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Chapter Text

In another life, the avatar awoke one hundred years after the war began, when the last waterbender of the southern tribe broke the glacier that held him captive, freeing him from his prison. In another world, the first thing he saw after a hundred years of confinement was the face of the same girl who freed him and the second thing he would see would be the face of the girl's brother. This is not that life.

In this world, the avatar dreams instead of being plunged into the cold darkness of his prison. He dreams of that world that is different but similar in important ways. He observes that life vividly as a ghost, a spectator. He watched as, after many sacrifices, he defeated the Fire Lord Ozai, bringing peace and a new era to the world.

Curiously, that is not what the Avatar was most interested in.

He looked closely at his friends, or those he had in that life. The group that was forged in the fires of war, that stood together firmly on the ground, that clung to each other in times of tempest and flowed as if they had been friends all their lives, sharp as a sword against their enemies and as gentle as the blow of a fan between them. He watched them closely and learned in silence to love each and every one of them, he also learned to long for them as a reader longs to be a part of the lives of the characters he reads about.

He learned of their pasts, he learned of what their future would be after the war was over. He was not tied to a particular time, though it was easier to go forward than to try to go back, he found that if he tried hard, he was able to go into the past of each of them long before they met that version of him from that world.

He knew details he didn't have in that life. It was disturbing to say the least that only three members of his group had good parents, even more so that two of them shared the same family. There was a raging, anxious feeling that welled up in his chest as he watched those he called family suffer, both before he met that version of him and after.

In another world, Aang could do nothing to protect his friends from the scars of family lines and the terror of war other than be a good listener and a shoulder to cry on.

In this world, the glacier broke seventeen years earlier. What came out of it was less a human and more a spirit.

-

In one of the coldest winters ever recorded in the Fire Nation, the fourth prince of the Fire Nation, son of the third prince Ozai, was born. He was named Zuko.

When his father saw him for the first time, instead of feeling the love that every father feels when he sees his progeny, he only felt disgust and deep disappointment when he saw that his son's eyes lacked the spark that all great fire masters have in their eyes. Negative feelings welled up and the father tried to end the child's life on that instant, the mother managed to save her son at the last moment after pleading for mercy for the child in the company of a couple of Fire Sages who promised that there was still usefulness in the child.

All this occurred under the watchful, sharp eyes of a hooded figure, hidden in the shadows of the already dark and poorly lit room. The shadows danced around him in rhythm with the candle fires, which writhed as if seeking to escape from their prison and throw themselves upon the man, burning him, and thus fulfilling the vicious desire of that figure.

As the maids tended to the abandoned baby prince and the father withdrew from the room followed by the wary mother, the figure left the place in silence as soon as the parents were gone and left the baby's room in peace, but not before giving a last loving glance at the baby whimpering in the arms of a maid.

Later that night the entire palace suffered from a wave of hellish cold, freezing without doing so the entire palace, the servants huddled together trying to give each other body heat, the proud firebenders tried to warm their bodies with their firebending, but it was useless and they ended up huddling together in groups to try to get some warmth. The cold didn't temper or relent or show mercy to anyone, freezing the bones of even Fire Lord Azulon, who was forced to ask for help from the Sages to warm his room and avoid hypothermia. It was almost as if a spirit had vented its wrath there, not even the firebender with the most powerful flame was spared from the cold.

The servants and even guards decided in a moment that it was better to stay outside than to be inside the palace, the cold outside couldn't compare to the cold inside the palace.

When Ursa went to look for her son after losing sight of Ozai, fearing that the child had contracted hypothermia, she found the baby happily asleep, oblivious to the suffering of the whole palace thanks to the pleasant and warm temperature of the room. Not a single breeze of fresh air dared to enter that room to disturb the prince's deep sleep. Ursa said not a word of this, fearing that the paranoid Fire Lord Azulon and her prejudiced husband Ozai would end their son if they found out for fear of the meaning of this.

The night was recorded as the mysterious case of the frozen palace, not even the best sages knew how to explain it. Even when Ursa said nothing, Azulon and Ozai watched with suspicion the child that had been born hours before everything went cold.

It was only a month before Ursa discovered the cause of what had happened.

-

A figure dressed entirely in black enters the room silently, his steps are calculated as he slinks glued to the shadows of the room swiftly, mist surrounds his body and rises in the room, hiding and clouding the view to possible unwanted eyes. The figure is wary of any sign of interruption from outside, fortunately no servant enters at this hour and he has a clear path to his destination. He approaches the crib and is only a few steps away when he sees his goal.

To his surprise, the baby was awake.

His gray eyes met the golden eyes of the creature in the bed, who was looking at him oblivious to what was about to happen, although it was better this way. The less ties he had to this hellish place, the better it would be. Aang would take care of him until he could take care of himself, and when it was time, they would both enter the palace with no threat present to harm them. Zuko would have no bad memories of that palace and no scar on his face to greet him every morning when he looked in the mirror.

In another world, he thinks as he carefully and slowly approaches the crib, Zuko would have a scar and a thousand bad memories of this place. In another world Zuko has no good memories that are not tainted by fear, anxiety or nerves. There will be nothing in this palace that isn't covered by the imposing and chilling shadow of his father. In another world, Zuko would have to accept that and learn to let go of those memories, striving to see the palace as a home instead of the nightmare disguised as normalcy in which he was forced to live.

In this world, Aang promises that the palace will be nothing more than a place foreign to him, without any bad memories because there are none in itself. And when the time comes and Zuko enters the palace gates, it would be without the shadow of his father and his past with him.

In another world, he thinks bitterly, this child would be the least integrated into his group. Destined to almost be cast aside after the war ended, the black sheep of the group. He joined too late, established weak bonds that would not survive the calm after the war because ironically they are too fragile for that. In another life this child would be left almost alone in this castle, dealing alone with politics and the thousand betrayals it contains.

In this world, this child's bonds with others would be nothing but strong. His other friends and he in another life saw nothing more in this child than a good friend, but now Aang can see where he came from and what he will become. Nothing the boy did can be justified by his past, but seeing this boy's life made him see how kind, how sweet and how good this boy can be. Aang will not let this child die this time because of his father's flames.

In another life, the child would be nothing more than a friend, not part of his group but not outside either. Right in the middle ground. In this life, he would be family and would be as much a part of the group as anyone else.

He leans over to look at the boy who continued to hold his gaze without moving an inch. His eyes gazed with fascination at the boy who would become in another life one of his main enemies, who would become one of his master controllers and one of his closest friends.

His arms reach out and bow, in a smooth and calculated motion, the air bends to his will and the gentle warmth dances between the gusts of air warming them to a cozy temperature as they surround little Zuko and begin to gently lift him up, making sure he stays balanced and comfortable. The little boy in the air lets out delighted giggles and waves his arms excitedly, his eyes softening at the display and he lets out a giggle of his own.

With a loose flick of his wrist, an orange blanket that was in his black bag just like all the clothes he was wearing rises up. The blanket floats and dances in the air before landing in his hand, quickly bending the air to lift the little boy up a little higher and begin to cover him with it, making sure to cover his head in a sort of makeshift hood. He covers his arms and adjusts the blanket until Zuko looks like nothing more than a bundle of neatly folded sheets.

The baby floats a few moments in the air before landing carefully in his arms, which cradle him gently and rock him as he lets out soft cooing sounds that earn little Zuko's little babbles. With another distracted wave of his hand, a brooch pops out of his bag and falls gently into his hand, he soon finishes sealing the small bundle of sheets with the brooch, making sure they stay in place and preventing them from discomforting the child. The brooch shimmers in the moon's rays, golden with silvery lines giving shape to figures similar to gusts of air.

He settles the child in his arms, Zuko yawns in his arms but refuses to close his eyes.

He begins to release warmth in an attempt to lull the creature to sleep. It works quickly, the child snuggles against his chest and soon hides its little head against his shoulder, he feels its little eyelashes flutter for a few moments before closing against his collarbone and melts at the assurance that Zuko, now more than ever, is safe.

He turns around, walking carefully trying not to be too rough in his movements despite the growing rush he feels to get out of there. He thinks nothing of taking anything with him as there is nothing there that seems significant or important other than the precious cargo in his arms.

He opens with a gentle movement of his foot the door to the balcony. The doors open quietly, he turns up the warmth within to prevent the cool night from affecting the child's sleep. The moonbeams illuminate his face and the small bundle in his arms, it feels like a blessing or an exposure to his crime. No matter, Tui would be the only witness tonight. His feet lift with a small hop and he lands on the balcony railing, the scenery of the inner courtyard of the Fire Lord's castle only serving as an incentive to leave as quickly as possible. The air surrounds his feet and he is ready to jump and leave.

A creak, the sound of the door opening.

Out of pure instinct, he turns his head to see who it was, the arm holding Zuko tightens and adjusts to secure the precious cargo as the other moves and grabs his monk's staff that rested on his back, ready to defend himself.

A face she only saw a couple of times in another life appears, tired and worn, her eyes were wide open as she watched him in surprise. Her body almost wants to relax, she is not a threat. Ursa may be many things, many of them not very positive, but not a threat to him, not now and not in the near future. Ursa's face soon turns to terror as she sees the bundle of sheets in one of his arms, her eyes turn to see the cradle and finds it empty of the child that was inside.

She watches Ursa's body tense and begin to tremble with terror, watching him as one would watch any evil spirit. Maybe for Ursa it was. No matter, he adjusts the arm holding Zuko and raises the arm with his staff, ready to fight if she tried anything.

-

The image seems almost ethereal, she has read many plays that have described spirits from the most beautiful and divine beings to the most fearsome and terrifying. They have been described in prose and poems, they have been described with thousands of words floating around in her mind but none come close to an accurate description of the presence in front of her.

She thinks, here in front of what looks like a vengeful spirit, that the countless descriptions she has read sounded like they were made by five year olds. Divine, ethereal, powerful, infinite and imposing, none of those words seem to be enough. That spirit can finish her with a single movement of his and then mold her to his desire.

She knows that this spirit could finish off even the Fire Lord Azulon with a flick of his wrist.

She doesn't understand how she knows he is a spirit, his figure is human and there is nothing supernatural about him to give him away. But her body tenses and weakens as it hadn't even done so in front of her husband or the Fire Lord, it recognizes far more instinctively than she does what is in front of her. Under the moon's rays, the figure seems divine and unreachable, its eyes gleaming silver while there is a glow that is not of the moon around it, a halo surrounding it whole. It is not a small spirit, no.

She knows instinctively that he's Agni's equal.

And her son, her beloved, helpless child, in the arms of that spirit who has a distant, almost disgusted look on his face. Spirits, what had she done to upset that spirit? Could it be that the actions of Azulon or her husband had finally finished upsetting a spirit that was too volatile and they were seeking revenge by hurting the youngest of her family?

Spirits, don't let that happen.

kneels quickly, his legs trembling but she forces his voice to remain calm as she asks, "Oh, honored spirit, may I know what I did to anger you?"

She wants to beg for mercy, but knows that diplomacy is better than pleading with spirits. The spirit wears black, the lower part of his face hidden in a black scarf revealing only his dull eyes. It does not deign to give her an immediate answer, but seems to contemplate whether she is worthy enough of a response or if it is too late to explain. Perhaps he even debates whether to murder her for her recklessness.

"You have done nothing" Instead the spirit responds, it's voice is youthful, but not childish in spite of it. There is something chilling in his young voice, something soft and deadly, something not to be taken lightly.

Her head spins, if she has done nothing, it must be the work of some stupid action by Azulon or Ozai. She doubts it is Iroh who is responsible, otherwise the spirit would go after Lu Ten.

"May I ask why you seek to take my son?" she asks, her voice soft and threatening to crack, but she forces herself not to falter.

She looks up carefully, something that could be considered insolent. The spirit does not seem offended, it seems to be pondering its options calmly. As if not holding the whole world of Ursa in her arms, her son sleeps peacefully in his arm, curled up in this one oblivious to the disaster that was his mother.

The spirit says: "This child will be better off in my care than in yours and your family's" he, she decides, says simply. His voice does not hesitate or crack, there is an unwavering calm about him. Simple and easy, he says it like someone who claims that the clouds are white, the sun is warm and the sky is blue.

The worst thing, she thinks, is that maybe it's true. With Ozai and Azulon in the palace, Zuko would never be safe. Not entirely.

She hears movement and comes back to reality, the spirit is turning around, ready to jump off the balcony and walk away with her precious son, ending the conversation. She pleads, "Oh great spirit, please I beg you. Don't take him away, please, he is my son! Would you be so cruel as to take away a child from his mother? A mother from her child? Would you be this cruel?"

The truth is, maybe he is. Although spirits don't know cruelty the way humans do. Spirits don't consider it cruel to take away a child's mother if the child is better off without its mother. Spirits don't consider it cruel to leave a person broken if they believe it is necessary. Spirits simply don't share the same ideals as humans, least of all their morals.

Spirits protect their territory, spirits mind their own business and don't care if what they do harms humans or affects them. If they are not strong enough or smart enough to move, why would it be cruel or their fault even?

She waits for the spirit to leave without giving her an answer, to tear her apart without mercy because for spirits not harming someone in a physical way is mercy enough.

The spirit instead pauses, a deadly silence reigns and she fears she will die for raising her voice.

"The child is not safe here" he repeats. "Not in this hell you call home nor with that group of monsters you call family" he says. There is no place for rebuttal, the spirit turns around slowly, meeting her with his gaze. "Tell me, why should I leave your son here, when all that will happen is his suffering? Tell me to the face that you can protect him from your husband and the Fire Lord and I will reconsider."

There is a pause, a heavy silence. Her throat closes and she should be affirming it, affirming with all her might that she will protect Zuko with all of herself, that she will do anything to keep him safe. But she doesn't dare to do so, her body instinctively refuses to tell falsehoods to a powerful spirit. There is a part of her that believes her claims would be a lie. Her eyes fill with tears as she realizes that she cannot even promise that, neither to the spirit nor to herself.

The spirit's eyes look at her, as if silently saying, 'You see?'

She pleads with more strength and tears. "Please don't take him away, he's all I have. You can't take my son, I love him so much. Don't take him away! Please, I beg you great spirit, have mercy on me and don't take my son from me- I love him more than anything in the world, please don't take him!"

She bowed her head to the ground, pleading endlessly forgetting everything she knew about spirits because humans at the end of the day always ended up pleading to the spirits. That's all they could do in these cases, beg and pray that they would listen.

-

Aang should go. He should just turn and jump, the air would catch him and cradle both him and the baby in his arms. It wouldn't be a problem to leave, he would just have to jump and his monk's staff would do the rest, Zuko was secured to his chest so he wouldn't fall, it would be a short trip in the air until he reached Appa.

He should just go, but his feet were buried in that railing and he didn't dare move. Even though he was now more spirit than human, there are certain things that were still there, pity and compassion was one of them.

Aang didn't like Ursa. In another life, he would get along with her. In this life, he can't help but feel disgusted with her, it's not like it's her fault really. Ursa did everything she could as a mother to keep Zuko safe and ignorant of his father's hatred of him. But for Aang it wasn't enough, her protection was weak and inconsistent, even when Ursa was there, Ozai's blows pierced her weak defenses and reached her son, over and over again. It's not as if he could blame Ursa, Ursa did her best and her husband was in a position of power. Ursa wasn't at an advantage and there wasn't much she could do but be a comfort.

But there was a childish grudge, an immature grudge and a grudge that only a spirit can take against a human. The thought that she should have done more, that she should have tried harder. It's unfair but Aang is more of a spirit than a human and they're talking about Zuko.

And above all, the biggest grudge to hold against that woman, she abandoned Zuko. It was forced, yes. She did it to protect Zuko, yeah. He's not talking about physically abandoning him, but abandoning him as soon as she saw the opportunity to build a new life and abandon her memories of the old one like someone who forgets a bad nightmare. She knew what she was doing when she agreed to remove her memories of her children and she accepted and he can't accept that.

He can't forgive her for deciding to pretend she never had any children. He can't forgive her for pretending she didn't leave her son behind even if it was for his sake.

Ursa claimed she loved Zuko, yet she decided to forget him, to throw him out of her mind like someone who throws out the trash that is no longer useful from her house.

He cannot forgive that, neither as a spirit nor as a human.

Ozai, he thinks, is the monster. Ursa a victim.

Ozai is a monster and Ursa is the only one who could run away from him, leaving her two children behind and casting them out of her mind without further ado. While Zuko received an irreparable mark on his face, screaming and begging for mercy from his father, Ursa was sitting in her nice and cozy house laughing with her husband and raising a daughter who wouldn't be a bad memory in her life, oblivious to the pain of one of her fucking children.

He wants to leave her, abandon her there just as she did with Zuko. Zuko would grow up without a single thought of her, sure, he would ask about his mother like any curious child, but he would have no specific thoughts of her. Zuko would live happily without it hurting him to think about her or having to wonder what he did wrong to make his mother abandon her, and later, what he did to make his mother erase him from her mind.

He wished that for Zuko, his friend who deserved only the best.

He remembers, in another life, how happy Zuko was to talk about his mother even if it hurt. He remembers how he used to say he loved his mother.

He sighs and closes his eyes.

He climbs down from the railing and walks towards the woman who cries, trembles and begs for her son. The same woman who accepted without further ado to erase the same child from her mind. He bends down and bends his legs until he is at her level, his eyes fixed on her and hopes she knows that this is not a gesture of kindness or mercy towards her.

No, but towards Zuko.

"You will have your son" Ursa tenses and lifts her face, looks at him with surprise that soon turns to gratitude and relief. He avoids averting his eyes as much as he wants to, he won't let guilt fill his chest, he won't. Not with Ursa.

"Tha-" Ursa begins but he interrupts her.

"When he turns five, I'll come and take him away." He finishes. Ursa's body trembles and she looks at him with terror, she looks at him like a monster. "If you manage to free yourself from the chains that bind you here, then I will let you come with me if you wish, however no matter what happens in the next few years, the boy will come with me when he turns five and that will not change."

Ursa's mouth opens and closes like fish out of water, she looks at him in fear and confusion. "Free me from the chains that bind me?"

"Your fate is bound with Ozai, if you can get the royal family to let you leave in peace and without resistance, I will allow you to come with me and Zuko. I will not allow you to come with me if you are still tied up here, I don't want the fire nation behind us any more than they will be with the child. If you fail to free yourself, then I will only take Zuko."

The woman's body trembles frantically. "But it's impossible! How-?!"

"That's not my problem, deal with it yourself." He replies rudely. He moves delicately, reluctantly extending Zuko to his mother. Ursa freezes and takes him quickly, cradling him to her chest as tears spill with relief. Zuko stirs before falling asleep again.

Aang continues speaking, "Don't even think about hiding the child from me. No matter where you hide him, how impenetrable the room is or how strong its security" he said slowly, remarking on each word, adding weight and promise to it. The woman shrinks into herself, not daring to look away. "I will find him and take him away, it will be worse for you if you try anything stupid like that, understood?"

The woman nods in fright, her grip tightens on the boy and she looks like she wants to run away, but doesn't dare to try.

He watches Zuko for a few moments, promising him in his mind that he's not abandoning him, he's just being compassionate to his mother for his sake. He promises to come back for him sooner than he thinks.

He forces himself to stand up and walk to the balcony even though he just wants to rip Zuko out of that woman's arms, but he doesn't out of respect for Zuko himself. Five years, he promises himself, five years and Aang will take him away. It should be fine, it's only five years.

"Why... why is the great spirit so interested in my son?" asks Ursa weakly. Aang pauses, wondering whether to answer or just leave.

"The child belongs with me" he answers simply before walking away.

-

Ursa goes limp to the ground, soft sobs escaping her throat as she clings to her sweet child. Zuko is only a month old and already the interest of a powerful spirit. Ursa can only be grateful that he was not taken from her, but her fear and anxiety grows.

Five years old, she has only five years old before her baby is taken from her by that spirit. How could she break the ties that bind her to Ozai? Impossible. It's impossible and she's known it since she put on her wedding ring. She would only come out dead.

If she can't break her bonds, she can only pray that the spirit forgets them or decides they aren't worth it.

She observed with blurred vision her son, the bright orange blanket and the small brooch that had a decoration of a symbol that resembled gusts of air. Ursa did not dare to throw away the objects that the spirit left and much less did she dare to show them to anyone, fearing the spirit's wrath.

Chapter Text

Ursa clung the next few months to Zuko as if he would disappear in a heartbeat, watching the too-dark corners in fear and holding her breath at the slightest gust of wind against the glass doors leading to the balcony. Her arms trembled, clutching the child in these every time someone entered the room and she refused to let any of the maids carry the child, fearing it might be the spirit in disguise. She tried to convince her husband to move her son to a room closer to her own, but Ozai refused to put up with her son's screams, so Zuko remained in the same room. Later, Ozai conceded to strengthen the doors leading to the balcony for metal ones with a more complex lock to quiet his wife, but it did little to calm his paranoia. Ursa kept the balcony keys warily in her own bedroom drawer, checking every night before bed to see if they were locked.

After three months, Ozai had enough of Ursa's frightening, paranoid attitude. He demanded that she return to her duties as his wife and princess of the Fire Nation, claiming that she was neglecting them. Ursa tried to refuse but even Azulon agreed, refusing to budge and ordering her to return to her former duties.

Time slowed down and the baby was left in the care of the maids for long intervals of time, in the evenings, Ursa would visit him once before going to sleep, securing the balcony door.

To everyone's surprise, Zuko was a relatively calm child for his young age. In the daytime, the child slept quite a lot and tended to cry and have tantrums often, however at night the child slept deeply, not a sound came out of his room, making it easy for the maids attending to him to take care of him.

Ozai was quite pleased with the news, nodding approvingly at his son's strong and calm character as a prediction of the future that the boy would at least be easy to handle and cool-headed. Ursa was worried, but the more time passed, the more she took it as a peculiarity of her son and not a bad thing.

-

A melody echoed in the lonely room, its vocal cords rising and falling to the beat of a song that monks used to sing to young children. The moonbeams rose in the room, faintly reaching the child's cradle. Next to it, a being that was not quite spirit but not quite human either towered over the child, leaning over and playing with the child who giggled and babbled quietly. The child never cried when Aang was present, which made it quite easy to visit him and spend hours just watching him and making sure he was okay.

Until now, Aang knows that Ozai had stayed away, as he remembers, he would not intervene until the child could walk properly and say a sentence without stammering or stumbling. Zuko's father was not at all interested in intervening in his son's upbringing until at least the boy understood, something that angered and relieved him in equal parts. It was better to keep that monster away from the child.

Ursa, on the other hand, was annoying. The woman was there all the time and clung to her son fiercely, Aang would feel bad for her if he could feel anything but resentment. To some extent he feels she deserves it, she forgot her son without hesitation and pretended she didn't leave him with that monster. She deserves the anxiety of having him taken away from her and being left alone, after all, that's what Zuko suffered since she came back into his life. Zuko had been in constant fear that her mother would regret it and walk out of his life again. So much so that sometimes he couldn't even sleep for fear.

Aang would know, both in this life and in the afterlife. It was he in that world who convinced Zuko to go to sleep and who promised to watch his mother's room to make sure she wouldn't leave without at least saying goodbye if it would happen.

He can't help but rage, Ursa is a victim but she is also a mother, and he doesn't know where to start empathizing and where to end up getting angry.

Fingers cling to his index finger, pushing it out of his mind. She smiles cheerfully at the creature, as babies tend to recognize moods more instinctively than people. If Aang doesn't snap out of his thoughts soon, baby Zuko won't like having him around any more than he likes having his distressed mother around.

He can see him the few times he would sneak out during the day to see him, Zuko instinctively recognizes his mother as security, but his mother's anxious and distressed state doesn't help Zuko reaffirm that fact.

The baby feels his mother's constant anguish in ways beyond simple instinct. He feels it in the form of arms that are too tight, voice too shaky, and a grip that is unsteady even as tight as it is.

Aang can take the blame for that, it's his fault for scaring her, but he promised not to take Zuko away from her until his five, what is she doing? She should be searching and researching a way to free herself from Ozai, not crying like Zuko is already gone. She almost looks like she's in mourning, as if she's resigned to losing her son.

He wants to scream, he gave him a chance, and what does he do? Nothing.

A squeeze on his fingers brings him out again, he sighs and looks apologetically at the baby who is making an ugly grimace of disgust. He stammers in annoyance, as if to tell him that he's got enough to deal with from his distressed mother. Which is fair enough.

"I'm sorry, Zuko, I just have too many thoughts." He takes the baby in his arms and it babbles happier, snuggled against his chest and its little head burying itself in his shoulder like second nature. A fluffy, soft feeling is born in his chest and takes place there, wiping out the old resentment and anger. He sighs as he settles the child. "Luckily, you're calmer than Sokka. If you saw him right now you'd want to cry for sure, Sokka has too strong and healthy lungs, you know... I almost always end up going in quietly and staying up all night entertaining him so Kya and Hakoda can sleep. Even with my help they're still exhausted, hopefully Katara will turn out to be calmer."

He sits down crossing his legs, Zuko in his arms still too restless to sleep, his little head separates from his shoulder and looks at him somewhat sleepily, but he seems happy just to hear it. His face is free of scars and Aang feels a lump in his throat at the thought of Zuko from another life, with his scar and with a giant shadow on his shoulders that only criticizes every decision he makes.

"Just trust me, you'll be fine. I promise."

Baby Zuko just closes his eyes, trusting Aang to take care of him and protect him while he sleeps.

Aang does.

-

Zuko is almost a year old when he says his first word. It happened on a warm night, Aang was entertaining him with clay figures, a faint candle he had brought lighting the two of them, away from the younger one for safety. Aang was deforming the soft clay and creating figures while calling out their names.

It was an activity Kya and Hakoda found themselves doing with Sokka, though he was a bit too young, much younger than Zuko. They both said it helped the child begin to understand what they were saying and to speak. Aang decided to try the same with Zuko, though unlike Hakoda and Kya, who pointed to anything nearby by gesturing the words repeatedly, Aang decided to mold anything in his mind with clay.

The figure warped and reshaped itself into a sky bison he knew all too well, memories of another life coming to life in the form of a little girl with a cheeky smile and milky eyes. He sets them aside and focuses on the present where the child on his lap laughs delightedly and stretched his arms out towards the bison hovering in the air just out of reach. With a wave of his hands the bison came to life and moved towards Zuko's hands playing around them and escaping his grasp before falling into it.

"That's a sky bison, Zuko. Bi-son."

Zuko babbled a bit without paying too much attention to it. After a few moments he got bored with the figure and looked at it pleadingly, he chuckled a little before moving his hands and taking the bison out of his hands to float in the air to start molding it again.

He decided to make a little effort and, with a little concentration, managed to create two small figures, one of him and one of the boy. The figures floated directly into the boy's hands without as much grace as the bison had and fell into his hands.

"That's you. Zu-ko." He gestured softly at the little clay Zuko. The nearly one year old looked at his clay self for a bit before carefully setting him aside and focusing on the clay Aang. Aang was a bit puzzled but he supposed he too would be bored after a while if he saw a clay copy of him. "That's me. Aang."

There were a few moments of silence, with the boy looking at the figure in a halting manner, as if memorizing it, before he nodded in such a determined way that it gave him tenderness. The child looked up straight into his eyes.

"Aang!" he let out in delight, smiling as he extended the hand that held the figure straight toward him to show that he understood that the figure was him.

His eyes widened in surprise, a lump in his throat forming before he forced himself to smile. Something warm settled in his chest.

"Yes, that's me Zuko."

The boy let out a chuckle before repeating, "Aang!"

Aang closes his eyes as he encircles the warm body against his chest, whispering promises of love and protection. Vowing to always be by his side and never let anyone harm him. The boy in his arms wrapped his little arms around Aang's neck, cuddling against it as he laughed happily, repeating Aang's name over and over again.

Warmth was born in his chest and settled in him like second nature. Both he and the spirit inside him relax and feel fluffy.

-

"Aang!" Releases the child into her arms with a big grin. She blinks at her son's words, that's new. Her son has never babbled a word like that before, but she doubts it's a word, maybe the beginning of one? After all her son is at the age to speak. "Aang!" he repeats loudly.

There is something nervous inside her, a foreboding, a warning sign that hasn't died down since that spirit almost abducted her son more than a year ago. She doesn't think the feeling will ever fade or weaken. She feels with regret and terror as the months go by and soon her son will be a year old, like a kind of hourglass with less and less sand, she watches helplessly as time passes. She clings to each grain of sand with everything she has.

She smiles tenderly at her son and cradles him to her breast, rocking him lovingly. Her son closes his eyes and murmurs faintly, "Aang."

She wonders what that word will mean in her son's mind.

-
Soft, gentle hands hold the child, who wobbles struggling to find a balance. Aang releases small encouragements trying to keep the boy from getting frustrated at not being able to do so. Zuko still doesn't say long or overly complicated sentences despite being a year and a bit older. From what he has heard from the servants, he has not yet said a single word in front of his parents. He doesn't understand why, he's sure Ursa adored Zuko and Ozai didn't even pay attention to him, so fear shouldn't be the reason. Aang doesn't ask and decides to wait for an answer.

Now, in the middle of the night, Zuko remains stubbornly trying to force his little legs to stand. He refuses to rest and Aang again does not understand why Zuko is so determined to learn to walk.

Zuko is one and a half years old, old enough to stand up and walk a few steps in Kya's words after consultation. Maybe it's just an instinctive thing that babies do, but he's not sure why he puts so much pressure on himself to achieve his goal. He's sure that children Zuko's age don't have that look of anguish and disappointment on their faces every time their legs give out and they fall to the ground.

Aang makes sure not to push him and to encourage him, but every night he visits Zuko he finds him trying to stand up.

Zuko sits on the ground, giving in to exhaustion in frustration.His eyes fill with tears that have yet to come, and Aang pulls him onto his lap in an attempt to comfort him. "What's wrong Zuko, why do you want to walk so badly?"

Zuko shakes his head, refusing to say anything as the tears fall silently. Even at such a young age Zuko no longer cries loudly. There are few times now that Aang hears him make noise as he cries and he knows the others haven't heard him in a long time. He lifts him in his arms as he stands and rocks them gently like Kya does with Sokka in his tantrums.

"What's wrong Zuko?"

Zuko buries his shoulder and denies as he opens his mouth and lets out a whimper of distress. Aang gently tightens his grip on him and wants to kill Ozai when Zuko says. "Daddy doesn't love me."

He doesn't know what to say to that, he doesn't want to lie to him like Ursa did and make Zuko think his father loves him. Yet he also can't tell him the truth and tell Zuko that his father doesn't love him. Both are evil and Aang doesn't know whether to choose the crueler and more honest one or the sweeter and more dangerous one.

"Why do you say that?" he asks instead of affirming anything. The boy clutches at his chest seeking comfort and reassurance.

"I don't see him-" he says awkwardly, frustrated at not being able to express what he feels. "Never!"

Aang understood what he meant. "No, you don't." He agreed.

"He looks at me- it's scary!" Zuko formulates with awkwardness. Aang rocks him as he nods.

"Yes, it is scary." He stated softly, making Zuko understand that he understood what he was saying and that he believed him. That it wasn't his fault.

"I want him to look!"

Aang understood. In Zuko's innocent mind, if he walked, then his father would be happy and praise him. He would hold him in his arms and smile proudly. Maybe even start spending more time with him. Zuko is barely a year and a bit older, but he is already aware of his father's absence.

His chest aches as he strokes Zuko's hair in consolation. "You don't have to do that." He says but the boy denies strongly, refusing to accept that.

Aang sighs, he knows he won't change his mind. Not on this, not now.

He cradles him a little more tightly in his arms, rocking them to the faint sound of the wind in an attempt at comfort. He feels Zuko relax in his arms and closes his eyes after a few minutes, drifting off to sleep, trusting Aang to protect him. As he always does and always will, Aang delivers.

-

When Aang enters the room after a full week, having tampered with the lock Ursa always leaves locked at night, his leg is caught in an awkward embrace. He looks down in surprise to find Zuko clinging to it. He feels the dampness through the cloth and knows that Zuko is crying.

How did Zuko manage to get out of his cradle? He looks at the place where the cradle is supposed to be, but there is nothing but a small bed. He blinks in confusion, what?

A sob escapes Zuko's throat, catching his attention. He would think about that later.

He crouches down worriedly, about to ask what happened when Zuko's hand lands on his cheek with as much force as a fifteen month old can muster, which is quite surprisingly.

"Aang!" Zuko cries out in anguish as he looks at him angrily. Tears stream down Zuko's face as he drags his arms around his neck awkwardly, his arms automatically moving to Zuko's back returning the embrace.

"Zuko, what's wrong?"

"You weren't!" he says forcefully. Her small arms squeeze his neck and punish him, Aang grimaces, he didn't know Zuko would miss him so much. Even if he did, he knows Zuko has Ursa with him to keep him company, Aang didn't know his absence would leave the boy so distressed. It's not like Aang wanted to leave him either, he was forced to.

There was a big storm at the south pole, it was impossible to fly without risking a repeat of the glacier prison he was locked in for the second time. It took days for the storm to calm down and Aang decided to stay a few more days to make sure Sokka, Kya and Hakoda were safe with the tribe before he left.

His chest tightened in regret even though he knew it wasn't his fault. Then he realised something.

Zuko had received him in an embrace. Standing.

Zuko had walked, more like run, towards him with some difficulty, almost knocking him down in an embrace. Zuko had stood for half a minute on his own. Zuko had walked.

He broke away from him quickly despite Zuko's protests, looking at him excitedly. "Zuko! You walked!"

He expected the excitement and gleam of pride in Zuko's eyes, was surprised to see embarrassment and anger in them. The boy slapped him in the face again. "Bad! You weren't! Why weren't you?" he says as fluently as he's ever heard Zuko speak, Aang blinks for a few moments. Zuko's eyes threaten to tear up again. "You didn't see!" Zuko continues, accusingly.

Though he tries to remain angry, there is pain in his eyes. Aang's chest constricts in more regret and he curses the storm that forced him to stay at the south pole. Normally, Aang stays two weeks in the Fire Nation with Zuko before returning for a week with Kya and Hakoda. Sokka is well cared for by them and both assure him that they are fine by themselves for a few weeks, so Aang spends more time here than there, sleeping on Appa's back hidden in a nearby forest where he hides his partner. There are times when he spends more time at the south pole, not wanting to miss too much of Sokka's life.

"I'm so sorry, Zuko." He means it, he'd never wanted to miss that. "I'm sure it was something very important, did your mother congratulate you?" He hoped she had, otherwise he'd have a few words with her. Deal or no deal.

Zuko denied, before his anger erupted, he says, "Dad first!" he says quietly as he snuggles into her neck again. Aang understood quickly: Zuko wanted to show his dad first, the anger redirected to Ozai's bastard.

He didn't like where this was going. "What did he say?"

Zuko didn't answer, whatever Ozai had said, it wasn't friendly. Maybe Zuko didn't even fully understand, but he sure understood enough to be depressed and upset. He felt the cloth on his shoulder dampen, the anger grow in him and he felt the floor of the ground want to yield to his feet as the air formed soft, sharp gusts around them. Zuko didn't notice.

"He prefers fire," Zuko replies simply and softly, though the tears on his shoulder betrayed his emotions. He tightens his grip on the boy trying to make it comforting.

That damn monster.

His resolve strengthened. He wouldn't let Ozai ruin Zuko's achievement by tainting it with disappointment and sorrow, he would make Zuko remember this with joy, though he wasn't sure if he would remember it. No matter, the sentiment surely would.

He gently lowered Zuko down, sitting him on the ground. The boy watches him with lost and confused eyes, not understanding what he was doing. Aang stands and walks to the other end of the room, far enough away that it was a challenge and close enough that it wasn't impossible.

Zuko's eyes widen in surprise. Aang opens his arms wide and stretches them out towards the boy, waving them as a signal for him to come closer. Zuko hesitates for a few seconds before his eyes burn with determination, his little hands landing hard on the ground, helping himself up with them as he stands. He stands still for a few seconds, trying to regain his balance so as not to fall.

After a few seconds, he breathes hard and takes the first step, then the second, and on the third he gains more confidence. Aang smiles broadly as he encourages him to continue. "Way to go Zuko, you're doing well!"

Zuko smiles brightly as he walks towards him. On his eighth step he almost stumbles, but regains his balance quickly. Aang looks up proudly and he claps his hands for his achievement. Zuko is only a step from him when he hurries up and leaps into his open arms, which welcome him as they always have in this life.

He closes his eyes as he hugs him tightly, Zuko hugs him back and Aang can feel his big smile hidden on his shoulder where tears had previously been. They wrap themselves around each other and Aang hides Zuko in his arms, unwilling to let him go. He drops compliments and praises, affirming how proud he is of Zuko and how good he was. Aang promises him that he did well and that he has never seen a child walk as far as he did. Zuko puffs out his chest and laughs when Aang starts tickling him.

The night was still as young as the child in his arms. Suspended in the air with only his hands at his sides for support and grip, his arms outstretched in the air as they grabbed the precious cargo and lifted it up. Zuko waved his arms and laughed out loud without holding back, neither shying away from his grip nor straining at it. Exactly as a child should be.

Later that night, as he tucked a dozing Zuko into his bed as he always did before he left, Zuko asked quietly, "Where did you go?

Aang blinked, surprised. "When?" he asked in confusion.

Zuko yawned numbly and muttered, "You weren't here. Where?"

His hands, which were arranging the sheets to make them as comfortable as possible, stop. "At the North Pole." Zuko's little eyes widen a little, curious. Aang smiles softly and warmly. "It's a cold place and a long way from here. But even when it's cold, the people are warm and smile a lot. People help each other to live and everyone is one big family, it's very homely over there."

Zuko listens to him quietly, his eyes closing even as they struggle to open. "I want to see," he murmurs.

Aang nods. "Someday you will see. When you go there, you will love them and they will love you, I promise."

Zuko's eyelids droop and he falls asleep at last, exhausted. Aang says a silent goodbye before leaving through the window.

-

The next morning, Ursa celebrates her son's first steps, as he shyly shows it to her. She congratulates him and tells him how proud she is. Zuko smiles and laughs as Ursa orders his favourite food for them both to eat.

-

Months pass and Zuko is one year and eight months old. Aang finds himself getting more and more worried. With the increasing number of words in Zuko's vocabulary he runs the risk of Zuko talking about the mysterious boy who visits him every night, Aang has no idea how to explain to Zuko why his existence shouldn't be told.

The boy is playing with the clay figure Zuko and the clay figure Aang when Aang decides it is best to be direct and wait for him to understand.

"Zuko" calls Aang, the boy stops playing and looks at him curiously. "I need you not to ever tell anyone about me." He asks. Aang knows that Zuko has barely started talking to Ursa, from what he has heard from the servants Zuko only says basic things like 'mama', 'food' and things that don't require more than one word even though Aang has seen him say more complicated things than that.

Aang doesn't understand why Zuko doesn't want to talk to his mother now, but he knows that at some point Zuko will start to. When that happens, there will come the risk of Zuko telling him about his existence.

Zuko looks at him with confusion. "Why?" he asks, looking a little annoyed by the request. Aang replies patiently:

"I need it to be our secret Zuko, really. No one else can know about me."

The boy doesn't seem convinced or happy to do as he asked, but Aang's worried look convinces him. "Fine." Zuko reluctantly replies, crossing his arms. Aang smiles with relief.

"Promise you'll never tell anyone about me, promise." Aang makes him promise, Zuko looks at him not understanding why he is suddenly so serious.

"Not even mum?"

Aang denies strongly. "Nor to your mum."

Zuko looks annoyed by this, but reluctantly agrees. "Okay."

-

Zuko is a few months away from his second birthday and there's a shadow looming over him in the form of his father's eyes, which come close to him staring at him critically. Zuko shudders and shrinks back, hiding behind his mother's legs. In another life Zuko would have loved his father as much as he would have feared him, in another life Zuko admires his father as much as he wants to run away from him. In another life Zuko would seek his harsh and venomous attention through anything, trying to make him proud of him and just look at him.

In this life and at Zuko's two years of age, Ozai is nothing more than a shadow around the corner, indifferent eyes terrifying the child from distance. Zuko fears his father more than he loves him and so he turns away from him, shying away from his attention. So when his father begins to be more present in the form of critical eyes, Zuko shrinks back and wishes Ozai would go away.

It's not that Zuko hates his father, it's just that he instinctively fears him more.

Aang is fine with this, it's better for Zuko to stay away from his father and for his father to avoid him. He doesn't want Zuko to have any monsters in his head, he would never want that and he hates to know that there are and that it makes Zuko at such a young age afraid of hallway corners. Still, it's best for Zuko to stay away from his father. Aang won't be able to do much if Zuko decides to get close and Ozai decides to hurt him just because he can.

All because of the stupid balance or whatever Raava had told him.

Aang knows that when Zuko turns three there will be nothing he can do but be a comfort when Ozai's attention inevitably falls on Zuko, he just prays that Zuko won't try to live up to his father's impossible expectations.

Zuko's mother, Ursa, has been pregnant for six months. The news reached Zuko's ears, and not long after, his own, a few weeks after he had learned to walk. The idea of a younger sibling thrilled Zuko to no end and he clung to his mother even tighter afterwards, impatient to meet the new member.

Aang could only maintain his neutral smile as he watched the months go by and, with that, the impending pregnancy move forward.Azula was not Aang's favourite person, nor was she in the top twenty. His memories of her were not favourable, and she was never good news to any of his friends. In another life, the sister Zuko spoke of so excitedly would be the group's worst nightmare and would have shot Zuko with a lightning bolt without hesitation. She never regretted anything she did or tried to change unlike Zuko.

But that life is not this life, and as such, Aang will try to keep an open mind. He doesn't want to hate a girl, no matter how bad she may become in the future.

"I'll play with her a lot! I'll love her that much!" says Zuko extending his arms as wide as he can, smiling warmly with no idea what he's promising and to whom he's promising it. Aang's chest tightens knowing where that will end in another life.

He smiles a weak smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Really? That big?" his eyes go wide pretending to be surprised, Zuko nods at his question excitedly. "Bigger than me? You can't Zuko, I'm your favorite!" Aang crosses his arms childishly and Zuko blinks and laughs encouragingly.

"As much as you!" he states animatedly, Aang pretends to contemplate regretfully what he says, putting a hand to his chin pretending to be pensive.

"That much?" he spreads his arms as wide as he can and Zuko denies.

"It's more! No! Same!" He says firmly. It takes Aang a few seconds to understand that Zuko is telling him that his amount is more than what Zuko did before and that it should be equal. Aang is amazed at how smart an almost-two-year-old can be.

Aang frowns. "Really? But this can't be! I'm supposed to be your favorite!" he makes exaggerated arm gestures that elicit amused laughter from Zuko. "This isn't going to stay that way!" he starts to rise menacingly, his arms outstretched towards Zuko.

Zuko's eyes widen comically and he breathes loudly, recognising the stance. Soon he stands up and tries to run away, but it is in vain as arms catch him, wrapping around his torso and forcing his back against the older one's chest. Zuko squirms in an attempt to escape, his smile never leaving his face even as he begs for mercy.

Aang steadfastly refuses. "Mercy is for favourites, I am not a favourite." He says as his hands move across Zuko's stomach, drawing squeals and giggles from him. Zuko kicks at the air and his little hands try to push him away.

Soon, he has an exhausted child in his arms, struggling to breathe. An exhausted smile takes place on his face as he turns and settles into his lap, hiding his face in his shoulder. Aang cradles him against his chest and hums softly as he rocks him to help him fall asleep.

"Aang?"

Aang opens his eyes with some heaviness, his body feeling relaxed and foggy. Still he hums back, letting Zuko know he hears him.

"I love you."

His chest grows warm and soft, a smile spreads across his lips and his arms adjust the precious charge in his lap, settling him gently into it to sleep. "Me too," Aang assures him.

-

Aang begins to bring Zuko anything interesting from the southern tribe. He thinks that if Zuko is going to live with them, then he should get used to them. What better method than to get to know the tools they use or their usual toys? All accompanied by an interesting story or anecdote.

Zuko observed with curiosity the little blue doll, a warrior dressed in an old blue cloth, attached to his hand was a wooden stick that simulated a spear with a rounded tip to avoid damage. "Cute" he decided after a long inspection, smiling at the blue warrior. Aang nodded with a big smile.

"It's a doll Hakoda and Kya made for you." Aang explained as he carried Zuko and sat him on his lap, his voice tone changing to a softer, more adult one. His body is still intact, holding on to his twelve years while growing much slower than anyone else. To some extent his mind is still twelve years old. It is the spirit in him, the one that is thousands of years old, that makes him have a more mature vibe. "Kya designed the doll and Hakoda carved the spear. They both hoped you would like them."

Zuko's eyes widen in surprise, processing the words, staring at the doll with fascination and excitement. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked at it in confusion. "Kya? Hakada?" he asks curiously.

"Hakoda" corrects Aang as he nods excitedly. "They are parents to a child your age. They are very kind and warm, they are leaders of the tribe I am staying in, they are excited to meet you!"

The boy on his lap looks away from his eyes and looks back at the doll. Then he asks. " Will I go?"

His arms wrap around the child's stomach and pull the child's back tightly against his chest, nodding firmly. "Yes, you will go. When you turn five, I will take you to the southern tribe and we will live together there."

Zuko fidgets in his arms and raises his head again, his little eyes meeting his own as his face looks confused. "When I'm five?"

"Yes, your mum and I came to an agreement." He supposes that's the best way to express it. "We decided that when you turned five, you'd come live with me."

The boy looks unsure, his mind trying to process that he would one day be separated from his mother. "Mom?"

His chest heaves at Zuko's sad voice. Aang knows that Zuko loves his mum even when he sometimes avoids her because of her distraught state, Aang knows that she was the only thing tying him to that place. If only his father existed, Aang would have taken him away much sooner and he doubts that Zuko would have put up any resistance. But it's complicated and he doesn't want Zuko to suffer for anyone's loss. But it's what it was meant to be, isn't it?

If Aang leaves him here, Zuko will suffer the trauma, the fear, the undeserved hatred of a father who never loved him. Ursa can't do anything against Ozai, both he and she know it and there's nothing she's going to do about it. Aang is selfish, he won't allow Zuko to make the decision for fear that he will decide to live in his father's eternal shadow so that he can receive his mother's tiny, weak, fleeting light.

That will destroy him, Aang knows better than anyone. Or at least, it will destroy this child in front of him. This child who laughs and cries and smiles with no monster around the corner to make him wary of how much he can feel. Aang cannot, will not, let this child die because this child has too much love for a mother who is willing to throw her memories of him away at the first opportunity.

"Your mother..." he begins carefully. "Your mother loves you very much." He says. Not enough, he doesn't say. "She knows it's best for you to come with me." She knows, he thinks, but doesn't want to admit it. "She knows you'll be happier with me than here." But she can't accept it. "She wants you to be happy." And it's true. It's probably the only thing they openly agree on.

The boy processes her words, his hands play with the soldier in his hands. "Will I see her?" he whispers shakily.

His initial plan was that no, he wouldn't see her again. He didn't want her near Zuko ever, he can't accept or forgive her, but at the end of the day it's not about him or his feelings, it's about Zuko's. Zuko needed her even if Aang didn't want her around.

"Someday," he promises. "Someday you'll see her again, not soon, but you'll see her. You can even exchange letters with her, I promise."

Zuko looks better at the promise to see her again and keep in contact. His body relaxes and his little eyes seem to stop twitching, Zuko fuses his back against his chest and Aang hugs him from behind comfortingly, trying to convey reassurance.

Aang will do anything to give Zuko the childhood he deserves, if his childhood needs contact with his mother, he will make it happen. Besides, they're just letters, Aang can handle that for Zuko's sake.

"You'll love it." He makes another promise. "You will, you'll be very happy there."

"With me?" asks Zuko quietly as he fiddles with his toy. Aang smiles softly as he nods.

"Always."

-

A cry filled the room, the sobs of a strong, healthy newborn baby soothed the ears of the tired Ursa, who lay exhausted on her bed. Still she forced her arms to stretch out, asking the nurse for her child, the nurse shook her head and asked for a few moments to clean her up.

After a few eternal minutes in which exhaustion disappeared with paranoia, a nurse finally came in with her new child and handed her to her, announcing kindly, "It's a girl, congratulations Princess Ursa."

Warmth filled her chest as her eyes gazed with nothing but love at her new daughter, the child's eyes closed tightly and she snuggled into her chest. The sound of a door opening was heard and she lifted her head to see her husband entering, his gaze as stolid as ever, there was no hint of emotion or anticipation in it, his arms reached out and took her beautiful baby girl from her. She wanted to scream and demand her back, but there was little she could do against him.

"It's a girl," she said softly, Ozai hummed distractedly. His daughter opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was her father's hideous face, his daughter squirmed, uncomfortable with the position she was being held in.

The lips of the man who was her husband twisted upwards, a hideous imitation of a smile, Ozai's eyes narrowed in pure satisfaction. "She's a firebender!" he announced with glee. She felt her chest shrivel at that, watched her daughter again, her mind playing a trick on her because she thought for a moment that her daughter had her father's smile

"She will do great things," Ozai said decisively, a twisted smile spread across his face. "Her name will be Azula."

She was going to argue, but her words died before it could leave her lips. It was only fair that Ozai named the girl, after all she named Zuko. The name in her mind, Kiyi, would die in her heart with regret. She watched her daughter for a moment, who looked back at her and laughed happily. "Azula." She murmured softly.

Ozai looked at her daughter for a few more seconds before leaving the room without looking back. It was more attention than he ever gave to the birth of her child, at least, she thinks with bitter relief, he didn't try to throw anyone over the palace walls this time.

"Princess Ursa, her son asks if she can come in." One of the nurses informed her with a gentle bow, Ursa nodded after a few moments, a smile crossing her lips and making her forget about Ozai.

"Let him in."

Her son passed by with clumsy and excited steps. Zuko was already two years old and was a lively and affectionate child. Throughout her pregnancy he didn't stop telling her how excited he was to have a sibling and how he would be the best of all siblings. She often found him drawing his future sibling, imagining what them would be like.

Ursa helped him onto the bed, sitting him next to her. "Did you wait long? It's too late for him to be awake, Zuko." She gently scolded her son. Zuko didn't pay much attention to her, more focused on the bundle of sheets in her arms, the image of her daughter wrapped in red, almost orange sheets, brought back unpleasant memories. She ignored them like she has been doing for two years. She brought her daughter closer to her brother carefully. "This is Azula, Zuko, your sister."

Zuko stared at her with thinly concealed fascination. He got as close as he could and reached out with his hand to pressed it weakly against one of Azula's cheeks. Zuko gasped surprised and looked at her in shock. "Soft," he murmured.

She laughed, her chest feeling lighter than she had before. "Yes, she is very soft now, isn't she? She is also smaller and more fragile now. You have to be a good big brother and help me take care of her."

Her son tilted his head in confusion. "How?"

That were more words than she had ever heard her son say never. She hugged him with her free arm and snuggled her two precious children into her chest lovingly. "Don't get into too much trouble and look at her when I can't. If you do that, it would be much easier for me."

The boy thought for a moment and nodded with all the seriousness a two-year-old could have. Azula, unlike Zuko, was born on a hot summer day. Ozai surely believed that this was a prediction, she believed that it meant that her children would complement each other.

Her son approached her sister, the baby opened her eyes and they focused on Zuko. Zuko tensed for a few seconds before smiling and holding out his hand again. Azula grabbed his finger tightly and the boy laughed. "Not fragile," Zuko said after a few moments.

She looked curiously at her son. "No?"

The boy denied. "No, is strong."

What a curious statement. Ursa smiled kindly at her son without correcting him. Who knows? Maybe he's right, maybe Azula is stronger than she thinks.

A shadow appears in her mind and almost makes her physically shudder. She observes her daughter who has already closed her eyes and is fast asleep. Maybe, she thinks, it's better if Azula is not as strong as her father.

Chapter Text

“And she's pretty! Very!” exclaims Zuko excitedly, his arms swinging upward trying to describe in a physical way how pretty his new sister is. “And small! But strong!”

Aang smiles at her happiness, maybe Azula isn't just bad news. She's a newborn baby right now, without Ozai in the equation why would Azula be bad?

There is a strange feeling, when Aang takes Zuko away when he turns five, Azula will be left alone with Ozai if her mother goes with them or with Ozai and Ursa. He doesn't know the relationship Azula has with her mother beyond that Ursa wasn't close to her as she was with Zuko, her relationship with Ozai is easier to decipher, the weapon and its owner, the soldier and his leader. The diamond in the rough and the person who polished her so hard that she ended up fracturing her.

If Azula were not with Ozai, she would be happier. She would be a child, he remembers that when Ozai was defeated and Azula fell into madness, she was only fourteen. A year younger than Katara. Aang never thought about it in that world or this one, too focused on his friends for that, but now, as Zuko describes his sister, he wonders if it's a good decision to leave that girl here.

“Aang?” Zuko's voice brings him out of his thoughts. The boy had stopped talking long ago and was now more focused on playing with the clay figures of mini Zuko and mini Aang, also with the little blue soldier holding a spear. Though now his face was troubled as he watched it.

He smiled, though his smile was small and weak. He took Zuko in his arms and said, “Want to see something cool?”

Zuko smiled excitedly.

-

It was Zuko's first time outside the castle walls. Aang walked with his hood up, Zuko in his arms was dressed in his less fancy clothes. The boy looked everywhere fascinated, people passed around him like the tide breaking against the rocks. Hundreds of people all around him enjoying the nightly festival celebrating the summer equinox.

“So many people...” muttered Zuko in a daze, his excited smile hadn't faded even as he felt numb from so much noise, scents and lights around him. Aang smiled.

“It's the summer equinox festival, even though the best events were a couple of days ago, there are still many stalls and events to see.” He explains to Zuko. The child in his arms nods excitedly. “We can't stay long, you have to sleep. But an hour is better than nothing, no?” Zuko isn't listening to him at this point, but it doesn't matter. The statement was more to himself than to the boy anyway.

“Where are we going, Zuko?”

The boy looked around hesitantly before hesitantly pointing to a mask stand. Aang obeyed the silent request and hurried over to the stall and ordered two masks. With money that may or may not have been his he paid in advance and began to look at which masks they would wear.

One mask caught his eye, some sort of creature that had a large, not very friendly smile on its blue face. He took it carefully, memories of another life passing like a sort of deja-vu behind his eyes, the boy in his arms looked at the mask he had taken and held out his hands, looking at the mask longingly. “Do you want to wear this one, Zuko?” asked Aang as he lowered him to the ground and held out the mask. The boy nodded excitedly.

“Nice!” He exclaimed excitedly. The wooden mask looked of good quality, it had two small holes for eyes and you could tell it was painted with dedication, though Aang paid no attention to any of those things, more focused on how history was repeating itself as he adjusted that mask on the boy's face. The mask fit Zuko as if it was made to be there, the boy pulled the mask up and watched him happily.

“How do I look?” he asked, almost shouted, the animated child. Aang smiled fondly, a phantom ache in his chest as two images crossed his mind. In another life, Zuko would rescue him with that very mask.

“Perfect.”

Zuko glowers at the compliment and turns around to look at the other masks in the stall. He's too small to get to where the masks are, though, so Aang has to lift him back up to see them. Soon Zuko picks up a gray and white mask, a creature that has much sleeker and slimmer features than the mask Zuko wears. The face in the mask smiles at him with a smile smaller than Zuko's mask but more playful at the same time. Aang tilts his head, he knows that Zuko's mask is from a play that he used to like in the other world very much. But he didn't know what play this mask was from.

Zuko held it out to him, his eyes shining with very little restrained emotion, his lips trying not to lift to portray a serious expression on his face. Aang, trying to copy Zuko's seriousness, nodded and bowed his head to give Zuko room to put the mask on, making sure his hood did not fall from his head.

Soon the mask was on his face. He looked at Zuko through it. “How do I look?” he asked.

Zuko, who had the mask up so that his face could be seen, told him honestly, “Very pretty!” he assured him. A soft smile settled on his lips.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

He nodded, laughing at the steadiness and decisiveness of the little boy in his arms. “Well, shall we go on?”

He was about to go on his way to enter the fesitval when his eyes fell on a colorful advertisement. The title read: 'Love amongst dragons'. The date was exactly today and the time was in half an hour, he blinked in surprise. He didn't recognize the name of the group that would be performing, but they looked popular if the line of people waiting gave any indication.

“You should join the line now, you're lucky this group sells tickets hours in advance instead of ahead of time like groups like the Ember Island Players. If you hurry maybe you'll get tickets for you and your brother.” The salesman informed him, startling him.

“Actors?” asked Zuko curiously, looking at him in confusion.

Then it dawns on him. Ursa hasn't taken Zuko to any theater yet to see his favorite story, so Zuko doesn't know Love Amongst Dragons. He remembers that in another life Zuko will love that play, knowing the lines memorized and having the play written on parchment, being one of his favorite and most treasured objects.

“Do you want to see the play, Zuko?” he asked, deciding to leave the decision to the boy. Zuko watched the line of people with curiosity, after a few moments he nodded. “Okay.”

After a long wait, they got one of the last tickets and hurried into the theater, looking for their selected seats. Luckily, the theater had the seats on a sort of rise, so people's heads would not be a bother when it came time to see the play. He made his way up the seats until he found his in the middle of a row. He sat down in the seat and was about to put Zuko in his when the boy refused, wanting to watch the play from his lap.

Aang was thankful that they left the castle early that night, otherwise Zuko would be so tired that he would fall asleep in the middle of the play. He just hoped the play wasn't too long or Zuko would fall asleep anyway.

Soon the play began and the combined sound of the voices of everyone present fell silent, attentive to the story unfolding in front of their eyes.

The plot was the following; the dragon emperor was tricked by the mischievous dark water spirit, who bound him into a mortal form. The dragon emperor must go through a long journey and different trials until he encounters the dark water spirit and regains his divine form.

The dragon emperor at one point, anguished by his lack of power to protect his companion who had helped him throughout his journey, perches against a beautiful white tree. As he chattered his frustration and anger at his inability to protect his partner who had treated him so kindly, a curious figure peered out from the same tree.

Zuko inhaled deeply, watching the figure intently, absorbed in the work. Aang smiled softly as he focused on it as well.

“You're so noisy! What are you doing crying so much without doing anything! If it's your lack of strength that distresses you, then fight to become stronger!” the figure exclaimed as he jumped down from the tree and landed in front of the emperor dragon.

“You say that with ease, but you are a spirit, you don't have these kinds of problems” Accused the dragon emperor. The figure, covered by a long black cloak that didn't even reveal his face, raises his hands as if to say that it wasn't his problem.

“You are right, I am a spirit. But a lesser spirit, my existence is more fragile than those of the great spirits like the one you once were or the one who cursed you. I constantly fight against rude humans and bold spirits, and you complain that your companion had to protect you?”

The child in his lap nodded in agreement, though Aang doubted he understood any of what was going on.

The dragon emperor stood still for a few moments and lowered his head in embarrassment. “What do you suggest?”

“I suggest that, if it is your weak physical form that ails you, make yourself strong. Even humans have incredible strength that can fight spirits like me if they put their minds to it.” Says the spirit. The dragon emperor considers what has been said and nods with determination.

“Thank you very much, good spirit. You have been of great help to me, may I know your face so I can repay you once I resume my divine form?”

The hooded spirit denied. “If you wish to repay me, leave my tree alone and retire so that I may rest.”

The Dragon Emperor did so.

The play progressed and one could see how the great Emperor Dragon saw mortal life with increasingly different eyes, learning from his human partner and the people he met along the way how, even if mortal life was fragile and short, it had its beauty.

Finally they reached the turbulent waters of the dark lake where the Dark Water Spirit dwelt, who was waiting for him sitting atop a large stone. The Dragon Emperor explained to his partner that this was a battle he must fight alone and moved on, approaching the Dark Water Spirit who waited patiently for him.

Zuko didn't seem sad or angry that his mask belonged to the villain of the story, though perhaps somewhat disappointed at that. To Aang, though, the Dark Water Spirit was not a truly evil being.

To Aang, the relationship of the Dark Water Spirit and the Dragon Emperor was a rather simple and complicated one. Drawn together like magnets, the Dark Water Spirit, in the words of the Dragon Emperor himself, was not an inherently evil or cruel spirit. The Dark Water Spirit was pure chaos, it was fun and lightness, flowing into chaos and bringing a rare order to it. Opposite of the Dragon Emperor, pure order and at the same time the more subtle chaos that order has in itself, both had a relationship of give and take, push and pull. Chasing and being chased.

Their fight wasn't violent as one might expect. There was no anger in the Dragon Emperor's words nor resentment in his movements during the battle, the Dark Water Spirit reciprocated the sentiment, his playful and light-hearted movements weren't meant to harm the opponent and his words were those given to an old friend. The battle was more like a conversation than an actual battle.

The Dragon Emperor's partner watched all this from afar, a worried expression on her face. The hooded spirit that didn't appear again until now landed next to her out of nowhere, scaring her. The spirit explained how he was a close companion of the Dark Water Spirit, an old friend who had helped in a moment of desperation the Dragon Emperor at the request of the Dark Water Spirit himself.

The battle ended without a winner. The Dark Spirit accepted the Dragon Emperor's inner growth and broke the curse almost gladly. After that, the Dragon Emperor's partner ran to embrace her beloved. The hooded spirit silently landed next to the Dark Water Spirit.

“You don't have to hide your identity anymore, old friend.” Said the Dark Water Spirit to the mysterious hooded spirit. “You are free to reveal yourself.”

The spirit laughed as he gracefully removed his cloak, revealing a mask he knew well, accompanied by a pristine white garment. “That was a fun game you joined me in, dear friend, let's do it again sometime!”

With that, the Dark Water spirit and the newly revealed Spirit of the Breeze disappeared, giving privacy to the Dragon Emperor and his partner.

Zuko turned to look at him excitedly. “We're a team, Aang!”

He couldn't help but laugh, Zuko seemed more animated than before. The idea that their masks were friends in that play cheered him up a lot and strengthened his liking for his own mask.

As they walked out of the theater, he listened intently to Zuko's passionate and excited talk about the play, his little hands holding his mask tightly as he spoke excitedly about the Spirit of Dark Water and, above all, the Spirit of Breeze.

-

Ursa watched with amusement as her son babbled a strange story to his sister about something to do with the breeze and darkness. Azula watched her brother intently, laughing at Zuko's excitement at certain moments and letting out happy sounds. She wondered where her son had heard this strange story from. Perhaps a loose story that some servant had told somewhere.

She closed her eyes and let the voices of her children fill her ears, even with the happiness of their voices she couldn't stop that twisted countdown burned into her mind; it was more than two years before her son was taken from her. The thought pressed against her aching chest.

-

Zuko loved the play Love Amongst Dragons so much that for the next few days it was all he talked about, his vocabulary expanded quite a bit thanks to the play and Zuko gradually spoke longer and more fluent sentences, though they were still, for Aang, quite short. But it was fine.

Zuko had almost begged Aang for clay figures of the Dark Water Spirit, the Spirit of the Breeze, the Dragon Emperor and his partner, the Dragon Empress. Aang couldn't refuse in the child's pleading eyes and tried his best to make the clay figures as close to the characters as possible.

Those clay figures were Zuko's favorite for a while, second only to the Aang clay figure. Among the new figures, Zuko loved the Dark Water Spirit clay figure and the Breeze Spirit clay figure. He played with both of these almost all the time. Aang found him many times reenacting the final scene of the confrontation between the Dragon Emperor and the Spirit of Dark Water, with the difference being the Spirit of the Breeze participating in the battle.

On one night, as Aang carved a wood that would be a doll for little Katara, who had been born months ago, long before Azula. Hopefully, she could make a good articulated warrior that would duet with Sokka and Zuko's articulated blue soldier. He was carving the doll's hand that would be wired to the rest of the body, watching Zuko out of the corner of his eye.

The boy was simulating the voices of the Breeze Spirit and the Dark Water Spirit, who were talking about going on a trip somewhere interesting.

“Why do you like those two so much?” Aang asked distractedly. The boy stopped playing and watched Aang for a few moments, almost confused by the question.

Then he stood up and walked over to Aang, who was sitting a few steps away from him. He held out the clay figure of the Spirit of the Breeze. Aang took it in confusion.

“It's you!” The boy exclaimed after a few moments, pointing at him. Aang blinked, processing what Zuko had said, looking at the figure of the Spirit of the Breeze in his hand.

“The Spirit of the Breeze is...me?” he questioned carefully, the kid nodded satisfied that he had understood. Then Zuko held up the clay figure of the Water Spirit and pointed to himself.

“And I am he!” He affirmed happily. “It's us!” he explained as he pulled both figures closer, holding them together. Aang watched the figures now standing together for a moment before laughing.

“Well, then I'm your partner in mischief?”

“Yes!”

He let out another chuckle, his arms wrapped tightly around the boy. He doesn't understand why he's so happy, it's nothing significant, but knowing that Zuko sees the Breeze Spirit in him, the mischief partner and someone trusted by the Dark Water Spirit that Zuko sees himself in, is something that makes him happy. It means he's doing something right, doesn't it?

He closes his eyes and savors the moment, holding on to every second with this child. Every day he is afraid that Zuko will be burned to nothing but ashes, Aang will love this child in every way, from this innocent little boy to the angry, spiteful teenager he might become after the burning. He knows he will love him in all his forms. Unfortunately that doesn't prevent the fear of watching the child die in his arms from his father's fire.

He clenches his arms and closes his eyes, he is a spirit to some extent. He has no reason to plead to other spirits like the rest nor to pray to some higher force since he himself is one. No matter, he is still as human as he is spirit, and it is in human nature to plead and pray.

He begs his inner spirit, Agni, Tui and La for the safety of the child. Please, he begs, don't let the flames consume him, don't let his innocence turn to ashes or his kindness be burned to an unrecognizable piece of flesh. Please let the child change naturally into what it should be instead of having it reborn as a twisted phoenix form in a mold he was forced to be.

Aang wouldn't be able to bear it.

-

When Zuko turns three, Ursa manages to convince Ozai, through Azulon, to let her go out with Zuko to the city. Convincing them that he should familiarize himself with the nation he will serve and help Lu Ten rule one day. Azulon quickly approves, not very interested in what it had to do with the boy as long as he returned.

With restrained excitement, they walk out of the oppressive palace walls and into the bustling streets of Caldera. Food stalls and street vendors everywhere invite them to take a look at what they have to offer, she excitedly shows him the fire flakes and Zuko smiles with childlike joy at the new food, begging his mother for more. She with a joyful smile does so and buys him as much as he wants, after all it is his birthday.

Agni in the sky is soon hiding between the mountains of Caldera, tinting the skies with shades of pink and orange. Ursa's long-awaited moment arrives as she takes her son to a beautiful theater, the most renowned in Caldera, and they enter after giving the tickets she had reserved a week ago. Her son holds his breath, excited even if he doesn't know what the place is.

Except that he does. “A theater! Are we going to see Love Amongst Dragons?” Zuko asks her animatedly, surveys the surroundings safely from her arms, a giant smile on his lips. Ursa watches him, frozen with surprise, did her son know the play?

Her son freezes in her arms, looks at her doubtfully and his little face scrunches up in what looks like an internal battle, but it disappears as quickly as it appears and he smiles with all the encouragement a three-year-old can muster. “The woman who combs my hair told me!” Zuko answered her quickly, his smile not leaving his face.

Ursa feels herself relax a little. Love Amongst Dragons was a very popular play in the Fire Nation, a play that anyone in the Nation has heard at least once. Not surprisingly, Zuko knew at least a little about it. She smiled. “You'll love it Zuko!” She promises him, her son responds with a smile as animated as her own.

Her son doesn't seem on the edge of his seat during the play as she had anticipated, but seems immersed in it, though it almost seemed as if her son was waiting for something to happen. Still, Ursa was happy that Zuko liked the play.

Then the Spirit of the Breeze, a character who only appears twice, appears coming down from his majestic tree, annoyed by his interrupted sleep and Zuko holds his breath, his eyes shining in excitement and letting out an excited noise before falling silent. He seems to absorb every little thing the Spirit of the Breeze said.

Ursa had expected that excitement in the Dragon Emperor and his adventure, perhaps in the audacity of the Dragon Emperor's companion or even in the chaotic antics of the Dark Water Spirit. She never thought it would be in the Spirit of the Breeze.

He wasn't a bad character, but he was a tertiary one. His role was to be the Dark Water Spirit's silent helper, helping the Dragon Emperor take a step in the right direction on his path. His appearance is nothing more than a major propellant that helps the Dragon Emperor see humanity with new eyes and see that they are not as powerless as he imagines them to be. Although it has always been left in doubt whether the latter was an accident, the Dark Water Spirit's plot to teach the Dragon Emperor humility or just a lesson from the Spirit of the Breeze himself.

Anyway, the second appearance of the Spirit of the Breeze is to reassure the Dragon Emperor's partner and serve as a narrator towards a more poetic immersion of the fight so that the viewers wouldn't just see a fancy battle but see the inner thoughts and feelings of the characters in a much deeper way.

Not a bad character, but a background one, a resource and without a deep background.

Nevertheless, his son absorbed every word the Spirit blurted out with admiration.

Later, as they were leaving the theater, Ursa asked. “Did you like the play, Zuko?”

The boy nodded, his hand clinging to hers with a smile so big it must have hurt. “Yes! I really like the Spirit of the Breeze!” He exclaims. Ursa smiles softly.

“Do you want a mask of his?” asks Ursa, pointing to a beautiful mask store that had delicate and elegant masks. Zuko shook his head, confusing her. “Isn't he your favorite?”

“Yes!” he replies without hesitation. “But I'm the Dark Water Spirit!” He exclaims.

She looks at her son. “So, you want a Dark Water Spirit mask?”

The boy denies again. Ursa fails to understand her son so full of contradictions. “I want the Dragon Emperor's mask! For Azula!” he declares. Ursa doesn't know what to say, she doesn't understand why her son would give his sister the mask of the Dragon Emperor, the archenemy of the Dark Water Spirit that Zuko seems to see himself in. Wouldn't the Breeze Spirit, the close companion of the Dark Water Spirit, be better? Or the Dragon Empress, the companion of the Dragon Emperor?

But nod, it's his birthday and she'll do anything to see him happy. “Okay.”

She takes her son to the big tent and lets the boy pick out the one he likes best for his sister, while she pays, she listens to her son talk about how they will be able when his sister grows up to star in the play for her. He doesn't seem upset about having to be the antagonist.

She doesn't ask or insist, not wanting her son to feel like he did something wrong because he didn't do it. Instead she lifts him in her arms and kisses his forehead as she whispers, “Happy birthday, Zuko. I love you.”

Zuko snuggles into her neck and murmurs that he loves her too.

She closes her eyes, forces her arms not to shake because her son hates it when they do that and so does she. The countdown gets shorter and shorter and she must swallow the knot in her stomach as she feels the sand grains slip through her fingers. She clutches each one fiercely.

Please, she prays, don't let anyone take it away from me.

-

He finds Zuko waiting by the balcony. His eyes close heavily, but the boy struggles to stay awake to wait for him. The image melts his heart and makes him smile softly. The boy doesn't hear the balcony door open, his eyes are squinting struggling in a watchful state as he approaches. He doesn't struggle when Aang grabs him and lifts him up, snuggling him to his chest, instead the boy hums, content to bury his forehead in his shoulder and absorb the warmth Aang naturally released.

“Happy birthday.” Aang whispers. Zuko doesn't respond, but feels his body trying to melt into his own, Zuko has always been hungry for touch even when Aang has done nothing but hug him and give him open displays of affection. Surely it is due to Ozai and his little to no contact with the boy.

He doesn't get angry, not because there is no anger, but because it is a special day to be sullied by that bastard. It's not long before midnight and so Zuko's birthday is over, so he quickly lowers the boy in his arms, sitting him on his bed. The boy protests faintly, but does nothing more.

Carefully he opens his bag and takes out three scrolls from it. The first two are quite thick, however the third is much thinner, all look old but in good condition. Zuko blinks, curious as he leans over to get a better look at what is in his hands. Aang sits on the floor and soon Zuko slides off his so he can sit next to him. It's a good thing the bed is small and not too high, though Aang still doesn't understand why they moved Zuko to a bed so quickly.

Carefully, he opens the first scroll, elegant and decently sized letters flood the place. Zuko frowns, not seeming interested in the scroll, at least until Aang, with a sly smile, finishes opening it and there begin to be pristine, beautiful graphics of the Dragon Emperor and the Dark Water Spirit arguing, moments before the Dark Water Spirit cursed the Dragon Emperor.

Zuko gasps, shocked at what they see, bows quickly. Aang with the agility that only an airbender has, raises his arms, keeping the scroll from being ruined as the boy inevitably sits on his lap, wanting to get a better look. After allowing the child to settle, he lowers the scroll and with a smile hidden in Zuko's hair observes the child's noises of surprise and admiration.

“It's the Dragon Emperor and the Dark Water Spirit!” Zuko exclaimed.

“Yes.” He affirmed. “You can't read, but now I have the play and I can read it to you whenever you want. It even has some scenes that the plays omit.” Aang tells him, Zuko shifts restlessly in his lap, he can feel his excited smile even when he can't see it from his place. The boy probably doesn't fully understand what he's saying, but he sure understands the idea of being able to enjoy the play whenever he wants, within reach of a request to Aang.

The boy glances at the parchment, dazzled by the delicate drawings on it. Aang had worked three whole months on different jobs to have enough money for the three scrolls, originally he could only buy the first two, but the librarian decided to give him the third one when she saw his dedication.

When Zuko has finished inspecting the first scroll, he looks at the other two with curiosity. Aang smiles knowing that the next scroll would probably be the best of the three. He picks it up and opens it. This one doesn't have any delicate or pristine drawings on the parchment, just fancy lettering, which disappoints Zuko who looks at it with confusion. “Zuko, this is a story by the same author of Love Amongst Dragons” he explains kindly. Zuko's nose wrinkles uncomprehendingly.

“Author?”

“Who created the play.” he explains, waits a few moments to see if the boy has another question, but nothing. Then he continues. “It's a less popular story, but it's entirely about the Spirit of the Breeze and the Spirit of the Dark Water.”

He can feel the child freeze, staring in confusion at the words he doesn't understand. Perhaps, Aang thinks, it is too early for this sort of thing. The child cannot understand such complicated things, he is only three years old.

“This story contains much more of the Spirit of the Air.” he decides to simplify finally, Zuko finally manages to understand the meaning of the scroll. He looks at it with surprise and awe, as if Aang had lowered Tui into the sky at his feet. Then arms encircle his chest and Aang has to lay the scroll on the ground to avoid crumpling it and to be able to return the embrace.

The boy laughs with joy into his chest, his smile is giant and his eyes sparkle with excitement. Aang knows he is doing things right at times like this, when Zuko's eyes shine like the sun itself and his smile is as warm as its rays. When Zuko's brightness is not dulled or extinguished by the monster around the corner.

After a few moments, they separate and Zuko doesn't wait for him to take the next scroll. Instead, he takes it himself and excitedly opens it, Aang quickly helps him, not wanting the boy to damage the scroll. The scroll shows a beautiful portrait of the Spirit of the Breeze and the Spirit of Dark Water.

The Spirit of the Breeze was resting in his tree, wearing pristine silver robes and a golden tiara that gathered his long reddish hair. His mask looked down to the ground, where the Spirit of Dark Water stood at the base of the tree. The Dark Water Spirit, who also wore a mask, looked up meeting the gaze of the spirit in the tree from its place on the ground. The Dark Water Spirit wore deep blue robes combined with black, his robes unlike the other spirit were much shorter, designed for battles. Black pants could be seen underneath them.

The image was beautiful, both spirits stared at each other, their masks only covered the upper part of their faces, revealing their lips. Both spirits were smiling as if sharing a secret.

Zuko watched the image, mesmerized. Then, with more care than Aang had ever seen in him, he closed the scroll and hugged it to his chest. The other two scrolls between his legs, resting securely there.

“Thank you” Zuko murmured, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes looked tired but shone like a thousand suns. Zuko leaned his head on his shoulder, his body sideways in his lap. Zuko's feet dangled in the air, his legs resting on one of his knees. One of his arms served as a support for Zuko's back so he could get comfortable.

It was past midnight. Aang's chest was releasing a tangible warmth, feeling soft and warm as he cradled the precious charge against him.

It was a good birthday, he thought sleepily. In a few hours he should leave, he couldn't let anyone find out. But that was hours away, so he made himself as comfortable as possible and settled down to rest for a while.

In two years, he thought longingly, Aang wouldn't have to go back and forth to see Zuko. He wouldn't have to see the fear in Zuko's eyes when he talked about his father or the discomfort in Zuko's eyes when his mother hugged him as if he was going to die.

Most of all, in two years Zuko would be away from the castle and away from the flames that killed him and forced him to be reborn on that other world. He would be far away from the monster that called himself father.

Two years, he repeated to himself like a mantra.

-

Zuko is three years and four months old when Aang decides it's time to put Zuko in contact with Sokka, who recently turned three, and little one-year-old Katara. If Zuko is soon to live with them, it's best that he befriends Sokka and Katara. Aang really prefers to avoid any misunderstanding or rivalry the children might have, spirits not wanting their relationship to start off in such a heavy way as in the other world.

Though he doubts it can, when they finally meet Zuko will be five years old and Sokka will be four years and a little over half a year, while Katara will be three. He doubts they can get along badly, but Aang would rather be safe than sorry, so he starts with Sokka and Katara first.

Changing the thoughts of an entire tribe isn't easy, much less one as shattered and wounded as the southern tribe. It took a whole year for Kya, Hakoda and the elders to accept the idea of taking Zuko in. Luckily Aang had left the glacier a year before Zuko's birth, for which he can only be grateful. It took more than two years for them to accept that the Fire Nation was not inherently evil.

He couldn't even blame them, with the current Fire Lord's rule, and later, the future, Aang can't be mad at them for hating them with everything they have and assuming that the Fire Nation were heartless monsters with no heart or basic empathy. But he succeeds after debates and discussions.

Sokka is growing up in a village without games like 'defeat the ash makers' or 'slay the demon dragon'. Gradually, the adults don't change their minds about everything, but even they know that the hatred and violence their children are born with won't do any good. The games change to more common games of bandits versus soldiers, a normal game in the earth realm. At least this one has less racism than the previous one, although Aang is still not entirely convinced. Aang doesn't know any games from the water tribes before Sozin, he feels guilty at not being able to provide this village with some game indigenous to their culture.

It starts simple. “Zuko will play with you when he comes, Sokka. He will love to train with you as a warrior” he says gently one day. Hakoda is hunting with some other warriors outside. He and little Sokka were a few feet away from Kya, who with some other women were pulling up the nets to see if the traps had caught any fish.

Sokka blinks, his face confused. “Who's Zuko?”

Kya had stopped lifting the nets, her ears attentive to the conversation he was having with Sokka. He believed that Kya and Hakoda liked him, enough to allow him to be near their children and care for them. Enough to help convince the elders about moving from their old tribe to a more hidden and isolated place, where Aang could protect them and where Fire Nation ships wouldn't come easily.

He also knows they are wary of him. Right now he is more spirit than human, his body proves that. It has been four years since he emerged from the glacier and his body is still twelve years old. His body even though it moves and performs all its functions is in a kind of static, as if he is still in the glacier. The power of the spirit fused to him rewinds time and keeps him young. It will be like this until Ozai takes the throne in seven years.

According to Raava, there are things that must remain as they are. Fire Lord Azulon, for example should die as he did before without intervention. Aang, on the other hand, should only be thirteen until Ozai takes the throne as that should also be the case. Ozai had to take the throne and be defeated by him. Aang couldn't intervene in that.

So he intervenes with what he didn't promise. He helps the resistance as much as he can, helps the southern tribe not to have to go into battle and not to lose more people, making a safe place for them and Sokka and Katara.

He watches out of the corner of his eye the huge ice dome rising in the distance, away from where the small southern tribe was before beside the coast vulnerable to Fire Nation attacks. The new village was larger and sleeker, the dome kept the heat more easily inside and the walls were an assurance that they were safe. There was only one way in and out and that was through a tunnel that Aang had carefully made and that only the elders and adults knew how to open.

A huge fort that would secure Katara and Sokka's childhood, also Kya's life. In another life such a thing would have taken months, in this life only a week was enough for such a structure.

“Zuko is a friend of mine. They are almost the same age and he really likes warriors, maybe you can play together eventually?”

Sokka seems excited at the idea of having someone to play warrior with. Kya watches them silently, she knows who Zuko is and where he comes from. She also knows when he is coming and why. All the adults in the tribe know this and most are in agreement or, if not, partial to the decision. At least they all agree that this child cannot stay in that nest of monsters, even if they don't agree on the methods of how to get him out of there.

“Where is he now?” asks Sokka curiously, stops playing with his wooden toy spear and sits down next to him. “Why didn't I meet him?”

“He doesn't live here, he lives in a place far away that I visit often.”

Sokka doesn't look pleased, but annoyed. “Is it because of him that you go away so long?” Sokka asked him. Sokka is much more talkative. His vocabulary is, surprisingly, more extensive than Zuko's. But that must be because Zuko only talks to his mother and sister. His servants don't speak except to answer, his uncle is at war, his grandfather and father pretend he doesn't exist unless necessary, and Lu Ten is in a boarding school for Super Gifted children or something like that according to the servants.

“Yes.” And Sokka seems to be about to decide he doesn't like the kid. “Zuko lives with a scary monster.”

Sokka's eyes widen. “Really? The most?”

“The scariest,” he says sincerely. Kya's eyes burn into his back, watching him, and he knows she will intervene if she senses he is distressing her son. A mother's protection, no less. “Zuko lives with him and the monster lurks around his house, scaring him.”

Sokka looks sad. “Why don't you defeat the monster?” he asks a little awkwardly. Aang feels a pang of guilt. He would, he promises in his mind, if he didn't have that stupid promise with Raava that binds him to do nothing for years.

“The monster is immune, I can't do anything now.” When Ozai takes the throne, he thinks with promise as his eyes harden, he will no longer be immune. And Aang will make him pay.

“Get him out of there!” shouts Sokka in frustration.

“The monster's wife begged not to” he explains regretfully. Sometimes he regrets the promise. Sokka doesn't seem satisfied, he doesn't even blame him. The boy looks like he is about to cry in frustration and Kya looks ready to take her son away. “But” he says, making Sokka raise his head “soon he will come here. And you will be friends.”

The boy's eyes widen and a smile crosses his lips, excited. “Really!” he exclaims happily. Aang smiles softly and nods. “When!”

“A little before you turn five.”

The boy looks disappointed. “But I only have these.” The child raises three years. “That's too far! I want to meet him now!” The child stands up and stomps his feet with all the strength a three year old has. Aang nods in understanding.

He stands up and stretches out his arms, his hands reach under Sokka's armpits and lift him in a practiced manner. Sokka, accustomed to being lifted, leaves him without complaint and soon snuggles into his chest, his arms around his neck and his face tucked into his shoulder.

“I want to see him now,” complained the boy.

“You can talk to him.” He told her. The boy, as if his deflated body had been inflated, jumped up in excitement and pulled away as far as he could until they were face to face, his face was filled with pent-up emotion.

“Really! How?!”

Aang smiled. “You can tell me what you want to tell him and I'll tell him. You can also give me something to give him and I'll give it to him.”

A new smile grows on Sokka's face, his little eyes determined to be the best correspondence friend in the world. Kya, behind him, smiles softly, returning to her work of pulling out the nets.

Thus, Sokka and Zuko began to talk to each other.

-

“What's that?” asks Zuko, looking with confusion at the piece of paper, not very elegant but legible letters on this one. Sokka actually had a lot of things to say to Zuko, so he had to write down everything on a piece of paper to avoid forgetting anything and therefore invoking the wrath of little Sokka who seemed determined to be the best pen pal Zuko ever had.

“It's a letter for you!” announces Aang excitedly, waving the letter, or attempt at one, in front of Zuko's face. Zuko looks curiously at the paper.

“For me?” he asks confused. “What's a letter?”

“It's a piece of paper where you write to someone you want to talk to and they are far away.” He explained as succinctly as possible. Zuko's eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Who?”

“A boy the same age as you” he replies, glad to see the excitement in Zuko. “He dreams of being a great warrior, he's very happy with the idea of playing together when they meet.”

“A warrior?” Zuko's face contorts to confusion again. “Not a soldier?”

Well, that's a good question that Aang isn't quite sure how to answer. “A soldier is someone who fights with a boss and with pay, a warrior on the other hand works without being given anything and with a leader.”

Zuko didn't understand, but he understood that they were different. He looked at the letter curiously, Aang smiled as he sat down next to him and opened it, ready to read Sokka's first letter to Zuko.

'Hello, my name is Sokka!'

He began to narrate the letter, Zuko's eyes were fixed on the paper even though he didn't understand what it said.

'I live at the south pole, Aang said you are trapped with a terrifying monster!'

Zuko frowned, confused at that part. Aang grimaced, that should be explained.

To his fortune, Zuko didn't question, so he continued tentatively.

'That's why I decided to be your friend and your warrior buddy! Dad says it's important to have one! So I'll be yours and you be mine!'

"Warrior buddy?" Zuko mumbled, an animated smile peeking through his lips as he leaned forward, a chuckle escaped Aang's lips.

“It means he wants to play with you a lot” he tells him, because in this age that's what Zuko and Sokka will do most together when they meet. May the spirits curse him if he allows either of them near weapons until at least their twelfth.

'I'll be the best friend you'll ever have! When you come we'll have so much fun! With mom, dad and my sister Katara. She's a girl and younger than me, but we can play with her! She's pretty tough for a girl!'

Zuko's eyes shone as if they contained a thousand suns, even the darkness of the night could not dull them, but rather highlight them. “I have a sister too!” he exclaims excitedly looking at Aang.

'Since you can't come now, please talk a lot by letter!'

And that's how the letter ended, Sokka wasn't very good or eloquent at goodbyes and felt that this was the best way. It was a whole hour of discarding letter after letter because Sokka couldn't decide what to put in it. Kya had to step in at the end to help put her son's thoughts in order, Hakoda soon found out about the event and laughed in his face for taking so long on a letter of less than two paragraphs. Aang threw snow in his face and Bato was the one who laughed at Hakoda for the next few minutes.

It didn't matter in the end, remembering Sokka's gurgling excitement as he excitedly babbled what he would tell Zuko and Zuko's sunny smile as he snatched the letter from him and tucked it away in his little chest of secrets, as Zuko called it, Aang felt it was all worth it. Soon Zuko and Sokka, plus Katara of course, would be together and happy away from the wailing of war.

The war wouldn't matter when they grew up and became teenagers, for by then Aang would be done with it. Power and experience wasn't the problem, Aang knew he could bring both Azulon and Ozai to their knees if he set his mind to it. The problem was time and fate, but even that would cease to be a problem when Azulon died.

It was just a matter of waiting, and Aang had no problem with that. After all, Aang was raised by monks who taught him how to be patient even before he could stand up on his own.

-

One night, as Ursa tucked her son in before going to sleep after telling him a little dragon story, her son asks her:

“Mom, where do the air people live?”

She blinks and then smiles sweetly. “The spirit of the Breeze lives in the spirit world, Zuko. You know that.”

Zuko shakes his head, annoyed. “No, the air people!”

She pauses, trying to understand what her son is trying to say. “You mean the air nomads?”

His son smiles, encouraged as he nods. His eyes expectant of a satisfactory answer, she grimaces, which she disguises with another, more neutral smile. “They don't live around here anymore, Zuko.”

Her son's animated smile falters. “What?”

Ursa sighs, how do you tell your son that they don't exist, that they were hunted to extinction like some kind of exotic animal? “They left a long time ago, Zuko.”

“Where did they go?” asked Zuko, his voice trembling.

Her hand rests on her son's cheek, trying to be a comfort. “To the spirit world. They live in peace there.”

The spirit world is the gentlest way to tell her son that they are dead. His son doesn't believe her, he knows they aren't there, or at least not like the spirits are, but he doesn't know what form they are in if not that. Her son only knows it is bad, his eyes water and she fears he will cry.

Instead, she asks. “Do the air people control the earth?” her voice is soft. “The fire?”

She is surprised at the change of subject, but shakes her head. “No, no one but the avatar can control all four, and there hasn't been one in a hundred years.” The avatar is as dead as the air nomads. There hasn't been one in a hundred years. Maybe the spirit that inhabits the Avatar decided the world wasn't worth the trouble and decided to go back to the spirit world, leaving the humans to fend for themselves. She wouldn't blame the spirit.

Most people don't know much about the Avatar other than that he controls the four elements, reincarnates eternally and is the bridge between the human and spirit worlds. Ursa, who is part of a family that has more skeletons in the closet than in the actual family cemetery knows better.

Sozin committed a grave sin by cruelly killing all the air nomads, extinguishing them to the last one. He made a worse mistake which cost the world their spirit that protected them by killing the little boy who was the Avatar. Ursa read texts from forbidden and almost forgotten areas of the royal family's personal library as a hobby. She knows that the spirit that is fused with the Avatar is incredibly protective of this one, in fact the avatar states in the early years of an Avatar's life are its way of protecting the children from dangerous situations.

A powerful and primal spirit, as old as Agni in heaven, if not older, fell in love with life through a human. No one knows if his relationship with the human was a friendship or a romance, but the spirit learned about humans and how to love them through a single person. The spirit loved that person so much that it has accompanied them throughout their lives, merged as one being, impossible to separate them.

The spirit loves its champion too much and the champion is too mixed up with the spirit to leave it. Both need each other.

Ursa believes that, after hundreds of lifetimes of watching incarnations of that person die so cruelly so many times, the spirit got fed up with trying to protect the balance that humans were so determined to destroy. How can anyone blame it if it decided to do that? If the spirit decided to just go and leave them, taking the soul of its beloved person and finally go to rest in the spirit world, it can only be humanity's fault.

She snapped out of her thoughts with a shake of her head. She smiled wearily at Zuko. “Why do you ask, Zuko?”

The boy averted her gaze. “Nothing. Mom, what happened to the Avatar?”

The question took her breath away. “Gone along with all the air nomads.” Her tone is more brusque than she wants to allow herself. She looks apologetically at her son as she shrinks back guiltily. “Go to sleep Zuko, good night.”

She hurries off, no matter how many grains of sand escape from her fingers. This time she can't stay.

Chapter Text

“And tell him that Love Amongst Dragons is not for girls!” exclaims Zuko angrily. Aang avoids laughing because he doesn't want to be thrust in the middle of the passionate correspondence argument between Sokka and Zuko when Zuko asked, begged, for Sokka to see his favorite play.

Sokka of course refused, saying that's for girls. Aang really didn't want to convey that message, he was going to omit it to be honest, but Kya insisted him to let everything take its course, telling him that there are things that could only be learned through friendships.

Aang sighs, mentally preparing his ears for Sokka's indignant grumbling and squealing as he reads Zuko's passionate letter.

“Oh, and tell Katara I love her too!”

Well, at least someone was going to be happy when the letter was read.

Zuko looks distracted that night, that's what he thinks as he goes out the window after putting the boy to bed earlier than usual. Maybe he was just tired, he decides as he continues on his way to where he left Appa.

-

“Dad, where are the air nomads?”

The question freezes her, the piece of meat between her chopsticks falls back to the plate because of her loose grip on it. She watches Ozai in panic, Azula does not understand what is happening and continues to play with her food.

Ozai is tactless, of course that monster is tactless, when he says, “They're dead, Zuko. All of them, don't you know anything? We should start assigning you teachers if you're this ignorant” he blurts out as if his son is not three and a half years old.

Zuko freezes, he should tremble like any normal child under his father's venomous gaze. He should cry and seek comfort from her like any normal child. But Zuko has grown up three years with that terrifying monster and he doesn't tremble not because he doesn't feel fear but because he knows better than to provoke his father.

“Why did they die?” asks Zuko, his voice is shaky but it doesn't break and Ozai decides to forget his scolding and indulge him with a curt reply.

“Why else, foolish boy? They were savages who meant to harm us, so we finished them off before they could.”

The meal continues in silence. Zuko doesn't press the topic and Ursa doesn't know if it's because there's nothing more to add or because her son fears his throat will break and his eyes will spill tears if they do.

Zuko pretends to sleep that night when she goes to tuck him in, Ursa is too afraid of her son's condition to do more than pretend to believe him.

-

When Aang arrives that night, there is no welcome, which is odd. Aang is sure he told Zuko that he would stop by that night to see him, would he have forgotten? That's not like the boy, though.

Anxiety wells up, in these last few years Aang feels that anxiety has been all too common in his life. But no one could blame him with Zuko in that nest of monsters, the constant thoughts of: what if Ozai did something to him? what if today is the day his eyes fall on him? what if Azulon decides his grandson isn't worth it and kills him? what if Zuko says something out of line and they do something to him?

Those thoughts and more well up like a tsunami, his eyes travel around the room until they land on the small bed, relief settling in as he sees the small bundle between the sheets. He sighs with relief before he puzzles, did Zuko forget he was going to visit him? Maybe he was just tired.

He approaches Zuko with the intention of sitting on the wall next to his bed for a while before leaving. Maybe leave a small clay figurine so Zuko would know he wasn't mad at him for falling asleep when he woke up. But he hears a deep, painful sobbing that forces him to stop.

His ears prick up, searching for another sound. They find it, Zuko inhales deeply and then a choked sound comes out of him. His heart pounds as he hurriedly approaches the lump on the bed. “Zuko? What's wrong?”

His hands land on the sheets and he moves them, he manages to see Zuko's head buried in his pillow. Zuko doesn't come out or hug him when he realizes he's there, but hides further into these. There is a phantom pain in his chest at the action that anger quickly erases.

“Did your father do something?” The boy curls more into himself and refuses to speak. Aang forces himself to breathe and calm down, anger won't help and will scare Zuko more. “Zuko, what's wrong? Tell me.”

His hands move and try to pull the boy to him, give him a hug and bring him comfort. The kid tenses and his body refuses to cooperate. Aang stops and doesn't force him.

“Go away” whispers Zuko in a broken voice. He feels his body tense and the pain in his chest deepens.

“What, Zuko, what's wrong-?”

“Go away, leave me alone, savage!”

It hurts, his chest contorts and there is a lump in his throat that he forces himself to swallow like bitter medicine. It hurts more than anything and Aang forces himself to stand firm because right now he is the adult of the two.

Zuko's body is as tense as a bowstring, he doesn't move and almost seems afraid to breathe. Aang realizes that he is expecting repercussions for what he said.

“I'm sorry” whispered Zuko, it was so low that Aang wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't all quiet.

“It's okay.” And it's true and a lie at the same time. It's not right what Zuko said, it wasn't right and it won't be right. But it's okay because he knows those words didn't come from Zuko, he knows they're repeated words. He knows where they come from, then Aang will hate the source and not the boy in front of him. “Where did you hear that horrible word from?”

“I'm sorry,” Zuko repeats. A spark of irritation is born in his chest and dies as soon as he hears the first sob. “I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you” he replies without hesitation.

“I'm sorry” Zuko's voice breaks and Aang can feel his tears even when he doesn't see them.

“Zuko, I already forgave you-” he tries to comfort. He wants Zuko to know that it's not his fault, that he's just repeating cruel words and that he knows he doesn't mean it.

“Not for that!” the boy shouts again, his voice is broken and comes out too distraught. Aang doesn't know what to do or what happened to make Zuko like this.

“Then why are you apologizing?” he asks and Zuko flinches as if Aang had hit him. The reaction twists his chest in a painful way but he forces himself to ignore it. His hand lands gently on the boy's shoulder, Zuko stirs in distress but doesn't yell at him like last time. “What happened?”

“I'm so sorry, Aang” Zuko exclaims and Aang can feel the lump in the boy's throat from his tone. He grimaces because it must be painful, Zuko is just a child and shouldn't be in so much distress.

He gets frustrated, he doesn't understand what Zuko means. “Of what-?”

“I'm not bad!” shouts Zuko fervently, he clings to his words as if it were a mantra. “He's not bad!” he defends a ghost Aang is unaware of. “Those things didn't-! It's not our fault! They attacked-! We just defended-!” Zuko is unable to make a complete sentence, all his sentences half-formed and his voice is splintered, tired and on the verge of fading with each new word slurred. Aang doesn't know if he's trying to convince him or himself.

No matter, Aang has a suspicion of who she is talking about. “Who attacked, Zuko?”

His voice is too gruff, too defensive for Zuko not to detect. His small body shudders and still turns his back to her. “The air people!” her voice is less loud than Zuko would have liked, but it still reaches his ears. It feels like a thump in his chest.

Was zuko saying that the death of his people is not the fault of the fire nation?

In another life, he thinks as he feels a phantom stab in his chest throb hard, Aang would have screamed at this child for only this. He still wants to, but he forces himself to remain calm. He calmly thinks to himself that these words are not Zuko but Ozai. He repeats to himself that these words are a child's attempt to convince himself that he is not evil, that his nation is not evil, and that his father is not a monster.

He is just a child, he repeats.

So am I, a voice whispers. He brushes it off firmly.

It doesn't matter that he had an entire year before he met Zuko to process, accept, and befriend the fact that he is now alone. That all his people, his culture and his friends have died at the hands of the fire nation. It doesn't matter all the mourning, the closure he got in this life unlike that world where he had no choice but to save it for later because there was no time. It doesn't matter any of that because the genocide of the air nomads would be something that would always be a raw wound, never fully healed and always one step away from bleeding out. That Zuko would say such things, never mind that they weren't true, hurt like a hundred stabs in his chest.

“Do you really believe that?” his voice smaller than it should be. Still, Zuko shakes hard like a tidal wave. “You think we're savages, that we deserved that?”

There is silence, so much so that Aang thinks he could hear even the smallest movement of an ant across the room. Zuko doesn't answer and Aang just wants to cry.

“I don't know,” Zuko finally answers, his voice shaking as if he's afraid someone might hear him. Aang is somewhat relieved, he doesn't know what he would have done if Zuko said yes. “Dad said they deserved it.” Zuko tells him curling into himself.

Aang closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe, he won't be entering the avatar state today, thank you very much. “Really?”

“He said-he said the air people were savages” continues Zuko shakily. “That they wanted to harm us!” his voice is louder, trying to convince himself. “We only defended ourselves!”

Aang wants to shout that genocide would never be self-defense. He doesn't, instead he says, “Do you really think we all deserved them? That they were all bad guys?”

He can see Zuko hesitating, he says nothing. Aang continues:

“My people were pacifists, Zuko. Do you know what a pacifist is? Someone who is against violence and who does everything possible not to harm either people or animals.” he speaks softly. “We didn't believe that violence was the answer, we never believed that. We believed in peace and balance.”

Zuko finally turns around and steps out of his little bundle of sheets, looks at him doubtfully. “Dad said-”

“Sometimes fathers don't tell the truth,” Aang interrupts him kindly. He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, face to face he can see the boy's swollen eyes and his distress.

“Why would he lie?”

'Because he's a monster' he wants to say, he doesn't. “Sometimes fathers repeat what they are told, just as you repeat what your father told you. Maybe he doesn't know either.”

Zuko shakes his head. “But- everyone says Dad and Grandpa are always right.”

Of course they do, he thinks bitterly, that's what propaganda does. “Well, they're not right.”

There is silence before Zuko hesitantly whispers, “Are we bad?”

His eyes widen sharply, his heart fractures at the question and he denies fervently. “No! You would never be! You are not guilty of what happened, Zuko.”

Zuko's ancestors are different. Sozin, the one who started the war, Azulon who followed it and Ozai who tried to commit even more genocides than his predecessors with the Sozin comet, all of them are guilty and monsters.

Zuko, who only carried their blood, wasn't. He would never be.

The boy is still trembling, his little arms wrapping around himself in an attempt to comfort himself. Aang wants to scream because Zuko is only three and a half years old and was already carrying the sins of his family line.

His arms move out of instinct, wrap around Zuko and pull him to his chest. Zuko collapses on him and begins to cry loudly, his throat cries out in pain choked in his chest. Aang can only cradle him in his lap and wrap his arms around him, squeeze him tightly and hide him from the world as best he can. Aang wishes Zuko hadn't found out about this at this age, he's only three and a half and he's found out that his family did something horrible.

"I'm sorry,” Zuko stutters loudly. "I'm so sorry!" He apologizes as if he had set fire to their temples and burned their people. Aang thinks this is as close as he will ever get to someone apologizing to him for what happened, Aang would prefer this apology to come from anyone but the boy in his arms.

His arms squeeze him, chastising him and serving as the anchor. It feels as if Zuko is a baby again and Aang wishes he were one, that he was that baby with naive eyes and oblivious to the whole truth. He closes his eyes as a knot forms in his chest and his throat burns.

"It's not your fault,” he manages to blurt out. "It's not your fault, it never will be." He repeats forcefully.

Zuko only cries harder. His arms unravel from his body and cling to his neck, the boy's tears wet his shoulder and Aang can't be bothered by it.

The night passes and Zuko only falls asleep late into the night, exhausted after crying until the tears run out and then screaming until his throat burns. It's only a miracle that Aang managed to use his airbending to silence the room and avoid attracting the attention of the guards outside.

Aang gently lays Zuko down on the bed and tucks him in carefully. He stays with him until Agni peeks her first rays through the windows.

-

"Mom, was the avatar an air nomad?" asks Zuko.

Ursa wishes Zuko would stop asking about it. Azula in her arms babbles amused with her bottle. "Yes, why?"

Zuko hums quietly and doesn't answer, his hand still drawing a blue and white landscape, Ursa knits her eyebrows together, confused. She expected more questions or an explanation, yet she doesn't press the issue. Instead she asks:

"What is that?" Ursa asks, pointing to her son's drawing. Zuko smiles weakly.

"The South Pole."

She doesn't know what to say to her son's strange statement. Does Zuko know what the south pole is? Did some maid tell him about it and he just drew it? Did he read it in a book? But she knows that none of the children's books Zuko owns talk about the South Pole.

"Where did you hear about it, Zuko?"

Her son, concentrating on the drawing, says distractedly. -A maid told me.

It was almost always the same answer, every time there is something Zuko shouldn't know, he always answers the same: 'A servant told me', 'I heard it from some servants'. Always the same answer, it almost felt like her son was trying to placate her.

"Really?" Press. Zuko doesn't raise his head and nods without paying attention to her. Azula fidgets in his arms and knows it's time to change his diaper. She gets up and says goodbye to Zuko, when she is about to close the door Zuko asks her:

"Is the avatar bad?"

She blinks, she thought the subject had been left behind. "No, it's not."

"Then why does dad call him bad?"

She blinks, thought the subject had been left behind. “No, it isn't.”

“Then why does father call him bad?”

She inhales deeply before saying, “Your father isn't always right. He's wrong about that.”

Her son watches her for a few moments before nodding, his shoulders relaxing from a tension Ursa only just notices.

She closes the door and leaves Zuko alone. She feels as if she's sealed something, though she's not sure what.

-

“Are you the avatar?”

The question hits him as if a giant rock has been thrown at him. He forces his body to relax and carefully watches the boy next to him playing absentmindedly with the blue soldier. “Yes, I am.”

Zuko nods and looks at him decisively. “It's okay, you're not bad. Dad said you are, but mom says dad is sometimes wrong like now and that you're good.” He explains his logic without seeing the holes in it. If his mother says that sometimes that his father sometimes might be wrong, it means that his mother might also be wrong as well.

Of course Aang doesn't say that because it's better to keep it that way. He doesn't want Zuko to collapse back into confusion and crossed loyalties. It's only been less than a week and he still feels on thin ice. Aang was supposed to be at the South Pole in the next few days, but he had to send a hawk to warn Kya and Hakoda that he won't be able to return for at least another week.

“Dad says mean things about the air people and you,” Zuko says softly, but Aang can see the confusion in his voice. “Why?”

Aang sighs. “Your dad thinks he knows everything and that his word is always right, Zuko. Even about things he doesn't know.”

Zuko's face scrunches up. “But why does he say that if he doesn't know?”

Because he's prejudiced, Aang wants to growl. Because he's someone who thinks he knows everything about everyone, someone who sees people's lives as numbers and doesn't care if someone was guilty or innocent as long as he wins.

“I don't know, Zuko.” He lies, Zuko looks at the ground. His eyes water but he doesn't cry or let out a whimper of pain. Aang moves his arm and wraps it around Zuko's shoulders. “Zuko, don't say anything about this to anyone, ever. You can't tell him that the air people aren't savage or evil. Nor that I am not savage or evil.”

The boy at his side looks at him confused and annoyed. “But you're not! You told me they're not!”

“And it's true.” Aang promises. “But if you tell your parents this, they'll get mad and-”

'They'll hurt you'. The thought terrifies him to the core, the very thought makes him want to grab Zuko and leave as fast as possible. He fears that Zuko will talk, that he will argue against Ozai about this and he fears that Ozai will hurt him, that he will burn the boy beyond recognition.

Spirits, please don't. It's all he can think as he forces his body not to tremble.

“Promise me if your dad says anything about the air people or the avatar you won't fight him, promise me Zuko.”

Zuko stubbornly denies. “But it's wrong!”

If Aang had hair, he'd tear it out. He avoids raising his voice when he says, “That doesn't matter, don't fight him about it. Just say yes and let it go.”

“But-!”

“Zuko!” he shouts and immediately regrets it. Zuko flinches and moves away from his side. He takes a deep breath and curses to himself in his mind. “Zuko, please. Promise me that if your dad says anything about the air people or me, you won't say anything and you'll say yes to everything he says.”

The boy wants to argue, but he must have seen something in her eyes that made him give up.

“Fine.” He promises reluctantly crossing his arms in discontent. Aang sighs in relief and wraps his arms around him, hugging him.

“Thank you” he thanks Zuko, his body trembles and he hates himself for it because he knows Zuko hates it. But Zuko doesn't pull away or tense up, but melts into his embrace.

Aang relaxes. They will be fine.

-

When Aang arrives at the dome that is now the new home of the water tribe after two whole weeks in the Fire Nation, Sokka and Katara rush to greet him with smiles on their faces. He smiles tiredly and hugs them tightly. Katara laughs in his arms and Sokka moans but doesn't pull away from his grip.

Kya and Hakoda look at him worriedly and urge him to rest, noticing the dark circles under Aang's eyes and his disheveled clothes. Aang has never felt more exhausted since he left the glacier and feels like his body is three steps away from collapse.

He has spent those two weeks together with Zuko, every night with hardly any sleep. Zuko was plagued by nightmares and in a delicate emotional state. In the middle of the second week he fell into a very high fever and only yesterday recovered enough to leave his room. Aang left with grief after assuring Zuko that he would be back in two weeks at the latest.

He collapsed on his bed in the small igloo that belonged to him right next to the igloo of Hakoda, Kya and the children, exhausted. His eyelids were heavy as if the world rested on them, but he couldn't close them, Zuko's crying and the constant fear that Ozai would do something to him wouldn't let him sleep.

His body began to tremble, his throat closed and he feels his eyes water as he remembers the argument of two weeks ago. He wants to cry and scream, he feels that wound raw, as if someone had thrown salt in the wound. In a way they did.

He inhales and exhales and closes his eyes tightly, tries to sleep but cannot. Thousands of thoughts run through his mind and he can't shut them out.

A hand lands on his cheek gently. His eyes open and see a small Katara looking at him with concern, standing with some effort and trying to climb into his bed. Sokka at her side looks at him with concern.

“Are you okay?” asks Sokka worriedly.

“Aang!” stammers Katara with a sad face due to his sadness.

He should smile, he should reassure them that he was okay. He should get up, pick Katara up and ruffle Sokka's hair. He should.

He doesn't, his body is leaden and his mind is chaos.

“I'm just a little tired” he assures instead, he doesn't make a move to get up.

Sokka scrunches up his face not seeming to believe him. Katara stammers trying to climb onto the bed, Aang is about to get up to pull her up when Sokka with some effort lifts her sister up enough so she could climb up with the help of Aang's arm dragging her up.

Katara snuggles into his chest contentedly, closing her eyes. Sokka soon joins in and curls up against her sister, trapping Katara in the middle. Sokka doesn't close his eyes and looks worriedly at Aang.

“Did the monster hurt you? Is zuko okay?”

The worry melts Aang, the pain doesn't dissipate or ease, but it's easy to ignore with Sokka and Katara here. “Zuko is fine.”

He doesn't deny that the monster hurt him. Sokka knows this and snuggles even more against his sister.

“Where does it hurt?”

'Everywhere' he wants to say. 'Nowhere' he should say.

“My body isn't hurt, Sokka” he says instead. Sokka frowns at that, tilting his head.

“Where then?”

There's no way to explain this to a child. But Aang does his best. “The monster reached my soul, there is no wound in my body. But my soul...”

It's broken and tired.

“My soul is somewhat wounded. It hurts.”

Sokka's face wrinkles in anguish and he looks like he wants to cry.

“Will you get better?”

Aang smiles softly. “I will eventually.”

Sokka nods and closes his eyes, Aang does the same.

The wound burns, stings, itches and almost seems alive with the way it pulses. It will never fully heal, he will have to carry it his whole life. But Aang is okay with that, he knows he will learn to live with it and in the future, the wound will heal enough to not feel raw and the constant pain he now feels in the future will be a ghost of what it is now.

Aang is not well now, but he knows he will be.

He sleeps soundly that day. When he wakes up it is already night, Katara and Sokka are there, on the floor as they play with their toys without making much noise. Kya is sitting in a chair in the corner of the igloo knitting and Hakoda is carving a piece of wood next to her. There is a heavy blanket over his body making him feel warm.

He will be fine.

This time, Aang believes it.

-

“Azula, you're amazing!” he hears Zuko praise. He lazily opens one of his eyes to contemplate what is happening down on the ground. From his place, hidden in the branches of one of the trees in a courtyard of the palace, he can easily watch Zuko and Azula coexist together and make sure that no unwanted person would arrive.

Security needs to be improved, any assassin with a bit of agility and good height jumps could get in if they wanted to. How the royal family is still alive is a mystery, in these four years he has prevented six assassination attempts on the royal family. He was sure that some were assassins who wanted to kill Azulon or Ozai, but there was no way of knowing and he would not risk them harming Zuko or Azula. Or Ursa, though that was a lesser concern.

He watches little Azula struggle to her feet, her face scrunched up in concentration. Zuko smiles as he claps his hands in cheers and encourages her to take a step closer to him. The scene gives him deja-vu, memories from over three years ago flash behind his eyes as he sees Azula finally reach Zuko with a joyful smile as Zuko clapped and praised her.

He smiles softly, Zuko's birthday is approaching and no incident has occurred yet. Aang can only be grateful that Zuko listened to him, though perhaps Aang shouldn't have doubted him, Zuko has been keeping his existence a secret all his life.

Azula laughs as Zuko attacks her with tickling. Soon Ursa arrives and joins them, Aang closes his eyes and trusts Ursa to watch over them.

He doesn't spend much time dozing before he opens them again when he hears a rock crash into his tree. He opens his eyes in irritation to look down when he sees Azula alone throwing rocks at his tree in annoyance. The scenery confuses him, what about Ursa and Zuko, why did they leave Azula alone?

Soon he sees them, Ursa pointing out to Zuko the turtle ducks in the pond in that beautiful garden. Zuko, distracted by the turtle ducks, doesn't see his sister's anger and discouragement. If Ursa sees it she says nothing, Aang grimaces.

Azula soon approaches the pair and throws away her mother's robe, Ursa welcomes her with a smile and sits her on her lap pointing to the turtle ducks, Aang hears nothing but even he knows she isn't interested in them, she seems bored.

Soon, Zuko and Ursa are laughing together while Azula, who was literally sitting on Ursa's lap, looks down at the ground and seems so out of place in the scene that it is almost painful. Azula is only a year and a half old, how the fuck can a one and a half year old look so sad and lonely?

He averts his gaze quickly, unable to see anymore. Not for the first time he wishes Ursa hadn't appeared on the scene.

-

“A boomerang?"

"A mini one,” Aang answers him. Zuko stares at the small boomerang that is less than his little finger. The little boomerang is attached to a thread woven into a necklace. "Sokka carved it with Hakoda's help especially for you. Katara, with Kya's help, wove the thread."

To be honest, Hakoda and Kya did most of the work. Sokka chose the wood and helped his father with a couple of things while Hakoda did the carving. Katara held the thread while her mother wove. But it didn't matter, the idea was Sokka and Katara's and everyone agreed to give them full credit.

Zuko's eyes sparkle with joy as he puts on the necklace, which sits on his neck perfectly. Zuko smiles as he looks at the necklace around his neck with pride. "How do I look?" asks Zuko with a big smile, stretching out his arms as if to highlight the necklace around his neck.

These days Aang keeps having deha-vu's, a fresher scene flashes across his eyes as he smiles softly. "Perfect"

Zuko's bright eyes and warm laughter are reward enough.

-

The night before Zuko's birthday, a few hours before midnight, Zuko asks:

"What will happen to Azula when I leave?"

His hands, which were arranging Zuko's sheets to make him as comfortable as possible, freeze. "What do you mean?"

"When I go with you, where are Sokka, Katara and her parents." He says, there is not so much sadness in his voice, but tjat doesn't mean it doesn't exist. "Will I see Azula again?"

The last time they talked about this seriously, before Azula's birth, Aang remembers promising that Zuko would be in contact with Ursa by letters, he remembers that it had relieved Zuko. Come to think of it, before the only thing tying Zuko here was his mother. With a sister, would Zuko want to stay? Would he refuse to leave when the time came? Would Aang have to... force him to go with him?

The thought makes him shudder, Aang doesn't want to force Zuko. He doesn't know what he will do if Zuko refuses to leave.

"Yes, you will see her again." Aang replies, that's no lie. Aang has been thinking about Azula for the past few years, he feels conflicted about what to do with her. In another life, Azula was nothing more than the sharpest weapon in the Fire Lord's arsenal, a threat, a monster. But that life isn't this life and that world isn't this one. In this world, Azula is just a child about to turn two.

Zuko relaxes at the confirmation. Not enough, but he does. Zuko trusts that Aang wouldn't hurt him and that he only wants what's best for him, Aang would never betray that and will try to live up to his expectations.

That night, when he leaves after wishing Zuko goodnight, his mind spins on what he should do.

-

Ursa smiles at breakfast, Zuko eats his favorite meal in anticipation. At her request, the cooks cooked all her favorite foods, Zuko was overjoyed when he found out.

Azula next to her ate more quietly, her hands didn't master chopsticks so she used spoon or fork, but she was a smart girl and mastered them with ease. Soon Ursa would allow her to use a dull knife.

The relaxed and lively state of the room shattered like fragile glass as soon as her husband walked through those imposing doors as if he were a king. Ozai walked with airs of grandeur as the servants present bowed their heads in respect, when her husband reached the head of the table where he always sat, he sat with elegance and such drama that her husband might as well be an actor if he wanted to develop those gifts further.

After moments of silence while everyone ate with the best manners to avoid disturbing her husband, Ozai watched her son intently. He said nothing as he ate in silence but his apathetic eyes never left his son. It made her hair stand on end and she wanted to divert his attention, but she didn't because she knew better than to do that.

Zuko said nothing of his attention, but Ursa knows he noticed by the way his hands were stiff even when his body was relaxed. Zuko knows better than to react in fear to his father. Fear is weakness, a weakness that Ozai would painfully extripate if he ever showed it even if it was towards him. Ozai after all is not a kind man.

It was times like those where Ursa wanted to cry, her son was just four years old and had to suppress fear, anger or sadness to keep Ozai from yelling at him.

Ozai just yelling at him would actually be a mercy.

Breakfast passes in silence, no one dares to even breathe loudly until that monster silently leaves without even congratulating the birthday boy, though Zuko doesn't seem to mind.

Everyone, including the servants, exhale in relief and Ursa can only be thankful that her husband didn't make a scene. Even Azula seems more relaxed when that monster is gone.

The day passes normally, they go to greet Azulon briefly so that he may greet the birthday boy. Azulon bids them farewell after a vague and emotionless greeting that makes Ursa's blood boil. They spend the afternoon in the imperial garden at the turtle duck pond, Ursa packs a picnic for the afternoon and watches with warmth in her chest as her children play in the grass. Zuko pretends to be the terrifying Dark Water Spirit with a mask Ursa doesn't remember buying him while Azula pretends to be the good Dragon Emperor with his own mask.

Azula doesn't know about the play or its plot other than that she is good and Zuko is bad. Ursa has to take them together to see the play.

They laugh out loud and when they are exhausted they return to her arms to rest. She waits for them with water and food and laughs at their jokes. The grains of sand slip away and Ursa lets them flow for the first time, not wanting the paranoia and pain of her countdown to ruin Zuko's day.

She doesn't have to do anything in the end, Ozai ends up ruining it.

"Servants out." Ozai says during the family dinner. Ursa blinks in surprise, Azula who and Zuko look at their father with confusion. The servants leave as fast as the order was given without looking back, Ursa wishes she and her children could leave too. "Zuko, come here."

The call freezes her and she looks with wary eyes at Ozai, who stands and walks a few steps away from the table where they are eating. Zuko is no better off than she is, her hands shaking but she nods.

"Yes, father." It will always break Ursa's heart to see her son being so formal with his father. She doesn't blame him of course, it's the fault of the monster she has for a husband.

Zuko stands and walks to his father slowly. When Zuko finally stands in front of Ozai, Ozai speaks:

"Do you know how old you are, Zuko?" His voice is full of disdain and Ursa freezes, she knows Ozai is up to something and she knows it's not good. She wants to stand up and face him, but her body does not respond.

"Four,” Zuko answers with confusion.

"Yes, four,” the contempt increases and his tone makes his little son flinch. That was a mistake, Ozai's eyes sharpen and look at him angrily. "Four and you still don't produce a single flame, Zuko, do you know how humiliating that is?"

His son lowers his head, his eyes crystallize and his hands tremble. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me when I talk to you!"Ozai raises his voice and her son shrinks into himself before looking up. His eyes on the verge of tears and Ursa thinks maybe Ozai will have mercy and let him go. Zuko is his son, he wouldn't be so cruel to his-

A thud is heard. Then it is silence.

Zuko's face is looking towards the doors when a moment ago they were looking towards the front where his father was. Ozai's hand was firmly flat and raised high. The monster's eyes gleam in disappointment as they looked at Zuko.

Ursa understood after a few seconds that Ozai had just slapped his son. Zuko's cheek was turning a furious red, tears were falling from his face silently, his son's body didn't tremble or shrink.

Even Azula, who watched the whole demonstration in silence, didn't dare to say anything.

"Are you crying? It can't be that I have such a shameful heir, Zuko. I barely touched you."

Zuko says nothing, his tears fall silently and nods to everything Ozai says, but Ozai is not satisfied. "Give me your hand Zuko."

Her son's body shakes at the command, his terrified eyes never leaving the dining hall doors. He seems to wish for someone to come in and stop this, for someone to take him and comfort him, but there is no savior to come and her son's body shakes even when her son seems to try with all his might to get himself to stop.

"I said give me your hand!" Ozai yells and Ursa shrinks where she sits, her body shaking. Azula seems three seconds away from crying. Zuko quickly gives Ozai his shaking hand and seems two seconds away from kneeling and begging for forgiveness. "Look at me when I talk to you, Zuko."

Zuko looks at him, his eyes filled with tears, his cheek red from the force of the blow. Ozai takes no pity at the sight, instead he seems satisfied by the damage.

Ozai's hand closes on Zuko's small wrist, soon smoke begins to rise from it and Zuko begins to whimper and writhe in pain. Only then Ursa notices Ozai burning him.

Even then, Zuko doesn't beg for mercy. He knows better than that.

“Let this be a reminder of how shameful you were this year. Let this day be a reminder of how much you have dishonored me by not summoning even the tiniest bit of flame, Zuko. Understood?” Ozai’s voice is icy, Zuko squirms but bites his lip not daring to scream.

When Ozai lets go, his son’s legs shake wildly. He doesn’t collapse, but Ursa knows it’s just because her son’s sheer force of will.

Zuko shakes wildly but doesn’t collapse in tears or cradle his wrist as he is released. Small but surely stinging burns throb on his wrist and Ursa can only thank the spirits that the burns don’t seem severe, but like the ones someone's get from being in the sun’s rays for too long.

At least it won’t leave any marks, Ursa feels horrible to be relieved by that.

“Understood, Zuko?” the monster repeats.

It takes Zuko a few seconds to answer, but his voice is small when he says, “Yes, father.”

“Go to your room and stay there until tomorrow. Spare me the embarrassment of seeing your face.”

He doesn’t have to tell Zuko twice, Zuko leaves as quickly as Ozai kicked him out.

Ursa remains stuck in her spot, Azula motionless beside her. Ozai sits at the head of the table and begins to eat as if nothing happened, as if he hadn’t slapped his son, as if he hadn’t burned him. Ursa’s heart breaks when she can’t bring herself to yell at him, scold him, or go find her son.

“I don’t want you to visit Zuko until tomorrow, if I hear you visited him it will be worse for him. Understood?”

Ursa curses herself and her cowardice as she says, “Yes, Ozai.”

She remains frozen at the table in the same position like a statue, her mind unable to fully process what happened. She remains there long after Ozai leaves and the maids kindly take Azula to sleep.

Ozai hit Zuko, her little Zuko, her beloved son.

Ozai burned her beautiful, innocent Zuko. Her adorable son.

And she did nothing to defend him.

That spirit's words burn raw in her mind, guilt blooming and not stopping until it devours everything. Tears fall without her being able to stop them, the servants pretending not to see it as they clear away the dishes.

—

When Aang enters Zuko's room that night he finds him doing a strange version of katas that Aang knows don't exist. He wonders if Zuko is entering the phase where he feels the need to create fire. He doesn't like the idea, it makes him anxious, What did Ozai do to make his son feel the need to learn firebending?

Aang notices that Zuko is wearing a long black shirt that covers the back of his hands. Aang remembers that it was a gift from his Uncle Iroh when he came to visit, but Iroh thought Zuko was older than he actually is and gave him clothes that were too big for him. He remembers laughing hard at the sight of the huge clothes as Zuko slapped his small hand on his arm as revenge for laughing. His lips stretch affectionately at the memory.

Although it was strange to see him wear those clothes, Aang never thought Zuko would wear one, he knew Zuko hated things that were too big because they made him feel small. Although he really is.

He approaches quietly and soon, when he is close enough, he places his hand on his shoulder.

“Zuko, I’m here!” he announces excitedly, Zuko stops his katas with a squeak of surprise and almost trips if Aang hadn’t had quick reflexes and managed to catch him before his head slammed into the edge of a nearby piece of furniture.

Aang’s heart pounds hard in fear. Everything happened so fast and Aang can only be thankful that he reacted quickly enough. His arms, which had been at Zuko's sides, wrap around his body tightly as he pulls Zuko close to his chest. The moment when Zuko's head nearly crashed into the edge of a piece of furniture replays over and over again in his mind and Aang can only tremble in fear. Who knows what could have happened if Zuko had fallen? If he couldn't catch Zuko fast enough?

Thanks to the spirits, he can only think that while he tightens his grip.

“Spirits, Zuko! Be more careful, you almost hurt yourself-!” Aang begins to shakily scold Zuko. Zuko squirms, trying to get away from his hold as Aang raises a hand to his face to make sure there is no damage to his head. Zuko feels the hand approaching his face and freezes suddenly. His hand stops. “Zuko?”

Zuko doesn’t respond, he’s frozen in Zuko’s arms and Aang can feel that even his breathing is too controlled to be right, as if he’s afraid of disturbing him. His arms around Zuko tighten a little and Aang does his best to fight the urge to squeeze him against his chest, there’s something instinctive in him that just wants to hide Zuko against his chest from the world and eliminate anyone who comes near. Zuko still doesn’t respond, motionless in Zuko’s arms.

What’s wrong? Why isn’t Zuko responding or moving? Zuko’s eyes are lost in a fixed point in nothingness. He doesn't understand what's happening to him and his chest twists in pain. Aang doesn't know what's happening and he doesn't know how to make it better.

"Zuko, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asks softly, looking into his eyes, but Zuko doesn't return his gaze. His eyes are still staring at a fixed point in nothingness, his body still motionless and his breathing is almost imperceptible. It's as if his body is instinctively frozen.

Frozen, he thinks, he heard about it. He searches through his memories trying to remember. He does.

In the other world Katara had briefly mentioned this when they were at the North Pole while she was learning to heal people. He remembers her telling him how Yagoda explained to her different types of conditions that water benders couldn't heal, like psychological wounds. He remembers her telling him that there are different types of trauma responses according to Yagoda, as well as different responses to dangerous or stressful situations.

Aang tries hard to remember the types she mentioned. He remembers one was running away, with which he had related a lot. The other was fighting, the most common. The other was flattery?

And freezing.

He can't remember more even when he tries. He vaguely understands that freezing means that the person can't respond to a situation so they just freeze. He doesn't know if this can be called a freeze response or if Zuko is just too shocked by what just happened. After all, he almost hit his head on a sharp edge of a piece of furniture. But Aang has a sneaking suspicion that Zuko's lack of response isn't about that.

Katara in that world never told him what to do right now. Aang wants to kick his otherworldly self for not digging deeper. His arms start to shake but he forces himself to calm down. He can't allow himself to panic, no one else would come to help.

"Zuko? Do you hear me?" No response. He doesn't know what to do, Zuko literally doesn't respond. His body wants to shake but he forces himself to stay relaxed.

He takes a deep breath and prays to all the spirits he knows not to make things worse. “Zuko, I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he says slowly, praying that Zuko will listen. Gently and carefully, his arms slide to Zuko’s sides and lift him up as he stands up from the ground with some difficulty. “Well, that’s better,” he murmurs as they place Zuko back on his chest. Zuko still doesn’t move and doesn’t respond, Aang doesn’t know if that’s better or worse.

Silence filled them, Aang stood for a long moment, still and waiting for Zuko to respond. But the boy in his arms didn’t move or relax against his chest, there’s a phantom pain in Aang as he realizes that this is the first time Zuko didn’t relax in his arms.

“Well, I’m going to walk around the room Zuko,” he warns before starting to walk slowly but surely in circles around the room.

Minutes pass and everything is still silent, Zuko is still frozen and doesn't respond or relax and Aang doesn't know whether to cry or scream. What was going on?

He doesn't know what to do, so he searches through his memories trying to find something that will help him with this situation. A brief memory of the monk Gyatso singing to babies under a year old to comfort them in one of their nightly tantrums appears in his mind and, measuring his voice so that it is soft and not loud or too strong, he begins to hum.

The song thankfully has no lyrics, or at least not lyrics that other people understand. The song was a song in the language of the air, sounds that portrayed the sound of gusts of wind and breeze interspersed with soft melodies that rose and fell. Nostalgia hits him as he hums the song, cradling Zuko to his chest as he rocked him back and forth trying to comfort him.

After an eternity of repeating the song over and over, Zuko's body finally relaxes and his breathing finally becomes more like that of a child than a dying bird. He sighs in relief between the lines of the song but continues humming. The lyrics are a ghost of what they were when Gyatso sang them, but that's okay because it worked, it managed to relax Zuko.

“Zuko?” he begins tentatively. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears break through his clothes and wet his shoulder. At this point, Aang should be used to this, but he doesn’t think it will ever stop hurting to see the boy in his arms cry. Aang doesn’t know what hurts more, when Zuko cries loudly, like if someone has ripped a piece of his soul out of him, or when Zuko cries silently, bottling everything up for fear that someone will hurt him if he cries too hard.

He waits a few moments hoping for Zuko to respond, when he doesn’t he presses cautiously. “Zuko, you can tell me anything, I won’t be mad.” Not at him at least. Ozai and Ursa were two very different stories.

It was Zuko’s fourth birthday, by the spirits. He was supposed to greet a joyful birthday boy, not a frozen Zuko not knowing how to respond. His arms tighten around him trying to be an anchor, when Zuko doesn’t respond he sighs. He walks over to Zuko's bed and gently places him on it, Zuko allows it.

He takes Zuko's hands and Zuko shudders, his body begins to shake as if Aang had hit him and Aang quickly releases the boy's hands but it's too late. Zuko begins to sob and hiccup half-hearted apologies while his hands didn't stop shaking.

"I'm sorry," Zuko blurts out. "I'm so sorry," his voice is too broken for this to be the first time he cries at night. A déjà vu from a few months ago revolutionized his mind, in these last few months it seemed like dejá vú's would happen too often.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks quietly. Muffled noises come out of Zuko's throat, shattered as he's never heard them before, not even a few months ago when Zuko was afraid of being evil.

"Father- father scares me!" Zuko sobs into his hands. "I'm so sorry!" He apologizes as if he had sinned, as if he had murdered someone or as if he had condemned someone. Aang still doesn't understand why Zuko is so distraught, did his father do something? "Why- why am I this scared?" Zuko asks, looking at his hands as if he can't understand what happens to him. As if something is wrong with him for being afraid of that monster.

For Zuko it probably is.

"Zuko-" He tries to comfort him, but his eyes focus on his cheeks and he stops.

Aang soon notices that one of Zuko's cheeks is red and marked in the shape of a hand too large and rough to be some rough blow from Azula. His hands that floated helplessly in the air not knowing where to land without doing more damage freeze. His eyes sharpen as he inspect as best he can without getting close to the mark on Zuko's cheek.

It's like the temperature in the room drops when he realizes that the mark is actually a hand-shaped bruise that's too big to be from some rough play he had with Azula. Suddenly, all he can feel is anger.

Spirits, no, Aang thinks as he feels the air in the room turn sharp. Spirits, don't let that what Aang is thinking be true. Spirits, he almost pray, please let him be wrong.

“Zuko, who did that to you?” His voice is soft and sweet, nothing like the storm in his mind as he glares at the bruise blooming on Zuko’s cheek. He doesn’t ask what it is, Aang isn’t that stupid, but he needs to know who it was. Maybe Azula was rougher, maybe Zuko fell-

No one would be that cruel. Not even Ozai’s monster would hit a four-year-old, right?

Spirits, he prays, let him be wrong.

Zuko flinches and shrinks despite the soft, sugary tone he’d used, Zuko lifts his head and looks at him with hidden fear.

“If I tell you, will you be mad?”

“Not at you,” he promises. Never at Zuko. Who did this? Well, that’s another thing.

Zuko scrunches his face and shakes his head. “You can’t be mad at anyone.”

Aang wants to scream and shake the boy by the shoulders, he can’t ask him to do something like that. Aang needs to do something about this, he needs to get angry at the culprit and make him pay for every tear shed. Wrath wells up and he knows that if it was his other life, he would have already entered the avatar state. He takes a deep breath and nods regretfully.

“I won’t.” Aang promise him with grief. Zuko debates whether to believe him or not, his face remains soft and he forces himself not to show any anger. After a few moments, Zuko nods in relief.

“Father- father is angry,” Zuko began and it took all of Aang’s strength to not just go and finish Ozai once and for all. His chest tightened as Zuko’s arms wrapped around himself. “I didn’t make any flames,” he said as if that explained the fucking slap or the abuse, “he said I was a disgrace.” Zuko’s eyes glazed over and he held back his tears even though he had already shed thousands before. “I’m a bad guy! That's because father is mad at me!

He can't help it, his hands will move on their own and land on Zuko's shoulders. Zuko flinches at his touch but Aang can't back away, his voice sounds desperate as he tells him:

“Don’t you ever say that again! Don’t you ever in your life dare say that you’re bad or a disgrace or any stupid thing your father says!” he raises his voice and Zuko looks at him, fear in his eyes and he seems smaller than he should even be now. Aang can only think of how he wishes he had taken the boy that night when he was a baby. In the Southern Water Tribe, no one would ever do that to him. No one would hurt him.

Zuko is only four years old, who the fuck hits their four year old son for not making fire? Most firebenders give their first call between the ages of five and seven. That was too far off! That damn monster, Aang is sure Ozai didn't produce his flame until he was seven and that's why he's just taking it out on his son with impossible expectations.

It's not fair, he wants to scream and he doesn't know who he wants to scream off. His eyes want to water, he wants to let his grief fall physically but Aang can't. Aang is the adult between the two and if he collapses Zuko will only get worse and he can't allow himself to do that. If Aang collapses Zuko will think it's his fault and never tell him anything again.

Tears want to fall, his throat burns and Aang wants to scream, break something, cry, anything. It's not fair, this isn't fair to Zuko.

(It's not fair to him)

"He... he said it would be a reminder of the shame I am!" Zuko hiccups disconsolately, he continues to look at him expecting a violent reaction, but Aang knows better than that, so he just opens his arms, urging him to hug him. Zuko hesitates for a second before jumping into his chest, Aang closes his arms around him as the words of the boy in his arms repeat themselves until they burn into his mind.

All life is sacred, he thinks fervently, all life is sacred except that monster's life. Aang won't kill him, no. Ozai will live to regret even being born.

"He should never have said that to you," he assures Zuko as his hand caresses his hair. “He’s wrong Zuko, do you understand? He’s wrong about you, you’re not a disgrace. You never will be.”

He lets the muffled sounds, the sobs and the crying wash over him. His arms wrap around the boy trying to hold him together. To hold them together.

“Did he do anything else to you? Any other injuries?” His voice is velvety and nothing but soft as he carefully pulls away from the boy in his arms so he can see his face. His hand comes up slow and careful making sure Zuko can see it coming, when it finally lands on his face Zuko doesn’t flinch or shake under his touch but instead melts into Aang’s palm seeking comfort.

Aang sighs as they both snuggle together, his back against the wall and Zuko in his lap looking up at him with watery, shattered eyes.

He slightly removes his hand from Zuko's cheek and with a movement the water that was contained in a glass on the nightstand floats to Zuko's cheek and rests there, Aang soon places his hand back on his cheek making sure the water stays in the affected area before controlling the water to heal Zuko.

"It's cold," Zuko complains quietly but doesn't escape his hold, soon his cheek no longer has that swelling or reddish color. Zuko's eyes widen in surprise at the lack of pain and Aang smiles weakly. His mind felt like a mess and he just wants to finish Ozai off, but he can't, because he needs the bastard to take the damn throne to end the damn war once and for all.

The only reason Ozai is in his bed sleeping and not under Aang's careful treatments was because he needed that monster to take the throne. Because the promise he did with the spirit within him.

"I know," he replied lovingly as he cradled Zuko in his chest once he finished healing the wound. "Do you have any other wounds?" Zuko shakes his head, but Aang can feel his body tensing in his arms. He sighs tiredly. "Zuko, don't lie, do you have another wound?"

After a few moments of silence the boy nods almost embarrassed, Aang carefully separates him from his chest and observes him seriously. "Where are you hurt?"

Zuko's eyes are already crystal clear, but now they seem like oceans. The golden color of these is overshadowed by the contained tears. He seems embarrassed and sad.

Zuko's arm rises slowly, his little face turns red as he lifts the cloth of his arm in shame. Reddish marks greet him on his wrists, the marks are long and separated. Soon he process that those are finger marks, tight and aggressive fingers grabbed the tender and soft skin of the boy and held him tightly while they were burning Zuko's skin.

Aang can only see red.

Ozai burned Zuko. Zuko, who is four years old, Zuko, who never did anything to deserve this, Zuko who must have barely understood what he did to deserve this. Ozai burned him until he left marks on his skin and in his mind. Ozai branded the words of shame into this child.

What destroys him the most is knowing that Zuko believes every single word that bastard had said to him.

Aang failed, he failed. He promised that the child would never be consumed by the flames of his bastard father. He swore that the child would never live with the shadow of that man hanging over his head and that he wouldn't have a monster haunting him in his mind all the time, pouring poison into him that would destroy him sooner rather than later. He had promised not to let the boy die in the flames of his father's monster and he failed. He failed and before his eyes the proof of his failure, the twisted burns, hugging the tender and innocent skin of the boy as if they were second nature.

His stomach twists, memories of the other world flood his head. Memories of that Zuko being mistreated by his horrible sister and father to the point that burns were a normal part of his life. Memories of the helplessness of being just a spectator unable to intervene.

He remembers saying that if he had been there, it would never have happened.

But in the end it happened, didn't it?

His tattoos flickered, one second they glowed and the next they didn't, his face must have a neutral expression still luckily because Zuko didn't move away from him, but instead looked at him with confusion and surprise.

"Did your father do this to you?" he asks and there is no softness in his voice anymore, no forced impartiality, no false calm. Anger seeps around the edges and burns his throat, it's only a wonder Zuko is too surprised to detect it.

"Uh- I- yes," Zuko murmurs, lowering his head with sadness. His eyes fixed on the burns on his wrist. "I was bad."

The water floats up again, this time from the vase next to the glass, and lands hard on his arm. Zuko is speechless as he watches the water on his wrist writhe as if it was desperate to remove the burns. Aang's hand rests on his wrist, gently forcing the water to quickly heal the burn.

"Hurts?" he asks, his voice cracking. Zuko looks up and shakes his head, smiling but it seems forced and it makes Aang's chest shudder.

"Not so much!" Zuko tries not to worry without knowing that it will only break him even more. "Don't be so sad, it doesn't hurt that much! Father-" His voice falters, unsure of what to say. Aang interrupted him.

“Your father is a bad man,” he finally says, his tones harsh. Zuko opens his eyes in surprise, His face contorts, looking betrayed.

The boy fervently shakes his head. “He’s not!” he shouts, and Aang makes a motion to silence the room with his airbending.

Zuko’s face is filled with hurt and betrayal, but his eyes glisten with the hope that Aang will say he’s joking, that he’ll take it back and agree. Whether he lies or backs down, Zuko trusts him more than he trusts Ursa or Ozai, and Aang knows that if he tells him Ozai is evil, Zuko will believe him even if he doesn’t want to.

Aang hates using that, but he can’t allow Zuko’s toxic thinking of ‘if father hurts me, then it’s okay’ continue any longer.

Aang should have done this a long time ago. “Yes, Zuko. That man is evil, he should have never done this. This is something only bad people do-"

“Shut up!” Zuko exclaims and pulls at his wrist, trying to get away. Aang squeezes his wrist just enough to keep him in place, moves the hand that isn’t healing him and places it on his back to pull him towards him and stop him from running away. “No! Let me go! You’re lying! Liar!” he shouts furiously.

But Aang can see his eyes twitch, can feel his movements falter. Zuko knows Aang is right.

“I’m not lying, Zuko.” The burns are finally fading, Zuko’s skin is only a little tanned and will heal in a couple of days. The hand holding his wrist moves to the cheek where Zuko’s wound used to be. The movement, along with the soft comfort of the touch of his hand that does nothing but rest there, freezes the kid.

Aang takes a deep breath, ready to burn Zuko’s world to ashes. Ready to be there to comfort him when there’s nothing left of Zuko’s blind bond of love for his father. Ready to hurt him beyond repair for his own sake. Aang wants to stop, but he can’t let these toxic thoughts of Zuko go on like this, no, he must nip them in the bud. So he forces himself to speak the harsh, cruel truth he’s kept to himself until now and says:

“Zuko, listen to me, ypur father is a bad person and a horrible father. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Never about this.”

Zuko's face scrunches up in anguish and he shakes his head, Aang wishes he could calm him down, wishes he could tell him that his father is actually a good person or at least a decent one. But he can't, he can't lie to him. Aang has been avoiding the subject his whole life, no more. This was too much, if he can't finish Ozai or take Zuko, then he'll make sure Zuko understands that this isn't his fault, it's his father's.

"But- but father- he loves me-" Zuko's lip trembles. Aang's eyes sting and his throat feels open, his chest aches as it contorts and feels like it's being burned, how do you explain to a child that his father really couldn't care less?

"Maybe he will," he says noncommittally. "But even if he do, that doesn't make this-" He takes his wrist and his hand still resting on his cheek presses the previously injured area gently. "-right, Zuko. He never had to do this to you. Never."

He lets the statement fall, silence filling the room heavily and he can see the exact moment where Zuko breaks. His body crumbles with the truth that his dad was wrong to hit him or anything he did to him.

“I was so scared!” he sobs loudly as the tears can’t stop. “I’m always scared!” he blurts out between choked sounds. “Why am I scared?”

“It shouldn’t feel like this,” he promises. “He shouldn’t make yourself feel like this, Zuko.”

His arms surround Zuko and the boy melts into them, allowing Aang to cradle him against his chest and this time he doesn't fight or hold back.

"I want to leave," Zuko says between sobs. "Aang, I want to leave, he's scary! I don't want to be here anymore! I thought he'd be less scary someday! But-!" His body shudders at a memory that Aang can't access. "But I don't want to be near him anymore! I want to go with Katara, Sokka and his parents!" He pleads as he hides in his arms and tries to melt deeper into his warmth. "Please, I want to leave! I don't want to be with father anymore! I want to be with you! Take me with you to the south pole! Please Aang!" Zuko's voice is broken, a truth that was hidden and repressed finally comes to light between sobs and tears.

He wants to say yes, there's nothing he wants more than that. But the promise weighs on his head, he doesn't really care about breaking it, but he knows that if they leave now Zuko will regret it and will want to go back because of the guilt of not having said goodbye to his sister or Ursa.

"When you're five," He promises, fighting the urge to take Zuko and leave that nest of monsters. "when you're five we'll go. I promise."

The boy doesn't argue or plead anymore, he just keeps crying his eyes out. Aang hugs him tightly and holds on to him like an anchor. He repeats to himself 'when he turns five' like an anthem. He holds on to his sanity to keep from falling into the avatar state and doing something he may not regret but that costs innocent lives.

'When he's five' he repeats loudly 'when he's five I'll take him with me to the south pole'.

He repeats the mantra the rest of the night, he gets closer to the boy even when he finally collapses in his arms and fall asleep.

—

Later, Zuko feels horrible for wanting to leave. He feels guilty for seeing his father, and feeling nothing but fear and wanting to run as far away from him as possible.

In the end, fear finally won over Zuko's love for his father.

Ursa will never know, but that day was where her son's trust in her was broken and where Zuko stopped seeing her as a true, trustworthy adult. She also won't know that her lack of intervention was what made Zuko finally accept the idea of leaving in order to abandon that cold palace and the horrible monster that lived there.

Neither Ursa nor Ozai will ever know, but in the future, Zuko will have more memories of Aang and his family in the South Pole than of them and the only thing he will remember of each of them will be a sad smile and aggressive hands. In the future, Ozai will be nothing more than a bad, blurred memory and Ursa will be nothing more than a shaky, blurred memory.

Chapter Text

Zuko is four years old and has a friend.

His mother doesn't know of his existence and neither does his father. Although even if his mother would someday know, he doubts his father would. He doesn't see him too much, Aang calls him 'neglectful', he doesn't understand what that means at first, but Aang explains to him that it means he is not present with him. Sometimes he defends his father, telling Aang that he is busy with work, but Aang never seems to believe him.

Zuko didn't really believe himself either. But it was his father who Aang talked about, even if he was scary and terrifying it was his father. Even if Zuko didn't want to be around him, he felt bad for not defending him a little.

His mother doesn't know about Aang's existence, no one does. Zuko doesn't understand why, Aang is cool, he's funny and is a lot of fun being around him. He knows that if mom knew him, she would love him. But Aang is very against his existence being known and Zuko doesn't want to make Aang sad, so he doesn't say anything.

For as long as he can remember, Aang has taught him that his existence must be a secret to everyone and that no one must know because otherwise his father will push him away. Zuko doesn't want that, he doesn't want to make Aang sad or be pushed away, so Zuko remains silent and if mom asks where he knows of things he shouldn't know, Zuko says the maids told him.

Zuko is not sure when Aang appeared in his life, he has memories of him even from before he walked. He remembers the blurry shape of his sideways smile, his bright eyes and his dimples when he laughs. He remembers his hands holding him gently and lifting him up, his voice telling him all kinds of stories and his warm hugs. He remembers clay deforming in his hands like mace as he made figures to play with. Above all, his earliest memories are the security of their arms around him, the melody of a forgotten song and the warmth of melting and hiding in his chest.

In fact, if he concentrates, he thinks he can recall more memories of his early days with Aang there instead of his mother. He remembers her songs and the times she cradled him in her arms. However, he remembers even more the times Aang would lift him into the air with his arms, he remembers everything from their combined laughter to his graceful hands forming his clay figures, all carefully tucked away to this day, hidden under a loose board under his bed in his chest of secrets. According to Aang, all the little gifts he once gave him are there.

Zuko wonders if this is a normal thing, if it was normal to have more vivid and beautiful memories of a person who is not his mother. If it's not, is it his fault?

“Who? ”Azula asks with curious eyes as she looks at his drawing closely. His body tenses and his first instinct is to hide his drawing, no one must know of Aang's existence, not even Azula. His sister looks at him sadly, her eyes fill with tears as she watches him hide his drawing from her and her lip trembles.

Well, Azula is his sister and she can barely speak, surely she's fine. Besides, she's only two and a half.

“But you can't tell anyone, Lala, it's our secret!” he makes her promise earnestly. Her sister nods excitedly. “You can't tell anyone!” he was the same age when Aang explicitly told him, it should be okay, right?

“Okay!” Azula promises easily with a big smile.

He sighs and hopes he's not making a mistake as he lets Azula look at his drawing, which portrays him, with his red tunic and a ponytail, next to a young boy in orange robes and a brown cane. Azula wrinkles her face in annoyance and looks at him.

“Who?” she repeats louder. Zuko looks both ways, making sure no one is listening before he approaches his sister's ear.

“He's Aang, he's my best friend in the whole world.“ He whispers in his sister's ear.
Azula looks at the drawing and her eyes water. He looks at her confused.

“I don't like it!” she shouts, her hands clench on the sheet and his own hands move to snatch the drawing from her before she tears it up. Azula gets even angrier and jumps to take the drawing back.

“Lala! Calm down!” he scolds her but that only makes her face become more determined. “What is it that you don't like?”

“I'm not!” his sister finally blurts out. Their arms cross as they sit down, giving up. Her eyes are watery and she seems determined not to cry even though she looks quite sad.

He blinks in confusion. 'I'm not?' What does that mean?

He looks at her drawing, trying to figure out what made his sister angry, then opens his eyes in understanding. His sister wasn't in the drawing, she was nowhere in there and she was upset that Zuko called Aang his best friend and didn't include her there. He sighed and held back a chuckle.

“Sorry Azula, look.” He takes a brush and begins to paint her as carefully as possible while being quick at the same time so as not to make her sister impatient. Azula tries to keep her eyes closed, determined to ignore him. But she is still two years old and a curious child, she peers over his shoulders to see.

When he finishes his drawing, he finally lifts it up with a smile before extending it to Azula. Next to him in the painting, Azula was holding his hand just as Aang was holding his. A smile decorated her face, her other hand was raised and small flames were coming out of it. “Look! It's you!”

Azula stared at the drawing for a few seconds before smiling, forgetting her former anger as she snatched the paper from him and inspected it. After a long moment staring at the drawing, Azula squeezed it gently between her hands and hugged it to her chest. “Mine!”

Sigh, well. At least his drawing wouldn't be destroyed, he could always draw another one, couldn't he? He nods at his sister's words. “Yes, it's yours now.”

His sister smiles even more.

-

Aang's hand lands right in front of him, palm up and just above it a small vibrant orange flame is born. He does his best to hold his breath, staring mesmerized at the beautiful flame and getting as close as possible to see it head on. Aang smiles that quiet smile of his as he makes sure he doesn't get too close.

“Fire control comes from breath. “Aang says softly.
His hand moves a little and the flame gets smaller. “Breath is the most important thing for a firebender, if you know how to control your breath, then you have half the equation solved.”

He looks at Aang curiously. “What's the other half?” he asks.

Aang's smile grows. “The emotion.”

He blinks, he expected his answer to be movement or technique. Anything but that, his teachers have been repeating to him that technique and movement are everything for a firebender. Even when Zuko hasn't produced a single flame, his mother insists that at least for now he could learn theory in what he expected his own flame to be. The teachers weren't bad, but they were brusque and didn't like questions. With them for the most part it was either understand them on the first try or get an annoyed look.

Aang recently found out about his new teachers and decided to help him as well. These days, Aang was leaving much earlier since Zuko was waking up earlier, but it was okay because Aang was coming much earlier, so the hours together didn't diminish much.

“The emotion?” their teachers said something similar, but they said the emotion was everything. They didn't say much about the breath.

The fire goes out as Aang nods, his hand moves and rests on Aang's chest as he whispers as if telling a secret. “Technique and movement is important. But emotion is more so, after all firebenders create their flames from their emotions, increase it through their breath and then with their movements and technique direct and control it.”

He hums, trying to absorb everything Aang tells him with force. Aang is more patient than his teachers and doesn't seem irritated when he doesn't understand something the first time, he doesn't mind repeating himself and his voice is so soft that it makes Zuko feel calm and not nervous or anxious.

His face scrunches up in confusion. Aang says that a firebender's flame is born from emotion and then the breath increases it, but the masters said that the flame comes entirely from a master's emotion, that the stronger and more powerful the emotion, the greater it would be. “The masters said that the flame was pure emotion.”

Aang's hand perched on his shoulder tightens a little on his shoulder before loosening quickly, Aang looks regretful immediately and his arms wrap around him and lift him into his arms. Zuko should whine and tell him he's not a baby anymore, but Aang's chest is warm and secure and Zuko can't help but melt there even when he's not a baby anymore.

“Well, your teachers are wrong about this. Emotion is a very important part of firebending, but it's not everything. Breathing is just as important as emotion, imagine trying to fan little sparks without any kindling.”

Zuko imagines it, he has seen the cooks in the royal kitchen. None of them have fire control to light a fire, so they use rocks to form sparks on wood that would be food for those small flames.

“It would be difficult.”

“And very exhausting.” Continued Aang in agreement. “It might be possible, yes. But it saps energy and is more inefficient than using emotion and breath together.”

Breathing and emotion. It was different from what his teachers said, but Aang always seemed older and more mature than any other adult he had ever met with the exception of his uncle. It was hard to imagine that he was lying or wrong. Aang never spoke without knowing and always told him when he wasn't sure about something.

Aang was confident and trustworthy. Zuko knows that if Aang said so, it must be so, so he confides in him a doubt he's been holding onto since his firebending tutorship began. “Should we be angry? Is anger the best emotion?”

The slow, careful movements that rocked him stop for an instant. Zuko peels himself off his chest so he can see his face, Aang looks at him but his eyes seem lost in distant memories for a few moments before his eyes clear and really look at him, then he smiles and shakes his head.

“No, anger is not the best emotion. It's a strong and intense emotion so it's quite practical. Most firebenders believe that anger is the best and most effective emotion for firebending, but it's not true. It's just more intense.”

“But everyone uses it!” he grumbles offhandedly. Aang lets out a chuckle.

“It's kind of like a bad habit they have in my opinion. That is also due to the belief that firebenders' fire comes almost entirely from their emotion and not so much from their breath. They try to create bigger sparks with bigger rocks without adding as much kindling as is necessary.”

Frustration is born in your chest. He doesn't understand. “I don't understand,” he mutters in embarrassment. Aang looks at him kindly and then nods humming.

“Well, then...” Aang begins as he sits on the floor with him in his lap. “Look at it this way, the flame needs stones to produce a spark and firewood where those sparks fall to feed them, no?”

“Yes.” He nods vigorously, that part he had been able to understand well.

“Well, the stones are the emotions and the firewood is the breath, no?” he explains gently as he runs his hands down his sides and in front of him forms a small flame. “Well, some people think they have to use only emotions to feed the flame and make it grow. So they think they only have to use stones to create fire. ”

He looks at the flame in Aang's hand as he hums in understanding. “But they need the wood so it can grow, not just the stones.”

“Exactly!” exclaims Aang proudly. “They need the firewood, the breath, too. But because they think the wood is not so necessary, they don't use it as much as they should. It's like using bigger rocks to produce bigger sparks, they rely on strong emotions to strengthen and grow the flame.”

That made sense, the masters always talked about using anger as fuel for the fire. But that always sounded exhausting to him, being angry all the time sounded exhausting and bad. Having Aang confirm to him that he doesn't really have to just use anger to make fire control was good.

Although, he thinks grimly, he wasn't even sure if this would do him any use. Everyone seemed sure he didn't have an inner flame.

“What's wrong, why the long face?” the voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he raises his head to look at the older boy, who had a worried face.

“Dad and the teachers say it's a waste to learn this because I have no flame.”

Aang's face looks a little scary for a few moments before softening. “Trust me, you have an inner flame. I know.”

His face scrunches up in confusion, even sages doubt his ability to do firebending or have an inner flame. How could Aang be so sure of that? Well, Aang always seemed to have a lot of knowledge, looking as wise as his uncle at times.

“Well... “he muttered, doubtful for the first time of what Aang was telling him. The airbender must have noticed that because the flame went out and Aang's arms went around his stomach, pressing his chest against Aang's back.

“Trust me, I promise you are a firebender." Aang promised with strength.

Zuko nodded, Aang would never lie.

“Zuko...”

He hummed half asleep as Aang carefully laid him down on his bed and tucked him in with his sheets.

“I know, not saying any of this.” he mumbled, it was Aang's most followed request whenever he contradicted what someone said. He didn't understand why, but Aang always had a good reason, so he accepts.

“Thank you. “Aang murmurs gratefully. He hums as he closes his eyes.

-

-

There were times when Zuko would get sad whenever he thought he would be gone in a year, the thought of leaving his mother and, most of all, Azula, behind made him feel anguish and guilt. But the sadness and guilt were always overshadowed by the thought of living the rest of his life with his terrifying father.

This time, instead of guilt, he felt the unusual anticipation of leaving. Just the thought of Sokka, Katara, Hakoda, Kya and the South Pole excited him and made him restless with happiness. Ever since he was little he knew he was destined to leave when he turned five with Aang, that way he could live happily without his father. He felt guilty for feeling excited to get away from his father, but even his mother found his father frightening, and his father never had kind words for him.

(He believes that, if his mother were given the chance, she would do the same thing he was going to do without hesitation. She would leave his father behind without hesitation.

Sometimes he wonders if she would do it if it meant leaving him behind, if it meant leaving Azula and him behind.

He doesn't know why that thought twisted his stomach.

Although he supposes it's not fair, Zuko was about to do the same).

His mother always told him gently that his father has a bad temper, and while that didn't justify anything his father said, it was better to just let it be and try to ignore it as best he could. Zuko thought that was impossible, his father didn't like to be ignored, his mother knew that.

Aang on the other hand said it was better not to take what his father said at face value and try to make his father not pay attention to him. If his father didn't notice, then he would ignore it and not say anything that hurt. Zuko thinks it's better than his mother's advice, but this was normal. Aang was usually more right than his mother, though he felt bad for thinking so.

He wondered if all people had an Aang, maybe he could ask Azula if she had one, after all since she was of age to be aware of him if she has one.

Although Azula might lie just like he lies when his mother asks. but it would be different with him! If they both have one then they should be able to tell each other, right?

Would his mother have something like an Aang? His father? The last thought makes him shudder. He doubts his father will have an Aang. People like Aang are cheerful and always teach new things, his father is not lively or open to the words of others. If his father has an Aang, then he almost feels sorry for him.

That night Aang was weaving threads between his fingers, he said it was a bracelet. Zuko watched him carefully, fascinated by the way Aang's fingers weaved the fine threads into complicated shapes on this one. Zuko was sure that if he ran his finger over the woven shapes on that bracelet, he could feel each one perfectly.

Zuko helped Aang by holding the long threads and making sure they didn't get tangled, he tried to take his task seriously as he didn't want Aang's hard work to be ruined.

“Sokka and Katara have matching ones, but Katara's is blue and Sokka's is cyan. “Aang told him quietly, excitement growing in his chest at the thought of sharing bracelets with Sokka and Katara. Then he realized something and looked at Aang unhappily.

“Will you get one too?” he asked Aang. Zuko wanted to share bracelets with all his friends, he refused to leave Aang aside.Aang watched him for a few moments, blinking in surprise.

“Uh, yeah. “Aang replied after a few moments, a smile that Zuko didn't know how to describe was born on the air nomad's lips. “After I make yours, I'll make one for myself.”

He smiles happily and then came up with an idea. “Can I help you?

"Sure, although it's complicated, so you have to do as I say, okay?" Aang agreed easily and Zuko agreed just as easily to the condition.

"Yes!” he answered decisively, his hands tugged a little at the red thread he was holding and he looked apologetically at Aang, but Aang only rejected his apology with a soft hum.

On nights like this, after Aang had said goodbye to him promising to return in a week and a half after visiting the south pole, were nights where Zuko most wished he could go with Aang.

-

“So the Fire Nation after being attacked so mercilessly by the barbarians of the southern water tribe, decided to take measures to prevent the massacre that was forming in the small coastal towns of the Fire Nation thanks to the waterbenders, who indiscriminately killed innocent soldiers.”

The professor talked and talked, but Zuko couldn't understand anything he said. Well, he did understand, but he didn't understand why the professor was telling so many lies. The professor's voice was becoming passionate as he talked about the horrible 'barbarians' of the South Pole water tribe and how, despite the Fire Nation's attempts to stop them pácifically, they went on and on attacking.

Maybe the professor was talking about something that happened hundreds of years ago, right? There was no way this was something from now, was it?

“When did this happen?” he asked, interrupting the professor's furious tirade about how the Fire Nation tried to make peaceful treaties with the southern tribe.

“Sixty years ago, Zuko, pay attention.” The professor replied in an irritated tone, his eyes disgruntled at the interruption.

When he said no more, the professor continued speaking, though Zuko could not pay attention to him. He wanted to say something, anything, to defend the place where Katara and Sokka live, he wanted to say that they were not barbarians and that the southern tribe was good. Aang lived there, Katara and Sokka grew up there and Hakoda and Kya led the southern tribe. There was no way all those nice people belonged to a 'barbarian' or 'savage' tribe that went about massacring coastal villages for fun.

Zuko didn't even fully understand what massacring was beyond it being a way to harm someone.

His mouth opened, ready to point, ask, and question the teacher who kept saying nasty things about where his friends came from.

But he interrupted himself before he made a single noise. He could almost feel Aang's hand on his shoulder, his kind but firm eyes on him and his words, clear and direct: 'Don't ask, don't say anything against him. Just nod and say yes.'

'Even if it's not true.'

Zuko bit his lip and with a silent sigh continued to listen to his passionate tutor, who for the rest of the remaining hour went on talking about how the Fire Nation peacefully tried to convince the southern tribe to join the Fire Nation as it was better for them.

He did not understand why his grandfather would do that. The southern water tribe was from the water, asking all the water people to join the Fire Nation, the fire people, was pretty stupid. It would be like erasing who one is.

Even if Zuko lived with water people, Zuko knows that he is still fire people, just as Aang is still air people. They can't force themselves to be water even if they tried their hardest. His roots would remain firm where they were as well as the weight of thousands of previous generations binding him to what he is: someone of fire. Even if his ancestors did not define him, as Aang had always repeated to him, his ancestry was undeniable.

Why try to force something unchangeable?

He supposed he was still too young to understand.

-

No one liked to talk about Aang, or rather, no one liked to talk about the Avatar. Everyone grimaced in disdain, in disgust, in discomfort, in fear, every time Zuko mentioned him. They all looked at him as if he was an impertinent child for asking about Aang, which he didn't understand.

His mother would shudder in fear and look everywhere as if a terrifying monster was going to come out of nowhere and hurt them, the servants would excuse themselves and run away every time he asked, the teachers would shy away from the subject and scold him, saying that subject was for later and not to interrupt their class.

Even his cousin, strong and confident, had that strained and strange smile on his face when he asked, saying that this was not something he needed to worry about.

The only ones who didn't shy away from the subject were his father and uncle, though they both acted differently on the subject.

His father would answer him in an irritated or curt tone, his eyes staring at him almost warning him that he wouldn't answer more than one question. His answers always left Zuko with a knot in his stomach and a thousand things Zuko wanted to say but couldn't because every time he tried Aang's whisper in his head interrupted him.

His father talked about Aang, about the Avatar, as if he was someone evil, a real monster. Something to be harmed and put away. When his father spoke of Aang, of the Avatar, he spoke as if he were speaking of a wild and dangerous animal. His words, merciless and almost venomous, always cursed him at least once. Whether he spoke of Aang as Avatar or referred to the previous Avatar, Roku.

If Aang as Avatar was taboo, then the previous Avatar, Roku, was unmentionable.

His uncle, on the other hand, was quite relaxed on the subject. His voice was calm, there was no hatred or resentment or venom, he spoke as one who spoke of someone he knew only by name. Still, his uncle didn't seem to like his 'fascination' with the Avatar very much, he always answered him little or not at all, his answers were vague and always stopped him when he got too deep. It almost frustrated Zuko.

Uncle Iroh would always warn him that he would get no good out of talking about it and that it was best not to get too interested in the Avatar, it always sounded like a warning. At times like that, his uncle seemed as if he was warning him not to name something that brought bad luck or a curse.

“Why doesn't anyone want to talk about you? Zuko asked one night when the frustration of not having answers was more than the fear of asking him. "Everyone says the same thing, the Avatar was bad, a traitor, and he's gone because of it. But everyone is lying because you're not evil or a traitor and you're not gone either."

Aang, who was finishing his own bracelet, woven with intricate designs that looked like the breeze of the wind in orange and silver threads, stood still. His fingers that were moving with agility unclenched and tightened their grip on the threads they held.

Aang's eyes wandered and he sighed wearily.

"For everyone else I am somewhere else, Zuko."

His brow furrowed, he failed to comprehend. "Where?"

Aang's voice was shaky. "Where the other air people are, Zuko."

His chest constricted, a painful memory of his father telling how they wiped out the air people. He remembers the dull ache in his chest, the confusion in his mind and the tears in his eyes as his throat burned, the fear of being bad, of having hurt Aang that way.

Sometimes Zuko forgot that Aang was the only air person left. All the others were sent to the spirit world by the fire people, by his people.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tears building up on his face and trying with all his might to hold them back. Zuko has no reason to be sad, he wasn't the one who lost his loved ones.

Aang looks small right now, he looks like a child like him, which is rare. Aang has always seemed too big in his eyes. As imposing as his father and as wise as his uncle. He had that dark knowledge in his eyes that his mother had and sometimes, Zuko could see in Aang a fury that could be compared to his grandfather's when he got angry.

Although Aang was never scary like his father, Aang also never avoided subjects like Iroh and Aang didn't let whatever was kept in his mind affect him like his mother.

Most importantly, Aang's anger never scared Zuko. Sometimes it made him nervous, sometimes it made him sad. But Zuko doesn't think there was a single moment in his life where Aang ever scared him.

Aang felt bigger than his father and Azulon, Zuko didn't know what to feel at times like this, when Aang looked like he was about to crack like a plate, when his eyes watered and his hands tensed up too much.

It's not like he had to do anything, Aang always came out of that state before Zuko could do anything to comfort him like Aang does with him.

This time was no different, Aang smiled, that smile always made Zuko sad and made him want to cry. That smile was not Aang's happy smile or soft smile, that smile was the smile he gave when he didn't know what else to do.

"It's not your fault,” Aang reminded him after a few moments. His eyes were distant. "It's not wrong to ask, Zuko."

He nodded crestfallen, guilt churning in his stomach, but it didn't stop him from asking: “Why do they hate you so much?"

Aang kept his composure, though the small grimace on his mouth told Zuko that his words hurt him. Zuko wanted to take it back, but Aang replied, "Come here, Zuko." Aang's arms opened. Zuko wasted no time in climbing into his lap and hiding his face in the air nomad's shoulder. Aang's arms closed around him.

"I don't understand, you're good. You always take care of me, you always make me laugh, and you always try to protect me. How could anyone hate you?"

He heard a quiet muffled sound, the arms around him tightened just a little before forcibly relaxing.

"That's because you see me as Aang, not the Avatar, Zuko." Aang replied in a soft voice.

"But you are the Avatar, what's the difference?" frustration grows in his chest, he doesn't understand. Aang is the avatar, the avatar is Aang, what's the difference?

Aang's chest stirred and he felt Aang's chuckle before he heard it. "Yes, it should be the same." There was something sad in Aang's voice, Zuko just wanted to comfort him. "It should."

There was a silence, Zuko wanted to separate his face from Aang's shoulder, to see what expression he was putting on, but a hand rested on the back of his neck and pressed him gently against his shoulder, not letting him see Aang's face.

“For people, Zuko, I am not Aang. I'm the avatar, and even though being Aang and being the avatar are the same thing to you, it's not to others.”

“Why?”

“Because they know only the Avatar. And the Avatar is not just me, Zuko. It's all my previous reincarnations.”

He remembers that, his uncle once explained to him that the avatar Roku and the current avatar everyone hated were the same. Zuko always doubted his uncle's words, not understanding how Aang and Roku could be the same when Zuko knows that Aang has no other name but Aang.

“Reincarnations?”

“It means they're something I was before I was born. They are like my ancestors, although we can't exist two at the same time. They were what I was in another life.”

He vaguely understood what Aang meant, though not entirely. But Zuko let the subject pass and hummed, nodding.

“Well, in my other lives I was also known as the avatar, Zuko. And in my other lives I did things I was known for.”

People hated him for things he did long ago that Aang doesn't remember? That sounds unfair.

“Did you do anything bad before you were Aang?“ he asked in confusion.

“No, well, I didn't do them. But there are people who feel I did do bad things.”

“Like dad” he murmurs sadly. Aang patted his hair.

“Yeah, like him. But it's not just because of something I did in another life, it's also because of things I could do.”

What could Aang do that's so bad that it makes everyone hate him? Aang was great! What could he do that people are so terrified of him?

“But you're awesome, you would never do anything bad!”

He broke away from Aang's shoulder to look at his face, but instead of seeing calmness or joy at what he said, his face showed utmost sadness and something akin to guilt. Aang averted his gaze and sighed.

“It's complicated, Zuko. I can understand why your people are afraid of me or angry with me, even if some of them don't deserve to be after everything.” The last sentence sounded venomous, almost as venomous as his father's when he spoke ill of Aang.

“I don't get it” he muttered frustrated with himself.

A hand landed on his head, Aang smiled wearily.

“You don't need to know everything now, Zuko. But when the time comes, I'll explain it to you.”

Zuko wanted to refuse, to reject what Aang was saying and ask more. But he wasn't getting anywhere and the more Aang tried to explain, the less he seemed to understand, maybe Zuko really was too young.

He let out an annoyed sound and leaned against Aang as he grumbled. He shouldn't do that, he wasn't a little boy to throw tantrums, his father always said he was too old to do that.

But Aang was not his father, and instead of scolding him and looking at him in disgust, he cradled him in his arms and began to hum softly that song that sounded more like lullabies in the wind than the melody of a human voice.

Soon he fell asleep, cradled by the song of the air in Aang's arms.

-

The next morning, he awakens with a bracelet on his wrist, intricate designs with red threads and embroidery on it. A faint smile swims before the sight.

-

Dinner that day was more awkward than usual, even her sister, Azula, was having a hard time pretending otherwise. The servants around her swarmed, walking at a quick, hurried pace, their eyes never crossing those of his family, too afraid of the consequences of doing so. A few months ago, Zuko would have been frustrated by their behavior, too foolish to understand their fear, now all he could feel for them was sympathy as the ghost of a hand itched at his wrist. When he lowered his head, he found nothing but smooth, soft skin.

Aang did a great job healing the burn, covering and plugging the wound his father gave him. He doesn't know how he feels every time his arm, devoid of burns, looks back at him. It's almost as if his smooth, unwounded arm is mocking him, as if it's telling him how exaggerated and dramatic he was.

'It didn't even leave a mark, what are you complaining about?' his father had complained when he saw his unburned arm, contempt in his eyes and venom in his voice. 'You're shaking like I burned you whole, stop being useless, Zuko. Learn to accept your punishment with some dignity.'

He tried with all his might to erase his father's venomous voice, forcing a warmer, more youthful voice to flood in and banish the old, prejudiced one.

'Don't you ever say that again! Don't you ever in your life dare say you're bad or a disgrace or whatever stupid thing your father says!' Full of righteous anger and indignation, slippery touches of sorrow and pain for him that couldn't hide the core full of love for him. Aang's voice manages to banish the poison his father injected into his body. A kind of cure for his father's poisonous voice.

“Azula.”

Pitifully, the inner voice in his head in the form of Aang was doing little or nothing against the harsh reality of this dinner.

Azula, only two years old and a little older, raises her head somewhat frightened but her face remains calm. His chest tightens in anxiety because that voice was not his father's neutral one, no, it was the calm before the storm. One he used only when he was about to hurt his soul or when he was about to pound the table in an argument with his mother to make his point.

But this time it doesn't call out to his mother or him, instead his voice calls out to his sister and his predatory eyes fixate on her, his younger sister. He wants to move but fear floods him and he can only hear Aang's voice pleading for him to only heed his father.

Does this count as one of those situations where he has to shut up and agree? Should he just say nothing and watch?

But it's Azula!

His mother's hand lands in his under the table, away from his father's judging gaze. Her eyes look at him as if she knows what he's thinking and silently pleads with him not to do it.

He remains helpless there, even as his father releases venom at his sister that seeps into her small body and begins to run through his veins. He remains silent even though, inside, his chest is broken and open, bleeding raw as he watches the silent tears fall down his sister's face. As silent as his own screams trapped in the back of his mind.

Her father pulls out earlier, this would normally be good. This would normally make his mother smile, his sister make jokes with the food and he would laugh a lot. Now, all there is at the big table in that large room is a deadly, smothering silence, that and the tears of a girl no more than three years old.

Her mother's hand remains clutched in hers, this time Zuko knows for sure that this is comfort for her and not for him.

(He hates the way his mother doesn't run to comfort Azula as she would comfort him).

-

That night is silent. Even when he hears the faint sound of the balcony door, Zuko does not move from his place hidden in the blankets on his bed, even when he hears footsteps approaching him he does not turn to give even a 'hello' to Aang. He feels unjust betrayal in his heart, right where there is still a dull ache and invisible blood bleeding from the metaphorical hole in his chest. Poison pools on his tongue, coming directly from the unfair anger built up in his throat. Aang's chant is still echoing raw in his brain, etched in living fire that said 'don't gainsay him'.

He hates it, hates that he did nothing. He hates that Aang's whispering voice in his mind and his mother's trembling hand kept him from protecting Azula.

(He hates himself more for letting those things keep him from doing something.)

Now more than ever Zuko feels like a boiling fire, about to explode and lash out.

But where Zuko is fire, Aang is air. Where Zuko burns, destroys and sets fire, Aang soothes, comforts and calms. Where Zuko is unjust anger and betrayal, Aang is undeserved peace and love.

Aang's hand is gentle as it lands in the middle of his shoulder blades, his fingertips are soft to the touch and his back, tense and aching from the weight of what happened at dinner, relaxes and lets go of the weight of guilt. Aang's hand is firm but so soft and gentle that it causes Zuko's eyes, once burning with resentment, to sharpen in pain and sorrow.

Aang's hand doesn't land with more than a little soothing pressure on his back, but Zuko feels himself melting and molding to it, feels the broken parts of his body begin to be filled and refreshed by Aang's almost healing touch. Aang's hand doesn't feel suffocating like his mother's, it is weightless but as firm as the earth.

Aang's hand tries to comfort him where his mother sought comfort.

Zuko is no longer fire, he is now just a scared and confused child.

And it is impossible that Aang is now air, because when he turns and leaps to embrace him, clinging with his whole life to him, Aang is tangible and does not vanish into thin air as he is supposed to. Instead, Aang's arms, ironically, keep him grounded the moment they encircle him. It's safe, it's comfortable, and it's a relief to the dull ache in his chest.

Aang hugs him and hides him in his arms, close to his chest. Zuko can hear Aang's heartbeat and Aang's throat rumble in that melody he knows by heart. The air and the wind dance and coo in high and low notes, dance in Aang's mouth and reach his ear and Zuko has never felt more comforted than he does now and here, in these arms and with this person.

Surrounded by adults, be they fearful servants, terrifying grandparents, wise uncles, frightened mothers and monstrous fathers, no adult has ever felt so safe, reliable and present as the person who wraps his arms around him as if to protect him from the whole world.

Aang is a child just like him, but it's too strange to think of him like that. Aang has always seemed bigger than his parents, his uncle, his grandfather, his teachers and the servants. He has always seemed bigger than life itself.

Aang cooed and his hands press against his back, undo knots and weights of guilt in it that Zuko hadn't even noticed. His fingertips are gentle and do not cling to his back or dig painfully into it as his mother usually does, instead they rest there in a careful way and massage in a healing way the places where they land.

The melody goes on and on, he has heard it a thousand times and can almost predict how it will continue. That melody has been sung to him and only to him for as long as he can remember and at this point it might as well be a lever to relax his body automatically.

Tears fall and wet Aang's clothes, but he doesn't get angry and cradles it even closer to him.

Does Azula have this? A person to comfort her like this on bad days? To cradle her in his arms and snuggle her against his chest almost as if he wants her to go in there? Someone to sing and coo to her while she cries? Does she have a person to sit her on his lap and explain things to her properly? To correct what ignorant people preach?

Does Azula have an Aang?

As the tears stop and Aang makes figures with the clay to distract him, he can only pray that she has one.

He closes his eyes and falls asleep in Aang's arms, that night Aang doesn't ask or question the reason for his crying. Although Zuko notices how he discreetly searches for wounds on his face, arms and back. But Aang doesn't ask and Zuko is relieved.

-

Azula smiles less.

Even when he pulls out the Dragon Emperor and Dark Water Spirit masks, she doesn't smile or get excited like she used to. Even when Zuko promises that she could use a wooden stick as a sword and promises that she could deliver a final blow if she played.

She doesn't smile and barely looks at him, her eyes say nothing, there's no seriousness, no displeasure, but there's no excitement or anticipation either. There is nothing. Two empty sockets of emotion.

Zuko hates it, hates it more that his mother pretends not to see it just because she doesn't know how to deal with it.

As Zuko hands Azula a drawing of the two of them smiling, he realizes that Azula doesn't actually have an Aang.

If she did, then she wouldn't shred the paper into tiny little pieces with a blank stare.

If she did, then the poison her father injected into Azula's little body would have already seeped out and her body would have already been detoxified with the cure of soft words and melodious consolations.

Instead Zuko watches with restrained tears in his eyes as his sister walks away, her body filled with their father's poison. Too toxic for her little body.

He hates that for a moment, the scene of his sister with vacant eyes tearing up his drawing reminds him too intimately of their father tearing up his mother's favorite play in front of them.

-

That night Zuko is silent and only shakes his head to nod or deny. He knows he is worrying Aang, he knows his silence will not make things better, but there is a hollow ache in his chest that has formed since last week, when his sister was torn apart and injected with his father's poison.

He doesn't know what to do about it, his sister is not strong enough to remove the poison herself and, as the days go by, it seems that the poison further destroys her and transforms her into something too much like their father figure. Her mother doesn't get too close to her anymore, her eyes show pure fear and even in her attempts to get closer she ends up backing away too fast, as if Azula is going to burn her.

Zuko knows who his mother is seeing, he can't help but resent her for it.

Something grayish brown floats in front of his eyes, he blinks as he tries to discern what it is, coming out of his stormy mind.

Clay.

He turns to look at Aang, who is sitting next to him with a small, tired smile, his eyes are droopy, but he doesn't hide the worry that is there. A pang of guilt assaults him, he doesn't want Aang to feel sad because of him.

Still, he can't force his lips to lift or his eyes to sparkle with joy, it's as if all his threads are cut. Last week, the clay figures would have cheered him up, now Zuko looks at them with longing and the thought of, 'Does Azula have this?'

No, she doesn't. It became clear the moment she shredded her drawing.

He doesn't know what to do. He is on flat, firm ground on the shore, watching from a safe distance as his sister sinks deeper and deeper into the muddy swamp. He doesn't know what to do, he can't go and save her because that would be to sink there with her and Zuko fears what will happen when they both sink, and neither his mother nor anyone else will risk being buried in the swamp with her. They will watch with sadness, pity or grief as their sister sinks to drowning and cry for her even before that happens, as if she were a hopeless case from the start.

And Zuko will cry too, not because his sister was dying, but because she was changing into something that would destroy them.

Because here was the simple truth that Zuko has understood all this week: no one will rescue his sister, and if he doesn't do something soon, his sister will be consumed by the poison and drowned by the swamp.

But what can he do?

Despair consumes him along with righteous anger, why doesn't anyone help them? why doesn't his mother do anything? why do the servants avert their eyes and the teachers look at him with disdain? why doesn't his uncle open his eyes and realize this? or does he know but prefers to be ignorant?

Two hands grasp his own and cradle them, he blinks, struggling to get back to flat, solid ground, away from his own mental swamp. Aang waits for him on solid ground patiently and his hands squeeze his own as he spirals back, Aang says nothing and maybe it's for the best, Zuko feels like fire about to reach the boiling point.

He doesn't know how long it takes, hours or minutes, his mind calms down and he finally returns to solid ground safely, he no longer feels more fire than child, though he almost wishes he was one because of the way he feels empty now. He wonders if fire is all he has, Aang's hands tighten around his as if he's listening to what he's thinking.

He is exhausted.

“Can you tell me what's wrong? You've been like this since last week and-” he cuts himself off, not knowing how to continue without hurting him, hates that about Aang, loves that about Aang. He doesn't know if he likes it more than he hates being treated this fragile, doesn't know if he hates it because he's supposed to hate it or if it's really a genuine feeling of his. “You look like you're about to shut down, Zuko. I don't like it and I don't know what's going on.”

What Aang means is: 'There are no wounds on your body' and 'I can't know what he said to you if you don't tell me.'

He doesn't need to be a genius to know who 'he' is.

“Nothing happened to me." he says dryly. That's right, nothing really happened to him, he wasn't the hurt one, Azula was. He was just a useless bystander.

Aang seems to think about what he says, even if they are just four simple words, Aang seems to analyze them and repeat them in his head, trying to look for a hidden or double meaning in this ones. Zuko doesn't blame him, he is so bad at saying things that Aang most of the time must read between the lines.

“But something happened, didn't it?”

He turns his head to avoid looking at him, at this point he's just being stubborn. He doesn't know why he refuses to tell Aang anything, he has never kept anything from Aang for a long time and Aang always had the answer to most things, or at least a comfort to them. Aang was trustworthy and gentle, he cared about him, why was he so reluctant to tell him what's going on?

He knows the answer even if he doesn't want to acknowledge it.

He is afraid, afraid because Azula is not him and afraid that Aang's kindness will not extend to her. Aang is good, gentle, kind and Zuko knows he is loved by him, but he is afraid that it will not extend to Azula.

His mother loves him, she is gentle and patient, her voice is soft and her eyes sparkle with love every time she sees him. But that affection no longer seems to extend to Azula, gone is the love in his mother's eyes when Azula laughed or hugged his leg, gone are her gentle caresses on his sister's head when she cried. Now there is only fear, her caresses are short and quick, her eyes averted from Azula.

Uncle Iroh was the same way, his uncle who advises and comforts him when he is sad, who lifts him on his shoulders is the same Uncle Iroh who often strains his smile towards Azula, who avoids and dismisses her after giving her a doll even when he knows Azula hates them.

For some reason, everyone seems to see her father in Azula, it's as if Azula is a reflection of her terrifying father. No one sees Azula, her sister who looks sadly when her mother compliments her drawings or how she averts her eyes when Uncle Iroh invites him to tea alone.

He is afraid, Aang has always been different, he has always been better than his mother, his uncle or any other adult, but what if he cannot see Azula as anything other than a shadow of his father either?

He doesn't want that, he's tired of it.

His hand clings to Aang's, tears unshed in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please save Azula.”

-

Azula is not afraid of the dark.

Unlike her foolish older brother, Zuzu, she was never afraid of the dark. She knows better than that, fear of the dark is a fear no child of Agni should have, least of all one of royalty.

And no, she wasn't shivering or shuddering at the sounds of footsteps passing by her room or the merciless howl of the wind echoing against the window. No, she didn't have watery eyes and no, she wasn't curling into herself in an attempt to comfort herself. She was just cold, nothing else.

So what if she was singing the lullaby her mother used to sing to her? She wasn't trying to calm herself, she was just bored and had nothing better to do.

A particularly merciless gust of wind made her jump in fright, making her reconsider whether she really wasn't afraid. There is rage building up in her chest, she hates feeling afraid, she hates the helplessness and the trembling that forms in her body, so Azula turns fear into rage and loneliness into hatred. She hates her mom, because if her mom hates her then she will hate her mom too. She hates her stupid uncle for treating her like a dumb little girl. She hates herself for not being what her father expects of her. She hates Zuko for having mom and uncle when she doesn't have them. She hates him for leaving her behind.

Sometimes it hurts, lately there are moments where there is so much anger, rage, pain and hate that Azula fears it's all she has left. It hurts, but she hates feeling pain so she pretends that pain is power, after all, that's what her father always says. It hurts and it burns, so she pretends that pain is her own fire and that someday it will devour everyone. Sometimes, she feels so much that she ends up feeling nothing but loneliness.

She feels small and powerless.

She hates it.

The tears don't stop even when she struggles to hold them back, her eyes burn and beg for release. She is not an ocean, but the tears that won't stop flowing might say otherwise.

She continues to sing even as she sobs, the melody no longer has a rhythm and her throat wants to close, but Azula is strong and will not let that happen. Her chest tightens at so much and she knows that the next morning she will probably feel nothing but loneliness.

She just wants someone, anyone, here with her.

At the end of the day, she is nothing more than a child.

A hand falls on the blankets, right where her head is, she flinches in surprise. She hadn't even felt someone approach. The hand is gentle and its weight like a feather, and after a few moments, it begins to move, fondling her head. It's the first comfort she's had in a long time.

She closes her eyes and snuggles against the warmth, wonders if it's her mother, but knows it's not. Her mother's caresses are always more insecure and dancing, never lingering for long. This hand stays on her head, soon its weight asserts itself and her caresses start to become rhythmic, she can't see who the person comforting her is, but at this point she doesn't care.

A melody begins to resonate to her ears, the voice is youthful but she knows it is not Zuko. The melody is rhythmic and soft, for a moment she thinks it's the wind, only to realize it was too pretty to be just wind.

The song rises and falls, it has no lyrics that she can distinguish, it is as if the wind is cradling her and the breeze is lulling her, it is calm and soft, but above all it is present, the song does not leave her alone for a moment and the suffocating loneliness that has accompanied her finally disappears.

The hand stays there until she falls asleep, lulled by that song.

The next morning, she finds on the floor a few feet from her bed a clay figure, a peaceful-looking dragon curled up in itself, as if taking a nap. Azula takes it in her hands gently and hides it under the bed, away from unwanted eyes.

-

That morning, Azula hides a smile as they eat breakfast in their usual silence. Their father either doesn't notice or doesn't care, their mother is too lost in thought to notice, Zuko is the only one who sees his sister's eyes vibrant and bright as they were long ago, the only one who notices her half-hidden smile.

The poison that once flowed so clearly in Azula's body, mercilessly destroying her, now seems to have been diluted until it is almost not present, as if someone has finally detoxified her and freed her from that toxic poison.

He knows, as he eats in blissful silence, that Azula has found her Aang.

Zuko never had a problem sharing with Azula.

That day, Azula draws with him in silence and gives him one of her drawings, a pretty good copy of the drawing she had broken earlier. He understands the silent apology in the action.

He smiles and hugs her, his body relaxing as Azula returns the hug just as tightly.

Chapter Text

Azula is almost three years old when she meets Aang.

Aang, as the person who visits her almost every night calls himself, is not a spirit and neither is one of the 'assassins' her father has warned would come if she did not become strong. Aang is also not a servant and is not her family in the same way that Zuzu and her mother are.

Aang is a person who visits her at night, he is just that.

She doesn't know where Aang fits into her days. Aang insists that no one can know about him, even when she argued, complained and insisted, Aang was adamant about absolutely no one must know of his existence.

'No, Azula, neither does your mom. No, Azula, neither does your brother.'

She doesn't ask if her father might know, she doubts her father cares, and even if he does, she doesn't think it will end well. There is still a hole in her chest in the form of her father's words he said at that dinner.

Aang helps a lot to make it hurt less, though.

Aang is... kind. It's rare, other than his mother or Zuzu, no one has ever been so kind. Servants are another type of kind, a type that is not a choice but more of an obligation. Her uncle is 'kind', but his kindness tends to leave her feeling foolish and stupid, so she hates his kindness.

Until now, she thought that the only kindness people give by choice is towards family. Servants are kind out of obligation, as are the people who sometimes talk to her father, who treat her with the same kind of kindness as her uncle. She was sure that kindness would only come from those two sources: obligation or family. Fear or blood ties.

She is sure that this person is not family to her or a servant. If he were a servant, he would act nervous. If it were family, he wouldn't wear a mask. If it were an assassin, Azula feels she wouldn't be here any more.

Her father has always told her she's smart for the age she is, her one redeeming talent in the absence of a flame yet. Her mother has always told her she's too smart for her own good. Her uncle always said she was very observant and would make a great general when she grows up. Her brother has always said she's cool and very cunning.

And now, even with all she knows, she doesn't understand what Aang is or why she's here.

Then, that night while Aang was reading her one of his favorite books, she interrupts: "Why are you here?"

Aang's mask tilts to the side, as if he is pondering what he just asked. “Why am I here in what sense, in this specific place, or here with you?”

She gets a little dizzy from so many questions, she hates feeling small and silly. If this person were her father, he would have shut her up or answered dryly. If it were her mother, he would have answered quietly and with staggering gentleness. If it were her uncle, he would have smiled in that annoying way and responded in a vague manner. If it were Zuko, she would have responded in a weird way.

Aang asked for more instead, in an attempt to give her a good answer. Azula doesn't know how to feel about that, but she's no fool, she's going to take advantage of this. “Both.”

The mask goes up and down in a nodding manner, she almost wants to ask why that specific mask. Why the spirit of the Breeze, her brother's favorite character.

"Well, I'm here because I have something important to do. And I'm here with you because I think you need someone here with you, does that make sense?"

No, it didn't, but Azula hates feeling silly, so she nods.

What does this person need to do that is so important? Why would he be here with her? Just because he thinks she 'needs' him? Is she part of that important thing that Aang needs to do?

It's not like she complains, the few days that Aang has visited her, she feels calmer and the suffocating feeling of loneliness calmed down even a little bit. Aang didn't talk much or get close to her, but Aang encouraged her to talk when she dared to say something and allowed contact to continue when she initiated it.

“You can't tell anyone about me.” Says Aang suddenly.

“I know.” She replies. Aang had told her on their second meeting. “Otherwise, you won't be able to come back.”

“Yes, because it would be dangerous for me.” Completes Aang, for some reason he's bent on reminding her of the reason why he couldn't come back. Strange.

“...Yes.” she replies quietly.

A while passes like that, silent in the middle of the night. Soon she feels her eyelids heavy, her limbs numb and her mind slow down. As soon as he notices it, Aang starts humming that melody, low and high notes echo peacefully through the place, it's a different song than before, more cheerful and calm than the previous one. Both began to sound like security in her mind.

She doesn't know when she falls asleep, but when she wakes up the next morning in her giant padded bed, in her hand is a Komodo Rhinoceros in her hand, as detailed as those priceless statues displayed in the halls of the palace where she lives.

-

Zuzu tries to see what she is drawing, she crumples the drawing and hides it in her chest, looking at him suspiciously. Zuzu looks hurt for a moment before his eyes widen with understanding.

“Is it about Aang?” he whispers under his breath, looking around fearfully, as if someone is going to come out and harm them for just uttering that name. She opens her eyes in surprise to hear that name from anyone but her.

She leans in and whispers. “How do you know him?”

Zuzu smiles, one of those big, bright smiles that lit up the whole room. Azula has always liked that kind of smile of his, it makes her feel a part of something. “He's my best friend!”

Her eyebrows draw together, she loves Zuzu, but the thought of sharing Aang with him makes her feel bitter. She thought Aang would be her secret, an annoyed grimace appears on her face. “But Aang likes me best!”

Zuzu's eyes widen, they look betrayed by that statement. He looks at her in annoyance. “Aang doesn't play favorites, Lala! But he's my best friend!”

Azula snorts in annoyance. “Yes he does! It's me!” She declares and stands somewhat wobbly, stretching her arms out trying to look just as imposing as her father when she speaks. “You may be his best friend! But I'll be his favorite!”

Zuzu looks at her more irritated than Azula ever saw him, pride flares in his chest at his reaction.

Victory doesn't last long, Zuzu pounces on her and they start fighting with slaps, hair pulling and insults like; 'dummy!' and ' stupid!'

-

In a tree, near the window of that room where there are two children fighting while shouting: 'I'm the favorite!' and 'No you're not, silly!', a figure looked at everything with a loving smile before closing his eyes and resuming his afternoon nap.

-

Azula waited anxiously by the window overlooking the balcony, her eyes blinking heavily, but her mind too restless and determined to just give in to something as silly as sleep.

Her efforts paid off when she heard the window creak open with a soft hiss, heard that night's breeze whistling through the gap in the window. Aang stepped in gracefully, his eyes searching the entire room before settling on her, even behind the mask, Azula could tell he was smiling by the way his shoulders relaxed and his head tilted as it always does when he smiles.

She impacted against his legs with all her might, trying to hug him the way Zuko sometimes did with his mother after long hours without seeing her (lately, Zuzu doesn't do that anymore. There is tension between them, a part of her feels sad for Zuzu, another part bitterly happy).

“Shall we go to Zuzu's room?” She asked excitedly, her tongue stumbling making it sound like a babble, she would be embarrassed if she wasn't so excited.

Today was her birthday and Aang had promised something exciting for today because of that. Aang nodded, reached out one hand to stroke her hair while with the other he pulled her mask up, showing the cheerful smile Azula knew was there. “Yes, that's right, but we won't stay there, Azula. I need you to get very warm, can you?”

“Why?”

Aang's smile didn't widen, but his eyes sparkled with childlike glee. “It's a surprise. Where's the Dragon Emperor's mask? Bring it too.”

Without further ado, Azula ran to get ready.

As soon as she finished getting ready, with her mask secured on her face, she stepped out onto the balcony to meet Aang who had his mask hiding his face just as she did.

Aang held out his hand.

Azula took it.

-

Azula never imagined that the city would be so big, bright and colorful. The fire from the torches was bright and warm and Azula just wanted to reach out and touch it, the scents of different kinds of food stung her nose and made her sneeze more than once, to Aang and Zuzu's laughter, Aang said it must be because the smell was strong and pungent, whatever that meant.

There were people everywhere she looked, all smiling, laughing and talking animatedly, they didn't seem afraid or nervous about anything. In the palace, people walked in silence and their voices were always soft even when they were spitting the worst of poisons or their hearts were pounding with fear.

Here, people ran, jogged and walked in a carefree manner, their voices rising high into the sky and forming a background sound that enchanted Azula from the start. She didn't have Zuko's problem with noise, in fact, she loved it.

There was a warmth about the place that made her want to smile even when her cheeks hurt. The palace could never compare to this.

'Sellers', as Aang called them, shouted over all the noise, inviting people to come closer to see their food and crafts. Zuzu always stopped at wood crafts, but she was too bored by them, preferring to try the food.

“Be careful, Zula, it's spicy.” Aang warned gently as he passed her what he called 'a skewer of meat with komodo bell pepper sauce', the lord assured that she should be fine. She believes that too, she is not weak.

“I'll be fine,” she assured annoyed before biting into a large piece of the skewer. The taste flooded her mouth quickly, it tasted good and tickled her mouth in a way that made her feel happy, she smiled even having food in her mouth. Her father would have yelled at her for such lack of manners, but Aang smiled glad she liked it as he asked the vendor for napkins.

Zuzu tugged at Aang's clothes impatiently, his Dark Water Spirit mask looked in the direction of another small craft stall that would probably bore her, but she would stand it.

Aang paid the seller and they continued on.

Even when the streets became repetitive, it didn't stop being interesting and new to her. The bright, warm colors, the fire lighting everything in its path almost burning away the darkness of the night, the aromas of delicious foods and fire jasmine flower incense, the voices of all the people laughing, shouting happily, talking about silly things, it all came together to create something that made her chest tighten in a warm feeling.

How would she get back to her parents and the cold palace after seeing all this?

Something prickling gripped her chest, feeling the joy leave.

“Lala, look!” Zuzu exclaimed, she had to blink a couple of times to snap out of whatever she was thinking. She followed the outstretched hand pointing a point forward.

At first she thought they were firebirds because of the way they moved, then, the closer they got, the more she could see the human features of those people. She blinked, dazzled by their movement, they were graceful and elegant, flexible and agile. They moved fluidly and looked like water, but there was something sharp and dangerous about them that reminded her of the movement of sails.

“Dancers!” exclaimed Zuzu joyfully, his hand clinging to Aang's to keep from getting lost. Aang hummed as they approached.

“Do you like them, Zula?”

As he watched the dancers move all over that open stage, their hands handling the fire to make beautiful shapes in the sky or to accompany their dances, all with big, beautiful smiles on their faces, all he could think of was, “It's pretty.”

Aang's mask had an eternal mischievous little smile carved into it. She knows that underneath it, Aang was smiling in the same way, if not a little nicer. -I'm glad you like it.

-

One night, Azula couldn't hold the question in her mind any longer.

“Are all adults like this?”

It was a horrible day for both her and Zuzu, though she suspected Aang already knew that, since he was an hour late and told her he was going to stay longer than usual. He also said they weren't going to Zuzu's room that night to all hang out together, which hadn't happened in a while.

Aang, who was helping her put together a wooden puzzle that her cousin Lu Ten had sent as a gift, paused and it was a moment before she responded; “Like this how?”

Her shoulders slumped, whether from exhaustion or defeat, she doesn't know. “I don't know. Bad.”

“No, they're not all.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, there are plenty of nice adults.”

An anger she didn't know where it had come from welled up in her chest. “Like who?” She challenged.

“Kya and Hakoda are kind.”

She snorted. 'Kya' and 'Hakoda' were like two fairy tale characters in her mind. Aang told of them like someone telling a story to comfort. Like when his mother would tell him a story with a 'consequence' for a certain action to make them behave. Only Aang wasn't getting much out of it.

She didn't even know if she would ever meet Kya and Hakoda.

“I don't even know if they exist!” she exclaimed angrily.

“Why would I lie to you with something like that?” Aang bowed his head, not angry at her shouting.

“All adults lie!” she accused. “I don't know why, but that doesn't mean they don't!”

“But I'm not an adult, Zula.”

The next words she was about to say stuck in the back of her throat. An embarrassment assaulted her cheeks, not knowing what to respond to that. She felt humiliated, Aang didn't even speak out loud and she felt as scolded as when her mom would raise her voice to scold her.

Of course, Aang is not an adult, he's a child. For some reason, she tended to forget that. It was easier to imagine Aang as a weird adult than as a child. Children are not like Aang, she knows. The few children of nobles her father introduced to her to form connections were either screaming and whiny or quiet and silent, all with a half-lost innocence still.

Aang wasn't like that. Nor was he like any adult she knew. Strange to think it, but even her lively, cheerful cousin Lu Ten was older than Aang.

Her eyes fixed on the puzzle piece in his hands. “I know.” she mumbled. “But you're older, you can lie.”

She heard a sigh. “Yes, I can lie. But I won't lie to you.”

The irritation was born again. “That's a lie, everyone lies.”

A hand rested on her head, the action alone made her eyes sting. “Maybe you're right, but I promise I'll try not to lie to you.”

She should scream, complain, or fight. Make him promise never to lie to her. But she feels that's impossible, even she herself has lied many times. This is the best she'll get.

“Well.” She mumbled despondently. Then she raised her head to meet Aang's calm face. “Don't become like them, Aang. Please.”

He didn't even have to ask who she was referring to, Aang didn't take a second to respond; “I promise, Zula.”

She thinks she might come to believe him.

-

“We'll go with your Uncle Iroh to Ember Islands, kids.” She smiles softly, Azula tries to feel something other than a mixture of sadness and confusion. It was all very sudden, Zuzu next to her looked just as confused as she was. “Your father isn't going.”

She gives no reason why.

She knows what Zuko thinks. 'If we go somewhere else, will Aang be able to see us?', the thought of the answer being 'no' made something in her stomach twist, she didn't like the idea of losing contact with Aang. She was ready to complain and refuse, she didn't even like Uncle Iroh anyway.

“How long?” Zuzu moved ahead of her.

“No more than a month.” Her mother said excitedly, mistaking Zuzu's discouragement for quiet excitement.

“Oh.” Was all Zuzu said.

She didn't add anything else, not believing that even all their shouting together could do anything against this.

Her mother smiled at them but seemed too lost in her mind, she wishes for a moment her eyes would really land on them and she would see them, not whatever her mother usually sees.

-

“I don't want to go” Azula complained through unshed tears clinging to Aang's arm. Zuko felt the same way, but said nothing. His mom was really looking forward to this trip and would be sad if he said he didn't want to go, even if he really didn't want to.

Aang stroked her head, comforting her as he played that lyric-less melody, kept a smile on his mouth even when his eyes were less bright and his voice more droopy. Aang was sad too, but said nothing against the trip.

“ You'll have fun for sure, you can swim in the water, walk in the villages near where you're staying and see lots of new things!” He tried to encourage them, but Zuko wasn't a fan of swimming, he doesn't think those villages are as exciting as the capital Aang is taking them to and he doesn't think there's anything interesting where they're going.

But he nods as Aang tries to cheer up Azula who is still crying silently as she begs Aang to do something to stop them from being taken.

“No! How will you visit us then?”

A quick wince passes his lips before returning to his usual smile, Azula can't see it, clinging to Aang's arm as she is, but Zuko could see it clearly. Fear squeezes in her chest. “You're going to come, aren't you?”

Aang looks guilty, the smile finally falling from his face as he avoids his gaze. He hates how similar he looks to his mom. “I can't, Zuko. The island is beyond my reach, I don't think I can accompany you there.”

Azula stands still for a few moments before tears fill her eyes and she starts crying for real, letting out sobs and hiccups and saying that she won't go and that she can't be forced. Zuko can only think that they can and will. His eyes water and he looks at the floor trying not to cry, he is the big brother, he can't cry.

Aang looks devastated to see them like this, but he stands firm and doesn't break down like them. Instead, he pulls them close with his arms and lets them cling in his clothes and wet them with tears. He allows Azula to claim him for abandoning him and does not challenge Zuko even when her nails dig into his back.

Aang says nothing, instead he keeps humming that song, mumbling apologies and promises that they'll be fine in between.

Zuko has never spent a whole month without Aang, he never wanted to.

Azula had just met Aang, but she was too attached.

“I promise they'll be fine, they'll have fun. It won't be long, just a few weeks.” Aang kept assuring them in between humming, stroking their hair or patting them on the back to comfort them. Zuko even with all this did not manage to feel as safe and comforted as he should, the growing anxiety that in less than a week they would be leaving Aang had him too distressed.

“I don't want to leave” he whispered softly, trying to control his sobs to no avail.

Aang's arms tightened around him. “...I don't want you to leave either.”

No one said anything else after that. He and Azula continued to cry late into the night, Aang comforted them until they fell asleep in his arms.

-

Ember Islands was everything his mother promised it would be at first glance. A small tropical island far from the capital of the Fire Nation, inhabited by small coastal villages and the small main tourist town. The island had a small population and was mostly used as a large vacation island for important people like nobility or people with enough money to buy a piece of land there. The people who lived there were mostly in the tourist trade or were craftsmen of the highest quality who paid a lot to have a store in the tourist areas to get the rich people attracted.

The mansion they were staying in was everything their uncle promised, large and spacious, vases with delicate inscriptions on these and large windows that overlooked the forest around the property or the coast. It was the finest mansion on the island and had been in his family for two generations. A gift from Sozin to Azulon, and soon one from Azulon to Iroh.

It is everything the palace was, cold and huge, empty and impersonal. Zuko hates it. From the way Azula's hand is pressed against his and looks at the large mansion in front of them, he thinks Azula does too.

Their mother, on the other hand, looks cheerful. Happy like he haven't seen her in a long time, animated as she urged them to come in.

"Let's go, kids. I'll show you to your rooms." Iroh took Zuko's shoulder with a gentle hand and led them in, mom stayed behind wanting to see the large back garden.

He wished his cousin Lu Ten was with them, that way the trip would be less... well, everything. With Lu Ten there, it would be easier to be distracted and enjoy, but it was just them, her mother and uncle. Almost as a sort of payback for his father not going with them for 'personal matters', Lu Ten couldn't either as he was training with a certain Piandao in the art of swordsmanship. Zuko would rather be with him, sweating and training than here.

Or at least he would almost prefer that. Azula's hand squeezing his reminds him of how lonely she would be without him there.

"I want to stay with Zuzu." Azula says looking at Iroh with barely concealed disdain. But there was little Azula could do when she was still round-cheeked and barely reaching Iroh's knee.

Her uncle blinked. "I don't know if Zuko..."

"I'd prefer that, too."

"Well, in that case..."

The room Uncle Iroh gave them was spacious and large, like the whole mansion and like everything that seemed to belong to their family. Furnished by beautiful furniture with intricate designs on its wood and different decorations of different reddish shades. Everything was still as impersonal and bland as everything else in that hollow mansion.

The only thing that comforted him was the fact that in that huge room there was only one bed, so Azula and he would have to share. He didn't complain and Azula didn't even grimace, if his uncle saw dissent, then he would insist on separate rooms.

Uncle Iroh left them alone to acclimate, leaving them in that space that felt like it could swallow them whole and leave no trace that they ever existed. It was not an unfamiliar feeling to him, this mansion was nothing against the feeling of smallness that the palace was capable of giving.

A handshake brought him out of his thoughts, he turned to look at Lala, who looked like she was about to have a tantrum.

"Lala?"

"I don't like it." She decided in a complaining voice. "It's horrible."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is."

-

It was the first time he had ever visited a beach in his entire life, the sound of the waves, the warm, tropical island breeze, the feel of the sand against his feet, the tingle in his nose as he smelled the sea salt, all made a smile spread across his lips.

He didn't like Ember Islands yet, but the beach was beautiful and fun, he doesn't think it's bad at all. Azula didn't seem to agree with his thoughts. She clung to his arm and watched the shore, where the sea water was too weak to leave anything more than wet trails, with suspicion.

Her mother encouraged them to go in, to test the warm waters with a huge smile. Her eyes shone just like the stars in the sky of Ember Islands, where the campfire was no match for their brightness unlike in the capital. She looked so happy, so free and light, Zuko doesn't think he has ever seen her like that. He is too used to seeing her frightened and reserved, to seeing the mother who shrinks from her father's shadow and who instead of lullabies sings warnings and recommendations to survive another day.

His feet finally perk up and dive a little into the wet sand, he doesn't move away even when the weak waves reach him and crash against his feet. The waters are warm against his skin and he feels disappointed as he was expecting the cold and not the warmth.

He thinks he is sick of the warmth of everything. He is a person of fire, yes, but that doesn't mean he should seek warmth all the time, contrary to popular belief. He was expecting to shiver a little, to feel cool against the cold water, instead this beach suddenly feels a little artificial, almost as if even nature is acting carefully around him instead of being its ruthless, natural self.

Azula looks pleased when their tips touch the water and smiles, at least one of them is happy.

They carefully dive in, no longer submerged once the water reaches a little past their waists and Azula is up to her chest. Azula splashes him a little as a game, but soon they get bored of splashing each other and just stand there, happily taking in the waves gently impacting against their bodies, they don't talk and don't try to find new games, he enjoys the peace and assumes Azula does too or just doesn't feel like doing anything.

At least the force of the waves impacting against his body doesn't feel as artificial as his temperature. It's not too strong to trip him up, but numerous times he recoils from its force. He likes that.

He wonders what Aang would be like on the beach, if he would laugh his head off as a strong wave nearly knocked him over, if he would scold them for getting too far away from him or diving too deep, if he would handle the water to do tricks to impress them or play fun games instead.

Their mother calls them on the shore to come out, there is food in their hands. In the distance he sees the figure of his uncle approaching, he seems to have finished doing his chores and finally has time to join in.

-

The first night there is hard. No matter how hard he tries, he can't close his eyes for more than a minute, his body is a tense spring ready to jump at the first sign of footsteps, his ears keep pricking up waiting for something, a sign that tells him the opposite of what he has been repeating to himself all day since he got there.

Not even when Aang was returning to the South Pole had he felt this way. When Aang was leaving, the promise of knowing exactly when he would return was enough to comfort him even when the next few weeks felt lonely. Now, trapped on Ember Islands as he was, he felt disconnected from time like never before. No one was counting the days and there was no calendar, his mother and Uncle Iroh were the only ones who would know what day it was since they were old enough to smoothly count the days.

He was afraid he would end up forgetting Aang, afraid that when he came back he wouldn't remember Aang. He feared that Azula would forget Aang, after all, she is even smaller than him and knew Aang for less time than he did. He fears even more that Aang will forget them or get bored of waiting and decide to stay at the South Pole with Hakoda and Kya, the kind and gentle adults and with Katara and Sokka, the fun and not at all troublesome kids, who didn't stun him with tears or tantrums at every other encounter.

Sometimes he wonders how Aang managed to put up with them. Even his father didn't, he didn't even try, why would Aang try?

Zuko knows that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't be patient enough to put up with it, let alone stay with himself. He knows he wouldn't be as kind and good as Aang, because that's just how Zuko is, mean. Just as Aang is an air person and Zuko is a fire person, Aang is a good person and Zuko is... well, not the best person.

He closes his eyes and forces those thoughts to go away. Aang used to tell them that those thoughts were like termites, if you left them too long, they would eat your brain and fill it with lies.

Lala snuggles more against him, she's not asleep either, he knows that. No one says anything.

He doesn't manage to fall asleep until long after the time Aang would put them to bed, he almost wishes he would show up, even if it's just to scold them.

-

The festival was smaller than the one Caldera offered, yet the attractions were the same, only on a smaller scale and somehow much more elegant and to some extent flashy. It was as if everything in Ember Islands was designed to be a work of art, as if Ember Islands itself was a theater with the objective of dazzling its spectators, from the warm and pristine beaches to the native people of the island who moved and spoke with the grace of a peacock, everything was elegant and made to attract and enchant. It was definitely the vacation island of the wealthiest people in his nation, only such a place would be so... artificial even when the natural environment had been preserved and cared for.

He's tired of the artificial and pristine, of how ethereal everything seems. He wants something that feels real, that is real. Ember Islands definitely couldn't offer that.

They went to the local theater, which like everything else on that island, was beautiful and welcoming. That night the theater was showing Love Amongst Dragons. The actors were even better than the big-name band the Embers Players, because unlike them, they were more attached to the play and their own original twists didn't feel forced. Zuko enjoyed it, in fact.

He would have enjoyed it more if Azula hadn't been yawning the whole play, unlike him, she was easily bored with the acting. His mother should know, Azula would die of boredom in a four-hour performance with only ten minutes of rest every hour. She would not hold up.

Still, her mother looked disappointed and sad when she noticed that Azula had fallen asleep. She should know Azula hated this, why would she make her watch it? On Azula's first outing with Aang, Aang took her to see street performers who did beautiful dances or amazing feats with their firebending after Azula made a single grimace at the idea of going to some theater.

Perhaps it was unfair to compare her mother to Aang.

They left the theater quickly after the play ended at the request of a desperate Azula, who wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Can we go see street dancers?” asked Zuko as they strolled through the festival, he had seen a congregation in the distance, surely it should be some dancers or gymnasts showing off their skills in public. “Azula likes them.”

His mother blinked, watching him. -“Azula what?” zuko, how do you know that? You never saw any street performers."

There was a too-heavy silence afterwards, his panicked mind trying to find an excuse while his mother looked more suspicious with each passing second without explanation.

"The maids told me about them."

They turned to Azula, who seemed more awake at the mention of seeing street performers.

"Oh, well. Yes, I suppose we can go see them." Her mother said uncertainly, letting the subject go.

Azula smiled and hurried her mother along faster, Zuko followed relieved.

-

“Mom, why did you marry dad?” She asks as she ignores her mother's body shrinking, her face now pale and her mouth opened in surprise, she's used to ignore such things, her mother was always a scary and emotional person, that's what her father always claims.

“What do you mean, Azula?” her mother replied, her anxious eyes now looking at her, it felt weird. It wasn't that her mother never saw her, but for some reason, she never seemed to really see her.

“Why did you choose dad?” Azula is small, but she's not dumb, her father is someone violent, her father didn't seem to love her mother any more than her mother seemed to love her father. Azula accepted that since she saw her father slap her mother for suggesting to take her out of the palace to see the capital.

Her mother's lips twist into a thin line. Her eyes for the first time in a long time betray no emotion. Her hands, always wobbly, suddenly seem graceful and steady. Her mother looks like a person instead of a fearful ghost.

“There are times where choice is not the priority Azula.” Answers her mother softly, her eyes are clear and there is no trace of fear in them, there is a feeling there that Azula is too young to understand. She never heard her mother speak like that, so confident, so... human.

Azula always viewed her mother with contempt, she hated her hesitation, her doubt, her fear. She hated her lack of action, she hated most of the things her mother did. Now she realizes that maybe her mother wasn't the only one who refused to give her a chance. Maybe Azula was also blinded by her father figure projected onto her mother just as her mother was blinded by whatever she saw in her.

“Isn't it?”

“No, it isn't. Not for me.” Her mother confirms. There is a knot in her stomach, she thinks that's where the conversation ended, however her mother continues; “But don't worry, Azula. I won't let that happen to you, ever.”

Gone was the trembling mother, the fearful wife, the invisible ghost. Next to her, her mother never seemed more fierce than now, almost as if she were about to accompany her uncle to the front lines of the war. Something flutters in her chest at the thought that she brought out this strong reaction in her mother.

She ducks her head and fiddles with her hands. “Well.”

Her mother's hand landed in her hair, this time unlike the so many other times, her hand stayed there for a long while, moving back and forth in a form of comfort, comfort for her, not for herself.

It was new, it was rare.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

But it wasn't bad.

-

Zuko was untangling her sister's hair that night before bedtime. His mother had left early that night to see a play at the theater that everyone claimed was 'revolutionary'. Their mother at first didn't want to, as it meant leaving them alone in the mansion, but their uncle insisted that they would be fine and that he would keep an eye on them.

Uncle Iroh let them play outside for a while, with him watching over them, however it soon got dark and Uncle Iroh sent them to sleep.

“Zuko.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think mom is a bad person?”

His hands stopped. He tried to process what Azula just asked, something defensive and angry tried to bubble up from his chest and make its way to his lips, but he bit his tongue. Azula wasn't being mean, she was being curious and she had a right to ask, he just wished she asked someone else. However, Aang wasn't here, so Zuko was now the one to look out for her.

“I... I don't know.” If he were Aang, he would answer with something profound and something that would leave him thinking. Maybe he would respond with something that would make him feel better. But Zuko isn't Aang, and maybe that's a good thing. Azula is not like him, she likes to be told things in a direct way, she gets very frustrated when they don't. That's why mom and her get along... not so well.

Azula folded her arms, snorting.

He sighed, trying to sort out his words. “No... I don't think mom is bad.” he mumbled doubtfully. His mom wasn't mean, she never would be. But... Zuko just doesn't know, sometimes it was hard to be with her. “But she... I know sometimes she can be hard.”

“She's not hard,” Azula scoffed. “She's stupid.”

He bit his lip, not wanting to say something venomous to Azula, it wasn't her fault. “She's not stupid, Azula.” He taunted her, forcing his voice to be calm, trying to draw something of Aang's manner to him.

Aang wouldn't yell at her or scold her, at least not for this. He wouldn't reply that she was the stupid one. Zuko was the big brother, he should act like one.

Azula didn't answer, so he continued. “Mom's scared.”

“All the time.” grumbled Azula.

“Yeah, but that doesn't make her bad or stupid. Just... difficult. But it's not her fault, I think we're scared too, both of us, you and I.” He suggested carefully, Azula didn't react. “Mom must be even more afraid, but even with that fear, she always tries to protect us, even if it sometimes goes wrong.”

She shakes her head. “She doesn't comfort us.“”

He shudders at that, can't even tell it's totally untrue. His vision goes blurry. “No, she doesn't comfort us all the time. But that doesn't mean she doesn't love us.”

“It doesn't mean I feel loved,” Azula mutters, her voice sounds small and Zuko hates it. He wonders if Aang feels the same way when he talks like that.

"No.” He mumbled because he didn't know what else to say. "No, it doesn't mean that."

He didn't say more, and Azula didn't add anything else. They both know there is not much more to add.

-

It was a moonless, starless night, the sky was cloudy. His eyes were heavy and the warmth of the lump beside him in the form of his sister glued to his side didn't make it any easier to keep them open, for some reason, he felt too restless to sleep, too alert to close his eyes for more than two seconds.

He wonders if Aang does this when Zuko sleeps, staying awake until dawn to safeguard his dreams and protect him from the bad things that lurk in the darkness and bad thoughts. He wonders if Aang feels as anxious as he feels now when he thinks of Azula. He wonders if the same spark of protection ignites in Aang that ignites in him when he sees Azula, vulnerable and sad.

He wonders if that's how Aang sees them, vulnerable and sad.

The door to his room opens quietly, it makes no sound as is to be expected from the royal family mansion, there is nothing old or rusty there. He is not afraid, instinctively he knows who it is even before he turns in the direction of the entrance, he would recognize his mother's quiet, light footsteps wherever, along with her graceful but ghostly movements.

His mother's hand falls on his cheek and he leans into her touch and closes his eyes. He allows himself to enjoy the contact.

“Are you awake, Zuko?”

“Yes,” he answers in a mushy voice. “Did you like the play?”

He could see his mother's smile even in all the darkness, for it was not a physical thing per se, but the feeling of joy his mother conveys. “Yes, it was a good play. Sorry to leave you, Zuko.”

“It's okay” he murmurs, no lie, he's not going to die without his mother. Besides, she was allowed to go off by herself for a while and do things she likes.

He wonders if Aang is doing the same thing right now; enjoying his free time and relaxing. He hopes so. Zuko has only been in charge of Azula for two weeks and is already exhausted, he doesn't want to think about what it would be like for Aang, who took care of him all his life.

There is silence, he waits for his mother to turn around and walk away after the apology, it wouldn't be the first time it has happened. But his mother remains steady as a statue on the edge of her bed, so when she doesn't leave, Zuko waits for her to start crying or say something sad. He waits, but she doesn't say anything and anxiety wells up in his chest.

“Zuko” his mother called him, her hand stroked his hair, and, even though everything was dark, he could almost see the sparkle in her eyes. “I love you, you know that, don't you?”

He is incapable of saying yes, Azula's words echoing in his mind like an echo;

'It doesn't mean I feel loved.'

Zuko understands, even if he will never admit it to anyone, he understands what Azula is referring to all too intimately.

His lack of response discourages his mother, he knows it by the way the weight of her hand falls more on his head for a second before resuming the caresses. “I know, I guess I'm not always good at showing it, am I?”

And he can't deny it, as much as the words are born in his throat, they refuse to leave his mouth.

Mom loves them, that's her mother's truth. But he doesn't know that she loves him unconditionally and completely, that's another truth, one deep in his chest and only shared with Azula. He doesn't think he will ever admit it to anyone, not even Aang.

He doesn't know if his mother loves him enough to go against his father for him. He doesn't know if his mother loves him enough to risk taking him away from his father just because she loves him and doesn't want that life for him. He doesn't know if his mother would choose him over a whole life away from his father.

Mom loves him, smiles when he hugs her and listens attentively to what he says if she isn't stressed. She cradles him in her arms and, sometimes on good mornings, sings him a wistful old lullaby. She loves them more than the world.

But, mom is afraid. And that fear makes their mom shrink when their dad shows up, makes her eyes sometimes fail to stay steady and turn away when their dad yells at them, and makes her seek more comfort than she brings on bad days. Mom loves them, but fear seems to win out over love. Their mother loves them, that is a truth. Their mother is scared, that's another truth.

“I think you're just too scared to show it” he whispers without meaning to. His mother stands still as a statue.

“Yes, I think you're right, Zuko.” she murmurs, her voice is soft but not brittle, she seems to accept a fact she was avoiding for a long time. “I'm sorry, Zuko.” Her voice is so sincere that his eyes burn as he hears it. “I'm sorry, Azula.” She apologizes again even though Azula is not awake to hear her. “But really, I don't know what to do.”

The darkness covers everything in a blanket, so he doesn't know what expression his mother is putting on, and that both relieves him and makes him feel guilty for feeling relieved. Still, for once, he doesn't want to see his mother breaking down in front of him, doesn't want to comfort her or pick up the pieces.

“Maybe he was right” His mother now seemed to be speaking more to herself than to him. “There is nothing here that can make you truly happy, and I can't protect you from the monster.”

There is a kind of acceptance there, Zuko thinks it is a painful acceptance for his mother, the way she speaks.

He shakes his head. “I'm happy, sometimes.” he tells her, because that must count for something. Aang always says that the little happy moments are worth more than a lifetime full of comfort and no suffering. “With you, Azula and Uncle Iroh, I'm happy.” And with Aang, he adds in his mind. “I think that is worth a lot.”

Silence falls, hours or minutes may have passed. Sleep begins to win its fight and his eyes begin to droop.

“Yes, you're right.” His mother responds at last, but her voice sounds fuzzy and distant. “But I'm selfish, Zuko. Very selfish, and I want you two to be as happy as possible.”

His mouth opens but only lets out a choked noise, his eyes close and the darkness gently consumes him. His mother's hand pulls away and he feels her lips on his forehead, the last thing he hears is;

“I love you Zuko, I love you both.”

-

Zuko is already too unconscious to hear the rest;

“And for that, I will do everything to make you both happy.”

But Azula, clever little Azula who keeps her eyes closed and her breathing steady, is not.

When the door closes with a silent tap, Azula's eyes open, they look like the sky about to rain. But not a single drop falls.

-

“I don't understand, why can't you just go, drop the letter and leave? It's not that complicated” the whining voice repeated the same question for the tenth time, Aang, with all the patience in the world, repeated the same answer;

“I can't go where they are now, Sokka.”

Actually, he could go there. Sure, it would be difficult and complicated, but it was too much of a risk. The island was practically the place of the richest and noblest, much more guarded than the royal castle itself. Aang knew he could get past security, but the risk of being discovered was high.

Besides, Appa would get too tired, the island paradise that Zuko and Azula were now on was a week more travel than Appa usually did, Aang didn't have the heart to push him any further. It wouldn't be fair.

He hated not being able to go, but part of him saw it as an opportunity for the kids to spend quality time with their mother and uncle, two of the few people who weren't adult jerks. Although they were both hovering at the time on that delicate line.

It's not like he's an angel. Even with all that Aang tries to do for the Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water tribe under all sorts of pseudonyms, from evil spirit, a Samaritan soldier, an outsider, or a wretch, there was only so much he could do without revealing himself or making it too obvious and drawing the attention of the Fire Nation. Selfish as he is, he put the safety of his loved ones before the entire world.

Well, he consoles himself, the deal with Raava wouldn't have allowed him to end the war early anyway. That doesn't make everything any easier, though.

Sokka kicked the ground, surrendering at last. Katara had done it a long time ago, knowing how to pick her battles and being less stubborn as a baby, she was lying in the lap of her mother, who was knitting near the fire pit of the igloo they were in. A soft smile was on Kya's lips as she hummed, though Aang knew she had a listening ear to her chatter.

“When is dad coming?” Sokka decided to tease his mother now. His mother, who had infinite patience, snorted.

“Sokka, I told you, when the moon is at its highest point.”

Sokka grumbled even more. “I don't know what that means. I won't know when it is.”

“I'll let you know,” he promised, stepping in.

Finally, Sokka collapsed onto his side and closed his eyes, resting his head against one of his legs and snuggling close. “Well, wake me up when it's the high point of the moon or whatever.”

His lips curved, something soft was born in his chest as he dropped a hand on Sokka's shoulder. “ Got it.”

Silence flooded the igloo, Kya had stopped humming and was now silently knitting with the wool Aang had brought back from his last trip to the earth realm. None of them said anything, there was no need.

Before long, his eyes began to feel heavy, but he fought the urge to sleep without much trouble. The hours of wakefulness and alertness were nothing new to him, he did it every night he was in the Fire Nation with Zuko and Azula.

A new weight settled on his legs and he noticed it was Katara, gently deposited on his lap by Kya, who was smiling softly. He didn't blame her, her children were so cute when they weren't demons.

Then he noticed that the gaze was not only looking at the sleeping children in his lap, but at him as well.

Something warm flooded his chest too strongly, something similar embarrassment and comforting satisfaction.

A heavy blanket landed on his shoulders, Kya carefully draped over him, Sokka and Katara.

"Sleep, Aang. I'll keep watch and let you know when the moon is at its highest. Hakoda wouldn't want you to stay awake waiting for him."

Something akin to shame washed over him, but it was a warm and satisfying shame.

How long had it been since he'd felt like a child? How long since he'd been treated like one?

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.

-

The return to the palace after his month long vacation with Uncle Iroh and his mother was a bit of a disappointment. His father, fortunately, was not there to greet them, however his grandfather, Azulon, was, or to greet Uncle Iroh, his favorite son, 'the spoiled one', as his father often calls him in his voice full of disdain.

He gives a distracted nod in greeting to his mother, who bows so much that it makes Zuko's back ache just to see him, and barely gives them a sidelong glance before smiling at his uncle and putting his arm around his shoulders gently and affectionately, guiding him to the throne room where all the officials are waiting to welcome the heir to the Fire Nation.

His mother, Azula and he are free to go to their wing of the palace, the walk is long and almost reluctant, everyone walks as slowly as possible in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. His mother leaves them with the servants to escort them to their rooms and soon departs, not without giving them a gentle smile and a promise to dine on their favorite foods. Zuko assumes that his mother will let his father know that they returned safely, though he is not sure if his father cares too much.

Azula refuses to part from him and soon the maid who was supposed to escort her to her room gives up and leaves them alone. His room never felt warmer and more homey than it did now, after four weeks of being away from there, returning to the hellish palace didn't feel so bad, even when all the positives of coming back came down to a single word, a single name, a single person.

A rustle pierced the silent room, followed by a quiet, gentle rush of air tickling the back of his neck. His lips curved and he could almost feel the glint of pure joy his eyes sparkled as he turned quickly.

There, on the balcony of his huge room that had its doors open to ventilate it, over the marble railing with refined and exquisite detailing, sat a figure sitting relaxed on it, one of the figure's hands held an all too familiar wooden cane and his lips stretched upward, forming a mischievous smile on these. His eyes, gray, almost silver, glowed in fondness.

Azula reacted before he did; "Aang!"

Aang came down from the railing soon enough to tackle Azula, who jumped without hesitation into his arms, clutching her small hands in the fabric on his chest as her eyes closed as tightly as her legs did around Aang's waist. Aang laughed delightedly and gently stroked Azula's hair.

"Hi, Azula."

“I missed you!” her voice failed a little.

Aang's eyes were watery in a way he hadn't seen in a while; “Me too.”

A few moments passed and Aang rose from the ground with Azula in his arms without too much effort. The staff that had fallen to the ground when Azula jumped towards Aang was easily lifted with a wave of Aang's free hand, being carefully guided to rest on the railing.

Aang walked towards him, a hesitant but cheerful smile on his face as he looked at him fondly. “Won't you say hi to me?”

He didn't realize how frozen he was until now, struggling to process the fact that Aang is still here, that he didn't leave them behind, that he still cares about them and still wants to hang out with them. He struggles to understand that Aang is, in fact, here and is not a lived-in dream.

Aang's weak smile dwarfed even more and his knees bent to be at his level. “Zuko, are you all right?”

There was a lump in his throat that was too big and too painful, but there was nothing in his eyes to signal that he was about to cry. In fact, he barely felt anything more than... well, quiet surprise that Aang was still here.

“Yes,” he managed to say through the knot, he hated how small it sounded.

Aang nodded, concerned but not pressing, instead, his knees touching the ground as he knelt in front of him, extending his free arm towards him. “A hug?”

And finally, his body reacted.

He leapt towards Aang with force, wrenching a muffled sound from him as he nearly knocks him to the ground. His arms tighten against Aang's back as Aang tries to keep the three of them from falling backwards as he tries to accommodate both Azula and him in his arms.

He closes his eyes tightly, thanking Agni for allowing Aang to be here.

There is a long silence where no one says anything, they just press against each other and enjoy the moment.

“I missed you.” Aang says after a while, a hand falls on his back and he pretends not to feel his eyes burn at last.

He concentrates on the fact that Aang is here. “I missed you too.”

He can almost feel Aang's smile. “It's okay, we won't be separated anymore, I promise.”

Azula greedily takes the promise, Zuko understands what he really means;

In less than two months, it will be his fifth birthday.

-

Ursa patiently and lovingly strokes Azula's hair, she hasn't allowed herself to do this for a long time, too afraid to hesitate or waver and end up further fracturing the already damaged relationship she had with Azula. It is not until now that she looks her daughter in the eye and sees her.

Azula is drowsy, but there is a smile of pure happiness on her lips and his heart trembles as his head leans forward, seeking the warmth she provides. He wonders when he stopped seeing her as his precious daughter and began to see the monster in her, wonders how he dared to even think that she was at least a little like that man.

Azula, his little daughter, barely three years old. Who shows a big smile every time her drawings resemble the objects she portrays, who has steely eyes and a determined and ambitious will. Azula, who loves street dancers and extra spicy meatballs even when she ends up with her mouth on fire.

It's easier to see the daughter of the monster than the daughter of a victim.

It's easier to pretend not to fear for Azula's future, it's easier to fear for Azula being a monster like her father than to fear her becoming a victim like her. Azulon forced her to marry his horrible son, who's to say Azula won't meet the same fate?

'It's impossible,' she convinced herself as she watched Azula, with a fierce will and a greed typical of firebenders when they want something, 'Azula can't be like me.'

Then, she remembers thinking, she must be like her father.

She doesn't understand why that line of thought made so much sense back then.

Azula finally closes her eyes and sleeps peacefully, oblivious to her mother's anguish. Or maybe not, Azula and Zuko, her two little ones were always too perceptive for her liking, on the other hand, she might not be the best at hiding her distress.

For the first time in four years, almost five, her eyes fix on the balcony of Azula's room.

It's not the same balcony where she met the spirit, but that doesn't mean it's not identical to this one. It makes sense, after all, Azula and Zuko are only a few feet apart, both rooms next to each other.

She takes a deep breath and soon her footsteps make their way to the balcony door, carefully opening it and stepping outside. She hasn't been on a balcony, not even her own, since the first and last encounter with the spirit. The keys that used to hold Azula and Zuko's balcony doors are long gone, once Ursa realized that the spirit planned to keep its promise and that a key could do nothing about it.

Zuko's fifth birthday was a week away, she doesn't feel terrified like she thought she would, nor does she feel panicked or anxious. There is just a great emptiness in her chest, the realization that perhaps, the spirit was right.

And the realization hits her hard, there is something in herself that wants to snarl at such a thought, wants to tear that realization apart and turn it to ashes, the idea that Zuko is better off with a spirit than with her hurts and angers her in an unimaginable way. However, Ursa is an adult and sometimes the truth comes with a painful stab in the chest that bleeds in silence.

Her eyes burn in a way she's used to ignoring, it's easy to undo the lump in her throat and force her eyes to soothe the burning in them, to put the worst of it into a bottomless pit and just take a deep breath and move on. It's so simple and so easy, it shouldn't be so exhausting, truth be told; Ursa is tired of repeating this process, but she doesn't think she can live any other way in a place like this.

She sits on the balcony railing and, after a few moments, takes a breath.

Her body deflates, her cheeks ache from the neutral expression she has forced herself to maintain for so long, her legs tremble wearily from the weight of her own body, and her mind is finally free to think without fear that her thoughts will somehow pierce the physical world and expose her or her kids.

For the first time in so long, Ursa is a person and not a marble statue posing beautifully in the corner of the hallway. It's funny how much habit, routine, can do to someone, she barely remembers the time outside the palace, sometimes it's like a fever dream. She refuses to fall into that mindset, it's like allowing Ozai to win, like he's stealing what she makes her and he's succeeded in making her... this.

She's not sure what she really is, not anymore, not since she entered the palace. She's not a person anymore, because people sure as hell aren't treated like that, she's not a princess of the Fire Nation, or at least not one with anything more than a pretty title, she refuses to just be a woman, because that's too demeaning somehow.

She clings to the label mother, the only one that hasn't hurt her and the only one she can truly be proud of, because Zuko and Azula will always be her biggest pride and her biggest regret. She clings to being a mother even if she can't fulfill the requirements that such a label asks for, even if she can't truly be a mother to them when they need it. Her children are her light, but she doesn't think that's mutual.

There is movement beside her, she turns and her body freezes.

The spirit is not wearing black and opaque robes like the first time they met, instead it's now wearing much livelier clothes, orange and yellow with gold accents around the edges, there is a blue and silver necklace shining around its neck in the moonlight. These clothes are much looser than the previous ones, the black ones were tight to the body, designed for fast and sudden movement, these on the other hand seem designed to entice and charm.

She wonders, vaguely, if their clothes have something to do with their mood.

“There is still a month to go before his birthday.” she points out, her voice not trembling, and she looks fearlessly at the spirit. The first time she met the spirit, years ago, she still harbored some hope for a better future, she was still naive and stupid. She was still new to this cruel reality of golden smiles and silver tongues. “You can't take him, anyway, you're not in the right room.”

The spirit tilts his head and she notices the slightest shrug of their shoulders, they don't seem to care or seem in a hurry, but of course not, it's a spirit, time works differently for them, a few days for them must be a few seconds.

Despite the silence, she keeps talking, even if the spirit probably has no interest in listening to her. “These were hard years, Zuko has grown up well, he remains kind and gentle. He's a good boy, he always tries to cheer me up even when he's bad, I'm trying to break him of that habit, but I guess it's hard for him and me to give it up.”

The spirit remains silent, she continues; “He has a sister, Azula, she is a good girl, ambitious and dreamy, if it were up to her, she would conquer the world with her two little hands and demand all the spicy buns it could offer her. They're both pretty close.”

Again her eyes sting at the thought that the spirit would separate Zuko from Azula. “I understand I can't change your mind, but can I at least ask if it's a good place you plan to take my son? That time you said you would take care of him, keep him away from the monsters in here.”

She observes the spirit attentively, but the spirit only looks at the starry sky with no moon. A long moment passes before she receives an answer.

“The best.”

She blinks, it takes a few seconds before she understands that it is an answer to her question. 'The best place,' the spirit seems to promise.

“I'll take care of him.” Continues the spirit with a promise, it seems solemn. There is something light that soothes his chest. Even if it's not ideal, the idea of at least one of them escaping this horrible place, being free wherever they went... there's peace in that idea.

“There's no chance you'll take Azula or me, is there?” There's no desperation or pleading, just cruel, bitter acceptance.

This time, the spirit responds more quickly; “Your daughter is viable” his voice is low and sounds like a breeze of fresh air. “You, on the other hand...”

She laughs lightly. “I know, you don't want to deal with burdens.”

Her answer makes the spirit shrink into itself, as if she had hit it, she doesn't understand why; it was their words, wasn't it?

If the spirit thought of something, they don't say it, hours pass in silence and, the next time she turns in his direction, the spirit is gone. She sighs and gets up, leaving the railing that served as a seat and heading to her bedroom.

Chapter Text

–Azula.

She had never heard Aang speak in such a serious tone, so Azula stopped drawing and looked at him.

Aang didn't look well; that was her first thought when he appeared that night. His eyes looked tired and anxious, and there was a nervous energy in his body that prevented him from relaxing for more than a minute without seeming to remember something and becoming restless again. Azula tried to distract him as best she could for the first hour, but asking him to make clay figures stopped working when Aang decided he had too many and that they should do something else.

Unfortunately, drawing was no longer working as a distraction.

“Do you like the palace?”

The question baffled her because of how stupid it was. “No.”

Aang's eyes widened a little, seeming surprised by her easy admission. “Oh, well. Would you miss it? If you ever left.”

She thinks about that. Would she miss her home if she ever left? The big walls? The tense, silent servants, like mice? The clear, suffocating presence of her grandfather, never physically present but still there in some way she would never understand? Would she miss this bedroom? The one where she had cried so much, screamed and felt like she was drowning without anyone hearing her before Aang arrived?

She... doesn't know.

“I don't know, but I don't think so,” she murmured after long seconds of deliberation. Aang nodded, not pressing her for a more concise answer.

“I'm undecided, Azula,” Aang admitted after a moment of silence.

She looked at him curiously. “About what?”

“I... plan to take Zuko away when he turns five in few weeks.”

The news caused a pang of fear in her chest, her breathing stopped, and for a moment it was as if the world had lost its color and sound. The only tangible thing was the terror and anxiety growing in her chest and causing a lump in her throat.

Would Aang take Zuko and leave her alone?

Was she... not important?

“And I want you to come with me.”

Her head jerks up; she hadn't even noticed when she had lowered it.

“Huh?”

Aang... Does Aang still love her? Does he want her to go with him?

Her eyes sting in a stupid and familiar way; she knows that happens when she's about to shed stupid tears. Normally, Azula would do anything to avoid it, but this time she does nothing to stop them.

Aang continues to stammer, his hand scratching the back of his neck nervously, his eyes not looking at her, too lost in his thoughts to notice her sudden changes. “...And I don't want to force you or pressure you or anything, Azula, but I'd really be happy if...”

She stops Aang's stupid talk by jumping on him in tears. Aang lets out a muffled scream and holds her, trying to regain his balance and prevent them from falling to the ground. “Azula?” he blurts out, confused and concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I want to go with you and Zuzu!”

Aang says nothing for a long moment, and Azula uses this silence to snuggle into Aang's chest. She can't help the big smile that spreads across her face, and she doesn't bother to try. Joy bursts from her chest in waves.

Aang loves her!

Aang's arms around her finally tighten and pull her close to him.

There is something wet on her shoulder, and she doesn't mind. She knows that Aang is not crying out of sadness, but out of joy, just like her. For once, she won't tease Aang for looking ugly when he cries, mainly because she can't see him.

“That's... great, Azula,” he murmurs against her head. “Thank you, thank you, you won't regret it, I promise.”

She doesn't think there's any way to do that, but she nods to assure Aang that she understands.

—

“Aang, why don't you like Mom?”

The abrupt question broke the pleasant silence that had grown thicker until that moment. Zuko looks reproachfully at his sister, who stares back at him fervently, challenging him to scold her.

Aang coughs a little, taken by surprise and not knowing how to respond immediately. “Who told you that?” Aang looks at him briefly, silently asking if it was him. Zuko shakes his head vehemently, not knowing where Azula got that from.

Azula snorts. “I'm not blind. Every time you watch us in the courtyard from your tree, you always look at Mom with that face like she did something bad. And when I mention her, you always seem a little tense.”

Zuko can't say anything in response to his sister'accusation. He's not blind either; he's also noticed that Aang doesn't seem to have the best impression of his mother. However, he never said anything bad about her, apart from a strange look or two.

The older boy shakes his head. “I have nothing against Ursa, Azula. She's fine.” He knows that Aang is forcing his voice to sound casual and calm, as if this subject doesn't bother him, but Zuko easily notices the lie.

It must affect him deeply if he can't fake it well, Zuko thinks.

Azula isn't fooled either. “You said you wouldn't lie,” she points out angrily. Aang looks at her with pure exhaustion.

“I have nothing against Ursa, I swear, Azula.” He pauses, debating whether to continue. “It's complicated, but I don't dislike her or anything, she... she's nothing to me, I hardly know her.”

Azula opens her mouth, looking ready to argue, but Zuko stares at her intently, trying to tell her with his eyes to stop and back down. Luckily for him, and to his confusion, his sister obeys him for once and rolls her eyes, snorting and making a disgruntled face but saying nothing more.

Aang, standing next to him, sighs with relief at being able to drop the subject, but there is some uncertainty.

“I'm sorry, Azula. These aren't things I should be discussing with young children.”

Azula looks at him, puzzled. “But you're a child.”

“Yes, but not a small child, and that's a big difference.”

Later that night, after leaving Azula's room, Aang says goodbye.

“I'll be back in a week and a half,” he promises. “Just a few days before your birthday, okay?”

He nods with a smile and dismisses him with a wave of his hand. Aang is about to jump off the balcony and leave, but he can't help calling out to him.

“Aang?”

Aang turns around, curious. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

It's now or never, he thinks, trying to encourage himself. “Is it because Mom doesn't stand up to Dad? The reason you don't like her”

The question takes him by surprise, as seen in the way his breathing stops for a moment. However, he hesitates.

“No, Zuko. She... I don't know, it's complicated and I don't know how I feel about her, but I don't dislike her for that.”

He nods and doesn't press further. “It's just... Mom is like Lala and me, she's as terrified of Dad as we are. And... she tries to take care of us, but I think sometimes her fear gets in the way, but it's not her fault.”

There is something painful in Aang when he says that, but he doesn't argue as he thought he would.

“Yes, I understand,” Aang assured him, then a flash of hesitation crossed his face before he said, “Tell me, if your mom could leave and forget about her life here, including you guys, how would you feel?”

Minutes pass, long minutes where he tries to understand Aang's question. How would he feel if his mother decided to forget about them?

“Would she forget about dad too?”

The question takes Aang by surprise, but he nods anyway.

His eyes relax a little. “I think it's okay,” he murmurs, even though the idea makes him sad and fills him with the urge to cry. “If I had the chance, I think I would do it too. Azula would too. And mom spends more time with him than we do, so it must be worse for mom, right?”

Aang seems to want to argue, but he says nothing. There is something in his eyes, conflict, he thinks. Aang doesn't seem to know what to think of his answer or his mother.

“I hope you don't hate her, Aang. Mom does everything she can.”

The older boy doesn't respond to that, he just says, “Goodbye, Zuko. See you in a few weeks.”

And with that, he leaves. Zuko watches him go in silence, wondering why Aang seemed so guilty.

—

Kya watches Aang closely before allowing her eyes to wander to observe the rustic landscape that was her small village from the small hole in her igloo that simulated a window, covered by thick skins that blocked the window so that not too much outside air could enter.

With Aang there, her village was no longer so rustic. With his control over all the elements, the dome that surrounded and protected them was just one of the many things Aang had given them to improve their lifestyle. From cozier and larger igloos, to the large bonfire they had in the center of the village that never went out or weakened even in the absence of the avatar himself, to the materials he brought from the rest of the world, reconnecting them with the earth kingdom and forming a safe and discreet trade route so they could exchange, sell, buy, and, well, connect with the rest of the world and somehow remain part of it without fear that the Fire Nation might attack them.

With all these things given and more, she doesn't think they can ever repay the boy for all he has done for them, even at his young age of twelve and a half (twelve years, she thinks sadly, the boy has spent five, almost six, long years with them, and he is still as young as the day she met him, if a little more tired).

Of course, Aang has never interfered with their way of doing things. He has granted them things to move forward quickly, but he has made it clear that it was their decision what they would do with this and in which direction they would go. Aang established safe trade routes, but did not urge them to use them. Aang granted a safe dome, but never insisted on how it should be built internally or how the residents should manage life within it.

Aang didn't impose his ideas or culture on the tribe. Kya sometimes wishes he would do so a little, at least to comfort the boy.

At first, when Aang suddenly appeared in their lives, everyone in his tribe was suspicious of him, watching him with fear and caution. Outsiders in his tribe were always trouble, and his tribe didn't have the strength to deal with trouble at that time.

Aang came into their lives just a year after she married Hakoda, and he barely knew them when he became attached to them like a baby polar bear cub clings to its mother from the very first moment. Hakoda tried to scare him away by acting tough, and Kya avoided him as much as possible, but Aang stubbornly clung to them and followed them everywhere with his big, childlike eyes.

Her chest tightens at the sight of the exhaustion, sorrow, and pain in those eyes at such a young age. Even when the child clung to their clothes for security and looked at them with blind trust in his eyes, there was something about him that made him seem older, wiser, larger than life itself.

She wonders how much it must hurt. If it hurt her just to look at him, how must it feel to live it? Aang is just a child trapped in his twelve years in a small body, and she shudders to think how much it must hurt to endure everything Aang endures in such a small vessel.

Eventually, they gave in and decided that if Aang was going to follow them everywhere like a lost puppy, he might as well live with them and not be alone in that tiny little igloo that he had absentmindedly built for himself when the elders insisted that he should have a place to rest.

Kya remembers despising that little igloo. Aang had put so much effort into giving them all the help and comforts possible to ease the change of home that the tribe had to endure in order to be safer and more protected. However, when it came to him, he barely made an effort to try to make what would be his home somewhat comfortable. To be honest, he put much more effort into the stable he built for his sky bison; at least there was heating there.

Yes, with all that, Hakoda and Kya decided that the boy would live with them if he was unable to take care of himself.

So much has happened since then. Kya is getting older and will soon be twenty-eight. She has a tribe that is thriving better than ever under the care and love of its people and the constant help of a boy who saw in them something more than 'savages’ or ‘backward people’. She has a wonderful husband who is a loving father, a good companion, and a wise leader.

And above all, she thinks fondly as she watches the pile of blankets and limbs curled up near the small fire in her igloo, three wonderful children. Her intelligent and astute two-year-old daughter, her brave and stubborn son, who just turned five three months ago, and her patient and kind twelve-year-old son.

They are all her greatest pride.

Aang's eyes flicker as he wakes up groggily from a long nap he fell into after trying to calm his siblings and put them to sleep, falling right into the trap set by Sokka and Katara, who were trying to tire him out and force him to sleep since they all knew that Aang was a 'dream escapist'.

Soon Aang noticed her presence and tried to sit up, but the weight of Katara and Sokka together forced him to remain lying down.

She smiled fondly. “Did you sleep well?”

Aang shook his head, she could see him holding back a pout, as he considered the action too childish for him.

“The idea was for them to sleep,” he complained.

She chuckled. “I think their idea was for everyone to sleep.”

It wasn't really Katara and Sokka's idea. If Kya had to bet, she would bet that Hakoda may or may not have had something to do with that plan. Hakoda is always the one who forces Aang to rest, even if it's by unconventional methods.

“Still, it'll do you good,” she tries to convince him, reassure him. She knows how quickly Aang can become distressed if he feels he has failed. “Especially so close to the big day. Are you excited?”

She expected a smile that matched the sun, not a grimace full of worry and conflict.

Aang has been waiting for this day for years. The day when he could finally take the boy, Zuko, away from his horrible father, who also happens to be the prince of the Fire Nation. The idea has long since ceased to frighten or make her nervous, perhaps because she is certain that the prince of the Fire Nation, Ozai, would look everywhere but here.

So, why did Aang seem so conflicted?

“Aang?”

Aang's head remains bowed, but she can see him wringing his hands as he often does when guilt eats away at him. She approaches carefully, trying not to startle him, and sits down next to the pile of blankets in which Aang is trapped.

“I don't know what to do.”

She blinks, confused. “About what?” Something in her hesitates. “You don't know whether to take Zuko with you?”

Aang shakes his head vigorously, his eyes flashing with determination for a second before weakening and returning to uncertainty. “No, no, I'll take Zuko, there's no question about that...” He pauses for a moment, hesitant, before taking a breath and continuing, “I'm not sure about... everything else.”

She nods even though she doesn't quite understand what he means. "What is everything else? Is it about the girl, Azula? You know it's okay to bring her, we already discussed this. No one has a problem with that."

And if the elders decide it is a problem, well, Kya and Hakoda are more than enough to convince them that it really isn't.

Aang nods, but guilt is consuming him, she can feel it, it's almost palpable in the air. She wonders if all airbenders do this unconsciously, changing the atmosphere according to their emotional state, however slight the change may be.

She'll never know, she thinks bitterly, Aang, her little one, is the last of them.

"It's just... everything has always been so clear. I've always known who the enemy was and who wasn't, the instinct to know whether I'm on the right path or not. Knowing who is safe and who isn't, but lately... I wonder how much of that instinct, of that knowledge, is impartial and how much is clouded by prejudice."

Oh, she realizes, this is about the future. About Aang's knowledge of the future regarding certain people, such as his children, for example.

The secret that Kya and Hakoda swore to take to their graves three years ago, after Aang, in a panic attack too big and too uncontrollable, confessed his memories of future events with tears in his eyes and a throat torn by sobs and muffled apologies.

If Hakoda or she had known about this the first year they met him, they would have kicked Aang out of the village, or at least branded him as crazy. But by the third year, Aang was too intertwined in their lives, too attached to them. Aang was family, their first child even before they knew it, and by then, the resentment or fear they must have felt was replaced by concern and sympathy.

No matter what happened, Aang was still family, their son.

She placed a soft, gentle hand on Aang's shoulder, who shuddered before bowing to the touch. Kya always wondered when was the last time an adult touched this child, when was the last time someone cradled him in their arms or at least comforted him before Hakoda or she came into his life.

It's a stupid question, she knows how long; a hundred years. Maybe more, it's impossible to know how long Aang spent in those 'dreams' about the future, it could have been a second or hundreds of years.

“What are you doubting?” Who is Aang doubting? The boy has always held his ideals close to his heart and firmly in his mind. People who were dear to him or important to his loved ones were a priority and treated well, while traitors or enemies were met with nothing more than his disdain. Aang has always been clear about who deserved his help and who didn't

Aang looks away and seems like an embarrassed child.

“Ursa,” he confesses.

Her hand, which was caressing Aang's shoulder, stops. She did not expect that name. “Zuko's mother?”

She didn't expect it to be her, among all the names Aang always repeated on especially bad days as if it were a kind of mantra or reminder. As if he were reminding himself who he was fighting for and who he was fighting against.

Ursa wasn't a woman she had a good opinion of, but she could admit that she had only heard things from Aang, who might not be so impartial with people he disliked. Besides, Aang was still a child, even if he didn't always act like one.

She leans down and gently moves Sokka, freeing Aang and urging him to sit up. The boy does so carefully and moves closer to her, curling up against her shoulder. Kya wraps her arm around him and lets him sink further into her side.

“I thought she wasn't a good mother, or at least not one who cared deeply about her children's well-being,” she said softly, removing any accusation from her tone, yet Aang shuddered and could see the guilt twisting more.

“She's not bad,” he murmurs, almost sounding reluctant. “She's not bad,” he repeats, more convinced.

“No, she's not bad, you never said that,” she reassures him.

Aang now looks even more guilty. “But I said she was a bad mother.”

He grimaces. Aang didn't say that specifically, but from what he said about her, it could be implied. “You didn't say that, but something like it.” “She's not bad,” he murmured, sounding almost reluctant. “She's not bad,” he repeated, more convincingly.

“No, she's not bad, you never said that,” she reassures him.

Aang now seems more guilty. “But I said she was a bad mother.”

She grimaces. Aang didn't say that specifically, but from what he said about her, it could be understood that way. “You didn't say that, but i guess you did say something like that.”

“It's just... things seemed so clear at the time...” explains Aang, his hands trembling. “I still feel that way sometimes. And Ursa... I always thought she was a horrible, horrible mother. I thought she wouldn't care about leaving her children behind if it meant saving herself and having her perfect life.” He pauses for a moment, taking a breath and trying to sort out his feelings. “She did that in her other life! She left them and forgot them willingly! That destroyed Zuko and Azula!”

Kya nods. “But if she's so bad, why do you feel so bad about her?”

There is a long silence.

“I... never saw Ursa's perspective in... my memories. Only Zuko's, and maybe that didn't help the idea I had of her.”

“Oh” was all Kya could say.

“She's not a bad person,” Aang finally admits, guilt in his eyes. “Maybe she's not such a bad mother either.”

Kya hums, reflecting on Aang's words. She knows that Aang is telling her all this because he trusts that she can give him a different perspective, an angle he may not have seen. Aang is telling her this because he needs an impartial judge.

“That makes sense,” she admits after a while. “Everything you thought about Ursa makes sense, Aang. All your assumptions about her were not made lightly. You have so much knowledge at your hands, so many versions and perspectives encapsulated in your mind. It must be difficult to decide who is right and who is wrong, who is trustworthy and who isn't.”

Aang shakes his head, as if trying to deny the heavy burden on his shoulders.

“But even with all your knowledge, you can sometimes fail, you can err in your judgment of a person, and that's okay, Aang. It's human to err, especially in a situation as complicated as this, kid.”

Calling Aang a kid always seemed to make him shudder without fail, as if he sometimes forgot that he was only twelve years old. Even if Aang had lived a hundred years trapped in that iceberg, living through the perspectives of the lives of people he loved with all his being but never knew and who never knew him, it didn't change the fact that Aang was still twelve years old and a child whose culture, people, loved ones, and home had been so cruelly taken from him.

The Southern Water Tribe, above all others, can understand that intimately, even if not on the same scale as Aang.

“I'm not a kid,” Aang snapped harshly, but it was not directed at her, but at himself. “I'm the Avatar, I should know better.”

She shook her head sadly, interrupting the boy with just that movement. “Avatar or not, you're a child, Aang.”

‘You're human,’ she didn't say, but iremained clear.

Aang shuddered at her unspoken words almost as much as at the spoken ones.

“I don't know what to do,” he confessed. “I can't—I can't forgive everything she did,” Aang's voice cracked. "She—she was living the life of her dreams, with her kind husband and her sweet daughter, and meanwhile her son, her firstborn son, was screaming, begging for mercy in a stadium while they burned his face for being a decent person! She was the one who taught him to be good! But where was she when her son was punished for being good? Where was she when her daughter was constantly manipulated by her father, to the point of making her believe that if she wasn't a perfect weapon, she would be nothing in life? That her value was based on her fire?

She believes that the hardest part of being a mother was moments like these; moments when her son breaks under the weight and expectations of the world, moments when she can see how much they have hurt him and how powerless and useless she is to stop his pain.

“It's not fair! Why was she the only one who could escape? I understand... she did it for her children...” Aang's voice breaks and his tone is drowned out by a cry of frustration. She can feel his body shaking and doesn't know if it's from helplessness or confusion, or perhaps anger. "Even so... why forget them? Isn't she their mother? She should at least be aware of the pain her children went through if she can't even be with them!

The tragic thing about all this is that Kya can understand both sides. Ursa, from what she knew in the past to the new information now, is a woman who did everything she could to keep her children safe, even if it didn't always turn out the way she wanted, even if her best efforts weren't enough. She tried to protect them, to keep them happy, even if most of the time she failed. She knows now that Ursa cared so much that the idea of failing them tore her apart more than anything Ozai could do to her.

Maybe that's also why Ursa failed her children so many times; because seeing the pain her children suffered even when she was there made her writhe with guilt and powerless.

Kya, of all people, can understand that horrible feeling.

“I... I can't forgive that. If she loved them so much, why turn her head and pretend she never had Zuko and Azula? Did she hate her memories with them so much, even if some of them were good and happy? Did she hate that those memories tainted her new, perfect life?”

Even so, despite understanding Ursa, she also understands Aang. Aang, who was raised by elderly monks who were responsible and mostly loving. Aang, who always had a reliable support system and who, even when he ran away, never did so because of the adults around him but because of the terror of being the Avatar.

Aang, who never knew people with bad parents. Maybe those who were somewhat absent, maybe those who were strict, but never those who were abusive. Kya knows that encountering Ursa and Ozai must have changed his whole perspective on many things.

Seeing everything from Zuko's perspective must not have helped him at all.

After all, when your friend is hurt in such a way, when you see how all the people who should have helped him failed in a thousand different ways, it's hard to see any of them in a good light. Even victims like Ursa. With Azula, it's easy; she's just a girl who grew up in the same conditions as Zuko.

Ursa? She was an adult and his mother. Kya understands Aang's anger and resentment towards her, even though she is a victim, she understands why Aang can't help but think that Ursa could have done more, could have done better than she did. Aang, in a way, still sees adults as figures who can do more than they are sometimes actually capable of doing.

“But...?” she encouraged, knowing that Aang was not finished.

Aang sighed, his watery eyes drifting to the floor.

“But... even so, this Ursa isn't that Ursa. I treated her unfairly even before I really got to know her in this timeline. I scared her and threatened her, I told her to find a way out of there on her own, I told her I wasn't interested in her.” His voice caught, and he could feel his hands clutching the fabric of the sheets. “I... I wasn't fair to her.”

She grimaces. No, Aang wasn't fair or kind in doing that. She knows that his boy always tries to be impartial and put aside his memories of the future, but Aang isn't perfect and he isn't a mature adult, he's a child trying to do the best he can.

“No, that wasn't fair, Aang,” Kya stated, and Aang cringed at the gentle rebuke. “But you already know that. Now you understand that she was never a bad, as a mother or as a person, just someone trying to survive, like we all do, right?”

The boy in her arms nodded.

“Now, with all that said, what do you want to do, Aang? What'the best thing to do?”

There was a long silence.

“I... I don't know.”

She smiles and strokes the boy's shoulder.

“I have some ideas.”

Just before she could explain, her husband enters their small home with a wooden box, obviously from the latest shipment from the merchants of the Earth Kingdom. However, Kya doesn't remember ordering any supplies; her spices hadn't run out yet, and the thick, large needles she had ordered after breaking her last ones wouldn't arrive for another couple of weeks.

Her husband looked at the boy beside him with a raised eyebrow. “Your order arrived, special delivery from King Bumi. There's a letter that looks like instructions.”

Aang jumps up so high that it would be impossible without his airbending and strides over to Hakoda, almost snatching the wooden box from his hands, checking the contents before smiling with relief. “This is just what I need.”

Kya approaches and looks at the letter Hakoda is holding. The contents are... well, unusual. “What do you need something like this for?”

Aang looks at her and smiles. “It's the last piece I need.”

Yeah, well, that doesn't answer anything. Luckily, Hakoda and she have the whole afternoon free, so there's time for explanations.

And for plans.

—

“But when you get there, their birthday will already be over!” Sokka complains, trying to force the gift he and Katara had prepared for Zuko into Aang's hands.

His parents watch the scene from a few feet away, not intervening after Aang exchanged farewells with them and his mother had double-checked that he had everything he needed for the trip and his father had fed and checked Appa to make sure he could carry him safely.

Aang chuckles at his complaints, shaking his head. “It'll only be a couple of days, it won't be that long. And wouldn't it be more meaningful if the gift came from your own hands than from mine?”

He has no argument for that, but Sokka still snorts loudly and turns his head away, refusing to agree with him. Katara, two and a half years old, clinging to his side so she wouldn't get tired of standing, giggled amusedly at the confrontation.

A hand pulls him closer, and soon Aang is hugging them both. “I know you don't like it, but trust me. Besides, you have many birthdays ahead of you to celebrate, right? And when I arrive with them, we can all celebrate together. Even if it's technically over, I'm sure neither Zuko nor Azula will mind.”

Katara jumps up, excited. “Azula!”

Katara was delighted to learn that Azula would be joining them and that she would no longer be the only girl in their small group. She couldn't wait to meet her pen pal, even though neither of them ever wrote anything. They always sent each other greetings and compliments, even though neither had ever seen the other face to face.

Aang nods, his eyes soft as he says,

“Yes, you, me, Zuko, and Azula, all of us will celebrate Zuko's birthday, I promise. Just be patient.”

Katara nods without protest because of the two of them, she always tries to listen (which is unfair because she never listens to Sokka when he says something).

Sokka grumbles and mutters words too low to be heard, but nods in the end because he doesn't want to make Aang sad and have a bad goodbye. He's done it many times, and Aang always looks devastated every time it happens, which makes him feel a little bad.

“Fine,” he mutters, then hands over a letter he had written a few hours ago in a hurry, in case he couldn't convince Aang with the gifts. “Can you at least give him this?”

Aang smiles and accepts without further ado, carefully storing the letter in the leather bag he hasn't let go of since he arrived a week ago. The airbender turns around and is about to climb onto Appa when he runs up and grabs his leg.

“Sokka?” He sounds confused by the sudden embrace.

He hides his face against his side, trying not to show the fear in him when he says, “Please be careful with the monster.”

He feels Aang's breath stop for a moment.

“I will,” he promises.

Sokka clings to his promise as tightly as he can as he watches him leave.

—

Azula hummed, leaning against her hands as they moved gently to comb her hair into a pristine braid, just as the many etiquette classes had taught her.

(Just as her own mother had done.)

Ursa finds peace in her daughter's soft humming. It's a lullaby, she soon realizes. It's gentle and quite sweet, beautiful and unlike anything she's ever heard before. The melody mesmerizes her and makes her feel safe. It sounds like a spring breeze, like the steam from a cup of hot tea, like something nostalgic that makes you remember home. She wonders where she learned it, because it certainly wasn't from her.

“It's very pretty, where is it from?”

Her daughter turns around, ruining her half-finished braid, and she sighs inwardly because she will have to start over, although she discovers that it doesn't bother her.

There is something bright in Azula's eyes, something confidential and mischievous. It almost feels as if there is a chaotic spirit in front of her instead of her daughter, but the thought does not make her recoil or shudder as it usually would.

“Someone close to me taught me.”

Her daughter's smile is wide and cheerful, there is something she is hiding and they both know it, but Ursa doesn't press her because children love to have their little secrets, they love to know things their parents don't know. Instead, Ursa smiles back and continues combing her hair as Azula looks ahead again and starts humming that tune again.

Only a few minutes pass before Azula speaks again. “Mom, would you miss me if I flew far, far away one day?”

She blinks, unsure where that sudden question came from. “That’s a very curious question, Azula. Where would you fly to?”

Has Azula been thinking about leaving? Escaping from the palace, far away from these monsters in fancy clothes? If so, she wouldn't blame her one bit, yet the question still echoes in her mind and something feels wrong. Azula doesn't answer her question and for a moment no one says anything.

She ponders what she has just been asked. Ursa would miss her terribly if she went somewhere she couldn't reach, but she would never blame her for it. Ursa would leave if she could, if she were given the chance to leave, she would take her children's little hands and fly far, far away, without looking back.

It's something she has considered more than once. The thousands of combinations of chemicals, plants, and liquids she has thought of are not innocent. She thinks of the thousands of papers she has thrown into the fire to burn the evidence of her treacherous thoughts in the form of toxins that would kill in less than a minute.

She thinks of her little personal recipe, made from her own knowledge of botany inherited from her parents. She thinks of that little piece of paper containing her deepest and most twisted desires, which is safely tucked under a loose floorboard where Zuko's nightstand is right now.

She wouldn't do it, not with the risk of her children getting caught up in that mess.

Her daughter continues to stare at her with inquisitive eyes, bringing her back to the real world.

“If you ever fly far, far away, I'd like to be there to say goodbye. Of course I'd miss you, but someday we all fly the nest, don't we?”

She thinks about her parents, their warm hugs, their silly smiles, their kisses on her forehead, and their loving words. She remembers the horrible terror and anguish at the thought of never seeing them again, a feeling that remains even to this day. She remembers that wedding night, the tears mixed with sweat, and her mind desperately trying to imagine someone other than the person on top of her. She remembers the bitter kisses and the pain of her wedding night.

Above all, she remembers the bitterness and the malicious smiles. She remembers the lack of love in that whole act, which until that day she had considered sacred.

“I just hope that when you fly away, you can start something new, something good. And I hope you start it on your own terms.”

Azula no longer hums, she remains silent and her smile is replaced by a more serious face.

Her daughter then says to her, in a tone she doesn't recognize, “If you flew far, far away, mom, I would miss you very much. But I hope you'll be very, very happy wherever you are.”

She doesn't know what to say to that.

Instead, she wraps her arms around her daughter and hugs her. “Thank you, Azula, that's very kind of you to wish for me.”

Silently, she feels the sand slipping through her fingers, the last grains in the form of seconds, minutes, hours, days.

Three days.

—

Aang watches the starry sky intently, trying to make shapes with the bright dots in it, but he only manages to make a kind of deformed dragon. He soon gives up and tries to focus on his breathing, counting from one hundred to one, hoping to bore his restless and overly active brain and convince it to just fall asleep.

A breath beneath him distracts him from his counting. Appa sleeps deeply and carefree, taking the well-deserved rest he deserves after another successful journey from the South Pole to the Fire Nation. He easily ignores the guilt that tries to twist in his stomach, knowing that these trips are hard on the bison. Appa is young and only a little older than him in age (at least in physical age, he assumes), and these trips leave him exhausted, especially with how often they do them.

At least, he consoles himself, this should be the last one. After this, they will be reduced much more. Their next destination is a mansion in the Earth Kingdom, which is closer to the South Pole than the Fire Nation will ever be. Appa will be able to rest and won't be so exhausted, and Aang can make a couple of trips alone to the Earth Kingdom if necessary.

It's hard to believe that five years have already passed, hard to believe that Zuko's birthday is only a couple of days away. He has come a long way and believes he has done a good job with both Zuko and Azula, the little time he spent with her, yet there is something that twists with anxiety; this is not the end.

Getting the two children out of there is not the end, and he knows it well. Even if his body seems to act as if it were, there are still many things he must do, many people to contact, a war to end, a dictator to stop. In these cases, envy wells up in his chest toward a more carefree and innocent version of himself, a version that made the decision to stick to his ideals and not kill. A version of himself that didn't personally bear the misfortunes of all his friends and didn't see the monster beneath Ozai. A version of himself that saw the options and was able to choose, one that didn't feel it was a betrayal to allow Ozai to continue breathing after all he had done.

He wonders what Zuko, Katara, Sokka, and all the others would say. Not this version of them, but the version that went through the horrors of war with him, the version of them that embraced him, comforted him, loved him, and defended him tooth and nail, the version of them that would fight this war with him without hesitation, the version of them that in a way would never fully exist, not anymore.

He wonders what they will be like in this timeline, if the sharp edges will be more curved and smooth, if their abilities will be kinder and less lethal, if their eyes will be softer instead of calculating, if their attitudes will change drastically or if there will always be something dangerously sharp in each of them. There is excitement and anxiety, he wonders if in this timeline they will still be friends, if they will still be united, if they will still be family.

Or maybe the connection he saw in that other life was the price he had to pay to fix everything. Maybe that connection he had with all of them was only possible because of the horror and flames of war, maybe Aang killed his chances of having a family.

Or maybe it's just his anxiety talking, maybe it's just his fear and paranoia.

He slides off Appa's back and curls up against his side, the bison curving around him like a cat in an attempt to comfort him, and something is relieved by the action.

He can no longer regret or retract, he knows that well. That child, who lived among monks and nomads of the air, who fled his home out of fear and fell into the ocean during a storm, that child no longer exists. At least not in the way he once did; the memories of another life tore him apart and put him back together again.

He wonders if, in a way, the deal he made with Raava was a kind of murder of his own being. He wonders how many times someone can change before they can mourn the person they once were. However, he doesn't wonder if being torn apart and put back together was worth it. He will never ask himself that question.

Perhaps the cost wasn't the lost timeline, but himself. The thought is not as terrifying as one might suppose; in fact, it is quite reassuring, meaning that whatever happens, he will be the one to suffer the worst of it.

Maybe he should go to sleep before he starts thinking more than he already is.

With one last sigh, he allows himself to rest, curling up against his small leather bag, its comforting weight finally lulling him to sleep.

—

Zuko watches the moon from his balcony. It's not full or even half full; rather, it appears as a crooked smile greeting him from the sky. The night is warm, and there's no breeze to give him chills. It would be perfect weather for anyone, but Zuko can admit that he finds instinctive comfort in the wind, its sounds and its playful, cool gusts, although that's entirely due to his best friend.

He doesn't sit on the edge of the railing. Aang has told him many times not to do so because it's dangerous. He remembers, with a weak smile, Azula complaining and rolling her little eyes, a carbon copy of Lu Ten when Uncle Iroh scolds him, while Aang gives her a long speech about why balancing on the edge of the railing is dangerous and she should never do it alone.

Something in his chest tightens uncomfortably and somewhat painfully, the thought that tomorrow will be his last day with Azula makes his eyes burn and makes it hard to breathe. It's not that he wants to stay, but he doesn't want to leave Azula alone with that monster.

The memory of Sokka's letter, which Aang had to read because Sokka forgot that his writing style was different from that of the Fire Nation, comes back once again.

“Zuko! Happy birthday in advance!”

The letter had started cheerfully, bringing a smile to your face.

“I can't wait to see you! We'll have fun together, you'll see!”

Everything had been fine until the next sentence:

“Only one week to go and goodbye monster, just hang in there a little longer.”

He doesn't remember what else the letter said, his mind frozen on that sentence, guilt blossoming in piles as Aang continued reading the last sentences of Sokka's letter wishing him a happy birthday and rambling about the games they would play together. However, none of that mattered as the realization that neither Azula nor his mother would finally be freed from his father sank into his bones.

His mind has been spinning ever since, unable to stop thinking about it.

If he asks Aang, will he do it? Aang seems to love Azula so much, but he didn't mention anything about taking her with them, so maybe he can't? Maybe he doesn't want to? But they can't leave her, Azula doesn't deserve that, she doesn't deserve to be left behind.

A gust of wind plays with his hair, and when he turns his head, he finds Aang wearing his wind spirit mask, sitting precariously on the railing even though he always tells him and Azula not to do so. He wants to point out that he is setting a bad example, but in the end he decides not to.

No one says anything. Tomorrow he will turn five, and there are too many emotions in his chest to distinguish what he truly feels. Part of him wants to cry to Aang and beg him to take Azula with them, maybe even his mother, even if his mother might be too afraid to leave.

Aang is the Avatar and his best friend. He knows, from the weariness on his face, from the dark circles under his eyes, from the dimmed glow that fades away out of pure affection, that he has too much on his shoulders. Zuko knows that Aang is doing too much for him. he knows how selfish is to ask for more.

Zuko wishes he could be content with all that Aang has given him, Aang who has given him the world and friends and a place to belong. Aang, who gave him hope for something better and who didn't let him sink into that horrible swamp that everyone pretends to ignore.

He really wishes he could say he was satisfied, that he wished for nothing more. He wishes he could be more grateful.

"What's the matter?" Aang is the first to speak, as always. Aang is always the first to act, to say something, to try to cheer him up if he feels something is wrong. He is his guardian, his protector and the ghost that guides him in this dark, cold palace. Aang has done so much for him since always. He should be grateful and not ask for more, but he can't help his desire, he can't help wanting to ask him for more. Just a little more.

Aang has given him all he can ask for like some kind of benevolent spirit from his mother's stories. He is like the ungrateful, like those evil mortals in that tales, who asked for more and more even though they already have more than enough on their hands.

"Tomorrow is my birthday." He finally says hesitantly. He is not afraid, Aang would never hurt him, he only feels guilt because he knows that his wishes could very well be Aang's orders.

"Yes, it is." Aang affirms easily. "Tomorrow is the big day, nervous?"

He shakes his head, he doesn't know when or where Aang will look for him, he just assumes it will be in the evening, a few hours before the day ends. However he is not scared nor does he fear for his father or his grandfather or any guard watching over him. He knows that Aang will come looking for him wherever he is and they can safely leave this palace together. He never doubted that, Aang is someone powerful after all.

Aang hums and keeps talking because he knows Zuko won't do it. "So, does the birthday boy have any requests from yours truly?"

He really must be an open book to Aang, if he can easily pull out what he wants from him after a few words. Or maybe, Zuko is an open book for anyone and doesn't know how to hide his intentions, either way he doesn't complain, he doesn't know if he could have said it if Aang didn't insist and press the right points.

"Azula, that's all I want for my birthday."

He doesn't dare look at Aang. He knows he won't be able to see his expression because of the mask on his face, yet Aang has always been expressive even with his face covered. There's a long silence that runs across the balcony and he almost wants to take it back, but he remains firm and stubborn in his words.

A chuckle echoes in the air. The sound is peaceful, joyful and seems the embodiment of freedom. Aang has always been someone too free for him, as if even gravity and the laws of the world couldn't catch him, too elusive for such banal things as that. He always seems a second away from just leaving and becoming one with the wind again, too big to be contained.

Zuko supposes he is the only thing keeping Aang bound to this moment, the only reason the laws of the world bind him. He is one of the few people for who Aang would willingly hold back himself for, even though he would never understand why someone like Aang would choose to hold back and tie himself to someone like him. Maybe it doesn't matter, he decides as with lightness in his chest he hears Aang's hearty, joyous laughter slowly subside.

"My surprise has just been ruined! Zuko, come on, it's not even twelve o'clock, how could you ruin my big surprise? Azula will be furious with both of us!"

He blinks, trying to follow Aang's animated tirade as he uses his hands to pull the mask off his face, a big grin fills the airbender's face, still trying to breathe between little giggles.

"What? I don't understand," he tries to say, but Aang sighs and finally jumps off the railing onto the balcony, standing next to him.

"I was supposed to tell you in an hour, when it's twelve o'clock. It was a surprise, Azula is coming with us to the South Pole."

His eyes go wide, too surprised to do more than that. Aang looks at him with some guilt. "I asked her a couple of weeks ago, before I left for the south pole, and she agreed. She made me swear it would be a surprise for today, she wanted to surprise you so much with the news. Spirits, I should had told you sooner, but she-"

He heard no more from there, something wet slid down his face and it took him a few seconds to understand they were tears, Aang noticed them a few moments later and shut up, cringing in fright as he apologized for not telling him sooner and tried to calm him down or get any reaction out of him other than tears.

He threw himself against him, almost knocking him to the ground. Aang drew in a sharp breath and let out a hiss of surprise at the new weight on his chest, but still hugged him immediately, hunching against him in an attempt to hide it from the rest of the world. In exchange, Zuko wrapped his little legs around Aang's waist as best he could and squeezed his neck with his short arms, snuggling against his chest.

The knot in his chest that he didn't know he had eased all too quickly.

Yes, tomorrow would be a good birthday, he decided, the best one ever.

His chest felt much lighter.

(Not quite, but enough.)

-

Her birthday passes without incident. The morning was calm and quiet, his mother and Azula woke him up with a personal recipe for blackberry and strawberry shortcake. They laughed, chatted and quietly sang a happy birthday to him as his mother handed him a small elegant wooden box, where he found two matching bracelets with a fire lily symbol on them, one has velvety red strings and the other blue.

He looks puzzled at his mother, who smiles shyly at him. "It's the symbol that represents my family, we are botanists, that's why the fire lily. One is for you and I thought you would like to share the other one with Azula, I had them specially ordered to match for this occasion."

Azula squeals excitedly and snatches the other bracelet which is an electric blue color. "I love it!"

His mother laughs and says; "I'm glad, but I think it's important to know if the birthday boy liked it too, right?"

His sister rolls her eyes, feigning disinterest. "Of course."

He smiles at his mother as he places the bracelet on his wrist and adjusts it until it's tight enough that it won't fall off, but not tight enough to hurt. "It's very pretty, mom, I like it very much."

His mother looked relieved at him. She gave him a long hug and kissed his forehead. Her eyes were watered but neither him or Azula commented it. Hand in hand, Ursa led them to the palace gates after a peaceful breakfast, thanks to his father's absence, so they could explore the popular markets in the heart of the capital. They spent the rest of the afternoon there, shopping and trying anything that caught their eye.

The sun was slanting slightly to the west when they returned to the palace. Their uncle greeted them at the entrance next to Lu Ten, joy fluttered in his chest at the sight of his cousin. Zuko hadn't seen Lu Ten since a year ago when he was accepted to be the disciple of a famous swordsman who lived far away from the capital, he didn't know they would see him today. That was good, at least he will be able to say goodbye to him properly, he doesn't feel as sad as he thought he would be, Lu Ten would be fine and he knows it won't be goodbye forever, he is sure of that.

He plays with Lu Ten and Azula for the rest of the afternoon, and, when the sun is only a few hours away from hiding, he is taken to his room by the maids and dressed to appear at a gala in his honor for his birthday. It is the least remarkable part of the day, his mother and father pretend to be a loving couple, Azula is demure and quiet and he smiles and thanks all the congratulations for a day he knows no one here really cares about.

A couple of nobles introduce their daughters and sons to him, he supposes to start forming bonds and all. Azula is even introduced to a couple of girls that her father approves of.

Finally, after dinner and the farewell to the noble guests, Azula and he are free to slip away while Azulon talks to his sons and nephew about boring political things and his mother bids the last guests farewell. With their hands clasped together, they walk through the desolate, dark corridors, lit only by the spaced torches. This is his home, he reflects. Or, at least, this is his home for one last night. After today, everything will be different. Everything will be better.

The hand against his can assure him of that. Azula walks at his pace even if it is somewhat slow, she doesn't complain about how long it takes them to get there, she doesn't fill the silence, they both understand that this moment is something really important, a kind of farewell.

Finally, they reach their rooms, side by side as it was since ever. Their hands part and Azula gives him a big smile as she says goodbye for the short time they will be apart.

"Make sure you're ready." He reminds Azula before she enters to her room. "Once Aang comes, we leave immediately and we can't come back if you forget anything."

Azula nods and goes into her room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The door to his room opens with a familiar creak, he enters the large empty room. He always felt small in these four walls, in this room where there wasn't much furniture except his closet, his bed, his bedside table, a desk he doesn't often use, and a chest where he kept a couple of toys he doesn't use much.

He lies on his bed and looks up at the ceiling. There is a black leather bag under his bed, ready to be grabbed the moment Aang arrives. There's not much in there. Only three of his more casual, warm pairs of clothes, his comb, a towel, a couple of treasured scrolls, and his treasure chest where his favorite clay toys are.

That and the small wooden box that has a red lily engraving on the surface, empty of its contents but equally precious. The bracelet on his wrist has a suddenly noticeable weight to it.

Beside his bed, hidden in the empty drawer of his bedside table, is a neatly folded cloak and a Dark Water Spirit mask, waiting to be taken out and put on. On the edge of his bed, hidden under a couple of pillows, is a change of clothes ready to be dressed in less than a couple of minutes. His sleepwear will soon be forgotten and left on that bed he has slept in for so many years.

There is something that makes his stomach hurt, he can't recognize such a complicated emotion. He's not sad to leave, but there's something about leaving all these little things with big memories that hurts in a way he can't explain.

"Zuko?"

He turns and it's not the person he expected to see, though that's obvious. The moon smile is not yet at its highest point even. His mother walks in and looks relieved to see him, as if she thought he had disappeared in the short time they were apart. Something about that is somehow something that will happen, that makes him feel horrible.

He should say goodbye to his mother, he should say he's tired and say goodnight, a painfully peaceful goodbye. But this is his mother, the woman who has held him in her trembling arms and seen him with nothing but pure love, she is the woman who has told him so many tales and stories and legends, who has comforted him when she could through tears. She is his mother. She loves him as much as he loves her, even if that love between them is sometimes more painful than comforting. Even if that love leaves more open wounds than closed scars.

His mother, who smiles with nothing but love in her eyes and says; "Do you mind if I stay a while, love?"

Instead of refuse, as he should, he steps aside and pats his bed, opening his arms in a sign that he wants a hug.

His mother sits on the edge of his bed and hugs him tightly, cradling him as if he were a newborn. She hums a lullaby and whispers how much she loves him. She strokes his hair with gentle hands and settles him in his bed to make him comfortable. His chest aches in a tender and painful way, he loves his mother, he loves her so much. He hates to leave her behind. His eyes sting and burn.

He closes his eyes and pretends this is like any other night. He closes his eyes and dozes restlessly, waiting for warm arms and a voice light as the wind to carry him to his new life.

-

Zuko's breathing is slow and quiet, a kind of lullaby to his ears on that night with weather so perfect that it ends up giving more shivers than comfort. The moon smiles in the sky, its rays faintly crossing the window as a witness of what will happen tonight, its weak light seems a comfort for her, an attempt to make her feel less scared, less alone. That night seems to be an exact replica of the night where it all started.

This time she is not the intruder in the room, she is not the last to arrive at the scene of the crime. Instead, she sits patiently as she lovingly strokes her firstborn's hair, counting the minutes until it is the promised time.

The moon was high in the sky when the balcony doors opened wide, the curtains twisting in an agitated manner from the gust of breeze used, the wind flooded the room in a wild and almost overbearing manner, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them, the wind was gone and the doors were closed again as if they had never failed in their duty to begin with and had been opened. The curtains crumpled and disheveled as the only witness that what had happened wasn't her imagination.

And there, in the middle of the large, spacious room as if it had always been there, the spirit stood. A cane with strange engravings that she knew she recognized as the one from their first encounter in one hand, half hidden behind it and being grasped as if it were a weapon and a kind of source of power for the spirit. He was dressed in black clothes, yet there were orange details on them this time, small and almost unnoticeable in that darkness. Tied around his waist, a dark brown bag of sorts rested there. The hood was up and a mask she knew she recognized as that of the wind spirit greeted her.

She wonders if the mask is to avoid scaring her child, to try to gain trust points and not force the child to go with him in fear or terror, she couldn't help but feel grateful if her thoughts were true.

The spirit says nothing, though she didn't expect it to, in their only two encounters it has never been a being of words, instead it seemed to prefer to observe her, looking for changes in her or judging the essence of her soul, perhaps trying to see if it is worth even speaking to her.

She says nothing this time, unlike the others, she doesn't think there is much more to say. Whether she begged or pleaded, it would never be enough. Ursa is just a mere mortal in front of a powerful spirit, what could she do but surrender?

Yet she cannot help the gentle pressure her hand makes against her son's head, unable to help the urge to flee with her progeny even if she knows it is futile. If the spirit notices her instincts, it doesn't take it to heart or get defensive, even though there is no reason for it to do so, the spirit made it clear that wherever she takes Zuko, the spirit will find him.

So, she shakes her son and wakes him up.

Zuko opens his eyes, sleepy and somewhat groggy, his eyes look at her with confusion, and when he sits up, they land on the spirit in front of them, who has not yet made any move to take what he wants.

"Zuko, this is-"

She is interrupted. "Aang!"

Gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face, his child broke free from the restrictive grip of the sheets and jumped off the bed, leaping over the spirit in an embrace that pulls it back a few steps before wrapping around the child's shoulders in both a grip to keep the child from stumbling as in a welcoming embrace. The spirit didn't immediately take the child in a strong grip nor did it lift the child in its arms to disappear, instead, it remained there until the child detached from it. There was familiarity between them.

Her son, as if he had forgotten she was there, turned to see her with some anxiety, as if her presence there was a greater intrusion than the spirit behind him, as if she had broken a sacred moment. Her son turned to look at the spirit and whispered very thinly, as if she could not hear him in such a silent room. "Aang! Mom's here! She saw you! What do we do?"

His whispered little cries caused the spirit to let out a giggle that sent shivers down her back, the spirit's hand lovingly stroked Zuko's hair, and even if the mask said nothing, she could almost feel the joy emanating from that ancestral being.

'Aang,' was that the being's name? Or was it just one of his probable thousands of nicknames? Or maybe it's a nickname chosen by his son that the spirit felt insurgent to allow? Be that as it may, his son was intimately familiar with that being, there was no fear or nervousness there, his eyes were sharp and clear enough to be hypnotism or any other trick, his son recognized him.

Then it all finally made sense. The stories of his son, his eyes lost when they saw the balcony of his room, his all too knowing eyes, his silences that held something too important to say out loud, the healed wounds and all the rest of the little things she was sure she missed along the way; it was all because of this being.

The memory came all at once; Zuko's first words, which at the time she took to be babbling, were Aang.

Oh, this isn't something from a year or two ago, it's since that deal they made started. The spirit never intended to come and take the child away amidst crying and screaming, no.

Instead, it snuck out at night hundreds of times under her nose and spent time with her son, cooed to him on cold nights, sang lullabies on restless nights, played with him when the night was young, took him to places she could only imagine when the moon was at its high point and sang stories as it tucked him into his bed.

She can't even be angry with that being, she can only blame herself for being so careless, for not seeing the signs. For assuming that the spirit would disappear and it wouldn't see it's charge again until the promised day.

"Don't worry, Zuko, your mother and I have known each other for a while."

The boy blinks, surprised and somewhat puzzled. "Then why I couldn't talk about you with her?"

The spirit shrugs and it's mask drifts to a spot in the room, away from where she or Zuko were. "It's complicated."

Her son grimaced, not satisfied, but didn't press. "Is it time?"

She shuddered at the tone in Zuko's voice, it wasn't scared, nervous or resigned, there was emotion there, there was anticipation, just a hint of sadness but nothing more. Zuko looks at the spirit with pure trust in his eyes and she realizes that if the spirit were to take him right here, her son wouldn't resist, but would curl up in it's ghostly arms and look at her one last time with some regret in his eyes.

"Almost." Concede the spirit. "Get your things and go to Azula's room to see if she's ready. We'll join you in a moment."

The boy hesitates, hesitates and looks between them as if they were about to jump down each other's throats. However, he nods without putting up any resistance and, slowly and almost methodically, reaches under his bed for a bag and pulls out of his drawer some clothes and a Dark Water spirit mask that Ursa never knew he had.

Then, he runs to the door and leaves the room.

-

Ursa looks at him as one who looks at a villain, as one who looks at a monster or a vengeful and chaotic spirit. Silently he thinks that maybe the Dark Water Spirit's mask fits him better than Zuko in this life, or maybe not, after all, not even the Dark Water Spirit would prepare such a long-term and morally dubious plan as he did.

He sits down at the small mousetrap table in the middle of the room, sitting as respectfully and elegantly as possible because he doesn't forget that Ursa is still a princess of the Fire Nation and he knows that manners are all for nobles and royalty here. He raises his hand and signals Ursa to sit across from him, she does, her eyes look at him, she looks cornered and everything in her body screams painful alertness.

He doesn't comment on any of this, it would be rude and he doesn't feel like talking platitudes. No, today he has a purpose, the same as five years ago and at the same time totally different. After all, five years ago he would never have thought of sitting down and talking to Ursa, far from it. But things change, people change and so does he. So does Ursa.

Ursa sits across from him with an elegance he expected, her eyes left the fear of prey and look at him with caution and some curiosity, this evening is not going as she expected, he knows she didn't expect any of this for tonight. Maybe she expected screaming, crying and a heartbreaking farewell, but Aang never considered himself a person of such calculating or uncaring cruelty even when he believes it is for the greater good. After all, if he was that kind of person, Zuko would never have met his mother and would have been at the south pole long ago.

In this life, he always considered his mercy more of a burden and a nuisance than the strength he would have considered it to be in another life, another world. Perhaps that was his first mistake.

"I'm sorry." It's the first and most important thing he has to say to the person in front of him, it's the least he owes her and it's the right thing to do.

He wonders, while Ursa looks at him with confusion and disbelief, when he started trying to eliminate things like his empathy, his mercy and his compassion. When he decided that these things were too annoying and a luxury he couldn't afford instead of something basic that made him human, that made him who he was. Maybe it was during all that time he was locked inside those memories of another life, or maybe it was later, maybe it was that night he saw Ursa and wasn't able to take Zuko from her.

It doesn't matter, he won't make excuses. He isn't a child who can be excused for the harm he has done to a person who didn't deserve it because of his own prejudices. He is no longer the child who can be forgiven, that child no longer exists, shattered by a thousand memories. He is the avatar and he is more spirit than person, he can no longer justify himself as perhaps he could have done in another life, he is no longer a kid, no matter what his body and mind say, no matter how much he wishes he could be, no matter how much he wishes he could run into the arms of an adult and just cry.

Monk Gyatso is no longer there to comfort him.

Ursa looks at him, his mouth open in surprise and her body as stiff as a statue. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure. "What?"

He takes a deep breath and continues, there is no lump in his throat to stop him from speaking, even if there was, Aang is good at ignoring it. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I'm sorry for the fear and terror you've lived with these past five years, sorry for pointing at you and finding you guilty of sins that weren't yours, sorry for seeing you and not seeing someone who deserved empathy."

And he means it, he discovers, he really means it. The first three years he hadn't understood, he didn't want to understand, how bad he acted that first night when they met. He wanted to deny everything and told himself that even if he was too hard with her it was for the best, it was to be clear and direct. Maybe it was, but that wasn't the point.

The last two years, especially thanks to Azula, he could see more than just the Ursa of his memories. He could understand that not everything is white and black, and isn't that funny? He should know that more than anyone else, with all those memories of the future deposited in his mind. It was only thanks to Azula that he was able to put aside his memories of another life for once and see something more than that.

It was so easy to just write Ursa off as a victim or as a neglectful mother who never tried to see beyond that, ever.

And that is his fault and his alone. So he leans down until his head is just inches from touching the surface of the mousetrap table.

"Nothing I do can ever redeem that, but I hope you know I'm sorry for all the anguish I caused you."

There was a long silence, Ursa was still trying to process all the information, as if someone had just told her that she would be allowed to divorce Ozai.

Then, after long minutes, she took a deep breath and her eyes came closer, her posture changed to a firm one, understanding that this would be perhaps her only chance to be on equal terms with him; "I appreciate your apology, great spirit, however, you are not the only one who has been pondering these years about... well, everything."

That makes him raise his head a little, Ursa looks at him and gestures with her hand for him to raise it at all. He does so.

"I'm not going to say that all this did me good or anything, because it's a lie." He avoids with all his might shrinking back in his seat or averting his gaze. "But, it made me reflect on a lot of things, like how short things last, how much I allowed my own fears to end up reflecting in different ways on my children, how much I allowed my hatred and spite towards Ozai to dictate the way I behaved towards them..... it was horrible, I wanted to refuse to see it and I wanted to blame you for all my misfortunes, to some extent I can do that I suppose, but it's not as if you lied about what you said at our first meeting; my son, my children, will grow up unhappy here and live a horrible life.

There was a pause as Ursa sorted out her thoughts before continuing. "I love them with all my heart and soul, I love them more than they will ever know, but I know better than anyone how much someone's love can bind you, how it can restrict your every action."

A melancholy look crosses his face, Aang can't see the memories flashing through her mind, but he can almost feel the sadness and longing in them. "I don't want my love for them to be that. I want them to be happy and I want them to grow up to be something more than what those monsters want them to be, more than what I want them to be, and that can't happen here, not with Ozai, Azulon or even Iroh around."

There is a short pause before Ursa, her voice cracking, continues. "Then, if I must let them go with a spirit to prevent them from ending up harming and molding my children into monsters just like them, I will. I will even give them to you myself if it can prevent that horrible fate from being fulfilled, I must at least try to keep them from ending up like this whole family of monsters." There is something desperate there, something so desperate and hopeless that it hurts to hear it. "So, please take Azula too."

Even if that leaves her alone, they both listen to the unspoken words.

Without hesitation, he asks her; "What if I could take you away?"

Ursa's head jerks up and she looks at him with surprise in her eyes.

"What?"

"What would you do if I could take you away from here?"

Ursa stares at him, waiting for him to take back his offer or laugh or do something cruel. He didn't blame her for think he would do something like that, even if the pain curls in his chest. He deserves it.

"Go with my childrens?"

He grimaces. "No, it's too risky to have you all together."

Aang thinks about the Earth Kingdom merchants with whom the Southern Tribe does business. No one will pay attention to two new children in the Hakoda Tribe. They can just say they're two Earth Kingdom war orphans they took in if someone even notices and asks.

A woman of Ursa's status? Her pale skin, unblemished by wrinkles, calluses, or signs of wear typical of the Southern Tribe or the Earth Kingdom, will attract attention. A woman who doesn't appear to have done a single piece of hard work and who looks like someone from an influential family. Children can hide and go unnoticed. No one expects children to have obvious signs of wear unless they live in deplorable conditions, but Ursa is an adult and will stand out like a sore thumb.

Rumors spread too easily, and Aang doesn't want to risk drawing unnecessary attention to the South Pole. His protection above the tribe can only do so much without blowing their cover or alerting the Fire Nation that there is a remaining waterbender or, worse, that the Avatar lives. It's too difficult to keep the Earth Kingdom merchants they barter with from suspecting their whereabouts, with rendezvous points far from where they live, and one out-of-place word from the any other southern tribe to their own can spread to the merchants and rumors will spread like wildfire.

They can't afford it, least of all when the Fire Nation searches the world over for their missing royal members, any sign of abnormality will alert the Fire Nation. And when the Fire Nation gets suspicious, they send armies and burn before they ask.

Still, guilt twists in his stomach as he sees the disappointment in Ursa. "However, I can return you to your birth home, the one from which you were taken for this horrible marriage."

Ursa shakes her head. "They will find me in less than a week, Ozai and Azulon know where I was born and raised, it is obvious I will return there if given the chance. I can't go back, it would endanger my parents, my...."

Ursa's voice cracks and says nothing more, but Aang knows who she is referring to, the name is caught between his memories of the Zuko from another life; Noren, or Ikem, Ursa's love and the father of her third child; Kiyi.

Aang continues, pretending not to notice how she suddenly fell silent; "I will help you, I can introduce you to someone who can give you a new face and with it a new life. Who can give you a new start and, with it, be free from this palace and all its bad memories."

The words he says sound bitterly familiar, the mother of faces had said something similar to Ursa in another life, when she offered Ursa a new face and a mind free of those horrible memories, free of Ozai and, with this one, Azula and Zuko. Aang hated her for it, despised her. He hated the fact that she willingly agreed to forget Azula and Zuko, he couldn't understand her.

Maybe even now he can't understand her decision, not quite, but he thinks he can sympathize a little more.

The woman in front of him says nothing, remains silent and ponders her words for a few minutes.

"Will I ever see my children again?"

A pang of pain runs through his chest.

"That's up to you."

He cannot and will not try to force Ursa's hand, just as she had the last word in her other life, when she agreed to erase the memories of her children, she will have it in this one. And whatever her decision, Aang will not intervene. He only hopes that this time it will be different.

"I see." Ursa's voice is calm and elegant, her eyes look into the eyes of the mask she wears before she says; "And what do you want in return?"

"Nothing, you will owe me nothing."

"That's not like a spirit."

He averts his gaze, something that is not noticed by his mask. "I owe you for all the suffering I've put you through. It is the least I can do."

Ursa hums in acknowledgement. "Well, then, can I ask you a question?" He raises a hand in permission and Ursa continues. "Who are you? Because I'm sure not a spirit, at least not entirely."

The room is flooded by a long silence, his mouth closes tightly and whatever thoughts he was having stop, his heart beats hard against his chest. How...?

Ursa looks into his eyes, his own, not the mask's, even if it should be impossible, and asks; "Is it bold to suggest that I'm talking to the Avatar?"

Shit.

-

The being's shoulders tilt up and down slightly, an obvious attempt to hide his surprise. The supposed spirit's fingers tremble imperceptibly where they were once relaxed in his lap, his whole body tenses, shrinks and forces itself to relax in a disguised manner, but they both know it's too late for that.

The mask keeps looking at her, two slanted eyes and a mischievous, relaxed smile, yet she doubts that beneath that mask its wearer has the same light expression.

They are long moments in silence, the not so spirit seems to be debating what to do with this course of action, its movements small and undetectable to the untrained eye, but Ursa has lived in a nest of monsters with silver tongues and an immaculate demeanor as not to know how to read the silences and their various meanings. This being debates whether or not to trust her.

That tells her everything.

She doesn't press or insist, she allows the silence to settle in like second nature and doesn't allow her body to flinch or recoil even an inch, this being is a bloodhound and will immediately know any hint of doubt in her and use it as an excuse to get defensive.

It is quite obvious, she think reflectively, that this being is not a spirit, not at all. Once you get past the tumultuous, hazy first layer, she can see the little features that give away a human; the body movements, his speech without too much prose or flowery language that spirits love to use to confuse mortals of their intentions, the figure too human and without any unnatural features, even the spirits that look more like humans have something that gives them away. But, apart from that cloak that surrounds him and screams that there is something in this being that doesn't belong to this plane, there's really nothing that points to him as a spirit.

It is less frightening the creature in front of her once she realizes this.

Finally, after long minutes of deliberation, the being sighs in a small, controlled way. "Well, I can only blame myself for letting my guard down, can't I?"

She says nothing at his words.

The being's hands are raised and before long the mask was removed, revealing a surprisingly young face, large gray eyes, a round nose and arrow tattoos on its forehead and head. This being is nothing more than a child who cannot be older than his nephew, Lu Ten, who is sixteen years old.

She processes this fact slowly and awkwardly, but once she did, she has only one question on his mind;

"Why did the Avatar take an interest in this destroyed family? In Zuko?"

And the Avatar, a being that should have been dead for a century, smiles wearily. "Do you have time for a little story?"

The story weaves as the moon tilts to one side of the sky a little more. It begins with a boy who was raised among monks, a boy who discovered in his twelfth year a fate thrust upon him and a war on the verge of breaking out, a boy who ran away from home terrified of new responsibility and the possibility of being cruelly torn from his home because of it, a boy who was caught in a storm and plunged into the tempestuous ocean, a boy who was trapped for a hundred years inside a glacier of his own creation.

"You might say that all that could well have been my death and rebirth, if we want to wax poetic." Said the avatar, the child, in a tired, almost sardonic voice.

She didn't find it funny.

But the story didn't end there, no. While his people perished under fire, while the fire nation burned orchards and whole villages of the Earth Kingdom, while the waterbenders of the southern tribe were taken away never to be seen and the northern tribe secluded themselves in their little fortress, while the people suffered, cried, survived and died, the avatar slept.

Or at least he was supposed to do that, however, the spirit that dwelt within himself, Raava, appeared with a deal to offer. The chance for a glimpse into his own future, the chance to alleviate the guilt, burdens and suffering of thousands of people and to end the war in a cleaner way and without so much loss in exchange for one thing.

"Your husband, Ozai, must be the fire lord that I defeat. Not Azulon, not Iroh or Lu Ten; Ozai. He must be the one who sits on that throne when I strike my final blow. It is a knot that must not be changed." Aang's voice is sorrowful and somber, Ursa wanted to laugh because of course that monster must have the disgusting chance to even sit on that throne.

And the hundred years inside the Iceberg began with the avatar being a passive spectator of the future, of a future that might have been, at least.

"But it wasn't just my future. I saw the future of everyone close to me, or well, those on my team."

The realization hit her. "Zuko."

Aang nodded regretfully and continued; he narrated a future where he awoke sixteen years later than he had in this life, thanks to the last waterbender of the southern tribe and the last warrior of the tribe. He narrated how he and these children embarked on the mission to help him learn all the elements to defeat the fire lord, how they found more people with their same convictions along the way, how they encountered a banished prince of the fire nation who went from being their enemy to their friend. He narrated the end of the war and all the battles that would come after that, he narrated how in reality the war would never stop, at least not for them, it would only subside a little.

"I want to try to avoid it, I can't just sit by and watch the mistakes of my previous incarnations, my mistakes, become something that my loved ones must carry all their lives. I want to live in peace, as much as I can, I need to at least try." There was pure desperation there, something broken in his voice and something he was clinging to by the way his hands were pressed against his lap.

The Avatar, Aang, looked small. He looked like a child.

He is a child.

Then he sighs and looks at her, there is guilt in his eyes as he says; "For that, I need a favor."

He raises an eyebrow, not too impressed. "What is it?"

The boy averts his gaze, his voice wobbles a bit; "In one of the many futures, I saw Zuko's. He discovered through you that Azulon didn't die of natural causes as was well known throughout the Fire Nation, but was poisoned by you."

The air leaves her lungs, surprise and disbelief hit her hard as denial fills her entire chest.

"I wouldn't do that, there's no way I would have dared to do that, I'm not stupid. Doing that is risky and if I were discovered I would be executed immediately, I wouldn't do that- I wouldn't do that to Zuko and Azula-"

Aang denied sadly. "It wasn't because you wanted to, Ozai coerced you into doing it, he knew you had extensive knowledge of poisons because of your family's roots with botany. He knew you could make a poison, if you didn't already have one, that would be impossible for doctors to detect."

She denied. "There's no way I would have let myself be convinced, even if he... if he did something horrible to me."

He looked at her, tired, resigned and somewhat angry. "He didn't threaten you with your safety. The deal was this; the poison to kill Azulon delivered by your own hands to him in exchange for Zuko's safety."

The words hit her like a sledgehammer to her stomach, pain, despair and denial all hit her hard. "t's not possible... Zuko is also his son."

And Aang looked at her with such sorrow when she said; "That never stopped him, did it?"

Aang didn't comment on her tears or her sobs. He got up from his place and approached her, placed a hand on her shoulder and stayed with her in silence allowing her to unburden herself. Wasn't it sad that again a child should comfort her when she is an adult? But she couldn't help it, the anger and pain of what Ozai did (would do?) was too much.

"After that you despise me, didn't you? That's why you hated me so much."

He feels the shudder in Aang's body before Aang said; "No, it wasn't because of that, it was your decisions after that. But it doesn't matter anymore, I had no right to get angry like that."

She takes a deep breath, tries to regain his composure and stop crying. It's not fair for this kid who has the weight of the world and a thousand memories to live with to have to console her. She looks at Aang with gratitude and the child smiles at her in a kindly way, but nothing can hide the tiredness he radiates, poor child.

"You want me to give you the recipe for the poison, don't you?"

The boy's smile fades and his expression is serious. "I won't use it now, Iroh would take the throne and I don't want to kill him." He pauses before continuing. "You don't have to give it to me if you don't want to, I understand that having to stain your hands like this, even indirectly, is not something anyone wants to do. You don't owe me anything, Ursa, if you don't want to get involved I will respect that and still get you out of here, your decision won't change that."

The promise is unnecessary, she knows that even if he didn't tell her. In their first encounters Aang acted cold and cruel, indifferent and direct. She won't say the boy was justified, but now that she knows him a little better, she knows that since Aang took off his mask and told her all this, he trusts her enough and won't leave her here.

Still, she shakes her head and gets up from her spot, walks over to Zuko's bedside table and runs it from its place before crouching down on the loose board underneath it. With little to no effort she lifts it up and a paper with ingredients and steps to follow greets her, covered in cobwebs and dust which she quickly wipes off.

She walks over to Aang and holds out the recipe. The boy looks at her with pure appreciation and reaches out his own hand to take it.

She quickly withdraws her hand, lifting it out of the boy's reach. The Avatar looks at her with bewilderment and uncertainty, not knowing how to react to her actions.

"Tell me when you need to give the poison to Azulon." Her tone is soft but firm, the child in front of her blinks uncomprehendingly. "When the time is right, I will enter this castle and pour the poison into the bastard's teacup. I will see that he takes it and perishes."

Aang's eyes widen and he denies vehemently. "You don't have to, it's not fair for me to ask you to do the same thing Ozai forced you to do."

"Ozai didn't force me to do anything nor will he force me to do anything in this life thanks to you." She interrupted harshly. "I wouldn't kill for just anyone, Aang, but I will. For you, for me and for my children."

Aang doesn't quite listen to her, too immersed in his own thoughts as his head continues to shake in denial. "I don't understand, why would you get your hands dirty? Why?"

Aang's eyes bore into hers, searching her face for the answer or trying to dissect her thoughts even when he can't read them, desperate to understand.

And isn't that a good question, why would she do that? She should just give the paper to Aang and get the hell out of here, she should take this opportunity and let him take care of the rest. It's none of his business what happens next, she has so many opportunities to just walk away, but she can't.

She can't because the person in front of him is a child. One who has the weight of the world on his shoulders. One who is willing to sacrifice all his ideals and morals to try to save a world that has turned its back on him and done little to nothing for him. One who is younger than Lu Ten. One who is only twelve years old and his world collapsed and reshaped without his consent so many times. One who has to deal with a war that had started before he was even born. One who has to deal with all this because the adults failed him in a thousand different ways.

Aang, of twelve years old, who even if he has every right to be cruel and spiteful, who even if he has the right to not trust and just turn and run away, stays and tries to forgive and rebuild what was destroyed by the hands of others.

Aang, whose life was destroyed at the age of twelve and was forced to try to fix everyone's mistakes.

Aang, who is a child.

She thinks of Zuko, Azula and Lu Ten, thinks of how horrible it would be if they were in his position. She thinks about how wrong it is to drop all expectations on a child just because he controls three extra elements.

She's not brave, she's not strong, and she's not the smartest person. She is not a hero. But she is a mother and she is an adult and if she can do anything to make the weight on this child's shoulders lighten even a little bit, even a smidgen, she will. This child had a mother and a father, this child had people who cared and loved him. She thinks that if Zuko or Azula were in her position she wishes someone would do the same.

If she can do this for Aang, maybe she can be more proud of herself.

She takes Aang's face in her hands gently, forces him to look at it and says in the softest voice possible; "Because it is not a child's responsibility to get rid of monsters that terrify him at night. It is an adult's responsibility to get rid of them, to make them feel safe and loved." She pauses, allowing his words to settle and then says; "And I'm so sorry that you were forced to take on the role of an adult, that you had to calm my children's fears and have to comfort them when they cried, sorry that you had to be their comfort and security at times when even you were scared and confused. You shouldn't have had to do all that, I am so sorry for failing you, Aang."

Aang's eyes look at her, all surprise and pain, his little body trembles as if trying not to break as he stumbles over her words; "No, that's not...."

The child stumbles and tries to pull himself together so hard it hurts to watch. So used to comforting, to bringing security, to hugging and allowing others to cling to him that he has forgotten to cling to others.

She runs one of her hands down his back, afraid to break him.

She thinks of the air nomads, not the savages the Fire Nation has tried to convince her people they were, no, the real ones. The ones those forbidden scrolls in the royal library spoke of. She thinks of pacifism and forgiveness, love and freedom. She thinks of the air nomads as the great loving community they were, as the mediators, the travelers. She thinks of their homes, the temples, where they always returned to no matter how much time passed because even if they were adventurous and free-souled they would always return to the place they called home.

Think of vows not to kill, ideals of peace and compassion.

This child is not only willing to stain his hands and murder the rest of his innocence with it, but to stain the legacy that resides in him, to stain everything his people have taught him and what he himself has believed in just to make this world a little safer, to remove a monster from the minds of those he loves. All this child has left of his people are his teachings and the world demands that he throw them away and tarnish them for the greater good.

It is not fair.

"I'm sorry you were driven to tarnish the legacy of the people you loved like this, it must have been so hard to have to deal with this burden for so long."

A broken whimper comes from the boy's throat, his head shakes in denial, the boy looks at her pleadingly, as if asking her not to force him to face this hard truth;

"It must have been hard for a child."

And the child in front of him breaks like a twig at her words, the tears fall with no way to stop and the child throws himself against her chest, she wraps her arms around him and hugs him against her tightly, trying to hide him from the world.

"It's okay, I'll take this burden from your hands, let me do this for you."

And the boy lets out nothing but sobs mixed with a chant of; "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..."

She says nothing more, allows him to cry and hugs him tightly, runs her hands down his back trying to loosen the tension and knots that this little boy holds in himself, murmurs promises that everything will be alright.

And Aang allows it, allows himself to relax against her and accept the comfort he so desperately needed.

-

The children run to them as Aang carefully opens the door to Azula's room. Zuko is no longer wearing his pajamas, but dark-colored or black clothes, a deep blue cloak on his shoulders with his hood on, in his hands a mask of the Spirit of Dark Water.

"Aang!" Azula exclaims excitedly, who has similar clothes to Zuko but with a hooded bordo hood over her shoulders and a Dragon Emperor mask in her hands, jumping into Aang's arms. Aang lets out a chuckle and carries her in his arms before stroking Zuko's head with his free arm, who looks at them anxiously.

"You took too long." Zuko murmured, clinging to the Avatar's leg and looking at both of them unsure of what to say. "Is everything all right?"

Aang smiles. "Yes, we just had to have a grown-up talk."

Zuko looks at her, waiting to hear her verdict. Ursa smiles, trying to reassure him.

"That's true, although I wouldn't call it a grown-up talk." Aang groans at her words. "It's time to go, isn't it?"

Both children's eyes widen.

"Are you coming with us, mom?" Azula's voice asks ecstatically.

Aang shrinks and looks away guiltily, opens his mouth to say something, but Ursa interrupts him. "No, I won't go where you are going, dear. It would be too dangerous for everyone. But Aang will leave me in a place as safe as yours."

Azula and Zuko are a little discouraged, but nod. "That's good, mom." Zuko says, there was relief in his eyes. Azula nods in support still in the arms of Aang, who sighs with relief that he is not the bearer of bad news for once.

The Avatar puts Azula down and directs them to take their things, then looks at her almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, but we can't go get your things."

She shakes her head. "There's nothing too precious here anyway, everything I care about comes with me in one form or another."

Aang nods before turning to the rest; "It's time to go."

The children nod with determination, quickly putting on their masks.

The Avatar opens the door to the room and gestures with one hand for them to come in, Ursa blinks a couple of times, puzzled. Her children, who seemed as puzzled as she was but more willing to trust, do as Aang directs without hesitation.

"Won't we go through the window?"

Aang smiles mischievously. "Our means of transportation awaits us outside the palace."

She looks at him uneasily. "And how do you plan for us to get there?"

The boy puts on his mask and doesn't hesitate when he says; "By the exit door of the palace, of course."

Oh spirits, is all she can think as she steps out of the room and faces a hallway that won't be so desolate in a few minutes when the next patrol passes by. She looks anxiously at Aang, who seems far too relaxed.

She watches as the boy pulls a wide, forearm-length bottle from the bag he had tied around his waist. Aang effortlessly opens the cap of the bottle and puts it away in his pocket before moving his hand and starting to make upward circular motions, controlling the liquid and drawing it out of its container. The now empty bottle is quickly stowed in the bag again.

It's a considerable amount of liquid, but if Aang plans to force himself open with it, then this plan won't work.

As if reading her thoughts, Aang looks at her and she knows he is smiling at her even with his mask on. Zuko and Azula, a few steps away from her, gasp in surprise and fascination, mesmerized by the movements Aang makes as he performs waterbending, moving his arms in circles and flexing and flattening his hands at just the right moments.

Before long, the water boils and turns to steam that soon looks like a thick mist with every move Aang makes. The steam in the bottle is not big enough on its own, but there is enough moisture in the air to make it bigger.

Before long the vapor becomes a mist that surrounds them in a circle but does not touch them.

"Don't go near the mist, it has a sedative in it that would knock you unconscious in a matter of seconds once it enters your airways. I will clear the air around us so that nothing happens to us and I will keep the fog out of the circle I formed, please stay inside it."

And they begin to walk towards the palace entrance in silence. The guards they come across don't even have time to wonder what the sudden fog is before they pass out, they leave behind a trail of unconscious soldiers and servants, the only noise is the bodies hitting the ground. Azula claps her hands as if it were a funny magic trick and Zuko clutches her dress as if afraid the guards will suddenly come to life.

It gives Ursa chills how easy it is to walk all the way through to the palace gates, bodies fall without having time for anything and hit the ground hard, she feels shivers as, the few who notice the fog, are not able to run more than three steps before an accurate move by Aang fills their lungs with sedatives with a strong gust of wind.

His movements are a dance, they are smooth and graceful, he knows what he is doing. There is no unnecessary movement, he controls the elements with mastery he should not have at a young age. She realizes then, from the bottom of her being, that Aang could defeat Ozai without too much effort, maybe even Iroh.

Azulon doesn't even enter the game, not with his aging years.

As they are about to leave towards the entrance garden, where the great gates that keep the royal family separate and isolated from the rest of the world are located, Aang tells them to stop before moving a few steps ahead of the group and raising his arms.

With a couple of movements, the mist gathers in front of them before suddenly dispersing. She blinks a couple of times, fear gripping her for an instant thinking that her only defense had been dispersed. However, gusts of air begin to sweep through the garden, hitting the guards that are strategically distributed in the garden with the remainder of the remaining sedative.

Within seconds, there is no one to guard the gates; they are free to leave.

Her breath hitches, the disbelief of how easy it was hits her. She expects troops of armed soldiers to come, for something to take them by surprise, but there is nothing.

A tired sigh distracts her, Aang lowers his arms, and it is only now that she notices how shaky his arms were. Only now can she see the tension in his shoulders disappearing and the relief that floods the boy's body, no, this wasn't easy just because, Aang must have made plan after plan, studied the positions of the guards, their schedules and the easiest way to knock them out and leave quietly. All this must have taken years of preparation.

All for tonight, where they walk through the entrance garden and easily open the gates he always found impossible to cross, immovable, insurmountable. With an accurate movement of Aang, a blast of air mercilessly hits the massive gates and forces them wide open.

In front of her, the world welcomes her.

Aang blows a whistle she pulled from beneath her robes loudly. In less than a minute, a huge beast lands in front of them, with white fur and arrows similar to those of the avatar beside him. The boy pulls off his mask and smiles joyfully at them.

"Our steed has arrived! Meet Appa!"

(She notices how, after taking off, the Avatar pulls out a bottle a little larger than the previous one, and, with the moisture in the air, creates a large, thick fog that floods the palace in no time as the sky bison flies overhead.

"This should prevent unwanted observers." Aang explains quietly as he takes the leashes of his bison, Appa, and leads them away. His voice is calm and soft, obviously avoiding attracting the attention of Azula and Zuko, who are ecstatic about the fact that they are flying, listen to them.

She says nothing, instead nods. Better safe than sorry).

-

The night is old when they reach the Valley of Oblivion, Aang lands his flying bison, Appa, at the beginning of the Valley and helps her down.

She looks uncertainly at the Valley, however, Aang smiles encouragingly at her, although there is something bittersweet about it.

Zuko and Azula, who were ordered to stay behind by Aang and her, look at her with tears in their eyes.

She bends down and opens her arms, her children throw themselves against her and hug her tightly. She kisses their foreheads and tightens her arms around them, trying to express how much she loves them and how sorry she is for failing them in a thousand possible ways.

"Be good and kind, obey Aang, he will take good care of you." She murmurs through her tears, Azula nods vigorously and Zuko just sobs more. "I love you, this is not goodbye, okay? We'll see each other again, I promise."

She forces herself to separate from her children, who wipe their tears and try to give her their best smiles. She wants to cry, but she doesn't. She turns to Aang, who holds out his hand.

She takes it.

Aang turns to Azula and Zuko. "Stay with Appa, I'll be right back. Yes?"

The children nod and so, Ursa and Aang go into the valley.

Aang and Ursa walk hand in hand through the valley, observing the vegetation and the small ponds in the valley. Aang guides her and she follows him, neither says anything, there is not much more to say. Finally, after long hours of searching, they see him; the blue-gray wolf spirit, the companion of the Mother of Faces.

The wolf, who was drinking water in a small pond, raised his head at the sound of their footsteps and stared at them. Ursa expects him to flee, but no, instead his eyes bore into hers. Ursa almost backs away, but Aang squeezes her hand as a warning that this was a bad idea.

It's long minutes, the wolf inspects them thoroughly before turning and walking off in an unfamiliar direction.

Beside her, Aang sighs with relief and turns to look at her. "I managed to communicate with him, he is willing to guide you to his owner, you should reach her in a couple of hours or a day at most."

She blinks. "Really?"

The avatar nods and, with some regret, releases her hand before forcing his lips to curve upward in a breath. "Yeah, I guess this is goodbye for now. I'll be back in a couple of months, when the Fire Nation winds down a bit and you've settled into your new life a bit, long enough for security to let down and I can get in without worrying about being seen.."

Fear strikes her. "Won't you come with me?"

The Avatar shakes his head. "I can't accompany you there, the mother of faces won't like it if I intervene any more than I already have, and I'm not much to her liking." He pauses a little before saying calmly; "But she'll listen to you, I'm sure she'll like you very much."

Something sounds wrong in his words, hollow. She wonders, if it's not when she was forced to leave the palace and leave Zuko and Azula alone that made Aang despise her, if it's now where she commits the crime that made him do it. "Is this where I make that decision that made you hate me?"

Aang's face contorts; guilt, sadness, pain. He averts his gaze to the ground quickly and shakes his head, but says nothing and that's enough.

"I suppose you're not going to tell me what it was, are you?"

The avatar says nothing, for a moment she thinks he won't answer, but then he replies; "I'm not going to intervene, it's your decision to make after all." He sighs before raising his head and looking at her kindly. "Anyway, I think I understand a little better why you made that decision, even if I don't like it."

She sighs because she knows she won't get any more out of Aang. "I understand, Aang. Thank you for everything."

The avatar nods and she turns around to follow the blue-gray wolf, who is still waiting for her a few feet away from her.

Her footsteps stop before they begin, she turns around and hugs the boy. "Please take care of Zuko and Azula."

Two arms wrap around her back and she feels the child's head tucked into her chest.

"I wouldn't think of doing anything else."

She slowly pulls away before gently placing a hand on Aang's face. "Take care of yourself too, you're just as important as the two of them, Aang, never forget that."

Aang doesn't respond right away, but he doesn't look away, she can see the uncertainty in his eyes before he nods. "Okay".

That's all she can ask of him.

"See you later, Aang."

"See you later, Ursa."

With that farewell, she turns and starts toward the blue-gray wolf. When he's right next to her, the big wolf starts walking again, slow enough that she doesn't have to trot or run to catch up, they walk side by side and soon, when she turns around, the thick fog typical of the valley prevents her from spotting Aang.

She smiles reassuringly before turning back.

The sun's rays begin to tint the dark blue of the sky to yellows and oranges, chasing away some of the mist that surrounds her. Its warmth heralds the arrival of dawn and her new life.

-

The sun's rays illuminated the sky, tinting it orange, red and violet, they couldn't see the sun kissing the cold earth and welcoming a new day, enclosed inside their small fort with large walls as they were, but could see the sky tinged by its colors from the hole that the dome had uncovered and roofless.

His parents were inside their home, going back and forth trying to prepare a big and hearty breakfast and checking for the fortnight to see if the room for their new guests was ready for them. Sokka came out an hour ago with Katara at his side, anxious to be the first to greet them and too bored to be inside the igloo.

Both of his parents had been with a tense and anxious energy, swarming around the house with last minute preparations and cleaning, tidying and checking that everything was perfect as if whoever was coming was the leader of some sister tribe to their own. It was absurd how nervous they were, it was just Aang.

And Zuko and Azula, he supposed.

His gift was clenched in his hands, waiting with him for Zuko.

He closes her eyes for a few moments to let them rest. It's early, too early, to be awake. Katara, curled up on her side and half asleep. She should be asleep by this time, and so should he, but Sokka insisted on receiving them. It's been five days since Aang left on his last trip to the Fire Nation to find Zuko and Azula, four days since it was Zuko's birthday, he wants to be the first to greet them and give Zuko the gift right away, he wants to see him and know what he really looks like. He never knew what his pen pal looked like.

He opens his eyes with some regret, however the dream is lost when he sees a white and gray spot in the sky, flying over the tribe and descending more and more towards them. Excitement hits him so hard that he lets out a gasp.

"Mom! Dad! They're here!"

Katara wakes up with his cry and looks up at the sky in a daze, trying to understand what was happening before her blue eyes catch sight of the flying bison and a smile floods her features.

Sokka runs with Katara following just a few steps behind him towards Appa, who lands silently and softly a few feet in front of their home. They watch Aang jump off Appa after a few seconds, with both arms carrying two children who look around with a mixture of wariness and awe.

"Aang!" He shouts loudly, Aang finally notices his presence and smiles when his eyes meet his. He crouches down and sets the children down carefully before opening his arms and receiving him.

Sokka lunges hard and narrowly knocks down the Airbender, who hugs him tightly. Katara arrives shortly after and joins in the embrace with excitement. Aang lets out a giggle and clings to them, he can feel Aang's big smile against his shoulder.

He has missed Aang a lot.

"Aang." His mother's voice makes them break away from the embrace, he watches with a smile at his mother, who approaches with a relieved and loving look at the small group, however he stops when her eyes stray to the children Aang brought.

Said children cling to Aang's cloak and half-hide behind Aang. Sokka steps back and forces Katara back, noticing how scared Zuko and Azula looked. Even if he wanted to approach and talk, he feared scaring them more.

Why do they look so terrified?

"Sokka, Katara." His father's voice distracted him, he was a few feet away, he didn't try to get closer to Aang or Zuko and Azula. Instead, he waved his hand in a signal for them to come closer to him and give Aang and the two children clinging to their clothes some space.

Reluctantly, he took Katara's hand and backed up until he reached his father, who gathered Katara in his arms and rested one of his hands on his shoulder. His father's eyes were dark with worry, yet he tried to give him a reassuring smile when he noticed he was looking at him.

"What's wrong with them, why are they scared?" He whispered to his father, watching as Aang whispered reassuring promises to Azula and Zuko, urging them to stop hiding behind him. His mother respectfully stood a few feet away from him, giving them room to move forward in their own time.

His father denied. "They're trying to process everything, it's a new place with new people."

That didn't make sense. "We've known each other, I've been sending letters to Zuko for a long time! And to Azula! though only to her for a couple of months..." he admitted the latter with some embarrassment. His father let out a soft chuckle, Katara watched the scene in front of her in rapt attention.

"Yes, but we've never seen him face to face, right? We have to give them time to understand that they're safe and that we're the people who spoke to them through Aang."

He thinks about it a bit more and supposes it makes some sense.

Aang finally convinces Zuko and Azula to come out from behind him, the little hands of each clinging to one of Aang's. With small, hesitant steps, they take a few steps until they are both stuck to their sides, not a big difference, but an improvement to them being hidden behind him, he supposes.

Aang's hands carefully release from Azula and Zuko's eager hands and instead land on their shoulders, giving them a little nudge to stand just in front of him. Zuko grabs Azula's hand and Azula clings to his grip, both of them looking like they are about to run away from there.

His mother takes a few steps forward calmly, her whole body relaxed and calm, she doesn't make any sudden movements, Sokka is reminded of when she does just the same when trying to approach an accidentally injured bear-dog puppy.

Finally when she is only a few steps in front of the frightened duo of children, she crouches down and kneels, putting herself at the same height as them. Aang squeezes Zuko and Azula's shoulders in an attempt to convey confidence to them.

Zuko looks at her warily and Azula with thinly disguised nervousness.

"This is Kya, guys."

Zuko's eyes widen with hesitant recognition, Azula doesn't change her tense posture, but seems more curious than scared.

He sees her mother nod. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Zuko and Azula."

Sokka doesn't know what expression his mother is doing, with her back turned as she is from him and his father and sister, but there must be something in this one, because it's enough to make the children relax a little and look at her with wary curiosity and anticipation.

Their mother continues; "Welcome to the South Pole, we have been waiting for you for a long time."

His mother's voice is soft and affectionate, she must be smiling, he realizes.

Zuko and Azula seem to be able to breathe again, they detach from Aang a little bit and watch Kya for a long while, looking for something.

Kya must have done something right, because Zuko and Azula smile hesitantly back at her. It's a weak, shy and somewhat nervous smile, but a smile after all.

His body relaxes without realizing the tension he had been holding in, fresh air enters his lungs, being able to breathe properly again. Even his father's hand that had been lightly squeezing his shoulder finally relaxes.

He believes that everything will be all right.

And, by the tired but hopeful smile on Aang's face, he believes that Aang also thinks the same as he.