Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It takes five years of carefully putting out fires (literal and figurative) before Zuko can even begin instigating more specific agendas, instead of just stopgap measures or the sweeping overhauls needed to restructure the nation. Even for the necessary things it had been uphill battle after uphill battle for the smallest of steps. Zuko would grit his teeth each time the nobles complained, until he’d finally made the most necessary changes. (Aang had helped when he could, but many of the upper echelons of the Fire Nation political sphere were less than pleased with the Avatar. It did wonders with the general population though.)

He bites his lip as he waits for his Uncle to finish reading through his drafted legislation. It’s the first major one that he’s written completely on his own and it’s important. The only other person who knows about it is King Kuei and he’d already agreed to whatever Zuko wanted. He’d carefully concealed it in his things on his monthly trip to Ba Sing Se. (Visits that had been enforced roughly a year into his reign when Katara had visited with Aang and put her foot down as a healer and his friend. He’d protested but had been told in no uncertain terms that he was going to take a day off before he collapsed from exhaustion, or he was going to knocked out and frozen to his bed until deemed adequately healthy. The visits to Uncle had been a compromise. It worked politically to maintain ties in the Earth Kingdom capital, and it allowed him to see the progress on his travels. Also it forced him to take a break for a day of travel.)

Iroh sets the scroll down and sits quietly for a moment.

“Well?” Zuko asks, trying not to fidget. (There is some not small part of him that will always be a fourteen-year-old boy in front of his uncle.) “What do you think?”

Iroh looks up and smiles at him, looking a bit teary.

“I think my nephew is a good and kind leader.”

Zuko sighs in relief.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” He asks softly.

Iroh pats him on the shoulder.

“I think it is a great gift that you offer as a friend.” Then he taps a spot on the scroll. “Here you may want to think about your wording…”

Zuko leans over and nods, following along as Iroh points out where he could shore up his work.

/

Aang’s bimonthly visit is the following week and Zuko finds himself nervous. He’s the Firelord and Aang is the kindest person he’s ever met- he has no idea why he’s nervous. Mai had laughed at him gently when he’d told her the evening before.

“It’s a big thing you’re doing, of course you’re nervous. But he’ll be over the moon and you know it.”

His friend swoops down on his glider to land in the private courtyard with a big smile on his face.

“Fire Lord Hotman!”

Zuko rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he accepts Aang’s enthusiastic hug.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Oh, at least a few more times.” Aang says cheerfully.

They catch each other up on what’s happened the last couple months in their respective lives as they walk down to Zuko’s personal dining room for lunch. Mai and Suki join them for the meal, also garnering hugs from the Avatar. It’s a nice way to begin an afternoon.

They part ways with the ladies afterwards, making plans for dinner and evening activities.

Aang follows him down to the formal office that Zuko hates as much as it is necessary.

He clears his throat awkwardly.

“There is actually a proposal that I need your input on.”

Aang flops down onto the formal rug and salutes him with a grin.

“Avatar wisdom ready and waiting, Mr. Fire Lord.”

“It’s actually, uh, not an Avatar thing.” Aang sits up a bit, curious. “It’s an airbender thing.”

Zuko picks up the formalized scroll from his desk and sits down next to his friend.

“I’ve been taking responsibility for the actions of myself and my ancestors.” Zuko says quietly. “Trying to fix what they broke in our world, right the unbalance they caused.”

“Zuko, you know I don’t-“

Zuko waves him off.

“I know you don’t hold me responsible for anything they did, but it’s something I must do for my nation.” He holds out the scroll. “This is something I’ve been working on for a while, all it needs is a formal sign off from me. King Kuei and the Nothern and Southern tribes have already agreed to do their part. All I need to finalize it is the okay from you.”

Zuko takes a steadying breath as Aang takes the scroll from him and starts to unfurl it.

“I’m calling it The Gyatso Accords, with your permission.” He continues, watching nervously. “It’s an act to ensure protection for any locations or relics and to start what reparations can be made to the Air Nomads. I thought helping restore the temples and collecting what relics might be out there could be a start, but- oof.”

He’s bowled over as a monk who had grown an unexpected half a head taller than him in the last few years flings himself bodily across the rug to hug him. It takes him a moment to respond and wrap his arms around his shaking friend as he cries into his shoulder.

“Thank you.“ Aang whispers as he squeezes Zuko tightly.

Zuko hugs him back at the awkward angle, bending his wrist uncomfortably to pat him on the back. Aang finally seems to collect himself after a few minutes, releasing Zuko and sitting back as he hastily wipes at his face. His eyes are still overly bright when he looks at him.

“There’s no need to thank me, really. It’s the bare minimum of what we can do and far too late in being done.” Zuko says, handing Aang the scroll back from where he’d dropped it. “If you don’t mind look this over to see if there’s anything that needs changing or adding, I can sign it by the end of the week. The Earth Kingdom has already pledged support and offered to send earthbenders for construction and repairs and scholars from the universities to help with documentation and accuracy.”

Aang smiles broadly, a few fresh tears making their way across his face.

“I’d be happy to look at it. Give me a few hours and I’ll make some notes for you.”

Zuko nods.

“You can use anything you need in my office. I’ll be over here in the corner reading over some updates if you have any questions.”

Zuko sits on one of the cushions on the floor and stares unseeingly at the scroll in front of him. Every few seconds he glances over to where Aang is quietly reading through the legislature, occasionally mouthing along to the words as he reads them or scratching down a note on the paper next to him.

Eventually Zuko gives up on trying to read the reports in front of him and settles his nerves by getting his personal tea set and brewing them a pot. The soothing smell of chrysanthemum blooms from the cups as he pours. Aang shoots him a grateful look when Zuko brings him his cup.

“Thank you. You were… very thorough.” He says, gesturing to the pages in his hands.

Zuko shrugs awkwardly.

“It’s always better to be thorough in this kind of stuff. Otherwise people try to squirm out of it any way they can.”

“It’s not a bad thing, I think it’s very thoughtful of you.” Aang says reassuringly. “And I didn’t really have much to add- just a few names were wrong, and I added a few things about how specific items should be treated. Other than that, as Avatar and keeper of balance between the four nations I’d be very happy to see this be formalized.” He gets to his feet, facing Zuko. Aang unexpectedly bows deeply, in an old-fashioned formal position. “As official remaining representative of the Air Nomads, I accept this motion from the Fire Nation.” Zuko returns the bow best he can without spilling his tea. Aang straightens back up, face softening. “And as your friend, this means more than you can know.”

“I wish there was more I could do.” Zuko says quietly. “If there’s anything else I could do, if I could, I would… I would….” His throat closes and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Aang reaches out and grips his hand tightly.

“I know.” He says, voice thick with the grief he rarely lets show. “I know you would.”

They sit quietly together, taking sips of delicate floral tea. The sun slowly make its trek across the sky as the heavy weight of history embedded in the ink and paper on the desk slowly shifts and resettles between them.

Chapter Text

Aang finds Katara in the marketplace of the small Earth Kingdom town they’ve stopped in, reaching down to lace their hands together.

“Hi sweetie, how did it go with the mayor?” She spares him a glance and a smile before she continues perusing the selection in the stand in front of them.

“Good, I think. They had a minor spiritual disturbance on the edge of town, but it didn’t take long to sort out for once. And one of the ladies who was there offered us a place to stay for the night in thanks.”

“Oh, good, I love traveling, but it’s nice to sleep under an actual roof sometimes.”

Aang laughs and they finish up in the market before making their way to the house at the edge of town. It’s nice to have an easy job for a while. Between each of their duties- Avatar, Waterbending Master, political representatives, the small group of students Aang had unexpectedly taken up who were eager to learn about the teachings and lifestyle of the Air Nomads, and other various and sundry tasks that popped up- they didn’t often get a peaceful stop to spend together.

“Avatar Aang, Master Katara, it’s an honor to have you stay in my home.” A woman a few years older than they are greets them at the door, her dark brown hair sweeping over her shoulder as she bows. “My name is Jai, please let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you, Jai. Your generosity is appreciated.” Aang says, politely returning her bow.

Jai shows them to a small guest room and tells them dinner will be ready soon. The smell of stew lets them know the meal is ready and they make their way back down to the common room.

“It smells wonderful. I didn’t realize being a vegetarian was common around here.” Katara remarks as Jai passes them their bowls.

“It’s not, my family just has been for a few generations. This is a recipe passed down from my great-grandfather.” Jai tells them proudly.

Katara looks over when Aang goes still next to her after taking a bite. His eyes are closed, and he has a strange look on his face, his spoon hovering over the bowl.

“Aang? Are you okay?”

He blinks and comes back to himself, clearing his throat.

“Yes, yeah, this is delicious. Your great-grandfather’s recipe, you said?” Jai nods uncertainly. “You don’t happen to know anything about where he got this recipe do you?”

“He learned it growing up.” Jai says, a slightly guarded look in her eyes.

“Do you know where he grew up?” Aang presses. Katara glances between them. Jai seems to come to some kind of resolution.

“Wait here.” She says, putting her bowl down and hurrying out of the room.

“Aang, what’s going on?” Katara whispers.

“I know this recipe. Or at least the taste of it.” Aang whispers back. “Maybe-“

“Okay.” Jai comes back into the room carrying a large fabric wrapped object. She sets it down on the floor next to them, looking slightly nervous. “My grandma always used to tell me stories about how my great-grandfather was an Air Nomad. My parents didn’t believe her, but I did. Look.”

She pulls the cover off to reveal an old, oddly shaped, wooden trunk. There are intricate carvings along the top, no discernible lid or way to open it, metal hoops around the sides, and a slight arch to the base.

Aang gasps. Katara watches, politely confused as he approaches it slightly reverently. He looks up at Jai.

“May I?”

She gestures for him to go ahead.

“I’ve never been able to figure out how to open it. I don’t think anyone in a couple generations has, just passed it down as an heirloom.”

Aang grins at her, carefully tapping his fingers tips along the edge of the trunk.

“That’s because this is an airbenders traveling trunk. When you were old enough to leave the temples, some of the monks would dedicate themselves to sharing the writings of different temples with the others. They’d make a specially carved box like this for transporting important or sacred things, so-“ He makes a triumphant sound. “-you need an airbender to open it.”

There’s a soft whistling tune from the trunk and some sections on the top pop up from the carvings to be handles. Aang twists the handles and the lid slowly creaks open. Jai and Katara lean forward with him to peer inside.

“Oh wow.” Jai breathes.

Neatly folded into the case is a slightly rumpled set of spare robes in a faded shades of yellow, red, and orange, neatly folded under a beautiful mala set. Aang carefully lifts the robes and beads to set them next to the trunk. Underneath is a set of books, a few scrolls, two sets of flutes, and several other items Katara can’t identify on sight. Jai reaches in and pulls one of the books out.

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “These look like journals, but I don’t recognize the language.”

Aang takes it from her and scans a few pages. His face lights up.

“This is in-“ He uses a word that makes Jai and Katara share a glance. He notices. “Uh, airspeak? Cloudtalk? I’m not sure how it would translate. But I can read it, mostly. Might need help from the scholars at the university if he’s talking about anything complex.”

Jai brightens up anyway.

“I’d love to know what he wrote, even if it’s just an approximation.” She chuckles a little, sitting back on the floor. “I always wanted to know more about him. When I was little I used to daydream about being an airbender, being able to fly and travel wherever I wanted. It’s nice to know that I have a true connection.”

They empty the trunk and sort the contents carefully. They manage to put the journals in order with some trial and error- there are several dozen of the small books and not all have dates in the front. Aang flips open the first few pages of the earliest journal. His face softens as he reads.

“He must have started this one before leaving the temples the last time. Oh! He was from the Southern Air Temple too!” He flips back to the cover page and laughs suddenly. “Jai, I knew your great-grandfather.”

“What?!” Jai sits up, stunned.

“Not well, he was one of the older initiates at the temple. Tseten was the first master tattoos celebration I got to go to. He liked to visit and always brought the best fruit with him to share with all of us younger kids.” Aang smiles softly. “He invented a move we called The Swan- we used to get in trouble for doing it during glider practice. I can show you tomorrow.” He adds at Jai and Katara’s curious expressions.

They make their way through the rest of the items in the truck, carefully sorting and identifying what they find. Jai thanks them profusely and give Aang free reign to anything they’ve found.

“This is as much yours as it is mine.” She says firmly.

Aang pours over the journals back in their guest room.

“Katara,” He breathes after a long time. “he wrote it all down.”

“Wrote what down, sweetie?”

He looks up with shining eyes.

“Everything we were never supposed to write down. Everything he could remember.” He shows her a page. “He- he thought he might be the last airbender too.”

Katara reaches out and squeezes his hand, blinking back tears.

“That’s wonderful.”

She changes and lets her hair down for bed as he continues to look through the journals. When Katara turns back around, she finds Aang sitting still as a statue on the floor by the low bed. It looks like he’s barely breathing or blinking as he stares at the pages in his lap. Katara slowly kneels down next to him.

“Aang? Are you okay?”

“Did I ever tell you about when I earned my tattoos?” Aang asks quietly. Katara shakes her head.

“Not much.”

“The monks would test you on your forms and knowledge and when they deemed you ready you went on retreat for two weeks before the ceremony to welcome you as a master.” He lifts up a hand and they both stare at the blue ink on his skin. “There are thirty-six official levels of airbending forms. To be a master you have to know them all or invent your own. I earned my tattoos after inventing my air scooter. The elders decided it was acceptable as a substitute for the last level of forms. So I never really finished learning it.”

His hand drops. Katara takes it and laces their fingers together.

(She bites her tongue against saying anything about the monks who had pushed a mere child into mastery out of their own fears and hopes for the world.)

“He wrote them down.” Aang says, voice cracking. “All of them, how he learned them, in case any of his children or grandchildren were airbenders. I can learn them. I never thought, I thought that I would-”

He turns and buries his face in her shoulder, trembling. Katara gently sets the book safely aside and holds him tightly.

She knows that he thought he would die without ever having learned this one small aspect of his culture. Katara remembers the days when she’d thought the same, in the years before finding a mysterious boy trapped in the ice. She understands how each small piece of culture that can be found is a treasure.

Gently as she can, Katara shifts them onto the bed to be able to lie more comfortably. (Aang is nearly a full head taller than her now, but he still prefers to lay with his head tucked under her chin.) They fall asleep entwined awkwardly, comforted by the sound of the other’s heartbeat.

/

It’s early (or maybe very very late) when Aang wakes up. When he peeks out of the corner of his eye at the window, the sky is just barely beginning to shift to the deep blue of pre-dawn.

He carefully extracts himself from both the blanket and Katara’s arms, smiling a little when she merely grumbles and rolls over, taking the blanket with her. He picks up the journal he’d been reading last night and takes it out to the small yard behind the house. Aang eyes the skyline for a moment, deciding he still has time before he needs to begin his morning firebending sets.

He sinks down to sit on the ground, conjuring up a small flame in his palm to read with in the greyness of the not yet risen sun. he holds it a careful distance from the journal as he lets it fall open.

The last time I was at the Southern Temple was for the spring ceremony of initiates and new masters. I was so proud to see my brothers with their new tattoos- this spring even had a special member! One of the boys, another one of Brother Gyatso’s students, set a record for being the youngest airbending master in history. There are rumors that the elders are preparing him to be a leader of the temple. To be a master so young I imagine that one day he’ll be a force to be reckoned with. If his spiritual journey matches that of his bending ability, he will be a great leader one day. Tseten writes. The ink trail awkwardly for a moment, as if he’d been lost in thought. I wonder if I ever crossed paths with the Avatar- how strange to think that we probably met without either of us knowing. If I’d known what would I have said? What advice would I even be able to give? I imagine there’s nothing I’d be able to offer the Avatar other than a warm meal. Not that they would have even known yet. The kid would have only been thirteen at most- much too young to be taking on the mantle of the Avatar. They must have escaped and survived the attack, because surely the Fire Nation would be crowing for everyone to hear if they’d managed to capture or kill the Avatar. Or maybe I should be making my way to one of the Water Tribes to be sure the new Avatar has an airbending master. I do not know. Information is hard to come by here and I do not have the heart to travel without Laala. Perhaps all I can do is have faith that someday in the future the Avatar will return and help put the world back into balance.

Aang stares at the page for a long time. Touches the words gently.

What would I have to offer the Avatar? Tsenten writes humbly.

“More than you could ever imagine.” Aang whispers quietly, an answer coming a century too late.

Instead of his firebending katas, he offers every blessing, every mantra of thankfulness he can remember in memory of the older monk as the sun rises over the horizon and washes everything a warm, gentle gold.

/

Jai helps them load the trunk onto Appa, watching them wistfully. Aang hops back down after making sure it’s tied down securely to their saddle.

“Jai, I can’t thank you enough for this. It means more than you could ever know.” He bows to her.

“I’m just glad that it’s going to someone who can really use it and that I’ll finally be able to know my great grandfather better.” She gives him a small smile.

“You know, I’m looking for people to help preserve our culture and restore the Air Temples. I have a small groups of students already.” He tells her. “I’d be really happy if Air Nomad descendants would come and be a part of it.”

“Really?” Jai lights up. “I’d love to come be part of anything I could. I’ve always been drawn to whatever I could learn about Air Nomad life. Guess I know why now.”

Aang smiles and tells her the contact information for the newly formed Air Acolytes in the Northern Temple.

/

Over the years, more people with stories of Air Nomad ancestors begin showing up at the temples. Katara can see little similarities to Aang in some of them- a lightness to their walk, the distinct angle of their eyes, the easy balance of their bodies unlike the stances of other benders or nations. Aang gladly accepts all of them who want to pursue life in the temples. Some only come to learn something of their ancestors and are happily taught. (None of them are airbenders, not even weak or unknowing ones. Katara watches the faint hope wax and wane in Aang’s eyes each time some show up.)

/

Inevitably, they are called back to Ba Sing Sae.

The city had settled somewhat peacefully after the war had officially ended, but the political aftershocks of so much upheaval in such a short time rippled through the land more frequently than anyone was comfortable with. King Kuei had done his best to become a more well-rounded ruler after his travels during the war and had accumulated advisors from all over the land to help create some balance in the ever-tumultuous landscape of Earth Kingdom politics. Katara could at least appreciate that they were upfront when they wanted to get something from you, unlike in the Fire Nation where one had to decode five layers of meaning in every action and word to figure out what their true intentions were. (It had been something of a shock to experience the full Fire Nation Royal Court in the aftermath of the war and finding them to be nothing like Zuko’s awkward, flowery bluntness. The intense formality and sideways way of talking had suddenly thrown much more light onto her encounters with Azula.)

She can see the slight tension hitch Aang’s shoulders up as they approach the city proper. It’s still awe-inspiring even after all their visits to see the sheer size of the ringed walls underneath them. In the seven years since the end of the war Katara thinks that she has almost enough good memories in the city to make up for their horrible, terrifying two months spent trapped during the war. Almost.

(She rarely sleeps well in Ba Sing Sae. Nightmares of being paralyzed in the face of danger, Aang still and limp in her arms, the slowing thud of Jet’s heart under her hands, the feeling of electricity raising the hair on her arms…. There are sweeter memories too, but they don’t help her rest easily.)

Appa lands with a soft thud in the broad garden behind the large house for the Avatar in the Upper Ring. (Katara knows that Aang hates having it, a useless status symbol that could got to better use. Most of the time it’s occupied by Toph if she’s in the city or serving as housing for refugees that make it to the Jasmine Dragon and are quietly directed there by Iroh, who also keeps up regular maintenance of the house itself.)

They arrive in the evening and it’s thankfully dark enough that they make it to the small bedroom- the only room in the house kept reserved for their random stops in the city- without notice or fanfare. Both of them are exhausted and sleep comes quickly.

/

A royal messenger comes by the house in the morning, bowing deeply before conveying the timing for meetings at the palace that day in the carefully practiced placidity Katara has come to expect of all the political flunkies of Ba Sing Sae. She catches the tail end of the message, trying not to show her lingering sleepiness where she comes up to stand behind Aang.

“And since the discussions today are between the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation there is of course no representation of the Water Tribes necessary.” The messenger’s eyes slide past Aang to pointedly land on Katara for a moment. She bristles, taking a step forward. Aang reaches back without looking, catching her hand and squeezing lightly.

“If there is anything that could effect passage or trade with the Northern or Southern Water Tribes I will be sure to inform Master Katara and Ambassadors Sokka and Bato so that they can come and have input at the next meeting.” Aang says politely. “Please tell the King I will be there this afternoon.”

The messenger nods, bows again, then backs away from the house to vanish into a waiting cart. Aang closes the door, letting his shoulders slump as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and makes a frustrated noise. Katara tugs at their joined hands to tug him down the hall to the small kitchen so she can get breakfast and tea.

“I only caught the end of what they said, but based on your reactions it doesn’t sound good.”

Aang flops down into a chair at the kitchen table. Katara sets about making herself some breakfast, flash boiling some water as she slices up some fruit. Aang reaches over and pours the water into the teapot, setting the pot and cups at the table.

“They’re still struggling with figuring out what to do with the refugees in the Lower Ring.” Aang lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s been years and there are still people arriving at the city with the hopes of working their way up, but all that’s happening is people are getting bottled up in the Lower Ring and making the situation down there worse and more dangerous by the day. The nobles in the Upper Ring are worried about unrest in the city.” He snorts derisively.

“Haven’t they been trying to figure this out for years now? And you tell them the same thing every time?” Katara asks, finally sitting down at the table with him.

“Maybe they’ll have some kind of new idea this time.” Aang says, hopefully.

“Or you’re going to spend your entire day stuck mediating meetings between stubborn people until you want to bang your head against the wall like last time.” Katara says.

“Or that.” Aang sighs.

“Send Momo with a message if I need to break you out.”

“The messenger said that Zuko is here too, so they must be getting close to something. Or if they go around in circles for more than an hour we can fake a diplomatic emergency and run away.”

“Appa and I will be there in a minute if you need to escape.”

Aang glances out the window to see Appa in the back garden, happily enjoying the attention of some of the children currently staying in the house. He smiles, then sighs and stands up. Katara tips her head back to accept a kiss.

“Are you going down to the hospital like usual?”

Katara nods.

“I sent a note ahead to see if they wanted any instruction or help in any particular ward, today is physical therapy and recovery I think. Good luck with the King.”

Aang makes a face as he grabs his glider staff and Katara bites back a laugh.

/

The Earth Kingdom palace is just as grand and imposing as the first time he visited (granted now with significantly less structural damage). A palace worker shows him through the halls to the large meeting room where a collection of people in cool Earth Kingdom greens and Fire Nation red and gold sit around a wide circular table with a map of the Earth Kingdom in the center of it. Aang makes his way up to the seat reserved for him between Zuko and King Kuei. (Zuko has his Serious Fire Lord face on, but Aang can see the relief in his eyes as he takes his seat.)

“What did I miss?” Aang whispers, glancing around the room, nodding his acknowledgement to Kuei.

“Currently they’re picking up where they left the discussions yesterday.” Zuko answers quietly. “There was a motion to consider just relocating as many people as possible to somewhere outside the city, so the discussion right now is where that could be, in theory at least. All the representatives of the states have basically been saying that they won’t take them, but someone definitely should.”

Aang sighs under his breath.

“Why are you here if this is all Earth Kingdom business?”

Zuko sighs.

“There’s a lot of overlap in the refugees in the city and people from former Fire Nation colonies, plus there’s still a few ongoing land disputes that Kuei and I were meeting about anyway. We would need to set up a way for people to move peacefully to a few Fire Nation islands if they want to. Plus there’s still a few former colonies that we haven’t been able to come up with an agreement for either.”

The meeting is called to order as the last scribes take their places behind the desks set up for them. King Kuei gestures to open the floor.

“We ended yesterday in preliminary discussions about locations for relocating people from the city. If you have new ideas, the council is open to hearing them now.”

“What about using land in the northern mountains?” offers one advisor, gesturing to a segment of the map on the table. “It’s unoccupied land and there’s already some kind of ramshackle refugee town set up in the ruins there.”

“A possibility.” Kuei says with a nod. His scribe writes the suggestion down.

Zuko can feel Aang go stiff next to him. He lifts a hand.

“Pardon me, counselor, it has been several years since I have been in that part of the Earth Kingdom. Do you mean the Gangdise Mountains?”

“Ah, yes, Firelord, that is an old name for them. But no one has called them that in generations, not since…”

The advisor’s gaze slips from Zuko’s hard stare to the seat next to him. He goes pale.

“Since when, again? It can be so difficult catching up with a hundred years of history.“ Aang says, a rare undercurrent of anger adding a sharp edge to his light voice. “And I’m sure the refugee town in the ruins you mentioned wouldn’t happen to be my students who live in the restored Northern Air Temple, as they have for years now with my express permission.”

“Of course not, Avatar.” The advisor stutters.

“The mountains are sacred land under the protection of the accords the Earth Kingdom signed.” Zuko adds, pointing out a trail across the map on the table. “Which, prior to the war, extended over and down to the Wulong Forest to connect the area between the Northern and Western Air Temples.”

One of the advisors nearest to King Kuei bends the areas of interest into higher prominence on the map as the collective group leans in slightly to look.

“Hmm, the Southern part of the area where you’re talking about is where some of those disputed former colonies are located, correct Fire Lord Zuko?” King Kuei asks, peering over his glasses to squint at the map.

“We are not here to renew discussion of dual citizenship of cities on rightful Earth Kingdom land!” One of the representatives says stiffly.

“Not all of us here agree with that statement.” Aang recognizes Mayor Morishita across the table as the mayor of Yu Dao, in his mixed red and green attire frowns at the other representative.

“It is possible to part of a greater collective while maintaining independence.” A blue robed representative from Kyoshi points out.

“Not all of us have the benevolent blessing of the Avatar to create our own island now do we?” An official from one of the other disputed towns all but sneers.

Spines stiffen around the table as people bristle. Before an all-out argument starts, Aang abruptly stands up.

“What if you did?” He asks. All the heads in the room swivel to look at him.

“What?” Zuko asks after a moment.

“If they did have the-“ Aang waves his hand loosely. “-benevolent blessing of the Avatar to create their own independent state, like Kyoshi.”

King Kuei leans forward in his seat, frowning a little.

“What are you thinking?”

Aang lifts a hand, earthbending a more focused section of the map up from the table.

“This area here. Most of the disputed towns fall in this region and it also overlaps with a good amount of lands held sacred by my people. Avatar Yangchen herself started one of the main pilgrimages that was held along this coast.” Some hushed murmuring breaks out at his mention of the Blessed Protector herself. “That means it falls under my protection as both Avatar and representative of the Air Nomads, per the accords agreed upon by all nations. If we all agree to allow this land to become independent and a location for refugees from Ba Sing Sae to safely relocate too, it would remove the issue of citizenship disputes in the former colonies as well as resolve potential unrest here in the city.”

There’s a beat of silence as the collective group studies the map. Then talking breaks out amongst the various groups of representatives as Aang sits back down.

King Kuei leans towards him.

“I don’t know if we are willing to give up this land from the Earth Kingdom, especially without there being any tangible precedence of the Air Nomads on the location to verify a claim through the accords.” He hedges carefully.

“Then I’ll found a temple there, for people to come and learn and to help with the transition of power.” Aang says, exasperatedly.

“It wouldn’t be a terrible thing, having a more substantial part of the world that could be truly neutral, as great as Kyoshi Island is.” Zuko says thoughtfully. “And it would help both the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom in resolving those territory disputes. Neither side of the argument will end up happy with it, but no one could be really upset about it either. It would also be difficult to argue with having the Avatar in a location sort of central to the different nations.”

There’s a sudden quiet from the rest of the room as a group of mayors, councilmembers, and representatives from the highlighted area stand up.

“We would be agreeable to exploring this idea, Avatar Aang.” A mayor with a simple jade hair pin says, bowing respectfully towards the far end of the table.

Aang nods to her and turns to King Kuei.

“Would you also be open to this prospect, your majesty?”

King Kuei steeples his fingers and considers the map intently for a long moment.

“If my people would like to consider this as an option, I am willing to hear it out.”

Aang turns to look at Zuko.

“I would also be willing to discuss this option on behalf of the Fire Nation citizens on this land.” The Fire Lord says.

Aang lets out a quiet breath.

The meeting dissolves as a bell rings deep inside the palace. More meetings are scheduled to hammer out details and scrutinize agreements and state lines and all the other minutiae of government to see if the idea is feasible. The mood is tentative, but mostly seems to be full of relief at a possible solution coming together.

Aang leaves the palace with a bow to King Kuei and a promise to attend a formal dinner the next day. Then he carefully circles around in an overlapping path to make his way over to the Jasmine Dragon.

Aang sneaks in through the back door, waving at Iroh as he cuts through the kitchen. Zuko is sitting in casual Earth Kingdom robes with a fresh pot of tea set up in their usual back room when he arrives and collapses onto the comfortable cushions on the floor with a groan. Zuko holds out a cup of tea for him to take.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Aang takes the cup and grabs a snack from the tray.

“Do you think it will actually work out?” He asks.

“It’s the most positive reception an idea has had so far.” Zuko says. “I hope it does, because this whole situation has been a headache for years.”

“Any idea what they might come up with?” Aang holds out his cup for a refill and Zuko obliges before shrugging one shoulder.

“It could shake out a few different ways. Maybe the cities comes together and establish a republic or charter of some kind. It will just be good to have a place for people to be able to go.”

“Everyone deserves a place to be safe with their family.” Aang says quietly, staring down into the tea cupped in his hands. Zuko nods in agreement.

“Maybe we could help it be a place for people of every nation to come.” Zuko takes a snack from the tray. “Benders, non-benders, families with mixed heritages…”

Aang smiles and looks up at him.

“And if you’re serious about establishing a new Air Temple, a place for your students to come.” Zuko adds.

“I kind of said that to get Kuei to agree, but… it is something I’ve been thinking about for a while.” Aang says, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Zuko smiles at him.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

Aang sits up a little in excitement.

“Oh, Toph’s been trying to decide on a place to really settle her metalbending school, maybe she’ll come too!”

They spend the rest of the afternoon throwing out ideas and dreams for the new potential place-to-be. For once, their castles in the clouds seem to have foundations in something solid.

The sun dips down towards the horizon and Aang glances out the window to see the city washed in rosy light of sunset.

“Will you come for dinner? I know Katara will want to see you while you’re here too.”

Zuko shakes his head.

“I can’t tonight, but I’ll see you both tomorrow at the palace and the day after I’ll make sure to have some time free.”

Aang hugs him goodbye and ducks out to say his thanks and goodnights to Iroh as he leaves. He snaps open his glider and soars across the city, throwing in some fancy loops when he spots some kids staring up with wide eyes. Appa groans a greeting as he lands in the gardens beside him. After some time greeting Appa and checking that his dinner got delivered, Aang goes inside.

The kitchen is crowded with families currently staying in the house and after the initial shock, they are happy to chatter with him as they work around each other preparing their meals. Aang bows his way out of the room with his two bowls and drinks to his and Katara’s room. The sky outside is the dim blue of just past sunset when Katara opens the door and walks over to faceplant onto the bed with a sigh. Aang bites back a laugh, carefully firebending their plates back to warmth.

“Long day, sweetie?”

“So long.” Katara pulls herself up off the bed to makes her way over to join Aang at the small table they have by the window. “Thank you.” She adds as she takes the warmed plate from him.

After they eat and are simply sitting with the warm cups of evening tea, Katara regales him with some entertaining stories from fellow healers and a few patients of the day.

“How did it go with the meeting?” She asks, blinking heavily. Aang smiles fondly at her.

“Really, really well, I think. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Zuko and I have big plans.”

“Whenever do you not?” Katara laughs.

Chapter Text

It’s hard work, restoring a nation. Harder when he’s still winning back the trust of his people, reeducating and reintroducing them to the world. Zuko has never backed down from a vow and he doesn’t intend to start now.

He vets scholars and historians, both from his own Nation and other parts of the world, and tasks them with going through the old war libraries and the confiscated items that had been looted from various cultures by soldiers. Some of the holds and libraries are large and obvious, sprawling through the military keeps. Others, with more discreet information that was meant only for the highest levels to know, are more well-hidden. They race against time often, trying to discover treasures before dissatisfied nobility destroy it out of spite or hate. Over the years, Earthbenders find hidden vaults in the twisting tunnels beneath the palace, full of both old plans and valuables clearly taken from other peoples. Zuko has the scholars catalog the items and then sent to Ba Sing Se to return them to where they belong.

Nearly eight years after beginning the initial project alongside many other reforms, deep underground (a feeling that Zuko hates- his skin crawls, body screaming at him being so far from sunlight) in a tunnel that runs nearly to the Fire Sages ancient vault they find a door. The engravings are old and gleam red in the light from the torches. The door is completely smooth save for the decorations around the edges and what looks like a drop of water crusted in rubies in the center.

“What is it?” He asks.

“We’re aren’t entirely sure, sir, but it has the seal of the royal family.” The historian next to him points upward to the apex of the door, where a dragon stares down at them. Zuko swallows.

“What do you think this is?”

“Some old texts that we’ve found seem to indicate that the royal family had a private library that doubled as a secure hideaway. Several members of the royal family from eras prior to the war indicate that they often came here to seek refuge from political bickering to outright clan wars. Based on the contexts it seems as though it is impossible for someone not of royal blood to enter.”

“Right.”

Zuko steps forward, lifting a palmful of flame to take a closer look at the door. The moment his hand moves close enough to the door, the smoothness suddenly melts away, peeling up into sharp blades. They all freeze.

Zuko squints at the ruby handle. Only opens for royal blood. He sighs and grimaces.

“Everyone needs to move back in case this doesn’t work.”

He hears the shuffling of feet back down the tunnel before lifting his other hand and pricking his thumb on one of the sharp blades. Then he presses it to the shallow divot in the ruby handle. Waits.

Then with a creaky grumble, the blades retreat, and the doors slide open. They hold up the lights to take a look at the inside.

“Spirits have mercy.” The lead historian breathes.

Zuko closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“I need someone to dispatch the fastest messenger we have to Avatar Aang. Tell him he needs to come here as soon as possible.”

/

It takes a few days for Aang to arrive, swooping down through the evening light onto the balcony on his glider, clearly exhausted. He’d been in a distant Earth Kingdom town, helping to ease some tensions between the town citizens, he explains through a yawn.

“So, what did you need me to be here so urgently for? More trouble with agitators?”

“No, no, it’s-“ Zuko hesitates. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning. Let’s get you some food and rest first.”

(He looks at his friend, who’s greatest fault is his kindness, and thinks about the strategies he’d read in some of Zhou’s old records. About what he and old commanders under Zuko’s great grandfather had done to the airbenders that had escaped. His stomach turns.)

Aang eyes him curiously but is tired enough that he doesn’t argue for once. They catch up over the meal and tea, until they both start nodding off. Aang gives him a hug goodnight before heading down to what has, over the last few years, become his designated guest room.

Zuko stares after him for a moment, a sick guilt rolling through his stomach. He doesn’t know how Aang will react tomorrow- had half hoped he’d have Katara with him just in case. He shoves the guilt down with a scowl. Aang has repeatedly said how he doesn’t hold Zuko accountable for the actions of his ancestors. Zuko isn’t them and he’s doing what he can to fix it.

He heads to bed, hoping that Aang will remember that in the morning.

/

He wakes just before sunrise, like always, and is unsurprised to find Aang already meditating in the garden. Zuko settles in next to him to do his own morning meditations, the soft, regular click of the airbender’s beads through his fingers soothing.

They head quietly back to Zuko’s quarters for an informal breakfast. The calm of the morning meditation breaks as Aang bounces lightly down the hall, spinning to face Zuko.

“So now  will you tell me what’s up?” His tone is light, but there’s worry in his eyes.

Zuko sighs as they enter the room and pick up the trays waiting for them.

“I started a project in my first couple years as Fire Lord to have scholars go through my father’s military catalogs. Eventually we found my grandfathers and great grandfathers as well, libraries that were hidden. A great many things we have had to stop from being destroyed by loyalists once they got wind of what we were doing. There’s a vault we found this week that I need to show you.” He can tell Aang is about to speak and pointedly takes a seat. “After breakfast.”

He can tell Aang is nearly vibrating out of his skin with curiosity as they eat.

Finally, they finish and Zuko changes into slightly more formal robes before they head down to the tunnels they’d found. He nods to the guards he’d set along the route to make sure nothing was disturbed as he tells Aang about their discoveries so far. His steps slow as they reach the end of the tunnel and the gleaming door comes back into sight. Zuko stops, putting out a hand to stop Aang in his tracks, who looks at him, non-plussed.

“This vault is only accessible for those with royal blood.” Zuko explains. “It has defense mechanisms against anyone who isn’t. Also.” He takes a breath, unable to look at his friend. “It looks like that last person who was in here was probably Sozin. It was used as a kind of secure planning room for… the beginning of the war.”

Aang stills next to him.

“Show me what’s in there, Zuko.” There’s a hardness to his voice that Zuko hardly ever hears.

“I don’t even know exactly what’s in there.” He cautions. “But I know it won’t be… nice.”

“The first time I went back to my temple after Sokka and Katara found me, I found it desecrated by soldiers as well as the remains of one of the monks who all but raised me.” Aang’s voice is quiet. “Nothing you can show me in there will be worse than that.”

Zuko sighs.

“Okay. I just. Wanted to warn you before we go in.”

He approaches the door, Aang at his heels, pricks his still tender thumb again, and the doors swing open. He motions for Aang to wait, doing a circuit around the initial room to set and light fresh torches and a cursory check for any boobytraps before waving him in.

Aang takes a few steps in, looking at the shelves for a moment before looking faintly woozy and dropping to take a seat on the floor.

“Oh.”

The shelves around them are filled with items from the Air Temples- scrolls spill from shelves along one long wall, another few sets of shelves are full of boxes and bags, another wall is full of maps and observations.

The layout of a methodical research and ruthless observations for how to destroy a civilization.

Aang seems to gather himself and gets to his feet. Zuko hovers awkwardly.

“What can I-“

“You start at that end and I’ll start at this end.” Aang points down the end of the first row of shelves then back again.

Zuko nods, heading down to begin looking through the scrolls. Aang carefully pulls down some of the bags that take up a full set of shelves themselves. Zuko is barely through examining one set of scrolls for damage before he hears the whisper soft sound of Aang kneeling.

He looks back to find his friend clutching one of the bags he’d taken down, several more open in front of him. His head is bowed, but he’s shaking. Zuko hurries back down the aisle.

“Aang?” He kneels down next to his friend.

Aang carefully lifts a hand from the bag with a familiar clicking sound. Several sets of prayer beads hang from his fingers.

“These are mala given to new trainees.” He says in a thin voice. “The first ones you get at the temples after starting to bend. This whole shelf is just of these.”

Most people start bending somewhere from a couple years old to their eighth summer. Zuko's stomach turns as he looks at the shelves full of the prayer beads of children. Aang stands suddenly, setting the bag in his hands down, still shaking as he walks down the long aisle. He opens bags as he goes, moving faster and faster.

“For those committed to initiate training. New initiates. Earned their arrows. Masters. Elders. Temple leaders.” His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are bright in his overly pale face.

Zuko finally catches up to him at the end of the row.

“They took these off the dead bodies of my people and sorted them like, like, game peices-“

Zuko carefully takes the heavy bag from Aang’s shaking hands to set it down. Aang is looking somewhere beyond the shelves. Zuko places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“No!” Aang flinches away, knocking into the shelves behind him filled with boxes. Zuko jumps back to avoid the unconscious blast of air.

Some of the boxes crash to the ground, their contents spilling out. Papers go flying and Zuko hastily gathers them up. He promptly drops them again when Aang lets out a horrified scream. Zuko follows his line of sight to see detailed copies of Airbending tattoos on the floor.

(Years ago, after the war and settling into their friendship, Zuko had asked Aang about his tattoos. He’d been close enough during training to notice that they weren’t the solid blue the ink looked like at a distance. Instead, they were made of up thousands, maybe millions of tiny blue dots in swirling patterns. Aang had said that they were symbols of a master, of adulthood, and each delicate pattern was unique to each airbender. They were spirit-given, he explained as Zuko examined the ink on his hand, monks and nuns who did the inking entered a trance while they worked, giving each set of tattoos a unique pattern to help guide them on their path. Supposedly they showed the wind currents that the nomad would travel in their life, serving as external representations of their own spirits. Zuko could never fathom wearing his spirit on his skin for anyone to see.)

Aang stumbles a few steps towards the door, clutching the shelves to stay upright as he does, before bending a hole in the ground and being violently sick into it.

Zuko looks back at the box’s contents on the floor and suddenly feels ill himself. He’d assumed the tattoos were copied onto some thick parchment to hold the bright blue dye at first glance.

The mummified skin of a master airbender lays on the floor among the papers.

By the look of it, some sick soldier had carved the tattoos off of a monk as either a war prize, or maybe on Sozin’s orders. Zuko has spent enough time with Aang to pick up that to do an act like this would be like carving their very spirit from their body, even with the physical aspect of it being brutal enough.

He might use the hole Aang has bent as well. His friend hasn’t moved from his prone position on the floor.

Zuko shakes himself.

“C’mon, Aang. We’re getting you out of this place.”

“No, no, I have to, I have to-“

“Not today. That’s enough for now.”

Zuko gently guides him up, waiting for a moment as Aang buries the hole full of sick, before supporting him out the door. It locks behind them.

Aang is unresponsive apart from the slow plod of his feet as they walk back up the tunnels.

They make it back to Zuko’s quarters with blessed little interaction. He lowers Aang onto one of the low cushions. Aang blinks, seeming to come back to the present for a moment. He looks down at his own hands and suddenly turns a pale green. Zuko manages to grab a decorative bowl and shove it into Aang’s lap before he’s sick again. He rests a hand on his heaving back, hoping it’s some kind of comfort.

It’s a while before Aang seems to be sure he won’t be sick again. He screws his eyes shut as he sits up, carefully rearranging his robes to tug long sleeves down his arms despite the warmth of the day before he opens his eyes. He sets down the bowl of sick and shoves his hands up under his armpits. Zuko waits as he takes long slow breaths.

Sometimes it’s impossible to forget that Aang is technically around a hundred years older than him with the access to the wisdom of monks, sages, and former Avatars in a blink.

Other times it’s impossible to forget that Aang is technically four years younger than himself, even if they have lived through some of the same horrors of war together.

“Aang?” He asks, cautiously.

Aang’s breath hitches and he suddenly slumps into Zuko’s side, trusting that the Fire Lord will catch him. Zuko hastily wraps his arms around Aang as the airbender turns to bury his face in the thick fabric draped over his shoulder. Then he promptly bursts into tears.

Zuko isn’t sure that the right thing to do here is, but he wraps his arms a little more securely around the shaking body of his friend, heaving him a little closer so they don’t topple over.

It takes a long time for Aang to calm down.

At one point, Mai walks in and looks surprised. (Well, she raises one eyebrow so high it disappears behind her bangs.) Zuko just shakes his head and makes an ‘I’ll tell you later’ face. Mai nods and ducks back out, returning a few minutes later with a pitcher of water and a covered plate of fruit that she sets on the low table next to them.

Zuko mouths his thanks and Mai nods in acknowledgement, her eyes lingering on the still sobbing Avatar in his arms with concern before she leaves again.

Sometime after that, Aang seems to cry himself out and goes limp in sleep instead.

Zuko’s gaze darts around the room. Aang usually slept on the floor or a thin blanket, only using a bed when necessary. But it doesn’t feel right to dump his sleeping friend on the floor.

He shifts slightly and Aang suddenly has a tight grip on his robes, face twisting in worry. So that would be a no on moving then.

Zuko sighs and adjusts their weight again before slowly laying back on the cushions. Aang doesn’t release his desperate grip on his robes, but he relaxes again.

One of his feet drapes across Zuko’s ankle as he snuggles into the Fire Lord’s side. Zuko resists another sigh, because he’d known Aang was a cuddler, but now he was trapped.

The mighty Fire Lord, he thinks slightly sarcastically, once again at the mercy of the all-powerful Avatar.

/

When he wakes up the next morning, Aang is gone.

Zuko panics for a moment, before running down to the meditation garden. He skids to halt, sighing in relief to see his friend sitting facing the rising sun. He sinks down next to him and waits quietly, listening to Aang’s unnaturally long, controlled breaths. He’s hovering slightly off the ground, rising and falling slightly with every inhale and exhale. Zuko guesses that he must’ve been out here for at least an hour or two already.

It takes until the sun has fully risen in the sky before Aang hits the ground softly, blinking blearily a few times before noticing Zuko.

“How are you?” Zuko asks. Aang seems to consider it seriously for a moment.

The he shrugs.

“I’m fine as I’m going to be.”

Zuko nods.

“I’m going to go through the vault myself before you come back to it. You shouldn’t have to see that.”

“Neither should you.” Aang points out. “No one should. But I need to. I need to know what-“ He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I should know what happened to them. I deserve to know.”

Zuko opens his mouth to argue, but finds nothing to offer. If there is literally any one person who has rights to know what’s in the vault, it’s Aang. His friend looks him in the eye.

“I forgave myself a long time ago for not being there when my people needed me. The spirit of the Air Nomads and their love for this world lives on through me. Their pain, my pain-“ His voice cracks. “-deserves that same right.”

Zuko nods.

“Okay. But I’m going to stay with you while you work through it initially.” Aang looks like he’s going to argue with him. “This is part of my duties. Reparations to the Air Nation are long overdue.”

Aang sighs.

“Okay.”

/

They descend back to the vault hours later, after breakfast and an unavoidable meeting with Zuko’s advisors.

Zuko makes Aang wait while he goes to clean up the aisle from the day before.

He picks up the papers and books that had fallen, then steels himself and carefully transfers the mummified remains of the old airbender to the box they’d been in and sets it aside. He checks that the rest of the boxes in the row hold no other gory surprises before picking up the box of remains and carrying it back down to where Aang stands.

He holds it awkwardly. (Is there a non-awkward way to hold a box full of the remains of another person that your family killed and has a chance of being what’s left of a friend of his friend?)

“I didn’t find any more. But I didn’t know if there’s any.. what we should do with… um.”

Aang takes pity on him and takes the box gently.

“I’ll take care of it later. Thank you, Zuko.”

They spend hours combing through the shelves and piles of items. Thankfully, they seem to have found the worst of it on the first day. Many of the books and scrolls turn out to be old Airbender texts, to Aang’s delight “I recognize a lot of these names, but I didn’t get the chance to really study them yet!” He says, showing Zuko a page of incomprehensible text. “This is a poem from Guru Laghima, one of the most famous monks ever.”

Zuko ends up in the back of the room, where a planning space had been set up at some point. An old desk sits next to the remains of a rug. The drawers open easily, to his surprise. They are filled with old writing tools, spare parchment, old documents, and what looks like several maps. The last drawer has several carved boxes in it. The first box is unmarked and when Zuko pries it open he finds it full of journals. The second box is labelled Personal Correspondence in what he recognizes as his great-grandfather’s handwriting. Zuko braces himself and carefully warms the wax sealing to open it. The box is filled with small scrolls addressed to Prince Sozin in unfamiliar handwriting. Zuko pulls one out and slowly unrolls it a few inches.

Sozin, I have arrived safely at the Southern Air Temple so now you and the sages can stop your worrying! I do miss home, but am settling in here just fine. Truly this is one of the most beautiful places in the world! The sunrise over the mountains is-

Zuko rolls the letter back up and swallows hard.

Letters from Roku during his training and travels. He doesn’t like to think about why they might be stored here amongst the paraphernalia of war.

He opens his mouth to call out to Aang about what he’d found… then closes it. He’ll read through them first.

A moment later, Aang appears at the end of the aisle to reverently show him some more relics he’d found.

There is at least some good coming from this horror chamber, Zuko thinks, looking at his friend’s awed face.

/

Zuko brings the boxes of letters and journals up with them when they leave for the day. Aang looks at them curiously, but Zuko brushes them off as old military economy papers he’d grabbed for some of the historians.

In the evening after they part ways for the night he cracks them back open, carefully pulling out the contents of the first box.

Zuko frowns down at the journal. Based on the first few pages, it seems to be the log of some sort of experiment being run using something from the Air Nomads. It’s an older, formal style of writing that takes longer to decipher.

When he does, he wishes he hadn’t.

“…potentially chi enhancing tea made with ground tattoos is initially unsuccessful. If no results in further two weeks, not further testing. Source subject needed new restraints to control airflow.”

The airbender they’d taken the tattoos from had been alive, had been trapped deep underground and skinned alive while probably believing that everyone they’d known had died.

Zuko closes his eyes, trying to push down the lurch in his stomach, instead focusing on controlling his breathing. After a long moment, he sets the journal aside and turns to the other box.

The letters from Roku are worn soft, either from time or rereadings, Zuko can’t tell.

Why would Sozin have kept old letters from his youth? Letters from a friend long soured into enemy by the time the box would have ended up in the hidden room. Zuko frowns, reading the excited words from a young Roku about his training.

Most of the letters are relatively short, often responses to whatever Sozin had written to him about the goings on in the Fire Nation. It’s not until Zuko is on his eighth letter that he finds the connecting thread.

All of the letters are from Roku’s years of airbending training at the temple.

He writes about a fellow novice named Gyatso- the name sounds familiar for some reason- and the new styles of food he’s trying. About the upcoming festival to mark the end of summer and turn to autumn, the most sacred time of year at the temples. Zuko’s heart sinks like a stone in his chest. A beautiful festival, Roku writes, that fills the temples with all the Air Nomads who had trained there returning or visiting from other temples for the celebration.

Roku jokes about the smell from the overflowing bison stables and Zuko wants to weep.

He’d always wondered how Sozin had managed to corner a nomadic people so effectively.

Zuko gently puts the scrolls back and buries his face in his hands.

After a moment, he collects himself and puts the journal away as well, resisting the urge to set the thing on fire to remove the foul contents from the world.

In his room, he lights a candle and meditates for a long time before going to sleep.

/

He is underground, somewhere deep and warm. A metal door swings open and he steps through, looking at the prisoner.

The prisoner is strapped facedown to a wall, robes that has once been orange and yellow now faded and raggedy. There are burns along his back and arms in precise strokes.

“Turn him around, we’ll take the head today.” He hears himself speak in a voice not his own.

The prisoner is flipped around and quickly strapped back down, a kind of thick muzzle over his mouth and nose. The burns run down to the tops of his feet.

There is still a proud blue arrow across his skull and forehead. Zuko’s hand that is not his hand flicks upwards, a white flame thin and sharp as a blade on his fingertip.

He meets defiant grey eyes as he approaches. The airbender struggles uselessly as he gets closer.

“Don’t fight, I might get sloppy.”

He grabs the airbender’s jaw to hold him still and realizes with sudden horror that Aang is staring back at him. His hand raises to cut along the straight edge of the arrow. The skin seals as quickly as it’s injured with the sickly scent of cooking meat.

Aang screams under his hand and Zuko-

-wakes up with a shout, shooting bolt upright.

The doors to his room burst open and two Kyoshi warriors run in. Zuko waves at them to stand down, still breathing heavily.

“A nightmare, just a nightmare.”

The warriors nod and back out again. Zuko waits until his breathing is under control, grateful in the moment that Mai is visiting with her family for the night. He gets out of bed and slips on a casual robe. One of the warriors posted at his door follows silently behind as he walks down the hall to Aang’s guest room. There’s no response to his knock, so he opens the door quietly.

The bed is empty, but it isn’t until the floor and balcony also show an absence of his friend that Zuko’s heartbeat picks up again. It wasn’t unusual for Aang to pick odds spots to fall asleep- the bed too soft, or the air too still inside- but it is disconcerting. Zuko doesn’t let himself truly worry, not yet. He hurries down to the stables, a glance behind showing that one of the Kyoshi Warriors is trailing him as he walks down the halls. Zuko shrinks down the flame in his palm as he opens smaller access door. Appa blinks sleepily at him, letting out an annoyed huff when he sees Zuko.

“Sorry for waking you up,” Zuko whispers. “I’m looking for Aang, is he here?”

Appa huffs again and closes his eyes. No airbender appears, so Zuko assumes Aang isn’t here either. He checks the saddle and peeks around to Appa’s other side just in case.

He nearly runs into Suki as he exits the stables.

“Anything I should be worried about?” she asks calmly. She’s in casual uniform, makeup not done. He must have worried one of the warriors at his door enough to have woken her up.

He shakes his head, slightly uncertain. He glances up and suddenly relaxes.

“No, I was just looking for Aang, but I know where he is now.” Suki raises one eyebrow skeptically. Zuko sighs. “I had a nightmare about… something we found in the old war chambers earlier and I wanted to check in on him. It was… it was bad.”

He must look serious and calm enough for Suki to believe him because she merely nods and exchanges a look with the other warrior, who vanishes back into the shadows.

“Lead on then, let’s locate the wayward Avatar.” Suki gestures for him to lead the way.

Zuko takes the long way up to where he’d spotted Aang sitting, climbing up spiraling stairs until he finds a hidden latch door that opens to the roof. Suki takes a seat just outside the door on the roof and Zuko can feel her watchful gaze as he carefully makes his way over to the high point his friend is sitting on, glider in his lap.

The vivid blue along his skin is reassuring- no burns or injuries that weren’t long healed. Zuko scrubs his hands over his face, as if it would take the horrible double vision from his dream away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Aang asks, still staring up into the night sky.

“Bad dream. You?” Zuko says, sitting down next to where Aang in perched.

“I wasn’t asleep.” Aang swings his feet to tap his heels against the edge of the roof where he sits. “It was storming out earlier.”

Zuko nods in acknowledgment.

(It had taken a couple of years of friendship before he’d found out how Aang had survived all those decades ago. When travelling together, neither of them slept well during storms. More than one night had ended with them sitting quietly together instead of sleeping, watching the rain fall and the fire crackle, waiting for the thunder and lightning to pass. Zuko wonders if Aang’s back aches the same way his chest does during the strong summer storms that so often blow through the islands. He doesn’t ask.)

He sighs and leans back to look up at the stars. Aang watches him carefully, in that strange, piercing way he sometimes does. The sight of his friend well and whole has assuaged the last vestiges of his dream.

“What was your nightmare about?”

Zuko mentally drafts an irate lecture to Toph about the dangers of teaching Aang to be blunt. Then he sighs.

“Some stuff I read in the journals from the vault.”

Aang waits, patiently. Zuko stares at the sky until he gives in. He can’t bring himself to look at his friend as he speaks haltingly.

“They were logs from during the first few years of the war. I found out why they, um. Why the… remains, were in the boxes. Why they did it. And… how they did it. ”

“Oh.” Aang winces.

“Yeah. I dreamed that I was that one… and you-“ The sudden lump in his throat stops him.

“But you didn’t.” Aang says, quiet but firm. “It wasn’t you.”

Zuko closes his eyes, debating for a long moment.

“It was my people, my lineage. It is still something I need to own as part of our history.”

He doesn’t need to see Aang’s face to know the expression he makes to go along with the frustrated huff he lets out. They’ve gone in circles over this particular conversation more than once. Zuko swallows down the familiar argument. He moves on.

“The boxes that I found, one is journals or logs of…. atrocities.” He can’t think of another word for the contents that had fueled his nightmare. “The other is full of letters written by Avatar Roku.”

He can feel Aang perk up at the mention of his past life.

“Really?”

Zuko opens his eyes to look at his friend.

“Sozin must have kept them. They’re from when Roku was away training at the Southern Air Temple.” Aang’s face softens. Zuko recalls a detail from the letters. “He mentioned a monk named Gyatso, he was your airbending master, right?”

“Gyatso.” Aang corrects his pronunciation, voice soft. “Yes.”

He doesn’t offer more information and Zuko lets it go for now. Aang frowns suddenly.

“Why would Sozin have kept old letters from Roku? They were best friends, but after their fight I thought that he would have gotten rid of everything that-“ He closes his eyes with a sudden pained expression.

“Information about the temples.” Zuko says quietly. “The letters don’t have a lot of details, but a clever tactician would be able to extrapolate a lot from what Roku wrote.”

“Right.” Aang’s voice is brittle. His arms tighten around his knees.

Zuko doesn’t know what to say. They sit quietly, staring up at the stars.

“It’s late.” Aang says eventually, slowly getting to his feet.

“Early now, I think.” Zuko gets up as well, squinting at the skyline.

“I’m going to skip sunrise practice, if my firebending sifu permits.” Aang sounds slightly more like himself.

“Your firebending sifu is probably going to skip too, he won’t tell if you don’t.”

Aang snorts. Zuko turns back to the trapdoor and makes eye-contact with Suki. She tips her head in understanding and slips down the stairs ahead of him. Aang waves goodnight and casually flips himself off of the roof, presumably making his way back to his balcony door.

Zuko trails behind Suki as they make their way back down to his rooms. The barely-there shush of her skirts sets a soothing rhythm as they walk. Suki never feels the need to fill the air with talk and tonight it’s a relief in the quiet halls of the palace.

“Thank you.” Zuko says quietly as they reach his door.

“Of course.” Suki says easily. “Get some rest, Zuko.”

It takes a long time, but surprisingly, he does.

/

They stare at the unassuming box.

The plain wood is bare and rough, as if constructed with much haste and little care.

“Where do you want to…” Zuko begins to ask.

“Not here.” Aang says abruptly. He doesn’t look at Zuko. “Not in the Fire Nation, they suffered enough here.”

His hands are tight on his glider staff. Zuko just nods.

“Okay. Where would you like to go?”

“The Western Air Temple is the closest, I can go there.”

“I’d like to join you.” Zuko says quietly.

Aang’s face goes carefully blank. (Zuko has seen him use the expression sparingly, usually only when dealing with particularly awful politicians or enemies. He’s never had it directed at himself before. Well, not for a very long time. He hates it.)

“If… if I come across any… other remains,” Zuko says carefully. “I’d like to be able to set them to rest properly even if you aren’t here.” He reaches out and puts a gentle hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Also, you’re my friend and I don’t want my friend to have to do this alone.”

The tension in Aang’s shoulder drops and he takes a deep breath. Zuko lets his hand fall away.

“Okay. I-“ He scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms. “I know you need to bring guards with you, but I’d rather you just pick a couple of Kyoshi Warriors for this. I don’t-“

“Aang, it’s perfectly understandable if you don’t want any Fire Nation soldiers in the temples.” Zuko says seriously.

Aang finally looks at him and gives him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let my advisors know I’ll be taking a diplomatic mission for a few days and we can be on our away tomorrow.”

/

They fly quietly to the temple in the soft darkness before dawn.

Zuko sits in the saddle, holding the carefully wrapped box in his lap, doing his best not to be unnerved by the silence. Usually Aang offers a free stream of his thoughts, happy to fill the air with light chatter or he sits in a peaceful contentment, occasionally humming or tapping out a soft rhythm.

Today, he sits silently. The only sound he makes is the occasional direction to Appa.

Zuko is relieved when they finally dip down and exit the damp clouds as the canyon hiding the temple comes into view. Appa lands gently and lets out a low groan as Aang slides down from his head. Aang pets his snout and leans into him for a moment.

“I know, buddy. I know.” Zuko can hear him say softly as he jumps down from the saddle.

He follows Aang through the temple. They wind through the many rooms and corridors until they reach a wide balcony overhanging the canyon beneath them. Aang stops in the center and closes his eyes. He stomps one foot and frowns, concentrating. Then he makes a careful gesture, earthbending a section of the floor up into a low pedestal. He gives Zuko a wordless look and Zuko hands him the box. Aang sets the box on the low platform before stepping back and sinking down into a meditative pose. Zuko copies him silently.

The air is eerily still. Zuko can’t tell if it is naturally so or not, even as he glances over at Aang’s unmoving form. The sun begins to rise over the horizon.

The stone of the temple is hard and unforgiving. As the sun rises across the sky, it beats down equally mercilessly on them. The air remains still, not even a small breeze disturbs them.

Aang stays still, eyes closed as he breathes slowly, so Zuko does as well.

The hours pass silently. Zuko sends a thankful thought to the spirits as the sun finally sinks behind a wall, casting long shadows over where they sit.

As the sun begins to sink behind the horizon, Zuko nearly startles as Aang begins to hum.

It’s not a sound he’s ever heard come from his friend before- a strange, almost tuneless whistling melody. He starts quietly and as the sun sets the tone becomes louder and louder. When the last rays of light fade from sight, Aang’s voice changes to words. It’s not a language that Zuko knows and the sound of it makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. Aang chant-sings in a guttural tone that sounds as if it is being torn from somewhere deep in his chest. The breeze that had been so absent all day builds along with Aang’s voice until it’s spinning around them and sounds as if Aang is speaking from every corner.

He stutters suddenly, abruptly cutting off the powerful mantra. The air goes still.

Zuko can see the tears on his friend’s face. He goes to reach out.

“Please.” Aang’s voice is nearly a whisper after the power of his chanting before.

The hand Zuko had been about to reach out is hastily flung up over his own eyes instead as Aang abruptly begins to glow white-blue.

The mantra restarts, but it isn’t just Aang’s voice- his voice is nearly lost among the layers over hundreds of voice overlaying it.

This, Zuko thinks, is what it would have sounded like. The voices of enough monks to fill the broad space they sit in. The power of it rattles in his chest.

(Aang rarely shows the deep well of grief that lives at the core of him. Zuko understands, to an extent. He knows what it is like to want to hide the most tender parts of yourself away. In this moment, he thinks he has been slow in realizing that Aang not only carries his own world-ending loss, but carries it for all the Avatars. Hundreds of thousands of lifetimes grieving a loss together in one.)

The wind picks up again, slowly regaining speed.

Aang stands and steps towards the small pedestal he’d raised. He lifts a hand and sends a controlled ball of fire around the box. The flames hold steady until the box and it’s contents are reduced to a fine ash. The wind centers in on the pedestal, taking the ashes up into the air, scattering them until nothing remains but plain stone. When the last speck disappears into the sky, the mantra stops. The glowing stops.

Aang gestures and the stone sinks back down into the smooth rock of the balcony. He bows deeply.

The gentle air of a normal breeze and the faint sounds of animals in the mountains filter back in.

Zuko finally stands and steps forward on shaky legs.

Aang remains standing, looking out over the mountains. He turns his head when Zuko reaches out to touch his shoulder. His eyes are red-rimmed, but the wind has scrubbed the rest of his face clean.

Aang snorts abruptly, a hand jumping up to cover his mouth as he laughs.

“Zuko, your hair.”

Zuko reaches up to find that his topknot has been knocked completely askew, and the rest of his loose hair has become hopelessly tangled. The wind has blown it into something more resembling a wig than the dignitfied hairstyle of the Fire Lord. He sighs and gives up on attempting to finger-comb it into submission.

Aang wipes some tears of mirth from his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You heard them too, didn’t you.” He says.

Zuko nods. Aang’s face crumples. Zuko hastily reaches out and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I don’t know how much it means from me, but I’m sure that they’re proud of you.”

“I know.” Aang’s voice is muffled where he’s buried his face in his shoulder. “I know.”

They stay like that for a long moment.

/

Eventually, Aang steps back and they leave the balcony to find a place to make camp for the night.

They wake with the first light dimly thinking about rising over the horizon.

Aang offers to run through their usual morning firebending, but Zuko declines. This is not a place for firebending, especially not from the Fire Lord. (He thinks of the scorch marks burned into the stone of the halls they’d passed through that not even all the restoration could remove with a shudder. He doesn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to summon more than a handful of flames for necessity here.)

He joins Aang for him morning meditation instead. They climb to a soaring ledge overlooking the canyon to sit. The constant breeze winds around them playfully as the sun begins to rise. Zuko listens to the quiet hum of low tones that sit in Aang’s throat and absorbs the start of a new day.

They finish when the sun is fully over the horizon. Aang stands and stretches. Zuko follows suit, but stays a careful distance away from the ledge when Aang abruptly nearly steps off of it to look down below them. He turns back with a smile on his face.

“I know where we can find a great breakfast, c’mon!”

Aang grabs his staff and a spare bag from their campsite before they begin to trek down into the canyon. (He takes pity on Zuko and bends them a walking path down the side of the cliff, although he can’t resist hopping off and doing a wide loop on his glider every so often before coming back to walk with Zuko.)

There’s a small, overgrown path that winds through the trees at the bottom of the canyon. Aang steps carefully along it, occasionally stopping to inspect a plant on the ground. Some of them he picks and puts in the bag he’d brought, others he just seems happy to look at. Zuko just tries to stay on the main path and not step on anything that seems to be important. Aang spots something up ahead and quickens his pace.

“We’re almost there!” he says excitedly.

A moment later they break through the thick greenery into a mid-sized clearing. Zuko blinks and looks around at the strange arrangement of trees. There’s a kind of pattern to it, like…

“This is one of the main orchards of the temple.” Aang says, gesturing to the surrounding plants. “Each temple has it’s own special fruit combination and method of preparations. It’s a bit overgrown still, but with time and care I think it could get back to decent shape!”

He shows Zuko the plants that can be gathered from the ground and bounds off into the branches of the trees. Zuko picks the soft curling ferns and strong-smelling herbs that Aang showed him, looking up when Aang comes back down to drop some more information he remembered while picking the early fruits from the trees. Finally, they have gathered enough for a couple of meals and walk back through the semi-wild forest to the path up the canyon wall. Aang bites back a laugh at the despairing face Zuko gives the sheer rock wall. He takes the food and flies up to the temple before coming back down and giving Zuko a lift as well.

Zuko keeps his eyes screwed shut until they land on solid ground. (He doesn’t have a particular fear of heights, but he does have a healthy nervousness about Aang’s tendency to do loops in midair.)

Aang hands him the deep purple and green leaves of the herb Zuko had picked to make their tea. Zuko sets up the fire and tea kettle as Aang unpacks and sorts their gatherings. Zuko glances over as he waits for the water to boil.

“Why did you collect sticks?” He asks, gestering to the small pile of random branches and flowers Aang has amassed separately from the pile of clearly edible fruits and vegetables. Aang holds up one of the sticks.

“I was thinking that maybe we could set up a greenhouse, like your gardeners have in the Fire Nation, and recultivate some of the plants from the temples. Some of them are really important to do things right in a temple, so it would be nice to be able to grow them on the island.” Aang sets the branch cutting and holds up a soft stem of a plant with billowy white flowers and long, thin leaves. “Like this, for example, maybe someday will be used again.”

He goes faintly pink around the ears and Zuko’s eyebrow jumps up.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” Aang pauses, thinking. “I don’t know what you would call it in the Fire Nation, it doesn’t grow there. But this is what the dye for an airbending master’s tattoos is made from.”

Zuko stares at the unassuming plant and all that it could represent.

“Cool.” He says. He glances at Aang’s face, to find him still staring at the plant. “So, are you and Katara hoping that one day….”

Aang goes pink, highlighting the blue of his own tattoos, before flicking a hand. The kettle is brought to an abrupt boil over the fire. Zuko let’s out an undignified yelp and grabs the kettle out of the fire before the water is completely boiled away.

“Water’s ready!” Aang says, moving back to finish sorting out the bag of plants and fruits.

Zuko glares at the back of his head as he drops the fragrant leaves into the tea pot he’d brought and sets them to steep. Aang hands him several of the soft ferns he’d collected and tells him to let them roast on the hot stones around the fire. Zuko sets them out and watches that they don’t burn, carefully rotating out the curled leaves once they go soft and green. Aang pulls a small knife from his pack and cuts up the fruits and handful of vegetables for them.

The meal is simple and pleasant, and the tea is unexpectedly savory and strong. It adds a new dimension to the simple slices of fruit and the roasted ferns. If not for the reason that brought them there in the first place, Zuko would almost think of it as a vacation.

They do a walk through of the temple before they leave. Aang inspects the buildings for any new structural issues and gives Zuko a running commentary on the different rooms they pass through.

Then they pack up their scant belongings into the saddlebags and Aang blows his whistle so Appa knows they’re ready to go. As they wait for Appa to reappear, Aang turns to Zuko.

“Thank you,” He says quietly. “for coming with me. I’m glad that you did, it was nice to have a friend with me.”

“Of course. Thank you for allowing me to come.” Zuko spots Appa approaching from the mouth of the canyon, returning from his explorations of the surrounding area. “Maybe we can make more plans moving forward with all the new information we found. We could start with getting you your greenhouse.”

Aang smiles widely at him.

“That sounds great, Fire Lord Hotman.”

Zuko’s sigh is lost in the whirl of wind as Appa lands next to them in the courtyard.

Aang hands Zuko the bag of delicate plant cuttings to hold during their flight. He holds the rough cloth carefully as they take off, looking back over the saddle to watch the temple disappear behind them in the clouds.

There is still so much work to be done, he thinks, but we have at least gotten started.

[Three years later]

Zuko hears the great (purposeful) thump Appa makes landing in the designated courtyard. He smiles and the advisor he’d been meeting with sighs and leaves with a bow. As soon as he’s free, Zuko hurries over to his own chambers, cutting through to his family’s private gardens. Aang and Katara are already there when he arrives. Aang beams at him as he and Katara turn to face him.

“Zuko!” Aang calls out happily.

Katara greets him with a hug. The only reason Zuko is spared Aang’s usual affections is the small bundle tucked against his chest. Zuko stares with wide eyes.

“Is that…”

Aang gently untucks the sling, angling his arms so Zuko can see.

“Zuko, meet Bumi. Bumi, this is your Uncle Zuko.”

The baby looks up at Zuko with curious eyes. Bumi is tiny and has a shock of dark hair standing up off his head. Zuko has a lump in his throat. He reaches out and gently touches the baby’s soft hair and cheek. Bumi grabs inelegantly at his hand, small fingers tugging on his own as Bumi coos.

“You can hold him, if you’d like.” Katara says after a moment. “If you can convince Aang to put him down for a moment that is.”

Zuko lets out a watery chuckle.

“He’s beautiful, you guys.”

Aang holds him out and Zuko carefully tucks Bumi into the crook of his arm, slinging the extra fabric of his formal robes out of the way. The soft weight of him in his arms is strangely grounding.

“Hello there.” Zuko whispers as Bumi peers up at him again. His eyes seem to be following the glint of sunlight off of his crown. He traces the fuzzy top of Bumi’s head again before looking up at where his friends are standing with their arms around each other, looking at him softly. “Aang, is this what your hair looks like when you have it? Because I’m sure he didn’t get this mop from Katara.”

Aang splutters and Katara laughs.

Uncle. Uncle Zuko. It echoes in his head for a long, long time. For once, in a good way. He looks across the dinner table that evening, at the smiles on his friend’s faces as they coo at their son. The first child of Air Nomad descent who will be able to be free and open with their culture and heritage in over a hundred years. Who will never have to see the ruins of his people before him, who will instead grow up knowing temples clean and whole, and knowing a growing and thriving peoples in the South Pole.

For a moment, Zuko allows himself to bask in it. He smiles at his friends as Aang makes a pun that causes Mai to snort and Katara to roll her eyes while biting back a smile. They retire for tea afterwards and Zuko finds himself with an armful of baby once again. Bumi nods off against his chest, tiny fingers tangled in the silk of his fine robes.

For the evening, he thinks as he looks at the baby’s peaceful face, their work has been enough.