Chapter Text
He recognizes the necklace the moment he sees it. He hadn’t even realized he’d paid any attention to that Water Tribe girl, but now, seeing the foreign spot of blue against a sea of gold, he knows it could only belong to her. He leans down to grab it, holding it out in front of him as he rises. The light from the setting sun makes the ribbon glisten in his hand. He closes his fist around it, looking out at the ocean. They were here. He’s on the right trail.
-
“They passed through here,” Zuko reports to the captain, holding up the necklace as proof. “Not too long ago, by the looks of it. We need to keep heading in that direction, and fast.” He points in the direction of the fortress where he found the necklace. “We can’t afford to waste any more time here.”
The captain shakes his head. “Prince Zuko, with all due respect, we can’t leave until we finish replenishing our supplies. We’ve been sailing non-stop for weeks, and if we leave now, we’ll run out of food before we can possibly reach land. Give us another two days, at least.”
Zuko slams his fist on the desk in front of him, sparks flying as he does. The necklace falls from his grip and clatters to the floor. “We can’t stay here!” he says, his voice rising. “They’re already ahead of us, and they’re traveling by air. We’ll lose them if we wait!”
The captain narrows his eyes. “Maybe you don’t care about the safety of everyone on this ship, Prince Zuko,” he says, his voice low but dangerous. “But this is my job. We need to wait.”
Zuko clenches his hands into fists at his sides, flames already circling them. He glowers down at the captain. He opens his mouth, ready to yell another string of commands, when he feels a familiar hand at his shoulder. He turns to see his uncle’s concerned face.
“Prince Zuko,” Iroh says, an edge of warning to his usually soft voice. “A good leader never forgets the safety of his men.”
Zuko glares at him for a moment, but the flames are already dying in his hands. He huffs in frustration, grits his teeth, and turns back to the captain. “One day,” he says. “Then we leave.”
The captain nods. “Thank you, sir.”
Zuko turns and stomps away, making it halfway across the room before he remembers the necklace. He turns around, scouring the floor until he sees it, crumpled in a forgotten blue heap next to the captain’s feet. He should leave it. It served its purpose, it told him the Avatar had been here. What more could he possibly do with it?
He crosses back to the captain anyway, holding out his hand. “The necklace,” he says.
The captain furrows his brow in confusion, but leans down and picks it up, returning it to Zuko’s waiting hand. Zuko nods in thanks, then turns and leaves the room.
-
Zuko doesn’t know what to do with it.
Right now it sits on his bed, but it looks out of place. The necklace defies everything around it with its blueness, refusing to blend in with all the red. He tries placing it on his nightstand, on top of his wardrobe, even hanging it on the wall. No matter where he puts it, it stands out. It feels like it’s looking at him, accusing him.
After another failed attempt at relocating it to his desk, he snatches the necklace and kneels down on the floor. There’s only one more place he can think to put it. He brushes his fingers across the floor, feeling for that one floorboard that’s always been loose. When he finds it, he pulls it up, looking down into the space beneath. The blue mask looks back.
Zuko rests the necklace next to the mask, looking at the two for a moment. Yes, this is where it should be. The necklace doesn’t seem quite so foreign now, with the blue mask as its companion. Hiding in the space beneath the floorboards, they look like stowaways.
He picks up the floorboard after a moment and slides it back into its proper position. He rises, looking around at his room. Everything looks right, now, nothing but uninterrupted red surrounding him. But as he crosses to his wardrobe, his mind drifts to the space beneath the floorboards, the space where everything is blue.
-
It’s music night on the ship again, and Zuko has had his fill of hearing Lieutenant Jee struggle over the high notes of his solos. He marches back to his room halfway through the third ballad, much to his uncle’s disappointment, making it clear that he is not to be disturbed by anyone.
He lights the candles on the altar as he kneels before it, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The flames on the candles grow, then diminish as he exhales. Zuko tries to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, but finds it impossible to quiet his mind.
It’s been two weeks and not a sign of the Avatar. Ever since that disastrous winter solstice, they’ve been sailing in circles, unable to find a reliable lead. He could be anywhere by now. For all Zuko knows, Zhao could be hot on the Avatar’s trail. With his resources, Zuko wouldn’t be surprised. Zuko thinks of Zhao capturing the Avatar, returning him to the Fire Nation, presenting him to his father, being welcomed back with glory, and his blood boils.
The flames sputter and burst before him, growing rapidly until they scorch the walls and ceiling. Zuko opens his eyes, standing up and extinguishing the flames. He shouldn’t have tried to meditate, not in this state. Uncle always warned him that unbalanced emotions cause fire to grow out of control.
But he can’t sit still, either. He paces back and forth across the room, mentally reviewing every last detail from the past two weeks, trying to see if there’s something he missed. A stray footprint. A patch of bison fur. A lost belonging, something they left behind at one of their campsites. Nothing. He hasn’t seen the slightest trace of the Avatar or his companions since the solstice, and the last thing they left on their trail was...
Zuko turns quickly, kneeling to lift the stray floorboard. The necklace is still there, right where he left it, blue ribbon draped over the mask underneath. He picks it up, returning the floorboard to its rightful position before he stands. He stares at it intently, as if waiting for it to reveal the Avatar’s current whereabouts.
The ribbon feels soft and worn under his skin. This necklace must be old, older than the Water Tribe girl herself. Yet despite its age, the ribbon isn’t frayed. He traces a finger over the symbol etched into the pendant. The craftsmanship is impeccable. This isn’t some worthless trinket found at a port market, it must be incredibly valuable. Perhaps it’s the most valuable possession the Water Tribe girl has. Or had.
Zuko feels the slightest pang of guilt at the thought, but quickly shakes it from his mind. Well, it’s not like I stole it , he thinks. Really, I’m her best shot at getting it back. If I hadn’t picked it up, she’d never see it again. She still might not see it again, he realizes, if he doesn’t find them soon.
He takes another look at the necklace. If it really is so valuable, she must be wanting it back. Maybe it can come in handy as a bargaining chip. If so, he’ll need to keep it close, in case he runs into her again. He rolls up his sleeve, exposing his wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he wraps the necklace around it, carefully tying it at the end.
It’s odd. He thought it would look out of place, the blue necklace next to his red clothes. But it fits, somehow. And it really is quite soft.
Before he has time to think about it further, he hears a knock at his door. He scowls, hastily pulling his sleeve down over the necklace, and marches to answer it, preparing to remind whoever has come to bother him that he specifically asked not to be disturbed.
-
She said it was her mother’s.
That shouldn’t change anything, but it does. This necklace once belonged to the Water Tribe girl’s—Katara’s—mother.
He looks at it now, a bit crumpled from being stuffed in his pocket during his fight with the pirates. He feels unworthy of it somehow, like he’s intruding on something personal and private. He runs a finger over the ribbon, smoothing it as he does. I’ll return it to her , he tells himself. Once I have the Avatar, I’ll return it to her .
But as he looks at it, he feels something stronger than guilt, something worse. He traces the markings on the pendant with his eyes, losing himself in the gentle carved waves. They stare back at him, accusing him, vilifying him. They call him a thief. But I didn’t steal it! he thinks defiantly. I just took what I found!
But it still feels wrong. It still feels like theft.
Scowling, Zuko ties the necklace around his wrist once more and shoves his sleeve down over it, obscuring it from view. He can still feel it though, the soft fabric hugging his skin. He huffs in frustration as he storms across his room and kneels down before the altar. He lights the candles with a swift move of his hand and closes his eyes. He focuses on his breath, on feeding and calming his inner fire in turn, trying desperately to force all thoughts of the necklace and his guilt and Katara from his mind.
He only succeeds in making the flames on the candles grow brighter and hotter.
-
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Zuko asks, glowering down at the large mole-like creature beneath him. They’ve been riding half the day and there’s still no sign of the Avatar. He’s beginning to think Jun exaggerated the shirshu’s tracking abilities.
Jun turns, looking away from the path for a moment to fix him with a harsh glare. “You want to walk?”
His uncle chuckles behind him. “Don’t listen to my nephew,” he says. “He’s simply impatient.”
Jun smirks, turning back toward the path. “This girl must have really gotten to you, huh?”
“I told you, I’m not after the girl,” he says, crossing his arms.
“Sure,” Jun says, looking over her shoulder just to smirk at him again. “You just wear her necklace around your wrist everywhere you go.”
He scoffs. “It’s not like that!” he protests. “That’s to keep it safe!”
“Geez, no need to get defensive about it,” she says, shrugging. “I’m just trying to have some fun. You take things way too seriously. I feel sorry for this girl, really. You must be an absolute joy to hang out with.”
They suddenly lurch forward as the shirshu quickens its pace, racing through the trees with renewed purpose. “Nyla’s excited,” Jun says, patting the creature’s head affectionately. “Your girlfriend must be close.”
When Jun turns back around to give him another smirk, he matches it with a fierce scowl. He crosses his arms over his chest and focuses on the path before them, trying to ignore the newly quickened pace of his heartbeat.
-
“You’ve got something I want.”
Zuko barely has time to register the Avatar’s words before a large gust of air nearly knocks him off his feet. He sends a punch of fire in his direction, but the boy is fast and dodges it effortlessly. He leaps forward, balancing on the edge of the well, stretching one of his hands out toward Zuko. Zuko sends more fire in his direction, but instead of running, the Avatar only draws closer, lunging forward as he reaches for Zuko’s wrist. Zuko firebends at him in retaliation, forcing the boy to duck to avoid the blasts. Once he rights himself, however, he immediately begins reaching for the necklace again, rushing toward Zuko with his hand outstretched.
It’s a different kind of fighting than Zuko is used to seeing from the Avatar, a fighter who is usually so defensive in battle. He usually leaps to avoid fire. Now he runs toward it.
The Avatar chases him to the edge of the well, causing Zuko to relax his bending form as he struggles to maintain balance. The Avatar approaches him again, his hand just inches from the necklace, and Zuko tenses, already preparing himself to fall backwards into whatever lies at the bottom of the well. He calls one more flame to his palm on instinct, and is about to throw it in the Avatar’s direction, when suddenly the Avatar shouts and falls forward, crumpling at Zuko’s feet.
Zuko looks up, his momentary confusion dissipating at the sight of the shirshu and Jun. She glares down at the Avatar with a smug expression on her face. Before he can slip any closer to the edge, Zuko leaps down from the well, landing beside the Avatar on the ground.
The Avatar’s conscious, but paralyzed. Zuko lifts him from the ground and hoists him over his shoulder, crossing the courtyard to the shirshu quickly. “Where’s Uncle?” he asks Jun as he approaches.
“What, you’re not going to thank me for saving your royal butt back there?”
“Where is he?” Zuko asks again through gritted teeth. “We need to get out of here fast.”
Jun opens her mouth to answer, but stops suddenly. Her eyes widen ever so slightly in alarm as she focuses on something just behind Zuko. Before she has time to warn him, however, a water whip makes contact with the side of his neck, and he drops the Avatar in shock.
He spins, flames rising to his hands. Katara stands facing him, her hand poised over an open flask at her waist and her face set into a fierce expression. “Let him go,” she demands.
She’s recovered enough from the shirshu venom to stand and bend, but he can see her arms shake as she settles into a bending form. This will be an easy fight. “He’s coming with me,” Zuko says.
Katara’s glare deepens as she retrieves more water from her flask. Zuko takes a deep breath, preparing for her attack. She forms another water whip and sends it in his direction, but it misses him by a wide margin. He’s about to send another blast of fire back in retaliation when he feels a sharp pain in his shoulder and he falls to the ground. He tries to move his arms, but can’t. They lay limp at his sides, useless.
As Katara steps shakily forward and retrieves the Avatar from the ground, Zuko glares up at her, realizing that she was aiming for the shirshu, hoping to startle it into an attack. She didn’t miss her target at all.
-
“Well, that was a bust,” Jun says, glaring as she combs her fingers through her tangled hair. “Good luck with that girl of yours. See you around.”
She turns to climb onto the shirshu. “Wait!” Zuko says. He folds back the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the necklace still tied around his wrist. “I still have the necklace. We can catch them again.”
Jun shakes her head. “Not with my help,” she says, hoisting herself onto the shirshu’s back. “This was fun at first, but it’s time for me to move on. If you want my advice, though, I’d lose the pout.” She gestures to Zuko’s scowling face. “Very unattractive.”
Zuko clenches his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. “For the last time—” he starts.
“Yes, yes, I know, she’s not your girlfriend, blah blah blah,” Jun interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Have fun with your grandpa. See you around.”
She gives one last smirk before the shirshu turns and races off into the forest, leaving Zuko and Iroh standing alone in the clearing.
-
“You should eat something, nephew,” Iroh says. “It’ll help you get your strength back.”
“I’m not hungry,” Zuko says, picking at the untouched food in his bowl with a chopstick. The feeling has long since returned to his arms, but they’re still weaker than normal from the remnants of the shirshu’s venom, trembling slightly as he moves his hand. “And I don’t know if you should be lecturing me about strength, old man.”
He tilts his head up long enough to glare at his uncle, who only sighs resignedly in response. Zuko looks back down at his bowl, failing to find anything appetizing there. Instead, his gaze drifts off to the side, settling on the necklace around his wrist.
“You know, we will find them again, with or without Jun,” Iroh says gently. “Destiny assures it. Don’t be discouraged.”
Zuko drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a clatter before rising from the table. “I’m not discouraged,” he says. “I’m just tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gives him a short nod before turning and walking briskly down the hall. The few crew members he passes on the way to his chambers give him a wide berth, glancing at him cautiously. It isn’t until he reaches the door to his room that he notices the flames circling his hands.
He closes the door behind him and slumps against it with a sigh. He looks down at his wrist again. I can still use it as a bargaining chip , he thinks. I don’t need Jun or the shirshu. It will be fine.
But using the necklace as a bargaining chip hadn’t worked the first time with the pirates, how could he think it would work later?
Zuko tears the necklace from his wrist and hurls it at the bed. This is impossible! he thinks. I’m never going to find them again. Nothing I do works. It never does.
He sinks to the floor, resting his head in his hands. Eight years of searching and training and he’s still empty-handed. No matter what he does, the Avatar just keeps getting away. His father was right: he’s a failure.
He’s never going home.
-
Zuko lies on the ground, shaking, momentarily unable to move. It all happened so fast. If he hadn’t seen that parrot on deck, hadn’t had just enough time to summon a shield of flames around him, he’d be dead. He barely survived as it is. In the panicked few seconds before the ship exploded, he was only able to save himself and the clothes on his back.
And the necklace on his wrist.
Zuko emerges from the wreckage in a haze, his mind temporarily numb. He doesn’t even know where to go. He’ll find Uncle, of course, but then what? His ship is far beyond salvaging, along with all of his maps and leads on the Avatar’s location. He’ll never see those again. What good would it do him to know the Avatar’s location, anyway? He has no ship left to pursue him in.
Zuko sees a familiar silhouette not too far away from him, looking out at the wreckage in the ocean. Uncle . The temporary relief Zuko feels at the sight of Iroh dissipates within moments only to be replaced by building rage. Of course this would happen. Of course. How could he be so foolish as to think that the spirits would allow any part of his journey to be easy for him? He’s never been lucky, after all.
He takes a deep breath as he starts walking in Iroh’s direction. Fine , he thinks. He shakes the last bit of trembling numbness from his limbs. If I have to fight to find the Avatar, I will.
-
He doesn’t consider the coldness of the water before jumping in. He’s never been one to think carefully before making decisions, and in his current state—beaten, betrayed by his own crew, in hiding from both his father and Zhao, and surrounded by nothing but ice, water, and snow—any remaining common sense Zuko had has been replaced by a singular, desperate need to find the Avatar. Either he finds him or he dies, and at this point, he’d almost prefer death over leaving the North Pole empty-handed. He hasn’t come this far to give up now.
He realizes, too late, that he can’t control his temperature very well when he’s underwater. Firebending requires oxygen. He does what little he can with the breath he took before jumping into the water, but soon he finds himself growing numb in the cold, craving both air and heat.
When Zuko reaches the surface again, he gasps for air, struggling to use it to warm himself. Maintaining his inner fire is one thing; keeping it burning amid freezing cold water is another entirely. After a few moments, he regains the feeling in his fingers again and takes it as a sign to keep moving.
He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but then again, he never does. When has he ever found the Avatar right where he expected him? He’s always in some remote village, or in a tunnel, or in a town no one’s set foot in in years. Why shouldn’t he be wherever these caves lead?
Zuko’s fingers grow numb again, faster than he’d like. He takes a breath in on instinct and immediately coughs as water fills his lungs. Panicking, he rises to the surface, coughing and choking. He closes his eyes for a brief second, searching for that familiar fire under his skin, but it seems to be flickering out the longer he’s in the water.
Zuko’s never really been afraid of the elements themselves, only the people that bend them. But here, now, doused in water and quickly losing the feeling in his legs, Zuko is afraid. There’s something wrong about the water, like his body is rejecting it. It doesn’t move the way fire does, quick and light. It clings to him, pulling him down, refusing to let go.
Zuko plunges underneath once more and continues swimming, only coming up for air when his lungs scream. After what feels like an eternity, he finds the end of the tunnel. He swims up, reaching out, but finds only hard, unrelenting ice. It doesn’t budge no matter how forcefully he pushes at it. After a brief moment of panic, he realizes what he has to do: he has to melt himself out.
Zuko closes his eyes and presses both palms to the ice, concentrating. His inner fire is weaker—much weaker—but it’s still there. He focuses on the small spark that’s left, wills it to run through his veins. He feels the ice start to subside at his touch. Finally, it melts away completely, and he rushes up, gasping for air as soon as he emerges from the water. With weak, trembling arms, he hoists himself into what appears to be a tunnel made of ice and immediately collapses onto his back, shivering. His inner fire grows stronger with each passing second away from the water, and he uses his newfound strength to breathe short bursts of fire from his mouth, shaking as his body slowly warms.
He catches a glimpse of Katara’s necklace, peeking out of his sleeve, as he shivers. She’d know how to manipulate that water. She wouldn’t be afraid of it. Water speaks to her, just as fire speaks to him. He wonders what that’s like.
He looks out of the tunnel at the ocean and glaciers beyond. She must be right at home here. His gaze drifts up at the moon, glowing bright in the night sky. She must be powerful.
-
It takes him a moment, upon awakening, to realize exactly where he is. It doesn’t help that it’s dark and his arms are tied to his sides, held there by the same rope he’d restrained the Avatar with.
He had the Avatar. He finally had him. And then she showed up.
Zuko sits up, looking around frantically. Wherever he’s at is vaguely familiar, though at first he can’t quite place it. He glances down at the surface he sits on and realizes that he’s on the back of that giant creature the Avatar flies around on. He scans his surroundings once again. As soon as he notices the pond and the fish, he remembers where he is. He was here, not too long ago. And she was here, too. This is where they duelled, where he won, where he captured the Avatar at last.
He tries to focus through the pounding in his head. He can hear voices arguing, but they sound like they’re from far away, their words slurring together into nonsensical phrases. It’s then that he sees her.
She’s sitting not too far away, her back to him as she listens to whatever argument is going on around them. She looks stiff, poised, ready for battle. She has the kind of casual danger about her that Zuko is so accustomed to seeing in his sister.
He feels as frozen as he did under the tunnels. It feels wrong to be wearing her necklace around his wrist when its rightful owner is sitting right there. He wonders if she noticed it while he was unconscious, though he reasons she probably wouldn’t have let him keep it if she did.
“I’m warning you!”
His uncle’s voice snaps him back to reality, and Zuko tears his gaze away from Katara, turning toward Iroh instead. He’s standing in a combat position, arms raised and ready to strike—
Zhao.
The admiral stands beside the oasis, holding a fish and meeting Iroh’s threatening gaze with a smirk. Before Zuko has time to process the absurdity of the situation, Zhao throws the fish back in the water, followed by a fistful of flames, and chaos descends on the oasis. Zhao flees.
All thoughts of Katara and the necklace and even Uncle leave Zuko’s mind immediately. He quickly wrestles his way out of the rope around him, tracking Zhao’s every move. This one is personal. The necklace can wait.
-
“You should rest, Nephew,” Iroh says, placing a gentle hand on Zuko’s shoulder. It does little to calm him. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
Zuko opens his mouth, ready to remind his uncle that their ordeal isn’t over, they still need to find the Avatar, they still need to go home—but the pounding in his head forces him to concede that he’s in no condition to do anything more than rest. “Fine,” he says, his voice tired and ragged.
Iroh sits back with a nod, looking out at the ocean that surrounds them. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he says. “More experienced firebenders than you have perished in conditions like those.”
Zuko brings a hand up to his forehead, rubbing the sore spot of his temple. The pendant from the necklace dangles down as he does so, brushing against his nose. He pauses, holding out his arm, running his finger over the engraving on the pendant. “I’ve never been lucky,” he mutters absently, his head falling back against the driftwood as his eyes blink slowly shut.
