands to him — before reattaching his swords to his back.

-

“Ugh, you are so slow.” Zuko allows his sister to pull him behind the snow bank that she has been talking to for the last twenty or so minutes. What has got her so impatient?

Zuko is immediately face-to-face with his answer. Two tribespeople stare back at him: one girl, one boy. What the fuck.

The Water Tribe boy quickly puts something on his back while his other hand instinctively begins to reach for a weapon at his belt before he fully takes in Zuko’s appearance. Here it comes. He winces at the sight of Zuko — or rather, Zuko’s scar — and hisses like someone has dabbed rubbing alcohol on a fresh scratch. The girl’s eyes widen, and she brings a gloved hand up to her neck.

The prince scowls. I don’t want her pity. “What are they doing here,” he asks his sister while continuing to look between the two others.

The Water Tribe girl moves forward, having recovered from her shock. “We could ask you the same question.” Zuko steps closer as well and growls.

“Give it a rest, Zuzu.” He looks back at Azula, who looks very amused. “We are in no position to begin conflict, no matter how easily we could also end it.” After a tense, silence-filled moment, the prince finally gives in and steps back beside her.

The tribesman squawks as his counterpart elbows him. “Sokka, stop staring,” she hisses.

“The Fire Lord has kids?!” the boy — Sokka — splutters. News must not travel to the South very often. “And one of them looks like that?!” He doesn’t seem to notice Zuko’s flinch as he points to the prince’s face.

“What is up with you today? Why are you being so rude?” the girl asks Sokka with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, I don’t know Katara, maybe the fact that the Fire Lord’s children are here in the South Pole and we are talking to them and they’re the prince and princess of the Fire Nation and they’re also weirdly our ages and oh yeah did I mention that Fire Lord Ozai got some poor woman pregnant twice?”

“Crown Prince, to be exact,” Zuko corrects. The boy gapes at him.

“You must be star struck.” Azula brushes a wind whipped strand of hair back into place.

“Wait wait wait,” the girl — Katara? Is that her name? — says. She points at Zuko (ok, rude). “You’re the Crown Prince?” Why does she sound so accusatory? If anything she should be bowing down!

Zuko straightens up and gives his best authoritative voice. “I am Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of Lady Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, heir to the Dragon Throne.” He gives a small bow; even if I’m above them, it is best to do so in matters of diplomacy.

The other boy scoffs and (tries) to drop his voice into a growl. “I’m Crown Prince Zuzu of Butt Nation, son of the Poop Lord, heir to the Penis Throne.” He bows with his palm flat against his fist, the improper way to do the sign of the flame.

Zuko is about to respond — well, shout — but Azula beats him to it. “How amusing! That joke must have taken quite a lot of forethought.”

“Hey!” Katara rolls up her sleeves but is interrupted by her brother.

“What’s that on your back?” It takes Zuko a second to realize that he is referring to him, what with how nonlinear their conversation has been. In response, he silently pulls his swords out with a graceful motion and swiftly separates the two segments to hold in each hand.

Sokka’s blue eyes become the size of meal platters. “You’re a nonbender too?! I didn’t think the Fire Nation royal family had any nonbenders in it.” He smiles.

“It does not anymore,” Azula casually drops. The prince notices Katara’s frown.

Zuko looks at the other boy with a quizzical expression. “What makes you think I can’t bend?” He follows the Water Tribes siblings’ lines of sight to his dual dao. “Oh. Well, I can do that too.”

He leaves out the fact that for a short period of time, Father had increased his number of hours spent sword training to almost equal that of his firebending. (“However worthless you may be, you need to know how to fight somehow.”) Father has taught him nothing if not how to fight. Zuko didn’t mind; not only did he excel in his training, but it brought him closer to Lu Ten, whose favorite was already Azula.

(Father abruptly pulled him out of his instructions once Uncle and Lu Ten left for Ba Sing Se. The prince continues to use what Master Piandao has taught him, along with what he has learned for himself, even if he has rarely had to use his dao in actual combat situations.)

(“You have enough training and sense that I trust that you truly had no other options.”)

“So the swords are just for show? Like decorations?” Katara asks.

“What? No!” Even if I do keep them hanging in my room when not in use. But I’m not going to tell them that. “What is that on your back?” he asks, referring to Sokka. Nice distraction, brain!

“Tui and La don’t get him started,” the girl mutters.

—————

“We didn’t find any land,” Chai Son sighs, flopping down on the tarp laid out in the center of camp.

“Tough luck.” Anzu pats his arm before going back to her sewing.

Hoshi sits next to the boy and holds their hands out to warm them in front of the fire. Meanwhile, Mikazuki silently shuffles inside the tent that the three of them had set up for themselves. The two friends share a look. The waterbender had grown increasingly quiet throughout their journey, but Chai Son hadn’t thought anything of it; I was too busy, y’know, looking for land.

Lieutenant Jee looks to the pair from where he sits, a map unfurled between him and the navigator. He frowns at them. “Did either of you do anything to upset Mikazuki?” They shake their heads. Jee narrows his eyes. “Chai Son?”

The boy looks aghast. “What?! Why single me out?”

“Just double checking.”

“You should probably go do something about it,” Gan says, pointing toward the tent with his sword.

Hoshi is only halfway through suggesting making more ocean kumquats when Chai Son jumps up and starts dragging them to Mikazuki.

—————

Azula never should have brought Zuko along. Not the first time I’ve thought that. She could have just asked Gan what a whetstone is again if she wanted to hear someone rave about weapons. But no Zuko just had to start asking Sokka about all of his stupid, inefficient Water Tribe weapons.

Azula would contribute to the conversation as well by showing the dagger that Mai gave her… if I was stupid enough to reveal my methods of attack to the enemy. Katara looks positively bored beside her when she isn’t teasing her brother.

On the first dagger that Zuko pulled out from various places on his person, Azula had asked Katara if she had anything to defend herself. By the fourth knife, Katara had seemed to get over whatever mental conflict she was having and said that she wasn’t a bender. On blade number seven Azula had come to the conclusion that she can, in fact, bend.

Her hypothesis is solidified as Sokka asks fervent questions around the backstories of each knife (the answer to many of which is simply “Mai”). Azula almost misses it, nearly distracted — only nearly, though. Master firebenders are constantly aware of their surroundings — by a certain blade; around the handle winds a crimson dragon, its mouth posed as if it is swallowing the orange fire opal sun that is set inside the top of the grip.

(Strapped to Azula’s ankle, covered by her boot, is an intricately carved dagger that sits in a beautiful sheath. An azure dragon winds around the star-freckled handle.)

Azula almost misses it — so does Zuko, who is vehemently trying to explain that the inscription on his pearl dagger that reads “Never give up without a fight” isn’t an afterthought compared to “Made in the Earth Kingdom” — but she never misses.

Katara, seemingly thinking that no one is watching her — rookie mistake — takes her gloves off and furtively drags her hands across the snowbank that covers the four of them from view. Instead of dropping off at the end, the lower half of the wall — where her hands are placed — extends with her. It’s a subtle difference — only the width of her body — that the boys are unlikely to notice.

Azula’s eyes narrow. How did a waterbender manage to slip through the cracks? Katara, none the wiser to the reveal of her powers, sits behind her newly made wall and has the audacity to start watching their camp. Let’s see how this plays out, the princess thinks.

-

“Sokka.” Zuko finishes securing his tantō to his belt — ok, fine. It is just a short sword. But I refuse to agree with Sokka on anything he says. How is he supposed to know that it isn’t just a super long knife? — before looking up. Katara’s voice was weirdly hushed. Her brother must have sensed some sort of danger, as he immediately crouches down next to her and takes a jaw blade — which I must admit, is rather cool — from its sheath on the back of his belt.

“Tell me I’m not imagining that.”

From what Zuko can see, Sokka’s face is stunned. “No… no you’re not.” After a brief moment, both Water Tribe siblings whirl around to glare at the royals. Oh Agni, what are they going to think we did wrong now? Zuko scowls back, daring them for a fight.

Katara’s voice is filled with vitriol when she finally speaks. “So you have captured a waterbender.”

-

Azula was looking for entertainment, and Spirits is she getting it right now. Katara’s (weak) attempt to angrily freeze Zuko’s feet before running off toward camp and Sokka’s frustrated groan before chasing after her are both hilarious, in Azula’s opinion. But nothing beats Zuko’s shocked face at Katara’s bending. Scratch that. Nothing beats the strange sound he just made in anger when he melted the ice.

Azula slowly follows her brother as he chases after the Water Tribe siblings, not too willing to let him stop her fun.

-

Mikazuki has had a strange day, to say the least. She’s been feeling down — that’s an understatement — about her family and the possibility of being one of only two Southern benders left; not even searching for land made her cheer up. Maybe I would’ve felt better if there actually was any earth around here! Plus, Hoshi has been making her so many ocean kumquats all day.

And now Hoshi and Chai Son are trying to cheer her up again by making snow sculptures. Mikazuki has to admit, watching Hoshi try and fail to stop melting the snow whenever they touch it with their bare hands does put a smile on her face.

Mikazuki is trying to figure out how to make a snowman when suddenly the snow she had been bending into the air is cut through by some unidentified flying object. With the snow in between them gone, her two friends are now visible across from her; they all look at each other in confusion.

The brief moment of puzzlement is quickly cut off by a flurry of movement and what Mikazuki can only call a big blurry blob of brown and blue.

Or, wait… two blobs? Whatever it is, it’s accompanied by a yelp from Hoshi and what Mikazuki assumes is the sound of Chai Son falling into the snow.

When the flurry of activity has died down, Mikazuki sees two… kids? But they’re not Prince Zuko and Princess Azula? What the fuck? Instead, a Water Tribe girl and boy stand in front of Mikazuki with their backs turned to her so that all she can see are the backs of their brown and blue parkas.

All she can do is watch and comply as the pair backs up to create space between them and Chai Son and Hoshi, her eyes wide. The boy’s hair is in a wolf tail, just like Dak-Ho’s is, and that’s no good, because Mikazuki was already having enough trouble keeping her mind off of her family.

She snaps herself out of it when the Water Tribe girl, who doesn’t seem to be any older than Prince Zuko, peers over her shoulder — don’t think about how her eyes look like Ezume’s don’t think about his blue eyes don’t think about him don’t think about him don’t think about him — and speaks. “Pssst. We’re here to help you escape.” Mikazuki cocks her head to the side. That clarifies nothing.

From over the Water Tribe girl’s head, Mikazuki makes eye contact with her friends. Hoshi shrugs; behind them, Mikazuki can see other members of the crew beginning to turn their attention toward the commotion, if they’re not already walking over. Chai Son crosses his arms and looks back at the children in front of him. “Escape what?”

He probably doesn’t mean to — his tone clearly shows that he’s genuinely confused, not confrontational — but the two children must find Chai Son’s stance and height intimidating, as they back up further, forcing Mikazuki to move along with them.

Chai Son stops himself from continuing to step forward when the Water Tribe boy points a spear at him. The earthbender puts his hands up in appeasement. “From you ashmakers,” the boy spits. (“Protect your people, irngutaq.”)

Mikazuki’s brow furrows. At the same time that she lifts her hands with her wrists bent downward in order to freeze the two tribespeople in place, the waterbender spots a shadow.

-

The polar summer makes it difficult to find places to hide in the endless light. Right now, though, Xī — the Spirit of twilight — begins to prepare her and Agni’s bedding, soon ready to lay their heads in the rose-tinted clouds for a few precious hours. Combined with the confrontation’s proximity to the shadow that the Kage casts, Zuko has to thank his lucky stars; the conditions are perfect.

(The Spirit of shadows, Eodum, has been forgotten by many, as the Sun Spirit is worshipped far more than the shadows he casts. Zuko was able to obtain some spiritual texts from the Fire Sages while in the palace, though, and used them to aid his bending.

Shortly after Raava and Vaatu — light and total darkness — came into existence, Eodum was born from their conflicts; a middle ground.

After the world was created from the watery void, Vaatu crossed over to the mortal world, Raava soon following him. The Spirit of light was looking for her counterpart in the polar waters, when a fish — one of the earliest animals that came from the primordial mud — swam in front of her. Raava’s light shone on the fish, and in the water behind the creature sprung forth the first shadow: Eodum.

Vaatu arrived immediately after, and when he began to fight with Raava, Eodum protected the fish from the two other Spirits. From the interaction, the fish became the angler-octopus, the first of the deep sea creatures, with a dark body and its very own glowing light.

Since then, Eodum has provided security to those who call upon them when bearing witness to conflict, pulling the shadows around their worshipper like a blanket.

That’s where Zuko had gone wrong when he first tried to shadowbend. Just as in both practical and spiritual senses, there must be a light source to bend. But Zuko had made the mistake of trying to pull the light toward him, and then averting it in other directions; he had gotten multiple sunburns from that.

The prince has mastered the technique now. Just like how his dao are extensions of himself, he becomes an extension of pre-existing shade, drawing the shadows over him like he is closing curtains.)

As he nears the crowd that has formed, Zuko pulls the shadow into his light. He quietly makes his way around so that he is in front of the group, stepping in front of Mikazuki so that he stands at the two tribespeople’s backs. The Fire Prince quickly pushes the blanket of shade off of him and brings his dual swords up against Sokka and Katara’s throats all in one swift motion.

“If you think you can mess with one of my crew, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

—————

Chapter Text

“Hey um,” Hoshi nudges Chai Son, waiting until he leans over a bit so they can continue whispering without interrupting the strange standoff in front of them. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I think that pile of snow that the royals have been talking to turned into two kids and now I think they wanna take Mikazuki as their queen.”

“Got it, thanks.”

-

Iroh watches as the two Water Tribe children recover from the shock of his nephew’s appearance. “Taqriaqsuit,” the girl whispers.

The boy carefully turns his head enough to see Zuko out of the corner of his eye. “Not quite. I mean, I can see him.” Iroh may know enough Water Tribe to understand what the boy is saying, but not what he is referencing.

The girl switches back to speaking Standard Earth to the prince. “Wait, crew?! We’re freeing your prisoner!”

Mikazuki raises her hand from behind the trio of children. “Um, do I get any say in this?”

Both Zuko and the girl answer at the same time. “No!”

Now’s my cue, Iroh thinks.

-

General Iroh gestures placatingly. Like that ever helps, Taka thinks. Sure enough, all three children physically react to the general’s outstretched hand. From beside the navigator, Azula scoffs. “It seems as if this has been one big misunderstanding. Prince Zuko, please put your swords down.”

“I should not be your concern right now, Uncle.”

“Mikazuki can handle herself.” Taka lights a flame in her palm, looking at the two newcomers. “And I think they have enough sense to know when to back down.” She meant it as a simple intimidation tactic to secure her point, but the genuine fear in the children’s eyes unsettles her. She closes her fist tightly around the fire.

After another tense moment, Prince Zuko finally comes to his decision. In short, succinct movements, he removes his dao from their necks and sheaths the swords. He roughly grabs Mikazuki by the sleeve and leads her to now stand in front of the tribespeople.

“Why are you going with them?!” the little girl asks Mikazuki, who is now standing securely with Hoshi and Chai Son. She sounds almost pleading. “Did they brainwash you?”

“Wait, is that possible?” Hoshi mumbles to their group.

“I’ve read about some cases of prisoners of war leaving Ba Sing Se with no memory, but outright brainwashing? I don’t think so,” Taka provides.

General Iroh speaks above the others. “Let us discuss this civilly, perhaps over some tea.” He looks at the crew that surrounds him. “In a more private setting.” The crew disperses, leaving the three royals and Mikazuki with the two Water Tribe children.

As they do so, Gan speaks. “I’ll go get Ryuji up. He’ll be pissed that he missed out.”

Taka nods. “I should go get Yong-Yut.” Because she looks cute when she’s sleepy, she leaves out.

-

It’s so cute when she gushes about everything she knows, Yong-Yut thinks as she listens to Taka update her on the events of the evening, often interlacing facts that she has read. It’s a lot of information at once, but Yong-Yut is used to that. Taka herself doesn’t seem to be, though, as she stumbles over her words and backtracks in excitement to get them all out at once.

“Their parkas have a lot less blue than ours because of the lack of trading with the South Pole. A large amount of the blue dye that the Southern Water Tribe used came from Fire Nation species of plants like dogwood and dyer’s knotweed, or from mulberries grown by Air Nomads. But anyway, their parkas were largely beige fur with some white and blue — maybe they save the blue dye for the rest of their clothes — and—” Taka continues talking, but, well… she has a lot of theories about their dyeing process.

Taka eventually mentions the details that Yong-Yut cares about. From the moment that she told her that two Water Tribe children came into camp to take Mikazuki with them, Yong-Yut just knew it had to be them. She only knew the kids for a week or so, but she integrated herself so thoroughly into each one of her missions that it truly felt like her life, and that’s hard to let go of. She hasn’t seen them in four years now, but she knows that whatever makes someone run right into enemy territory… well, that something must be hard to let go of as well.

From the moment Taka started speaking, Yong-Yut knew. Because neither child wears their heart on their sleeves, but if you’re willing to look — which I always am — their values and feelings are plain as day. And besides, entering a Fire Nation camp just to “save” Mikazuki is such a Katara and Sokka thing to do. The descriptions that Taka gives her only solidifies Yong-Yut’s idea.

Yong-Yut expects the realization to hit her harder, for having to face her past to hurt. But instead it settles in her. A good amount of the guilt stays — someone had to have died for the Southern Raiders to call it a success — but in the place of the bit of remorse that left her is now hope.

It bubbles in her throat and threatens to spill out of her as laughter. They’re alive. It makes her head feel light. Katara’s alive. It pushes at her eyes and begs to leave as tears. She’s alive!

But instead, Yong-Yut remains silent and manages to keep a straight face as Taka continues to speak.

(Princess Azula once asked Yong-Yut what her former job was. Yong-Yut said she was an actress. It’s not that far off. “Mother was an actress as well,” the princess replied, face blank.

Yong-Yut didn’t respond. Her face would have looked neutral as well, almost bored, if it weren’t for the grinning scars sliced into her cheeks. Oh, the lengths some people go to to get into character.)

Yong-Yut decides not to go out to see the Water Tribe siblings. She won’t do that to them — she’s already taken away enough. But for her, knowing that they’re both alive — it’s enough.

——

Azula has always been good with words. While Zuko stutters and hesitates, she lies and tells stories. She was born lucky.

Also unlike Zuko — who very clearly expressed his exasperation at having to “sit down and talk it out” as Uncle had suggested — Azula understands the importance of diplomacy. In fact, Zuko has never been very good in social situations; there’s a reason Mai and Ty Lee are my friends and not his.

Zuko doesn’t know how to take advantage of the situation like I do. He’s too soft (weak, childish, pathetic). Mother always babied him.

He’s too impulsive (scared, angry, erratic), a smaller (weaker) part of Azula thinks. Father always made him run.

Azula watches everyone carefully. Mikazuki picks at her nails nervously. Zuko scowls at the Water Tribe siblings; Katara glares back with her chin jutted out in defiance. Sokka’s furrowed brow conveys his hatred, but his dark eyes rake over everyone else present — analyzing. And in the middle of them all, Uncle Iroh sits with a cup of tea, his seemingly unworried smile covering his confusion as his eyes dart between the two sides.

Azula speaks first to immediately get to the point, knowing that no one else will; it may be entertaining to leave them all guessing, but it has been a long day already. “Mikazuki is not from the South, she is from the Fire Nation, if that is what you are wondering.” The waterbender opens her mouth to speak, but Azula cuts her off. “And more importantly, she is not available to teach you bending.”

Uncle looks at Katara in shock, while Mikazuki simply stares at her. The girl in question touches her neck absently, which Azula has noticed her do often.

Sokka holds his hands in front of his chest, palms facing outward. “Hey, I’m all for girls not learning how to fight” — Azula smirks. Father has taught me nothing if not how to fight — “but can’t you make, like, one exception? I’m tired of being accidentally frozen all the time.”

“Well then just get one of your benders to teach her.” Zuko’s voice is hostile. He’s always been so naively hopeful.

“Tui and La, I’m right here!” Katara bursts out. Her voice and face soften as she touches her neck yet again. “And I can’t. I’m the only bender left.”

Azula sees the moment that this — the isolation, the solitude, the doomed fate of the Tribe — hits Mikazuki, her face openly showing her misery. The girl may not have any reason to be loyal to the waterbender — no reason to care about the Water Tribe — but, well… Mikazuki is loyal to the Fire Nation — loyal to Azula and Zuko, much more loyal than other crew members seem to be — and that just reminds the princess of Ty Lee.

(Azula tells herself that Mai was loyal too. But sometimes the princess finds herself wondering how exactly Father knew what Azula did in the Agni Kai. His back was turned away from Zuko’s body, after all.)

Mikazuki was bound to find out eventually (Don’t you know it hurts either way?). But Azula thinks that she shouldn’t have had to find out from some Water Tribe peasant who probably doesn’t even know what she’s talking about.

Azula thinks back to how Katara touches her neck when she is emotional. She must have some type of necklace of sentimental value. Azula has seen Sokka’s necklace when he had to adjust to pull out several weapons from underneath his parka; so jewelry is not female-exclusive in the Southern Water Tribe, the princess deduces.

Sokka had mentioned that their father is Chief Hakoda, though, so he is very much alive. No mention of their mother, though. And there are emotions tied to the necklace, emotions tied to the nonexistent waterbenders. Which means…

Which means Azula has the perfect ammunition to get back at Katara for hurting Mikazuki.

The princess rests a hand on her chest in a show of false sympathy. “It really is a shame that you are all alone, Katara. But like your brother said, Mikazuki doesn’t know how to fight.” It’s not even that much of a lie; the waterbender mostly uses her powers for pranks, often trains by herself, and never spars with others. Azula takes her hand off of her chest and checks out her nails. “So why don’t you run home and cry to your mother about it.”

-

As if on cue, Zuko sees a large man exit the walls of the Water Tribe village. “Sokka? Katara?” he shouts.

The two seem to recover from the pain of whatever Azula just said, as they immediately hop up out of their seats. “Dad!” Wait, they’re siblings?, Zuko thinks. Sokka and Katara run toward the man — Chief Hakoda, Zuko’s brain supplies — who turns at the sound of their voices. The trio meets each other halfway, colliding into a hug.

“Where were you two? I was so worried!” Chief Hakoda’s voice is loud enough to even be heard by Zuko in the vacuum of the tundra, and that’s no good. Strangely, the man kneels down to be on his children’s level with his hands on their shoulders.

Chief Hakoda is silent as his children provide him with an explanation — not that Zuko can hear it, of course. He just assumes from their gestures that that’s what they’re doing — and that’s even worse. Zuko can’t even begin to count how many times he had embarrassed himself as Father waited silently for a reason to lash out. Chief Hakoda finally stands up and oh no here it comes—

But it never does. Instead, Sokka and Katara each take one of their father’s hands and drags him toward the camp. Zuko, his family, and Mikazuki all stand up as he makes his way toward them. Dread pools in the prince’s stomach.

Zuko bows first. “Chief Hakoda.”

The chief doesn’t even give him a sideways glance, instead only regarding Mikazuki. His eyes scan her figure, not in the strange way he has noticed Uncle does, but instead like Azula does; analyzing her threat level. His eyes then drift to survey the rest of their (pathetic) camp. Chief Hakoda’s gaze finally shifts to first Uncle, then Azula — neither of whom look like threats, despite being the two most powerful benders here — and finally on Zuko. The man simply frowns and grips his children’s shoulders tighter.

Chief Hakoda eventually nods to himself and faces Mikazuki. “You may train my daughter tomorrow outside of the village walls. You can only bring one nonbending guard. You will be watched closely. You do not want to know what happens if you step out of line. Is this understood?”

Mikazuki gulps. Zuko steps closer to the man, who looms above him. “You can’t treat one of my crew like that. And besides, no one here agreed to the training.”

Uncle speaks for the first time. “Perhaps Mikazuki should choose for herself.”

-

Mikazuki closes her eyes, turning her face to the west to drink in Agni’s light as she thinks.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Which it isn’t (shouldn’t be). Mikazuki doesn’t know these two kids, doesn’t know her their tribe, doesn’t know how to fit in with them. Her loyalty is to the Fire Nation and Fire Nation only.

The pride and loyalty running through her veins screams at her to refuse to stoop so low. Mikazuki may not be from a family of nobility, but she is Fire Nation. I shouldn’t be giving in to the wishes of people who are below me. I shouldn’t be listening to these Water Tribe peasants.

And yet. There is still that hesitation.

Aanaa taught her how to bend. Mikazuki doesn’t know what she would’ve done without her. The memories of the pain that came from holding back — which I deserved. I never should have tried to bend without instruction. All it did was get Cupun hurt — have stayed with her all these years. She can’t imagine not being able to bend safely.

Aanaa taught her how to bend. She taught the girl how to sense other water sources. The sweat that forms after too much time in the summer heat. The morning dew that rolls off of fire lilies. The swelling of the first oncoming storm of the Fire Nation’s rainy season. The thrumming of scarlet red blood. Auk.

Mikazuki shouldn’t give in. And yet. She can’t help but think of just how familiar the pumping of the Water Tribe children’s blood feels (One two. One two. One two). It’s no different than anyone else’s here.

(When she was young, Mikazuki once overheard her parents and one of her older brothers having a conversation. Ezume had asked that once the Water Tribes have been conquered, if he could marry a woman from the Poles. “Our village is so small that I already know all the girls here,” he had complained.

“What do you think, Khun Mae?” Dad asked, dodging the question.

“I think it would be best. Whoever’s left after the war have to be integrated somehow. You know, like diluting their blood.”

That had confused Mikazuki. Her parents are entirely in love with each other. Her aunts and uncles may all bicker with each other, but Mom and Dad are an inseparable unit. Even through the grief of Ezume’s death, they grew stronger together. They married for love, not… not for dilution, to get rid of Dad’s Water Tribe blood.)

(The waterbender can’t help but think now just how absolutely disgusting that conversation was. And within my own family? Shouldn’t they be the understanding ones?)

(Mom liked to confide in Mikazuki often. “We girls have to stick together,” she said once with a wink. That’s how the girl found out that Mom’s family disowned her for marrying Dad. “‘Blood is thicker than water’,” Mom repeated back with bitterness.)

Mikazuki’s heart is made of gold. Sokka and Katara’s are silver like the moon. But still, their blood seems no different than anyone else’s here.

It shouldn’t, but as the waterbender thinks about it more and more, the lack of difference makes sense.

Agni and Tui are siblings, after all. The Spirits love each other, even if they bicker. Their fighting became so great that one day, they were forced to split; Agni to rule over the day, Tui over the night.

The siblings missed each other dearly. They still play childish games of chase, following each other across the sky. The solar waltz across the heavens became day; the lunar dance became night.

They almost always just miss each other. In the morning, Uzume creeps out from the nighttime’s sway and convinces the Sun to open his eye just as Tui falls asleep. But on rare occasions, the Moon Spirit is visible at the end of the day, looking for her brother.

(To show his sister how much he misses her, Agni sent their youngest sister to check up on her. Dāw’s many starry eyes now scatter the night sky, watching over Tui and all those who are washed by her moonlight.

Dāw is known for her knowledge. Wan Shi Tong may be the knower of one thousand things, but Dāw sees all, knows all. She rewrites her favorite stories in the stars, forming constellations.)

Fire and water should be opposites, but are innately tied to one another.

(“An unattended fire in a forest would endlessly feed off the trees. Only once it reaches the mouth of the river will it understand its limits,” General Iroh once said. Prince Zuko threw a fit at that.)

(The steady rhythm of Mikazuki’s heart — One two. One two. One two — had skipped a beat at the sight of Chief Hakoda. He looks so much like Dad, even down to the fire that reflects in his blue eyes: for the chief, from the crew’s campfire; for Dad, from his own bending.)

The Water Tribes live on the lands of the midnight sun. The Sun Spirit’s radiance floods the long estival days, bathing the Southern Water Tribe in his glory.

(Yukan. The Fire Nation’s practice of washing the dead with warm water in preparation for cremation.)

(The color of the snowy walls of the too-small village is an exact match for the sun-bleached bones in the Western Air Temple.)

Mikazuki wonders if her hands will ever be truly clean again. How can I make this right?

Her eyes flick back open. She speaks firmly. “I accept.”

—————

Gan thinks it’s just a little unfair that he’s been put in the midst of a group of — admittedly very attractive — Water Tribe warriors and expected to be able to function, let alone effectively guard Mikazuki. As if she needs it. On top of the warriors’ collective attractiveness, their blue eyes are stark reminders of Kasem’s mismatched set.

There’s not even anything very entertaining to do. Mikazuki isn’t doing any bending tricks that Gan hasn’t seen a million times before. In fact, he’s seen her do them so often that he’s forgotten that they even have to be taught, that’s how innate it seems to be for Mikazuki. She had started off shaky at first — she is surrounded by strangers who are practically twice her size, I’ll give her that — but soon got into her usual rhythm.

None of the warriors will speak with Gan besides the chief’s son, who is interrogating him thoroughly on all of his weapons. Gan happily obliges, but keeps a few of his weapons — namely his shuriken, kunai, and katar — concealed just in case.

One of the warriors — the chief’s son, Sokka, had called the man Bato — had originally protested to Sokka’s proximity to the weapons, but now looks on with affection toward the boy. The rest of the tribesmen watch Mikazuki and Katara, some with apprehension, others — namely the youngest looking warriors — with awe. But most with sorrowful looks upon their faces.

Gan tries to hand Sokka his katana, and then when that is shut down, he tries his sai. Bato once again disapproves of this, but allows him to hand Sokka his tanbō. I’m not much of a kid person, though. And besides, I have better things to do than watch this kid swing a staff around. Needless to say, Gan’s spirits improve greatly when a tribesman comes out and finally gives his messenger hawk back. Commander Zuzu nuzzles his head appreciatively against Gan’s hand.

-

Katara is a fast learner, Mikazuki will give her that. She’s very shaky, though, and the minuscule amount of skills that she already knows is disheartening. Mikazuki tries her best to teach her as much of the basics as she can in just one day; tomorrow, the Kage will be loaded back up and set onto its next destination. It’s not enough, is it?

Mikazuki wishes she could ask about Aanaa. I doubt Katara will know anything. Aanaa was taken so long ago. Plus, none of the warriors seem very open to conversation with her, to say the least.

Mikazuki doesn’t like the cold very much. Even if there is love in the village — and there must be, with how protective Katara’s brother is of her, with how many tribesmen are standing guard, with how excited Katara is to show her father her bending — it is not directed toward Mikazuki. She shouldn’t be surprised by their cold glares and icy demeanors toward her.

Mikazuki doesn’t like the cold very much. It simply causes her impatient longing for the warmth of the Fire Nation to grow more intense.

Mikazuki doesn’t like the cold very much. But she is willing to stick through it for the entire day outside of the village walls to continue to work with Katara.

—————

Chapter Text

Today is Zuko’s fourteenth birthday. Not that it should matter. That would be childish. The Kage has long since moved out of the waters of the Southern Sea. The day passes as usual, with the exception of an acknowledging nod from Anzu, a snide comment from Azula — “Every pass around the Sun that you manage to survive is a true miracle, Brother.” — and a (grudgingly reciprocated) hug from Uncle.

It’s exactly how Zuko wants it. He can’t focus too much on himself. I must capture the Avatar and restore my honor. Everything else is second to that. And besides, Zuko can’t be distracted by any unwanted attention from the crew.

So Zuko doesn’t tell anyone about his birthday. No one must know.

——

“Why didn’t you tell anyone it’s your birthday?” Yong-Yut asks. It’s been an average day in every way so far; even the tepid ocean rolls lazily.

Zuko looks away from where he is surveying the crew on the main deck from above to glare at the woman. “How did you know?”

Yong-Yut can’t exactly just admit to Zuko that she saw it marked on the calendar in his room without having to explain that she has snooped out everyone’s belongings. She can’t tell him that she was listening in to his conversation with Princess Azula earlier, either.

“We’ve been here for almost a year. You had to have been born sometime. Lucky guess,” Yong-Yut responds instead. She still doesn’t sign at her normal speed with anyone but Taka or Hoshi yet; Zuko may be a pretty fast learner, but he’s still not fluent.

Zuko grunts, but does nothing more to respond. “Fourteen is still a baby,” Yong-Yut continues with a small upturn of her lips.

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it is not.”

“You’re just a baby.”

“No. Stop it.”

“Baby. Baby boy.”

“I can and will burn you again.”

“And get Taka back on your case again? I don’t think so.”

“...Fine. But I am not a baby.”

“Ok. Little boy.”

“Ugh, at least I have an age! Your birth year and age do not match on your file.”

“But either way, that makes me…?”

“In your late twenties.”

“And therefore…?”

Zuko sighs. “And therefore not a baby. Or a child. Or even a teenager.”

“Exactly. You should respect your elders.” Yong-Yut means it lightheartedly, but Zuko just frowns at her suggestion. Yong-Yut switches topics before he can go back to brooding. “So what do you want for your birthday?”

“To find the Avatar and restore my honor.”

Yong-Yut rolls her eyes at him. A month ago, Gan bought a small slate and some chalk while in port. The chalkboard now hangs in the dining hall below the portrait of the Fire Lord and serves as an “Honor Counter” that is continuously updated by the crew. So far, Zuko’s record for most days without mentioning his honor is five; the highest “honor” count in a single day so far is twenty-seven.

Yong-Yut tries again. “What do you want for your birthday that can be achieved in just one day?”

The boy is silent for a moment as he contemplates. His voice has lost a bit of its edge when he speaks again. “A story night.” Zuko’s voice quirks up at the end of the sentence, like he’s asking a question (like he expects the answer to be no).

Yong-Yut pats him on the shoulder. “Done and done.”

——

For his birthday, Zuko asks for stories. Mom used to tell him every last one that she knew, from harrowing adventures to sappy romances, from feel-good comedies to fateful tragedies. And Zuko listened to them all, loved them all.

Uncle had also said something about, “the emotional and mental well-being of the crew being just as important as their physical health in helping capture the Avatar”, which is gross and unnecessary, but it’s one of Uncle’s least demanding suggestions, so Zuko is willing to give it a shot.

But knowing his crew, the now fourteen year old is not surprised when all he really gets is more horror stories. It’s better than nothing, after all.

-

Azula sits down on her brother’s right on deck (only Uncle is trusted to be on his left. Azula tries not to let that bother her). Taka sits on her right side with Yong-Yut beside her. The rest of the crew fills in the circle as Hoshi hands out cups of tea.

Though they have been on the Kage for almost a year now — eleven months, one week, and two days, to be exact — they have yet to run out of stories. If anything, some people’s — namely Yong-Yut’s — personal histories seem to be getting more confusing the more Azula learns (when did Yong-Yut have the time to learn archery?).

-

Chai Son loves story night. Combine that with Prince Zuko’s birthday, and Chai Son is having a hell of a time.

(Chai Son had given Zuko a “stern” talking to when he found out it’s his birthday. “You only get one birthday a year, Zuko! That’s sorta a birthday's whole thing. You gotta spend it wisely!”)

(Chai Son doesn’t know when his actual birthday is. So he says it is during the second month because it was the month that he first ran away from the orphanage.)

The crew trades stories both real and fake over the fire. Chai Son tells how he was once mistaken as the son of a nobleman and had to keep up the schtick for a few weeks.

Mikazuki tells the tale of an ancient Fire Nation city buried in volcanic ash.

General Iroh tells the story of how Prince Zuko learned how to swim (the answer? Princess Azula pushed him into the palace’s pond).

Yong-Yut recounts a sculptor creating a lover made of clay; one day, the Spirits took pity on the man and gifted his statue with life.

Chai Son loves story nights. So does everyone else, and that just means Chai Son loves story nights even more.

——

“Avatar Meriwa was a powerful healer,” Gan begins. “She lived in a time of relative peace. With no major conflicts to resolve or sides to choose, she left her home in the Northern Water Tribe and simply traveled the world, aiding anyone who needed her. She is especially known for establishing medicinal centers and helping to train doctors and waterbending healers.

“During her travels, she fell in love with an Earth Kingdom woman named Lihua. They married, and she joined Meriwa on her journeys for years.

“One day, Lihua was injured. I don’t remember how, doesn’t really matter,” Gan waves a dismissive hand at this, “but either way, she died in the Avatar’s arms. Meriwa desperately used her healing powers on Lihua’s corpse. She tried so hard to bring her back to life that the ground was forced to grow plants and flowers around the body.

“Decades later, guarded by a forest of roses and thorns, lay a corpse refusing to rot.”

——

“You’ve what?!”

Hoshi holds their hands out in front of them to try to appease Zuko and Princess Azula. “All I said was that I’ve never seen Livers Among the Jaguars or whatever you’re talking about, calm down! Damn, I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you two would react like this.”

“How have you never seen one of the greatest Fire Nation plays of all time?! It’s a classic!” Zuko bursts out.

The cook shrugs. “Couldn’t afford to go to the theater.” Ok, I totally could have just stolen some money or even some tickets, Hoshi thinks. But it’s hard to get around to entertainment when you’re just busy trying to survive.

“Theater tickets are not that expensive,” Taka offers. Hoshi tends to forget just how privileged Taka is — she sleeps in the same cramped living quarters as the rest of us — until she occasionally says stuff like this. One time on a particularly hot day, she snapped at Chai Son for using the fan that she keeps sitting on a small stand next to her bed. Which was very confusing because, sure, the inked-on crane design is beautiful, but why own something just to put it on display?

Mikazuki seems to be experiencing the same confusion; her family didn’t have to stretch itself so thin like Hoshi’s did, but there were still many mouths to feed. “Taka,” Mikazuki says, “How much do you think theater tickets cost?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Taka waves a manicured hand in the air dismissively. “I usually had performers come to my household.” Hoshi, Mikazuki, and Chai Son all glance at each other.

“Ok, let’s make this simple,” Chai Son begins. He holds up a single finger. “How much do you think one ash banana costs?”

Hoshi sends a glare to Yong-Yut for signing “two” when Taka takes too long to answer. “Two…” Ok, we’re getting there. “Gold pieces?”

Hoshi slaps their forehead in frustration. “Um, not quite…” Mikazuki ventures.

“Oh please.” Princess Azula rolls her eyes. “I mean it’s one ash banana, what could it cost? Ten silver pieces?” Nobody replies, — save for Taka and Zuko, who are nodding in wholehearted agreement — afraid to correct her. Hoshi adds that to their mental list of food-related concerns for the royal siblings. So far it stands as:

1) The infamous burnt-down kitchen incident.

2) When I asked him to hand me a cantaloupe while in the market, Zuko stared at the stall for several minutes before hesitantly picking up a grapefruit. I’m not quite sure he knows what either of them are.

3) Princess Azula often thinks it is funny to “accidentally” spill her drink or drop some food, forcing someone — usually me — to clean it up for her.

4) Zuko sometimes refuses to eat, especially after General Iroh scolds him for something.

5) Princess Azula thinks that a single ash banana costs ten silver pieces.

General Iroh breaks the momentary awkward silence first. “If Hoshi has never seen Love Amongst the Dragons, why don’t you two” — referring to his niece and nephew — “give us a synopsis?”

The boy immediately perks up at the prospect. “I call being the Dragon Emperor this time!” He immediately turns to Anzu. “When I turn into Noren, you shall play my father.”

“I don’t want to be your father.”

“Perfect, you already know your lines.”

“Oh Zuzu, so quick to assume you’ll get your way. We both know that I’m the best Dragon Emperor.” Zuko looks ready to argue, but Princess Azula waves him off easily, prepared for the argument that they have seemingly had many times before. “You don’t want to put your Dark Water Spirit mask to waste, do you?” A biting tone simmers underneath her saccharine words, putting Hoshi at unease.

For all of the time that the crew has spent together, Hoshi still doesn’t seem to know much about Princess Azula. Which is strange, because when they aren’t cooking or cleaning, they are planning meals or simply hanging out on deck; if anybody has the free time to observe the royals, it’s Hoshi. While Zuko’s snarling presence has become overbearing and unavoidable, the princess slips into conversations undetected.

No one actively pursues Princess Azula’s company except for her brother and Taka. Though that is an understandable sentiment: everyone has been witness to what the girl is capable of when General Iroh instructs her training. Nobody wants to chance facing her wrath except for her brother. Not for the first time, Hoshi wonders if that’s how Zuko got his scar. Meanwhile, why Taka would even put herself in Princess Azula’s orbit is a mystery to Hoshi beyond the fact that they are both noblewomen. Nothing either of them ever does seems to be for superficial reasons, so Hoshi doubts that’s why Taka likes the princess.

Speaking of superficiality, every single word out of Princess Azula’s lips is calculating. No matter how chaotic a situation may be — and onboard the Kage, that is in fact very chaotic — she always acts like everything is going exactly according to script. While Zuko’s bark and bite are both not to be messed with, Princess Azula uses neither. It’s the possibility that makes Hoshi uneasy. That she always seems to know something that others don’t and no one wants to find out exactly what it is, despite how dreadful the self-doubt is.

Presently, her brother scowls. Zuko is stubborn in every sense of the word except when it comes to Princess Azula. Hoshi could find it understandable if they thought it was just him being soft for his younger sister, but nothing ever seems to be straightforward with these two. Maybe it has something to do with just how overpowered she seems to be.

Hoshi’s head hurts a bit with all of the confusion and complexity. They are still trying to figure out their own confusing background. But does everyone else on board have to be so mysterious? Can’t I catch a break?

And then Zuko brings out his mask and oh, that explains some of it. Because the last time that Hoshi had seen this mask, it was covered in blood.

-

The last time Zuko wore this mask, foxfire eyes morphed into the golden flame of a mother dragon.

(When Mom was dying, her golden eyes moved around wildly, as if she was desperately looking for something, someone.

Zuko remained concealed in the cover of darkness, golden eyes fixed on his mother.)

Inside those quickly extinguishing irises, he saw the reflection of a burning boy morph into that of a hatred-filled monster.

(There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage.)

(Like father, like son.)

-

The last time Azula saw that mask, she had been snooping through Zuko’s quarters. Gan looked at her weirdly as he passed by in the corridor, but she was just happy that she found what she was looking for. The grooves of the wooden mask are stained with dark blood.

(Before that, the last time Azula saw that mask was at Ember Island. While she and Zuko took the parts of the Dragon Emperor and the Dark Water Spirit, Mother would fill in every other role for them. They never could convince Father to join in.)

-

The last time Taka saw that mask — well, a replica of it — she was on house arrest. It was a lovely play, but her mind was elsewhere at the time. Taka volunteers for the part of the Dragon Empress nonetheless.

——

“Jee,” Gan asks, “Prince Shitbag” — the boy in question growls at this — “Said that the prison you were in wasn’t humane. Not all of us have access to top secret royal information. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us?”

“My pleasure,” Jee grunts out. He leans back and huffs, crossing his arms. “Where do you want me to start?”

Mikazuki raises her hand and speaks once she is called on. “What are the coolers you guys were talking about?”

Gan sees Jee and Prince Zuko trade glances before the former replies. “Firebending is not allowed at the Boiling Rock. Anyone caught using it is put in the coolers, which are essentially freezing cold closets that make firebending impossible.”

Hoshi scratches their head. “Maybe I’m not too brushed up on our laws, but aren’t bending suppressants illegal?”

“Not if the government’s the one using ‘em,” Ryuji mutters before being quickly shushed by Jee.

“What happens when someone’s put in the coolers?” Chai Son asks, blissfully unaware of just how dangerous Ryuji’s comment was. Especially with three fourths of the royal family sitting across from him. Agni, does he not care about the consequences?

“You mostly just sit there and pray to the Spirits that the guards let you out before you freeze to death. And if you survive, you hope you have a cellmate who’s willing to warm you up enough so you don’t become hypothermic afterward.”

“Were prisoners not sent to the infirmary after their time in the coolers?” Anzu asks, eyebrows raised.

“That would defeat the purpose of a punishment, wouldn’t it?” Jee looks like he could really use a drink right now, Gan thinks. “You’d see prisoners who have been there awhile with missing fingers, and you’d know they spent too long in the coolers, long enough to get frostbite.

“This one time, an inmate tried and failed to stage a one-man escape that included a lot of throwing of fireballs. The guards subdued him, of course. They put him in the cooler for an entire twenty-four hours. He was so feverish in the hours afterward that he boiled his insides.”

Damn, Gan thinks. The rest of the crew seems to be in similar horrified states. Except for Anzu.

-

“That’ll do it.” Anzu takes a long sip of her tea. “Is that all?”

Jee smirks. “What, you got something worse?”

Anzu sets her teacup down. “I once had to single handedly treat all of the survivors of a landslide that was started by earthbenders. It’s rather difficult to extract mud from inside someone’s lungs, you know.”

Jee sizes the medic up, and continues the competition. “We had daily tasks at the Boiling Rock. One prisoner had to go in and fix a malfunctioning fan. It was a routine chore. Well, I guess the fan wasn’t that broken, as someone accidentally switched it on. Poor guy got ripped to shreds.”

Anzu gets a mischievous glint in her eye. “A soldier once stepped knee deep in a boiling hot spring. The infection spread to the rest of her body.”

“A guard pushed a rowdy prisoner off of the second story balcony, the perfect height so both of her legs would break.”

Anzu glances quickly at Zuko. “Burns to half the body.”

“Burns to the entire body.”

“Freezer burn.”

“Mouth sewn shut.”

“Mouth cut open.”

“Ok, this has been enough,” Taka intrudes. Beside her, Yong-Yut looks almost betrayed.

“Choked on their own tongue,” Jee continues.

“Tongue cut off.”

“I said, that is enough.”

“Insect eggs laid in their stomach.”

“Oh Spirits, this is getting really gross,” Chai Son says. Beside him, Mikazuki looks stricken while Hoshi holds a hand over their mouth.

“Electric shock.”

“Anzu, I think you should both stop,” Iroh pleads. Beside him, Zuko shifts uncomfortably.

“Beaten to death!”

“Hand spiked through by an earthbender!”

“Lashes from a fire whip!”

“Intestines torn out!”

Anzu and Jee both sit back. At the same time, Hoshi stands up and sprints over to the railing to vomit. Everyone else stares at the pair uncomfortably. Jee smiles. “Fine. You win.”

Iroh smiles meaninglessly. “Does anyone have any non-gruesome stories?”

——

“Oh come on, Taka, you have to have learned some stories cooped up in your little palace,” Mikazuki whines.

Taka waves her hand and smiles lightly, “Oh, if you insist.” She drums her nails on her leg as she thinks, then draws herself up. “I think this one is specific to Yu Dao.” Mikazuki huddles closer to her two friends under the blanket that they share in preparation.

“There were three sisters, Zan, Yi, and Ting. They were the daughters of Shui and Bo, the sea monsters. The sisters themselves were fearsome as well. Boar tusks protruded out of their mouths. Feathered wings grew out of their backs. And instead of strands of hair, they had live snakes growing out of their heads.”

In the back of her mind, Mikazuki knows this shouldn’t be scary — Shui and Bo no longer terrorize the seas, duh — and that this is one of the more fantastical stories of the night, hence all of the adults’ boredom, but… Ok yeah, this is scary. Hoshi doesn’t seem to agree, while Chai Son huddles closer. I doubt either of the siblings would ever show genuine fear in front of the rest of us, Mikazuki thinks, but then again, Princess Azula did scooch closer to Prince Zuko.

“But worst of all were their glowing yellow eyes. Those who gazed into the eyes of one of Shui and Bo’s daughters were turned to stone.” Yep, definitely still scary.

“Of the three sisters, the oldest, Yi, was the most ferocious of the three and killed more men than the others combined.”

“Wait a second.” Lieutenant Jee narrows his eyes. “‘Killed more men’?”

Taka chooses to ignore him and continue her story. “The second sister, Ting, was the wanderer. Zan was the protector. Many feared the three sisters. But to others, they were a safe haven.

“Gossip at the local well would whisper of three snake-haired women who would protect those with battered and bruised bodies from their partners. Women grew hopeful, thanking the sisters for their escapes. Meanwhile, men grew angry, blaming the sisters for their wives’ disappearances.

“The townspeople decided that something had to be done. The sisters were powerful, but they had a weak point: while Yi and Ting were immortal, Zan was not. The village sent a great warrior, Balhaar, to slay her.

“To avoid Zan’s stony gaze, Balhaar used a polished shield that was said to have been gifted to him by the Spirits. The metal reflected Zan’s image, and once Balhaar found her, he sliced her head off!” Mikazuki, Chai Son, and even Hoshi all jump.

“In her grief over her sister’s death, Ting’s anguished howls made the surrounding stone statues crumble into sand. Yi sought vengeance on Balhaar for what he did. The Spirits, having already given the warrior their blessing, intervened to prevent the two sisters from doing so. Yi became the jagged, rocky shore, and Ting became the wailing galls of coastal wind.”

——

Ryuji has never told his own story, simply because it’s nothing special. Instead he listens to others and recounts their tales. Someone has to make sure their voices are heard. Even if it has yet to spark any great change — the higher-ups never listened, and the royals are stubborn as hell (not to mention the oldest is only fourteen) — Ryuji’s stories have helped others feel less alone.

That’s the thing about suffering. Everyone has gone through it in some form or another. Ryuji doesn’t know if that’s just a fact of life or a fact of war. He used to think that only the general population suffered, that it was the royal family that made them suffer, that while the general masses were slaughtered the nobility was sitting pretty on their thrones.

But that’s not how it works. Ryuji’s still taking time to digest that. He promised himself he’d listen to everyone’s story to get the full picture, to get a full understanding of the atrocities of war. But he never planned on that “full picture” having to include the nobles in any sort of sympathetic position. It’s hard to simply ignore what he’s seen and heard since first being placed on the Kage, though. The tiny living space has made everything a lot more personal.

Being told by a colonial woman in a bar that her daughter was taken by troops is one thing. Seeing Taka — honorable, headstrong, dorky Taka — morph into a different person — one that’s more docile, one that’s more flighty, one that sends constant wary looks to all the men in the crew — when getting ready for bed in the dark of night firsthand is a whole other thing.

Overhearing two soldiers talk about their rigorous training regimens is one thing. Watching Princess Azula grow stronger every day, beat everyone in sparring matches every day, become less of a girl — as if she was ever allowed to be one — and more of a weapon every day — that’s a whole other thing.

Listening to an elderly shopkeeper — a retired soldier — tell of the first time he killed and how his desire to fight for his country overrode the scent of burnt flesh is one thing. Being forced to hear Prince Zuko’s screams, watching him relearn how to walk and talk normally, coming face-to-face for the first time with that Spirits-damned scar that has at this point become synonymous with Prince Zuko, seeing him unknowingly hurt himself when picking at the scar because he can’t fucking feel anything there anymore and then brushing his own health aside because he “must capture the Avatar” — Spirits, that’s something else entirely.

(Prince Zuko may be the biggest pain in the ass of all time, but Ryuji has to give him credit for his strength. Ryuji gives him a lot of shit — as does everyone else on board — but he admires the kid’s resilience.)

(But then who is left to blame?)

(There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage.)

The tiny living space has made everything a lot more personal than Ryuji prefers. So he distances himself from it all by turning it into stories, not experiences.

“I had been in battles before, unlike most of the other members of my division. They were largely new recruits,” Ryuji begins. He considers shaping the flames to fit with his story like he usually does, but decides against it out of respect for the dead.

“We were sent out to attack a battalion of earthbenders. At least half of my division died when the earthbenders collapsed the mouth of a cave. From there it was just mayhem. Most of us stayed to fight, but a few cowards hightailed it out of there the moment there was a sign of trouble.

“We were seriously outnumbered, even before they demolished the cave. It was just a massacre. Some earthbenders were able to bury their kills — because that’s all they were to them: not opponents, not men or women, not firebenders, just kills — in the ground. Some took a few living ones down with them too. The earthbenders were indifferent to either outcome.

“A lot of our men didn’t have enough training, so the rest of us had to try to pick up the slack for them. That’s how I ended up getting caught.”

Ryuji pauses for a moment, knowing that this would be the usual spot for someone to interrupt. None of the usual culprits — as in, everyone under the age of 20 — take the bait though. Chai Son stares into the fire with a guilty expression on his face. Princess Azula looks intrigued, while her brother frowns and turns his head so Ryuji can only see his unscarred side in profile.

The engineer continues. “An earthbender had trapped my arm in between two slabs of rock. Right as she was about to send a spike through my chest like I had seen her do with others, another firebender wearing the insignia of a division I didn’t recognize got the earthbender.

“Another division must have been nearby and came to help out. I continued to try to fight, but I had limited mobility. And besides, it wasn’t necessary. The other division was obviously much more experienced than us, because Earth Kingdom casualties grew so heavy that the earthbenders had to retreat soon after the reinforcements arrived.

“Even so, the other division was first focused on counting casualties, on gathering their dead, on bringing their injured back to camp, on taking prisoners. The few other survivors of the original battle and I were their last priority. The battle only lasted for a few hours, but I was left there until nightfall.”

Ryuji closes his eyes momentarily. The crew — for once — waits patiently, breath held. The engineer feels the campfire respond to his own breathing. When he opens his eyes once more, his voice has softened. This is the painful part. “The stars look so unfamiliar at different latitudes.

“The night felt endless. It went on and on and on, making it feel like there would never be anything but cold and pain and other soldiers’ agonized sounds as they took too long to die. The last few stray cries for help from the rubble that had once been the cave had died out by twilight.”

Ryuji can still see and hear it, as if he’s still stuck in that eternal darkness. All these years later, he can still remember the feeling of all the dirt and grit in his mouth and how much he despised it. Every one of Dāw’s starry eyes shone too brightly, watching him mockingly with their punctuated unfamiliarity as the wails of the dying refused to end.

“I talked intermittently with two fellow soldiers, Arakan and Goro. It was strange, Goro and I were two of the few in our division who even cleared thirty years old. Not many of the rookies survived the initial bloodbath. Arakan did, though — 23 and a real spitfire.”

“That’s only a year older than me,” Hoshi murmurs, and that’s no good. Because it’s Hoshi, who makes special desserts for birthdays and sings in the shower; because it’s Hoshi, who gets seasick and taught Ryuji how to dance — much to everyone else’s entertainment — and doesn’t seem to remember much but tries nonetheless. And Ryuji really doesn’t like the thought of them being put in the same situation as Arakan.

(Ryuji doesn’t like the thought of any of the crew — hell, not even the royals — being in the same situation. They all may have the tendency to get on my nerves, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t love these dickwads.)

Ryuji nods to himself in silent reassurance. “Arakan lay in front of me, sunk up to his armpits in stone. Meanwhile, Goro had managed to tie a tourniquet around his bleeding leg and crawled over to us.

“Arakan died during the night. All the pressure on his chest made it difficult to breathe. He was usually such a talkative kid, so you can imagine how worrisome it was when he grew quiet. Eventually I couldn’t even hear his breathing. I almost shut down at that point, but Goro kept me going.

“The other firebenders finally came back in the morning. They had to get one of the prisoners of war to help release me. They buried the rest of Arakan’s body. Goro had to have his leg amputated. He couldn’t go back into the service after that.

“I still think about him from time to time.” Ryuji’s voice is hollow as he finishes his story. “You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.”

The crew sits in silence as they all digest the tale. Prince Zuko especially looks seriously upset, lips parted as if he has something to say but doesn’t have the right words for it yet.

Ryuji glances up at the now familiar stars (of course I read about their positions afterward. I don’t want to be without Dāw’s stories again). He stands up. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

—————

For as long as Zuko has been able to bend, he has breathed out embers. Maybe that’s why I was able to learn the breath of fire from Uncle so quickly.

Father told him once that Mom would tell him idiotic stories to try to convince him that Zuko was a bender (“You didn’t have that spark in your eyes. You were lucky to be born”). Father wasn’t even convinced when sparks from the boy’s laughter flew from his cradle and landed on a curtain, igniting the fabric in flames. Father only believed it once he saw Zuko create a flame when he was three years old.

Lu Ten said that Zuko’s body ran too hot for anyone who couldn’t firebend to be able to pick him up comfortably. That’s why all of Zuko’s nursemaids had to be firebenders (that’s why Lu Ten’s hands blistered after meeting his baby cousin).

Mom told Zuko that the first time he met his baby sister, the hearth grew stronger with his excitement. The flames jumped in time with his breathing as he lovingly said Azula’s name.

Uncle said that as an infant, Zuko was always enchanted by his parents’ and uncle’s bending. Zuko would crawl into Uncle’s lap while he was trying to meditate in order to reach for his flame. Zuko would never get hurt, even if it took Uncle almost a minute to notice the tiny child’s presence.

(Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily.)

Anzu said that when Zuko was born, cinders flew out of his mouth with his first cries. “No wonder Princess Ursa was so impatient during labor,” the medic had tried to joke, “It must have felt like you were turning her into a kiln.” (“Lucky to be born.”)

For as long as Zuko had been able to bend, he has breathed out embers. Zuko remembers this one time, when he was eight, Mom said that it is because he is powerful. Father — and in turn, Azula — says that it is because he is weak and unable to control himself.

(Azula may not have fully realized it — her relationship with Lu Ten was the only one not rotted by competition; Zuko had Uncle, and Azula had Lu Ten, and they were both happy with that — but Zuko thinks he knows why Lu Ten seemed to favor her. She’s so perfect, she didn’t even have to control her body temperature as a baby. She’s so perfect, she never burns anyone without full intent.)

This one time, when Zuko was five, he didn’t see Mai for a few weeks; her family went to visit a different island as part of her father’s work. Zuko was very upset about that, and didn’t know when Mai was coming back. He was so surprised and elated when he finally saw her watching Ty Lee twirl around in the garden that his smile gave both girls sunburns.

This one time, when Zuko was seven, he almost drowned. It wasn’t that serious, just part of my training. An instructor held Zuko’s head underwater so he could practice holding his breath for long periods of time. They pulled his head out right as the water started to boil.

This one time, when Zuko was ten, he accidentally burned Azula. She had made him take her with him into the shadows for the first time. The light must have redirected wrong — Zuko must have been too shaky, too unskilled, too worthless, pathetic, weak — and Azula was burned. It was tiny, not nearly enough to leave a lasting mark.

(When Father found out what Zuko did to his beloved daughter, the boy received far worse injuries.)

This one time, when Zuko was eleven, he broke his arm. Father had not been pleased with how much time he spent at the turtleduck pond. Father had been even less pleased when Zuko tried to defend himself, saying it reminded him of Mom. Zuko had fallen out of a tree that he was climbing and landed on his arm wrong. He was so upset — so angry — afterward that he didn’t let Anzu treat him immediately after. Instead, he threw enraged fireballs at the turtleduck pond, narrowly avoiding most of the animals as his control slipped as the pain increased.

(This one time, when Zuko was twelve, Father overheard him teasing his sister. When Father dug his nails into his wrist and warmed up his hand — not enough to scar, but enough to hurt — Zuko reflected the heat back onto him. It wasn’t accidental, but it was stupid, because I would never want to hurt Father. Zuko was just so used to using that same trick on tutors who didn’t know their place and thought they could hurt the Crown Prince because they were idiots that it just happened naturally.

Zuko’s punishment was far worse because of it. He almost stopped trying to fight back after that. I deserved it, after all.)

For as long as Zuko has been able to bend, he has breathed out embers. They dance upon his words and lilt with his laughter and shake with his sobs.

(This one time, when Zuko was six, Mom read him a story of a boy who fell in love with the Sun. He flew so close to Agni’s face that his waxen feathers melted. But right before he plummeted into the dark ocean, his throat glowed from Agni’s honeyed kiss on his cherubic lips.)

(Another version of the legend states that during his fall, the Sun Spirit turned the wax into leathery wings and his skin into armored scales and his hair into a tail and his glowing throat into a roaring furnace.

The transformation was painful, but it made him strong.

This half boy-half dragon, this beloved of Agni, became Haruto, the first Lord of the Fire Nation.)

For as long as Zuko has been able to bend, he has breathed out embers.

Now, at fourteen, he sits in bed in the belly of a ship with his younger sister, who has her arms wrapped around his neck. His throat glows like a furnace. When he begins to sing, tendrils of smoke curl off his tongue.

—————

Chapter Text

Zuko is made of worn clay, blighted by imperfect form. But he trusts the artist who has molded him. Every aperture, crack, and discoloration — it all has a purpose.

(Zuko’s freckles create distant trails on a map. Tiny scars from wayward embers burn in new destinations that form a road to nowhere.)

(Kintsugi is the Fire Nation practice of repairing damaged pottery with gold lacquer. Breakage and repair are part of the pottery’s history, rather than something to disguise.

But that’s pottery. Pottery is allowed to be imperfect. Meanwhile, Zuko may look damaged, but he has to be perfect, he needs to be better. He must be both a sword sharp enough to cut through bone and the fire that forges it.)

(Weapons do not weep.)

Every scar has a purpose: to teach Zuko a lesson (“Suffering will be your teacher”).

It is shameful for a prince to bear the marks of a coward, after all.

——

Chai Son sits in the dining hall, eating his miso soup and trying to plan out how he is going to manage to practice his lavabending again today. Mikazuki and Hoshi have both said that he has improved greatly on his forms. But the problem is actually turning the rock into lava first. Meanwhile, the crew speaks quietly over their breakfast.

The quiet conversations are cut off abruptly when Hoshi storms into the dining hall, rice porridge dripping from their light brown hair and an empty bowl in hand. Their honey eyes darken as they glower. Chai Son attempts to reach out for them as they pass by.

“Hey, you ok—”

“Don’t fucking ask.” The door to the kitchen closes with a bang upon Hoshi’s exit. After several minutes of pots and pans being loudly slammed around inside the kitchen, followed by an even longer period of silence, — which is accompanied by occasional flames that are visible through the small windowpane in the door — Hoshi finally comes back into the dining hall.

Chai Son notices that they have taken off the now-messy sabai that they had been wearing and replaced it with a tied kihei shawl. Hoshi must keep an extra change of clothes in the kitchen. Spirits, they’re smart. The chef plops down into their chair with a huff and quickly buries their head in their arms on the table, not touching the dish that they had brought out for themself.

“Tough morning, huh?” Chai Son tries to peek in through Hoshi’s arms to make eye contact. His friend’s reply is muffled by their arms and hair.

Mikazuki taps Hoshi’s arm with the unused end of her chopsticks. “You’re gonna have to speak up, love.” Chai Son had been surprised the first time he heard Mikazuki use that pet name, thinking that it was her way of making advances, before learning that she uses it for both of her friends.

Hoshi groans and props their head up on their elbows. “It’s Prince Zuko.” Of course it is. More often than not the royal family dines together — with the exception of breakfast, which they usually take alone in their separate quarters — in the prince’s room, though they very occasionally eat with the rest of the crew as well, mostly when they are forced to camp. Chai Son can’t imagine General Iroh doing anything to frustrate Hoshi so greatly, so that only left the siblings.

“What’d he do?” Chai Son asks.

Hoshi dejectedly leans back in their chair with a thump. “He was being all mopey and said he wasn’t hungry, so I tried leaving his food for him in his room. But as I tried to set it down, he fucking hit it upward out of my hands and yelled at me to go away!”

“Douchebag,” Ryuji mutters. Beside him, Lieutenant Jee hums thoughtfully.

Chai Son has taken a liking to the lieutenant. Jee always seems vaguely exasperated, sure, but he always listens to what Chai Son has to say and sometimes even offers him bits of advice. It means a lot to the boy; for as long as he can remember, many people have talked over, teased, and ignored him for every impulsive comment or silly question that he’s asked. But Jee is thoughtful, but not in the same way as others — not calculating like Princess Azula, or analytical like Yong-Yut, or even inquisitive like Ryuji. It simply seems like he genuinely wants to listen and help out where he can. Despite what Chai Son knows about Jee’s past, he seems to be an honorable man with a lot of patience.

“Oh yeah. When I was walking here, Zuko didn’t seem to care that he shoved me aside on his way back from the lavatory,” Gan adds.

“He was extra snappy last night too…” Mikazuki offers. Chai Son nods in agreement, remembering how the Fire Prince had made him, Yong-Yut, and Mikazuki stay up longer than usual because he thought they did an insufficient job cleaning the deck.

-

“I wonder what has him acting even worse than usual,” Taka ponders. “Because if he’s trying to scare everyone away, then he’s succeeding.” There are general responses of “I don’t know” from around the table. From beside Taka, Yong-Yut shrugs.

“It is possible that he is upset that it’s been a year since we all got on the Kage,” Jee begins, “But if I’m not mistaken, then that is still not for a few days.”

“If that’s the case, then I suppose today is the one year anniversary of when Zuko received his scar,” Anzu states, and oh, that explains a lot. Taka can feel Yong-Yut stiffen beside her.

Neither of them have spoken to each other about what they learned that one night on deck beyond the navigator’s half-hearted words of assurance. Taka doesn’t know if she ever wants to talk about it. Because acknowledging it would just anger her, and expressing that means Yong-Yut would ask for an explanation, and an explanation means having to tell her that this is personal.

Taka knows that Yong-Yut’s no fool. That she’s observant and far quicker in making connections than Taka is. That sooner or later, she’s going to see Taka’s scars, — not just the small divots left by her own fingernails in her upper arms that are currently covered by the suea pat that she wears — overhear a nightmare, see her flinch at Chai Son’s bending. And after that, Yong-Yut will piece it together herself, and that’s no good. Because I escaped. I’m supposed to be free now — free from him — and I shouldn’t let that affect me. I shouldn’t let myself be so damaged.

Taka prays to the Spirits that Prince Zuko’s scar was an isolated occurrence. But she knows better than that: a man doesn’t just burn his son alive with no preamble.

Another thought slithers into Taka’s mind. Or maybe you’re just hoping that you’re not the only one. She forcibly shakes it away. No, I know the signs. I know it. It’s not wishful thinking because I don’t want anyone to go through what I did.

And yet. The scars that grace Prince Zuko’s body make Taka feel less alone. Almost everyone onboard has scars, but none like them. Taka knows personally how his scars were so carelessly dealt yet purposefully painful to receive.

That the placement of each one — matching bands on both the right upper and lower arms, starbursts on the shoulder, stripes down the back, slashes on the torso, tiny dots on the right hip (they may be on the left as well; Taka wouldn’t know, as that side is covered with harsh pink scar tissue) — make up a mosaic of pain that was so spontaneous yet so routine: a tight, burning grip repeated in the same places over and over until it scars, a shove against a mirror or window, a (fire)whip or rattan cane, scratches and knife points, and… fingertips — four in front, one on the back of the hip — gripped with an intensity enough to burn.

Taka prays that the scars on Prince Zuko’s hip don’t mean what she thinks they do (don’t mean what mine do, don’t mean that there are worse ones to be found under the belt).

If only there was a way to check. There’s no way that I’m asking, though. But even if she knew for certain, Taka wouldn’t know what to do with herself. It’s not like she would be able to offer any comfort. How can I when I myself have only recently been able to begin to grieve? How can I help a child when I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I was never allowed to be one?

All Taka has is her fire and her anger but nowhere to put any of it because the man who hurt her died in silence — empty, lonely, painless silence — when he deserved so much more.

(Kali is a just Spirit, not a vengeful one. Her blue skin and four arms may make her seem amusing, but she is not to be dealt with. She is the destroyer of evil forces in order to protect the innocent, or the divine protectress.)

(In the hollow carcass of the Western Air Temple, Taka passed by a fading mural of some of the Spirits. She moved on quickly, as she felt Kali’s painted eyes follow her.)

But Taka can’t make her mother pay for what happened to her either: she wouldn’t want to cause her siblings that sadness, wouldn’t betray a mother who she should be loyal to.

Maybe Prince Zuko is in the same situation, the woman thinks. Even if he wasn’t stuck on this ship, far away from Caldera City, it would be wrong of him to lash out against his own father, and treasonous to do so to the Fire Lord. Perhaps that’s why his anger is so misdirected. A flare of empathy suddenly burns inside Taka’s chest.

“Oh. I hadn’t really realized that he was both scarred and banished in such a short span of time,” Chai Son says presently. After a beat of pensiveness, he speaks to the group again. “You don’t think they’re related, do you?”

Even with her knowledge of the scar’s origins, the idea doesn’t make sense to Taka. Fire Lord Ozai’s… burning would have been a private occurrence, one done behind closed doors. In the Fire Nation, scars are immediate signals to strangers that you are a coward and are shameful, and need no further explanation. Meanwhile, banishment is a public affair that affects the politics of the nation. In Taka’s mind, there is no reason they would be tied together.

“He did spend the first month or so here covered in bandages,” Gan offers when no one else speaks.

Ryuji leans forward. “Think about it like this. For whatever reason, Prince Zuko is somehow burned. Badly. So badly that he spends… four?” Anzu nods in affirmation, so Ryuji continues.

“Yeah, four days in some hospital in the capital before he is suitable to travel, hell, to make sure he’s still alive to travel. Meanwhile, it takes four days of over-complicated bureaucracy to obtain a ship and supplies, select a crew, and send all of the recruitment letters to us. I don’t know why being burned would lead to exile, but at least the timelines match up.” I have to hand it to Ryuji, he can be smart if he applies himself, Taka thinks.

“But the question is, why? It doesn’t make any sense,” Hoshi asks. They stab at their food with their chopsticks, frustrated.

“For the last time, we should not be theorizing about Prince Zuko or his scar.”

“Oh c’mon, Narong, you can’t say you’re not curious.”

“We have spoken about this, Ryuji. He is not only a child, but also our crown prince. It is inappropriate, dangerous, and hurtful to spread untrue rumors about him.”

“Oh, so suddenly you’re Mr. Loyalty? Since when have you cared about Prince Zuko’s feelings? You’re just scared, not loyal. You don’t even swear not outta propriety but because it’d threaten your “reputation”. If you really cared about Prince Zuko or our country, you’d wake the fuck up and start caring about why the Fire Lord is letting his heir almost burn to death!” Taka chews at her lip. Ryuji’s words are getting dangerous.

“M-maybe we should all lower our voices,” Mikazuki says, eyes darting toward the door. Whether the waterbender is looking out for any eavesdropping royals or simply anxious to leave the conversation, Taka can’t tell.

“Yeah, I, uh.” Chai Son clears his throat. “I-I bet it was just a— uh, an accident. If Fire Lord Ozai was even there for it, he probably, like, tried to save Zuko.”

(“If I had just done as he had asked then we would all be fine,” Azula spat. “It would have been too late for Anzu to save you and none of this would have happened. You would have been dead and we would all be far better off because of it.”)

Hoshi brushes a piece of hair out of their face and nods in agreement to try to further diffuse the situation. “Even if it wasn’t an accident, I bet assassination attempts are super common for royalty to have to deal with. If it was one of those, it would’ve been no one’s fault except the assassin’s.” Anzu lifts an eyebrow.

In the time before her… disposal of General Zhang, Taka read. She studied maps and annotated medicinal texts and reviewed judicial files. She planned her escape. So she knows well and good what Anzu must be thinking: that there are much more efficient — much quieter, much faster, much less painful — ways to kill. In fact, there are more ways than there are arms of the Spirit Kali.

Firebenders’ skin doesn’t burn easily. But a quick slit of the throat or a well-placed stab could easily do it; the assassinations of Fire Lord Azulon and Lady Ursa proved as much. Hell, General Iroh has even said that he has accidentally drunk poison tea on numerous occasions.

“And besides,” Chai Son adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “No one would do… well, that to a thirteen year old,” he says innocently (naively). He is only met with silence. “...Right?”

(There is a portrait of the Fire Lord hanging in the dining hall of the Kage.)

(Taka’s eyes dart over to it.

She hopes nobody notices.)

-

(Anzu notices.)

-

Taka hears the discordant sound of a chair abruptly sliding against the floor. She turns in time to see Yong-Yut silently walk out of the room. The rest of the crew takes that as a sign to get up and begin the day. The navigator gingerly wipes at her mouth with a napkin while Mikazuki helps Hoshi gather everyone’s used dishes.

As Taka begins to walk out of the dining hall, she feels eyes on her. She turns to see Anzu, still stuck in her place at the table, staring at her. Her face twitches, jostling her glasses minutely. Taka quickly slips out of the room.

——

Iroh stands in Zuko’s room with a steaming bowl of soup. The boy is sitting with his back to him in front of a candle, the flame of which grows and shrinks with his breath.

Iroh can’t help but be proud of Zuko’s improvement; at the beginning of their journey, Zuko never let anyone stand behind him (he still doesn’t turn his back toward any of the crew. Iroh will take what he can get, though).

“I was told that you did not have breakfast.” No response. “You need to eat, Prince Zuko.”

The boy continues to brood meditate silently.

“I am not here to reprimand you needlessly. But I expect this meal to be eaten by the time I return. No complaints.” Iroh sets the dish down on the desk. A calendar hangs on the wall above the table. Suddenly Iroh understands his nephew’s mood.

(One year. Still no Avatar.)

(Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.)

“I am doing this because I care, Nephew.”

As Iroh turns toward the door, he spots the candlelight flicker wildly with Zuko’s unsteady breath.

——

Gan stands leaning against the ship railing. His head is tilted up, watching one of the messenger hawks — Mr. Hair, renamed by Chai Son for its large plume, is more often called Mister — spread its wings and circle above the ship.

Upkeep of animals on a ship can be difficult, sure, — halfway through the Kage’s first year, Gan convinced Prince Zuko that keeping the komodo rhinos cooped up for so long is inhumane, so the creatures have long since been sold off — but not too time-consuming. Hence Gan’s ability to keep track of others’ whereabouts and eavesdrop on conversations.

Taka had to chase after Yong-Yut after she stormed off from breakfast, though didn’t return to the main deck — she presumably went up to the navigation deck with Jee — while Yong-Yut did. Hoshi seems to be feeling better after they took out their frustration on the moldy cabbages that they bought from “some cheapskate cabbage man”, which has visibly made both Mikazuki and Chai Son breathe a little easier. Which is much needed when the royals’ presence makes everyone much more tense than normal.

Princess Azula goes about her day as usual, with the exception of more numerous sharp glances toward her brother. General Iroh, meanwhile, sticks by Prince Zuko’s side like he so often does, though his smile seems even more forced than usual. Gan feels like he is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Something is gonna go down, I can just feel it, Gan thinks. He doesn’t want to be sucked into whatever it is, but with Ryuji below deck in the engine room, someone has to be present in case any bets are settled.

The three knuckleheads, as most of the older — and by older, I mean older than Hoshi — crew has taken to calling them (along with “the kids”), stand huddled on deck, speaking in murmurs and occasionally sending glances toward Prince Zuko. Now that the boy has finally left his quarters, he has mostly kept to himself, though that does not stop him from glaring at anyone who dares come within a five foot radius of him. I wonder how General Iroh manages to put up with it. Gan leans closer to try to hear their conversation, which is quite obviously a continuation of the one from breakfast.

“I just don’t get it!” Hoshi fumes, throwing their hands up in an exasperated motion.

“I mean…” Mikazuki looks thoughtful as she clutches onto the mop that is almost as tall as her. “We could just ask him. But he’d probably just blast us into the ocean if we did.”

Chai Son must not have heard anything past the word “ask”, as he turns and calls out to the boy in question. “Hey Prince Zuko!” The prince looks up from the document he is studying to send a scowl in the deckhand’s direction before immediately going back to his reading. Chai Son barrels on anyway. “How’d you get your scar?” Well, that’s one way to do it.

Hoshi smacks their forehead with their hand. Mikazuki stands frozen, presumably in fear for Chai Son’s fate. Yong-Yut — who is the only deckhand who’s actually been working — sets her mop down to stand next to Gan, a safe distance away from any line of fire. Prince Zuko doesn’t even look up when he gruffly replies. “Agni Kai.”

Gan sends Yong-Yut a baffled look, — at not only the response itself but the fact that we could’ve just asked this entire time? — but she is paying sole attention to the conversation at hand. Whatever her thoughts are on the revelation, her expression is unreadable.

To the Fire Prince’s left, — which Gan has discovered from their time swordtraining together to be his blindspot — General Iroh gestures a hand across his neck several times to frantically try to tell Chai Son to stop. Neither boy seems to notice.

“Oh… Did you win?”

Prince Zuko finally turns to face him fully. Gan can’t quite see it from this distance, but he knows that despite the prince’s best attempts to look forward, his left eye will always wander back to where it points at his nose, its nerves destroyed. “Does it look like I won?”

Chai Son rubs at the back of his neck. “Umm…”

“The answer is no. I didn’t win,” Prince Zuko snaps. “How could I have if I refused to even fight?!”

Chai Son doesn’t seem to understand that that’s a rhetorical question. “Um, your opponent c-could’ve shown you mercy and, uh, not fought you?” Fat chance, Gan thinks.

“This” — Prince Zuko points to the melted tissue of his face — “is merciful. My ‘opponent’ had every right to kill me for my cowardice. I deserved it. I am grateful for his mercy.” On the Fire Prince’s right side, Princess Azula’s face is painted with blank, cruel merriment — her too-sharp smile stretches wider, but still doesn’t reach her eyes.

Gan has been in some — non-lethal — duels himself regarding honor, though those he only ever accepted because he knew he was right (and because he still had honor at the time). And believe it or not, the hawker has a teensy-tinsy, teeny weeny, miniscule, tiny, really really small soft spot for Prince Zuko. And that’s just because it’s hard to find someone who presents even a bit of a challenge against Gan in a sword match (even if Prince Zuko needs to work on protecting his left side more). The man can’t think of any reason why he would deserve such a debilitating injury.

Chai Son looks stricken by the new information, but presses on. Mikazuki drifts closer to him, ready to pull him back. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

Zuko stands and slams the scroll down. “Stop acting like you don’t know just to get a rise out of me,” he spits. “Why are you pretending to act a fool?! Just to make me relive the humiliation?!” He jabs a finger in the deckhand’s direction as he continues to shout. To Chai Son’s credit, he stands his ground in the face of the prince’s ever-rising fury. “Or are you genuinely that fucking stupid? Well, news flash, Chai Son! We all know it would have been fucking useless to try to fight against the Fire Lord!”

Aaaaaaannnd… there it is.

-

Azula is the first to recover from Zuko’s outburst. She smooths out her hair before speaking. “Way to go, Zuzu. Nobody knew before, but now there is no chance that anybody within a ten-mile radius hasn’t heard your pathetic little secret. Really, does a thought ever pass through that thick skull of yours?” I must act above this. This doesn’t affect me. Azula checks out her nails. “The only part you left out was everybody cheering after you fell unconscious.”

(And the screaming. Agni, all the Spirits-damned screaming.)

(And the scent. Azula still chokes on it in her sleep. She has long since burned the clothes she wore to the Agni Kai; she couldn’t get the scent of charred skin off of them.)

(And the cold fury in Father’s face.

Azula has always loved Zuko more than she fears Father. But that must mean she loves her brother as fiercely as the Spirit of the stars loves the Sun, for Azula is terrified of Father (and what he could do to her if she is anything less than perfect).)

(And the flickering candle that was the sun disc.)

Azula does not look up at the skies. She watches her brother’s shadow move on the deck instead as he stomps away, Uncle quickly following him.

-

Mikazuki respects the Fire Lord just as any loyal citizen would, but… But however invincible he may seem, Fire Lord Ozai is still just a man. A man with children (and faults. Mikazuki pushes the thought away).

The waterbender can’t even begin to imagine how painful that must have been for Prince Zuko. She thinks of her own father, with his stark black hair pulled into a wolf tail, warm hugs, booming laugh, and kind blue eyes.

She thinks of the adoring look on Dad’s face when he looks at Mom; of his delight when Dak-Ho learns a new firebending skill; of the utter grief that threatened to destroy him when Ezume died; of his stony face when Cupun got in his first fight (and then his smile and the way he squeezed Cupun’s shoulder when Mom had finished admonishing the teen); of his reassuring words when Mikazuki would come home from school crying after classmates teased her for her bending; of his pride when Hwan, the baby of the family, successfully ice-dodged.

Mikazuki thinks of Dad, and tries to reconcile the image of him that she carries with her with the portrait of the all-powerful Fire Lord that hangs in the dining hall of the Kage (she swears that sometimes it feels like the leader’s painted amber eyes follow her).

Mikazuki thinks of Dad, and then she thinks of his bending, and then she thinks of the idea of Dad using his fire against her or her brothers, and that’s no good.

Mikazuki shuffles closer to Chai Son and buries her face in his chest. Soon enough she begins to let out quiet sobs. “Spirits above,” Hoshi breathes. The waterbender angles her head to look at them through her teary eyelashes. Hoshi tugs at their hair. “His own fath—? I think I’m going to be sick.” They sprint over to the railing and retch over the side. Mikazuki looks away out of respect, — I know that Hoshi doesn’t have a strong stomach, but they deserve some dignity — glancing up at Chai Son instead.

The earthbender seems to break out of his daze and scrubs a hand over his face. “I… fuck. I didn’t… didn’t know—” He drops his hand to reveal the weary look on his face. “Shit. I-I should really go apologize.” He rubs at the back of his neck.

Mikazuki’s heart pangs, because of course that’s Chai Son’s first thought: not to feel insulted by Prince Zuko’s harsh words, or angered by his tone, or even saddened, surprised, sickened, whatever by the newest clue into the origins of his scar; but instead sympathetic and already ready to apologize.

Maybe it’s not just sympathy. Maybe he truly knows — at least more than the rest of us — how Prince Zuko feels. The thought brings another round of tears, which Mikazuki tries to stifle by once again burying her face into Chai Son’s tunic.

“No, you really shouldn’t,” Mikazuki answers into his chest, voice miserable. She keeps him in place by wrapping her arms around his waist. After glancing in the direction that Prince Zuko went one more time, Chai Son hesitantly reciprocates the embrace.

-

The entire interaction between the three friends seems rather strange to Azula. She resumes watching everyone else’s reactions.

“Well, damn.” Gan moves to allow Mister the hawk to perch on his gloved arm. “I owe Ryuji a whole lotta silver pieces now.” He makes his way below deck.

Yong-Yut only seems to be coming to a decision. She already knows of Father’s deed thanks to Azula’s own slip-up (that can’t happen again, I can’t be vulnerable).

I may be the smartest and most powerful person here, Azula thinks, but I am willing to give credit where credit is due. How do you expect to be able to defeat anyone — if the situation called for it — if you constantly undermine their abilities?

Yong-Yut is an intelligent woman, clearly adept at both concealment and obtaining information. Even if she is not exactly a team player and overall too proud of her skills, — along with having a stupid sentimentality to her that has left her blind to the mystery (and ominousness) of Taka’s background — she is a valuable asset who can analyze and piece together exactly what she can get out of someone faster than you can say “komodo chicken” (Hoshi has exploited these abilities to drive hard bargains — or choose targets to steal from — at markets). And for those reasons, Azula finds her to be one of the few useful members of the crew.

(All of these signs also point to a history of espionage. Even including her inability to work with others (never having to do so in the past) and self-pride (who else is there to applaud her work when it is unknown to everyone but herself?). And in that case, that makes her a coward. Useful, but cowardly.)

It’s highly likely that Yong-Yut already knows all of the information that Zuko just revealed already. Case in point:

Yong-Yut clears her throat to get Azula’s attention as the princess begins to move away from the affection-fiasco that is Mikazuki, Chai Son, and now Hoshi as well.

“You stopped it from worsening, yes? The fire?” the woman signs. How does she know? What gave it away?, Azula thinks. And then: Whatever it is, I need to fix it.

Azula rolls her eyes dramatically. I need to be above this. “As if Zuzu is worth saving.” Yong-Yut frowns and tightens her grip on the girl’s wrist. Fine. Have it your way. “...My actions have logical reasonings behind them.”

(With Zuko dead, then I would be next in line for the throne and Father’s only target.)

Yong-Yut considers the girl for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, she nods and allows her to continue on.

——

“You’re not gonna like it.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes at Gan, who leans against the doorway to the engine room with his arms crossed. “Well that much is obvious.”

Gan blows out a puff of air that sends the loose hairs on his forehead floating upward. He keeps his gaze fixed on the engineer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so solemn before. “I’m serious, Ryuji. It’s gonna be seriously fucked up. You gotta keep your mouth shut.”

“You know, you could just tell me yourself.”

The animal handler shakes his head. “No can do. It’d be best to hear the full story.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’ve spoken with Yong-Yut. General Iroh’s too much of a sap and wouldn’t betray his nephew’s trust like that. And Princess Azula would either lie or somehow get us to reveal information to her instead. I don’t think Anzu knows, so we’re gonna try to convince her to get Prince Zuko to fess up. He’s assumed that we all know, so it’ll be easier than we thought to get him to talk, but he’s most likely to listen to Anzu.”

Ryuji nods along with the plan as he listens. “She may agree to the plan, but I doubt she’d be willing to repeat the entire story once she’s heard it. And Prince Zuko would be able to detect if we were all standing outside the infirmary door listening to their conversation. Tell Anzu to try to get him out on the upper deck so we can listen from below.”

Gan gives Ryuji a thumbs up in response before turning to leave. He stops for a moment and tilts his head back through the doorway into the engine room once again. “And Ryuji?”

“Hm?”

“No overreacting.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Gan slips out of the room.

——

Chai Son stops when he sees the prince in the corridor. “Prince Zuko—”

The boy looks at him warily. So he obviously heard me. But the prince continues to walk on. Chai Son catches him by the arm as he passes by him. If Chai Son didn’t know better, he would have thought that he saw a trace of fear flash across Zuko’s face. I must have imagined it. Zuko scowls fiercely, no doubt ready to shout.

Hazel eyes with a hint of green make steady eye contact with a single golden one. Chai Son stands his ground despite the obvious risk that he is taking. He speaks firmly before Zuko has the chance to voice his complaints. “I would like to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have pressed the issue. I’m sorry, Zuko.”

The boy’s right eye widens minutely before he turns away and grimaces. “...Fine. Whatever,” he grits out. “Just let go of me.”

Chai Son does as he is told and allows the other teen to pass by before he silently pumps a fist in the air. Win!

——

Anzu sits on a wooden chair across from Zuko. She had called him into the infirmary for an “annual checkup” — an excuse to get him to sit and talk and explain what the fuck all that yelling on deck was about . She had tried to convince him to sit outside with her, just as she had planned with Gan, but Zuko refused. It is clear that the boy knows her motive, as he was antsy all throughout the eye exam. Might as well get on with it, Anzu thinks.

“You know you’re going to have to tell me at some point.” Zuko remains silent, watching as Anzu holds onto his left arm and bends the elbow to test its mobility for any sign of contractures. She massages lotion into the scarred area as she does so; she knows he hasn’t been taking care of it, but there are only so many times that Anzu is willing to put up with his threats when she reminds him to moisturize. Still, she presses the issue at hand further. “I have been waiting for a year now for an explanation. You know I’m not as patient as your uncle Iroh.”

The threat doesn’t mean anything, but Zuko finally obliges after another silent moment of Anzu gently bending his wrist. “It is my fault.” Anzu doesn’t let her disappointment show on her face. Ever since Zuko was old enough to understand the concept, he has been capable of controlling his bending. Even when his emotions get the better of him, he keeps his fire in check. To let his control slip and reign such destruction on his own body is uncharacteristic of the Fire Prince.

(Anzu doesn’t blame him for any damage he may have caused when learning how to shadowbend. Zuko has said that he found brief mentions of the technique in some ancient texts, but he was otherwise unguided in his development of it. It’s a feat in itself that he only ever minorly injured one other person — his sister — during his experimentation.)

Anzu doesn’t push the matter. She has learned through years of experience that once she gets Zuko talking, then further pressing will only anger or silence him. Instead, she grips his left hand and orders him to squeeze in order to test his strength while she waits for him to continue. His hold is tight, though a few degrees weaker than his other hand.

“I disobeyed Father,” Zuko says, words blunt yet stilted. Anzu hums. I can’t say I’m surprised. The boy drops her hand. “And so he ordered me to an Agni Kai.” That sucks the breath out of Anzu’s lungs.

Whether she would like to or not, Anzu knows Ozai, though she has tried to keep her conversations with him to a minimum over the years. Being a field medic during the Siege of Ba Sing Se exposed her to various forms of brutality, but none so cruel — so personal — as those which were inflicted by the current Fire Lord. Zuko’s body — Zuko’s forced existence (poor Ursa said she wanted to wait to have babies) — is a testament to that. But even before Ozai had his children to carve into monuments of his sins, he was a fearsome fighter.

Ozai has never been able to prove himself in battle, and so growing up, made the palace his wargrounds. Beyond the harsh punishments — and sometimes murders — of servants and various other palace workers, he would freely challenge other teenagers and young adults who disputed against him to Agni Kais. On such occasions, the palace arena would fill to the brim with nobility and other esteemed Caldera City citizens who sought entertainment. More often than not, afterward a noble family would be left grieving an heir (or at the very least, an able-bodied one).

Still, there are rules in place. Just like the age of enlistment, Agni Kais can only be fought between parties who are sixteen years old or older. That is the law. Anzu thinks back to Ryuji’s comment from a few weeks ago on bending suppressants being legal in the hands of the government. He tends to spit a great deal of nonsense, but maybe some of what he says is true: those who make the rules are seemingly invincible when they are the ones to break them.

Zuko rushes on. “I was burned in the Agni Kai. That is all. End of story.” That is obviously not all there is to it, but Anzu lets the issue drop as she processes the small amount of information.

——

Yong-Yut walks back to Gan after seeing Anzu subtly shake her head when following Zuko back out on deck. “So we need a backup,” Yong-Yut signs. Gan nods in agreement and scans the crew for an idea.

Both of the pair’s sets of eyes land on the same subject in unison. They watch Zuko yell some sort of command at his uncle, who calmly relays the message to Lieutenant Jee. Yong-Yut and Gan make eye contact once again and nod.

——

“I understand that it is a sensitive subject, sir, but we have the right to know.” Iroh quietly sips his tea while Lieutenant Jee speaks to him privately in a hushed yet firm tone.

“I think we can both admit that it is highly unlikely, almost improbable, that we will find the Avatar.” Iroh nods in agreement. “There are people on this ship who have been forced away from their families and they don’t even know why.” Sounds familiar. “Hoshi had to leave six siblings behind because they stole some jewelry and coins. Mikazuki likely won’t see her family again for the simple reason that she’s a waterbender. They require answers, General Iroh.”

The older man hums. The lieutenant makes some fair points, but it is not my place to speak. “I shall talk to my nephew about it.”

——

The crew sits around the campfire like they do so often. Hoshi sits between their two friends with a sense of anticipation. Tension has electrified the air all day, and though Zuko seems to have calmed slightly, he has also kept everyone busy with work, allowing no one the time to fully comprehend the situation. But hey, I’m not completely clueless, Hoshi thinks; they know that Yong-Yut and Gan have been planning something out, and that whatever it is, it’s most likely going to go down now.

Small casual conversations are passed around between the crew and their usual groupings as they all settle and wait for someone to come up with a story to tell the entire group. Or, in this case, to wait for the ball to finally drop.

“Zuko,” Anzu begins as everyone speaks around her, “stop staring into the fire. I have told you that it is not healthy for your eyes.”

Zuko scoffs and leans across his uncle — who is completely unaffected by the intrusion — toward the woman. He pulls open his scarred eyelid dramatically. “You think I don’t know that?” Though the encounter is aggressive, it lacks any of the full-blown rage or malice that Zuko has been shown to be capable of. Hoshi has learned that about the boy: he is generally unfriendly, but there are nuances to his disposition that help differentiate between the different shades of his hostility.

And right now, Hoshi can tell that Zuko’s current irritation is his own form of friendly (ish) banter with Anzu, who gladly reciprocates it. “Stop overreacting,” the healer commands, even if it is slightly ruined by the upturn of her lips. She lightly pulls at Zuko’s hand to get him to stop tugging on his eye. “That eye doesn’t work because your cornea was burned and then became infected.” I knew about his ear, but his eye too? Damn, Hoshi thinks.

Zuko leans back into his spot. Hoshi can almost see the boiling pot that is Zuko’s temper begin to rise, most likely at Anzu’s free admittance of the boy’s partial blindness. “And whose fault is that?” he snaps back.

Anzu shrugs, but her words have less energy — and are more defeated — when she replies. “I did the best that I could.” She jabs a point at the boy. “It still wasn’t the light’s fault, though.”

Zuko crosses his arms and scowls. “That does not detract from the fact that I was forced to stare into the light of the fire that burned me,” he says sharply. Hoshi frowns a little. When he puts it like that, it really sounds awful.

The chef sees some movement out of the corner of their eye. They look over to see Yong-Yut subtly signing to Jee, though Hoshi didn’t catch enough to make out what she was saying. Whatever it was, Jee nods and clears his throat, then sends a pointed look at General Iroh.

“Prince Zuko,” the old man begins gently, voice low in order to signal for the rest of the group to quietly finish their own conversations. Hoshi continues to listen in as Chai Son and Mikazuki finish up their game of Never Have I Ever (which Mikazuki wins by a long shot). “Remember what we talked about,” General Iroh says. “I will not pressure you, but I think now would be a good time.”

Zuko grunts and casts his eyes downward. A light reddening dusts his cheek. “Can you just tell it?” General Iroh nods and pats his nephew’s knee supportingly.

Yong-Yut knocks on the ship’s metal deck, one of the few ways — along with blasts of fire, loudly clearing her throat, and flicking people — she gets others’ attention when they aren’t looking at her. They’re all rather aggressive methods, if you ask me, but I bet it’s frustrating to always be spoken over, Hoshi thinks.

“Let’s play the Quiet Game,” Yong-Yut suggests. As if anyone could win but her.

“That’s a great idea!” Gan says with more cheer than usual. He nudges the man beside him. “C’mon, Ryuji, let’s play.” That earns him a glare from the engineer, which is returned by the hawker with a wink.

Chai Son’s face splits into a grin. “I call winning!”

Hoshi raises a finger in objection. “That’s not how it works—”

They are cut off by Mikazuki, who happily — yet speedily — calls out, “Ok, starting! Ready set go!” Hoshi clamps their mouth shut, not too happy about being interrupted but ready to win nonetheless.

-

Yong-Yut’s game choice is a genius move, Jee thinks. He and Yeona would play the same game with their kids while traveling to visit Yeona’s parents. The man tries to stay impartial — and silent, in order to set a good example for the kids — as General Iroh begins the tale that everyone has long been waiting for.

Dread immediately pools in Jee’s stomach at the setting of the scene in a war room. He is no stranger to the guilt that tints the older man’s voice when he says he allowed Zuko into the war meeting.

“In the meeting, General Bujing laid out a plan to— well, it was a purely tactical plan that had no regard for the subjective side of things,” Iroh says carefully.

“Oh, please, Uncle,” Princess Azula says with a flare. “No need to spare us any details.” I guess the Quiet Game doesn’t extend to royals.

The man’s mouth sets in a grim line. “Very well. General Bujing planned to use a division of entirely new recruits as a distraction against a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion while an attack would be mounted from the rear.”

“It was fucking stupid!” Prince Zuko blurts. “It was an unnecessary betrayal of soldiers who nobly wished to defend our nation! But he still just— ugh!” He throws his flaming hands up in exasperation. He lets them fall into his lap and pales when he realizes he interrupted. That doesn’t stop him from continuing, though, in a quieter voice that still simmers with barely-contained rage: “He called them fresh meat.”

Jee’s own hands are balled into tight fists. He forcibly uncurls one to lay it on Ryuji’s shoulder to stop his muttering. General looks of concern and anger, along with confusion — can’t leave Hoshi out — can be seen from all around the campfire. Princess Azula, meanwhile, just looks unimpressed. At the general’s plan or her brother’s behavior, I cannot tell.

“Zuko was right, of course,” General Iroh continues. He strokes his beard. “But it was not his place to speak out.” The boy in question shrinks into himself a bit more at that comment. Iroh bows his head slightly. “And there were dire consequences.

“After Zuko's outburst in the meeting, the Fire Lord became very angry with him. He said the challenge against the general was an act of complete disrespect. And there was only one way to resolve this.”

Jee speaks before he realizes what he is doing. “Agni Kai,” he says, aghast. Hoshi looks like they are about to reprimand him for speaking, but thinks better of it and turns back to the general as they wrap an arm around Mikazuki’s shoulders. Chai Son notices this and shifts so that he is low enough for Hoshi to do the same for him, leaning against the oldest of the trio.

“Agni Kais are illegal for everyone under the age of sixteen,” Gan whispers to Ryuji, as if the man needs any more reason to get riled up.

“That's right.” Iroh nods to Jee. “Zuko looked upon the old general he had insulted and declared that he was not afraid. But Zuko misunderstood.”

“Stupid,” the boy mutters to himself. Who taught him to think of himself in such a way? The lieutenant sees even Princess Azula frown at this.

“It was not stupid, as it was only made known to the public that you would be fighting.” General Iroh takes a sip of tea before continuing for the group. “The day after the war meeting, Zuko stood in place in the Agni Kai arena. When he turned to face his opponent, he was surprised to see that it was not General Bujing.”

“Of course it was not,” Anzu intrudes. “I had been busy treating him in the infirmary at the time. He said that he awoke that morning to flames engulfing his room.”

“It truly is a miracle that he survived.” Princess Azula’s voice drips with sarcasm, leaving no question as to who exactly set that fire. Taka sends a silent thumbs-up her way.

“Zuko had spoken out against the general's plan, but by doing so in the Fire Lord's war room, it was the Fire Lord whom he had disrespected,” General Iroh says. Oh no. “Zuko would have to duel his own father.” Jee’s eyes bulge in their sockets. Agni above.

Only thirteen. Vidura’s age when he burned. Despair settles in Jee’s blood like a stone in the ocean. It’s almost funny how that feeling has become an anchor for him. Ryuji has his fire, and Gan has his apathy, but Jee… Jee has his misery to keep him company. He hopes he never grows numb to it.

(With the echoes of his children’s screams reverberating in his heart, he doesn’t think he ever could.)

“When Prince Zuko saw that it was his father who had come to duel him, he begged for mercy,” General Iroh says, and Jee just wants him to stop, please, you’re just making it worse.

“He said I had to fight for my honor,” Prince Zuko cuts in quietly. General Iroh allows him to take over as the boy glares into the billowing flames. “I told him the truth: that I was sorry, I didn’t mean it. I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart. I told him that I am his loyal son, and he told me to rise and fight.” His voice threatens to turn into whining. No, not whining. Pleading, like he’s still trying to find a way out. Something deep in Jee’s heart churns.

Prince Zuko hangs his head in shame. “But I refused to fight. It would be treasonous to fight the Fire Lord. And even if it wasn’t, there was no way that I could possibly win. I would just embarrass myself, and in doing so would embarrass Father.” He lists these reasons off methodically, like he’s the one in this situation who needs justification for his actions. “And… and I can’t fight my dad.” Prince Zuko’s voice cracks on the last word, destroying any last bit of hope that Jee possessed.

Prince Zuko draws himself back up, eyes scanning the group without actually seeing anything. “He told me that I will learn respect.” The boy clenches his left hand, which had begun to shake, into a fist. “And that suffering will be my teacher.”

Jee has to swallow the bitter rage that suddenly rises in his throat. The sour taste stings his mouth. Because he knows where this is going: that the Fire Lord burned his son.

While Jee has been forced to grieve the horrid deaths of the lights of his life, has replayed over and over the moment that he found their bodies, has had eight years to rot in a prison cell and question how he could’ve prevented it, the Fire Lord did this.

The Fire Nation’s acts of warfare may be deplorable, but not toward their own people. It’s taboo for anyone to lay a hand upon a child, much more so for one of your own. Children are prized as the future of the nation’s well being, and so injury or death are not to be taken lightly.

If an entire family comes down with sickness, the children are always the priority (Jee was appalled when he heard of Mikazuki’s brother’s death. No morally upstanding physician would let a child die on their hands without first doing everything they could); before her death, Princess Ursa had begun her work in trying to reform the country’s orphanages and child care system; by law, every child must begin their education at five years old; children aren’t allowed to join the military until they turn sixteen years old, and even then, there have been talks of raising the age to eighteen (actions which had recently been spearheaded by none other than General Iroh himself).

In the Fire Nation, children are beloved. No man of honor would ever purposefully hurt a child. No man would ever burn his son — only a monster is capable of doing so.

Fire Lord Ozai took advantage of his son’s trust — of his love. His stupid, childish, naive, unconditional love — and made him suffer. He tortured the boy and called it love, and Prince Zuko is incapable of telling the difference. He mutilated his loyal son, — whom he was supposed to protect and care for — leaving him with nothing but anger pain.

In Jee’s eyes, that makes Ozai fucking despicable.

-

Anzu wonders just what Princess Ursa would have done if she was alive to find out what happened to her son. Hell, if Princess Ursa was alive, I doubt it ever would have.

-

As Yong-Yut listens to Zuko speak, she notices Taka tightly clutching her crossed arms. That must hurt. She gently pries her manicured hands off of her arms and takes one of them in her own. Yong-Yut gives her hand a gentle squeeze, which Taka reciprocates with a fleeting grateful look before once again turning toward the prince.

Yong-Yut listens intently. She wishes to stay impersonal, but that just leaves room for a morbid interest to grow within her. But I’m not like that anymore.

“When he brought his hand toward my face, I—” Zuko clears his throat. “I thought he was going to wipe away my tears. Which was foolish, and childish, and— and naive” — loving — “for me to think that.” Zuko brings his hand up and gestures in a half-hearted attempt to seem amused, which comes off as more desperate. “I mean, it’s not like he had done so since I was little!” He drops his hand, face sobering. “But I was wrong. Instead, he just…”

To everyone’s horror, Zuko holds his right hand out in front of — and slightly below (because who else would be in need of a sick power trip like that than the Fire Lord himself) — him, fingers curling slightly. Like he’s cradling a face. Yong-Yut suddenly feels a wave of nausea with just how intimate the gesture is. Zuko takes a second to carefully adjust his hand, almost thoughtfully.

Then his hand erupts in horrifying golden flames.

Yong-Yut chokes back her surprise. Taka squeezes her hand fiercely. The blaze glows white-hot where it bursts from Zuko’s palm, weeping tendrils of pure wrath licking up his fingers. The crew watches with horror as it takes him a few minutes to finally drop his smoking hand.

“It was so bright and just so painful…” Zuko pulls his knees up to his chest and rubs at his left eye. “I-I kept screaming and choking on smoke and the scent was just terrible a-and I was faintly able to recognize that that smell was me, that it was my own skin burning and that just made it so much worse and—” The boy cuts his quick speech off abruptly. “I don’t remember anything after that.” He looks over at his sister, asking a silent question.

Princess Azula speaks carefully and matter-of-factly. “You were there for quite some time. Firebenders’ skin does not burn easily. Father had to hold you down for several minutes even after you passed out as the fire spread down your body.” Does this not affect her? Why does she almost seem happy?

“Afterwards, everyone was too distracted cheering their heads off to see the fire be put out.” Princess Azula’s tone becomes thoughtful. “I suppose someone must have seen and ratted me out to Father…” So I was right, she did put it out, Yong-Yut thinks. The girl then smirks and spits out, “Though there is no way it could have been Uncle. Poor old man looked away the second that Father raised his hand toward Zuzu’s face.” She brushes imaginary dirt off of her shoulder.

That gets a good many glares sent toward the general. He does not seem to be aware of them, though, as he looks at the prince with a face full of remorse. “I am sincerely sorry, Nephew,” he says, voice only just loud enough that Zuko would be sure to hear it.

Zuko just huffs and hugs his knees tighter. “Whatever. It’s not like it is the first time that you have looked away.” First time? General Iroh puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Zuko immediately flinches back violently.

Yong-Yut feels another squeeze of her hand. She looks up at Taka, who watches the interaction with a grave face. But there is a knowing glimmer in her eye. Yong-Yut makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

“After the Agni Kai,” Princess Azula continues as if her brother’s behavior is commonplace, “Father announced that by refusing to fight, Zuzu had shown shameful weakness. As punishment, we were banished and sent to capture the Avatar. Only then can we return with our honor.”

The group lapses into silence after that. Unsurprisingly, Ryuji is the first to break it. “Prince Zuko—”

“I do not need your pity,” he bites out.

“—You did the right thing.” Heads swivel toward the engineer, shocked by his uncharacteristic levelheadedness. Zuko’s seeing eye widens. “Thank you for standing up for those soldiers.”

“They died anyway,” the boy grumbles.

“But it shows that you care about your people,” Lieutenant Jee adds. “That’s more that can be said for many military officers.” Zuko looks ready to object, but thinks better of it and grudgingly accepts the comment with a nod.

“I—” Zuko shifts uncomfortably before suddenly standing and bowing. “Goodnight.” He walks briskly downstairs.

General Iroh finishes his tea and stands as well. “I shall also retire for the night,” he says as he helps Anzu up. “Princess Azula, it is past your bedtime. You should go to bed as well.” The girl rolls her eyes but complies nonetheless. She flounces below deck, leaving the crew alone around the campfire.

They sit in silence with the soft glow of the campfire illuminating their faces. Yong-Yut watches each of them carefully as they begin to put themselves back together.

Gan pokes Ryuji in the side. “You handled that surprisingly very well.” He puts his hand on Ryuji’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re not sick or something?”

Ryuji bats his hand away. “I’m just thinkin’.”

“About…?”

“How I’m gonna kill the Fire Lord.”

Gan takes the comment in stride and rolls his eyes. “As if we’d ever be let back into the Fire Nation.” He bumps the engineer’s shoulder with his own as they both begin to walk below deck. “I’m proud of ya for keepin’ your cool, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Chai Son seems to be the first of the three kids to snap out of it. He may act like it, but he isn’t naive, Yong-Yut thinks. He knows what it’s like out there. He isn’t naive, just hopeful.

“That’s, uh… that’s n-not normal, right?” Chai Son asks.

Hoshi shakes their head without looking at the boy, still worrying away at their hair. Chai Son gently pulls their hands away and unties the knot in their leather hair tie. He carefully puts what can fit into a messy bun and tucks the shorter strands in the front behind their ears. When he is finished, Hoshi musters a grateful half-smile. How did he know that that would help them?, Yong-Yut wonders.

“My dad never burned any of us,” Mikazuki answers. She sniffles quietly.

Hoshi shakes their head again. “Neither did mine. I mean… Well, he can’t bend, but he never hit us or anything. He’d sometimes yell when he got mad, but that’s it.”

“Why would Zuko’s father do such a thing then?”

Chai Son looks thoughtful. “I— I’m pretty sure that’s abuse.” They were all thinking it, but the harsh word sucks all the energy out of the conversation. No one makes an attempt to revive it, and so the three friends leave for the night.

Yong-Yut stands up as well. “Are you coming?” she signs. She extends a hand down to Taka.

The navigator nods. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

-

Taka speaks before the only other crew member left is able to get to his feet. “Lieutenant Jee, if I could have a moment?” He settles back down in response. Taka looks to both sides to double check that no one is lingering. Satisfied, she leans closer to speak quietly. “How do we make sure that this was an isolated incident? The Agni Kai, I mean?” She has been meaning to ask someone all day in order to ease her own worries, and now seems as good a time as any.

Jee raises his brow. “What are you insinuating?”

“I am saying that that isn’t Prince Zuko’s only scar. Not many people have access to the Crown Prince’s… well, to his body, sir.” I don’t know what’s worse, Taka thinks. Prince Zuko being completely blindsided because it was the first time, or him more or less knowing what would happen and still complying.

“I—” Jee makes a frustrated noise. “We can figure this out some other time. I think we all need time to process this.”

“But Jee—”

“Taka, enough. It’s been a long night for everyone.” He moves to stand up.

-

The navigator speaks even more pressingly, yet still in a hushed tone. “He has scars on his hips in the shape of fingerprints.” Jee pulls up short. “Who do you think put them there? Held him like that?” When Jee turns back around, Taka is already making urgent eye contact. “How do we know that it’s not even worse than what we just learned?”

Jee sighs, his shoulders drooping. “We don’t. But there is no use in spreading rumors or getting everybody worked up about it.” Taka nods along. “This recent development certainly raises new concerns. But we must be careful. Pressing the subject when he’s not ready could just make things worse.”

Taka’s words are almost frantic now. “But— But what if it’s not just his father? What if it’s… other... male… relatives…”

Jee’s face is sympathetic. “I understand your concern, Taka. Really, I do. What Fire Lord Ozai did to Prince Zuko is horrific and unjustifiable.” Stay level headed, Narong. He takes a deep breath. “But there is simply no proof of anyone else’s influence. As far as we’ve seen, General Iroh is an upstanding man. He may be a military genius, but there’s no reason to think that that violence would extend itself to his home life. You’re just being paranoid.”

Something that Jee said seems to strike a major chord for Taka. She stands up to tower over the man. Her amber eyes burn as she shouts. “Don’t you dare treat me like a little girl, Jee! I know what I am talking about! Stop acting like I’m a nuisance to be dealt with and start thinking!”

The woman takes a deep, ragged breath. She lowers her voice so as not to be overheard, but her voice remains dangerous. “His scars tell a story, Jee. The picture that is being painted may not be pretty but it still needs to be acknowledged.” The man opens his mouth to speak, but Taka continues over him.

“Why do you think someone gripped his hip so hard that they burned him? Why does he have scratches on his stomach? Why do you think he has bands around his arms? What did he need to be restrained for?” She clears her throat. “My apologies if this is immodest, but it’s entirely possible that the Agni Kai isn’t the first time Zuko’s father has forced him onto his knees.”

“Taka, that is enough!” Jee snaps, disgusted at the mere suggestion. He’s entirely aware of the concept. He has seen soldiers steal Earth Kingdom women for their own pleasure before killing them. He has had to overhear inmates’ whimpers in the showers — and elsewhere — at the Boiling Rock. Still, it is not a reality that Jee wishes to face, much less hear about out of the carefully painted mouth of a noble lady. “That is highly inappropriate! What has gotten into you?”

Taka doesn’t answer, instead refusing to mince her words at all. Her voice teeters on desperation. “That— That boy may have been— He could’ve been raped, Jee, and you are refusing to even consider that possibility!”

She jabs a manicured finger at the man’s chest, voice rising to a shout again. “Your passivity is becoming a total lack of compassion! You may have gone through hell, but so has everyone else on this ship! You’re turning into Gan in that respect: selfishly assuming that it is best to not pick a side.

“I’m tired of standing by and trying to ignore what’s glaringly obvious! We all heard Azula say that General Iroh looked away when Prince Zuko was burned. But I am not going to follow suit!”

Behind the manicured nails, expensive clothes, and made-up face, even behind the snarling teeth, intimidating height, and pure desperation, Jee just sees regret. It’s concerning.

For the first time that Jee can remember, Taka seems unsure of the path that they are taking. Maybe that’s because so far, for her, that path has just been away; an “anywhere but here” sort of mentality that has morphed into a road to nowhere. Jee is struck with the realization that this is Taka’s own way of confrontation.

Despite her snippy attitude or her preference for debate as a form of entertainment, Taka is one of the more… not easy-going, but more willing members of the crew. Unlike others, she doesn’t actively seek out conflicts, and generally knows when to stop.

But right now, Taka seems to not only be confronting Jee, but something else. In her mind, she’s no longer sailing away from this source of her worry.

At some point you have to stop running and turn around and face whatever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it.

“Taka, please calm down—” Jee reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

Taka flinches.

(Just like Prince Zuko did earlier.

Just like he does when anyone tries to touch him.)

And suddenly, the pieces start to fall into place.

It’s no secret that Taka seems to shrink into herself when she enters the crew’s quarters at night. Or that she avoids the men aboard the Kage when she is able to. Or sometimes she’ll shoot up from her pallet with a gasp; but everyone onboard gets nightmares. Jee has never considered why she gets them though.

“Not many people have access to the Crown Prince’s body.” Not many have enough access to make Mayor Mangal's eldest daughter flinch like that, either. Especially not when she’s been away from her family since she was fifteen… Jee pushes the thoughts aside. I can figure it all out later.

The pair stands there in shock. Taka’s face goes stoic once again. She turns away quickly and straightens up. “I am going to be on the lookout for more signs. I hope that you will be as well,” she says over her shoulder. Jee is left in the dust as Taka strides to the stairs.

——

That night, when Zuko is finally rocked to sleep by the Kage’s gentle sway, he dreams of cold amber eyes that reflect the image of a burning boy. It’s been a year — in the infirmary Zuko didn’t dream; he didn’t wake up for days — but he still has yet to grow used to the nightmares, which are almost a nightly occurrence.

But when Zuko goes out on deck to watch the comforting progression of the storied constellations across the night sky, he gets the sense that there will be people — a sister, or an uncle, or crew members — out there waiting for him, standing guard.

—————

Chapter Text

With the mundanity of life on the Kage, Azula is given time to think and fully evaluate her companions, along with their strengths and weaknesses. She already knows all about Zuko; everyone else is still in the works.

Lieutenant Jee is a strong firebender; eight years in a federal prison doesn’t leave one with much else to do but train. He is blindingly obedient yet reliable, not to mention mathematically intelligent; Jee became in charge of the ship’s finances after Uncle almost spent an entire month’s budget on tea. Jee has authority, and though they may complain, the crew listens to him. Even Zuko is willing to hear his opinion on matters, even if he then completely ignores the advice. Jee may not wear his emotions plainly, but his motivations are clear as day. (He has suffered. He has learned his lesson.)

Gan is a highly skilled swordsman, easily one of the most talented in the nation. Yet he is indecisive and impartial, which means he could easily be swayed to other sides. Unlike some other crew members, though, he doesn’t seem to have a kind bone in his body. It’s not that he’s outwardly malicious, just indifferent. Azula can trust that if she was able to convince him to do her bidding, then he wouldn’t get sidetracked by stupid sympathies or any civilians that could need help.

…Unlike Chai Son. The boy offers aid to others whenever he can, yet he doesn’t seem to have any other intentions behind the acts besides… kindness? Azula simply thinks that he isn’t capable of the type of deep critical thinking that is required to balance primary and secondary motivations. She can easily feed him lies that he will wholeheartedly believe in, though, as he freely gives out information. Chai Son has abandonment issues that border on annoying, causing him to constantly want to be with others and to try unnecessarily hard to be on everyone’s good side. His bending is very useful, though; there are very few earthbenders in the Fire Nation military — all of whom are half-breed scum — so any opponents would be surprised by his presence in the crew. Even less would be capable of fighting a lavabender.

Hoshi is not an extraordinarily strong bender, though they are more combat-ready than, say, Taka or Chai Son. Similar to the boy, Azula can feed lies to Hoshi as well, as they don’t know enough to refute anything. They are resourceful, and their bargaining tactics and ability to steal without being detected may come in handy. They are less of a loose cannon than their friends, as they are more mature, but their poor memory leaves their motivations unclear. Not to mention they make a mean roast duck.

Mikazuki is the weakest emotionally of the group, which can be exploited. She is a ball of nerves, but becomes defensive when she feels that either of her friends are being threatened. She is loyal to the throne, though, and even her attempt to teach the Water Tribe girl some bending doesn’t pose a risk. Really, it’s humorous to think that Katara could ever pose a threat.

Speaking of, Mikazuki’s waterbending is very useful and powerful. There has to be a reason that she doesn’t spar with others. Sometimes the princess will notice her go off to practice on her own, even when warned by Gan about the wildlife in the area, which completely contradicts her nervous nature. Also, if Azula were Mikazuki, and she was ridiculed as a child simply for bending a different element, she would simply become one of the best benders in the world to prove them all wrong. Well, I already do that without being ridiculed, but the point still stands: Mikazuki is hiding something.

Taka is highly intelligent and has a vast amount of knowledge. Despite this, she has very little experience in non-palatial environments, so though able to navigate the subtle tension of noble relations, it is more difficult for her to handle situations with civilians out on the streets. She is neither patient nor understanding, and is much too stuck up for a colonial of mixed heritage, noblewoman or not.

It’s clear from Taka’s training that she was raised to be a lady, not a fighter. She grows timid, most often around men. There is an anger simmering behind her amber eyes that goes unnoticed by others, but she is too polite to let it fully show. She has the fire but doesn’t know what to do with it. Though she is capable of murder. If only I knew how she did it. Altogether, Taka is useful for her knowledge and the intimidation that comes with her great height, though any worthy opponent wouldn’t be scared of her once they saw her bending abilities. If only Azula could find a way to tap into that hidden anger of Taka’s, she could find a way to fully utilize her.

Meanwhile, Ryuji is angry like Zuko. That makes him spontaneous, reckless. Unlike Zuko, he is a great liar, possibly because he half-believes the lies he spews himself. His weakened arm constantly lies stiffly at his side like a broken wing, and is noticeably smaller than the other due to lack of use. Aside from his arm, though, he is physically strong and has great stamina, proven through his ability to be constantly bending to fuel the ship’s engine throughout the day while also performing other tasks. His expertise provides important knowledge as to the structure of Fire Navy vessels along with Fire Nation engineering techniques. Overall, his value is not to be dismissed.

Yong-Yut makes up for what Ryuji lacks in subtlety. Really, she is so stealthy and elusive that you would almost think that she’s a shadowbender. Many times Azula has witnessed — or at least heard — another crew member startle when they finally notice Yong-Yut with them. Her footsteps are completely silent. Espionage — if that truly is her past profession — is considered a coward’s career; real fighters do not need to hide to win. That is especially the case with Yong-Yut, whose bending just barely covers the basics. What she lacks in power she makes up for in adaptability, openly boasting that she knows how to effectively fight against all types of benders, along with being skilled in hand-to-hand combat and with various types of weaponry. Too arrogant, Azula thinks.

Whatever Yong-Yut claims to be capable of or refuses to reveal, one thing is certain: she is dangerous. Clearly someone agrees, or else they wouldn’t have carved her face into that cruel, too-big smile. Azula wonders what her last words were before she was rendered, for all intents and purposes, — Azula knows her basic anatomy; Yong-Yut should be able to create sounds and say some words, just not articulate those that require the tip of the tongue — mute. What information was so important that she was butchered to keep it a secret?

Yong-Yut is observant, and that makes her dangerous. Knowledge is Azula’s form of control. Double-crossing and lack of honesty is integral to being a secret agent. Yong-Yut’s watching eyes are the color of a tiger’s. She blends in and stalks her prey. Azula doesn’t want to be there when she finally pounces.

Anzu is stubbornly loyal to Uncle and somehow trusted by both him and Father alike. Her blunt words leave nothing to the imagination. She is an outstanding healer, and is hardworking and self-sacrificial if it means she can save a patient. Years of kneeling by bedsides and carrying the weakest of patients have left her with aching knees; in the week after the Agni Kai in which Zuko faded in and out of consciousness, tired circles ringed Anzu’s dark eyes like reflections of the moon on the pale water of her skin from lack of sleep.

She saved Zuko, though. Azula doesn’t like debts. She doesn’t like owing anyone anything; her kindness only extends so far as it gains her favors. Anzu tries her best to understand Azula and her actions, though. Their relationship isn’t reactionary (“Monster”). Nor has it progressed all the way to reciprocation (Zuko taught Anzu how to defend herself with knives. So she can’t be that good with them). Instead their relationship is one of responsiveness; cause and effect. That is better than others, at least (“I expected better of you, Azula”).