Chapter Text
Maybe it was the fading evening light and the flickering of the lantern, but the figure in the middle of the room appeared as an apparition with no hard edges to its silhouette. Its features morphed, the ivory tusks of the mask even more exaggerated than usual. General Koga knew that it was just a man. At least, he had been confident in that assertion before tonight. The figure did not speak, and had not moved in the last several minutes. General Koga placed the pouch of coins on the edge of his desk, eager to get The Blue Spirit out of his office.
“Half now, half later,” General Koga said. “Do you understand?”
Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but the figure nodded. It swiped a hand over the pouch of coins, which disappeared as if it were a trick of the shadows, too. General Koga blinked, and The Blue Spirit was gone.
Zuko took to the rooftops where only the stars could see him. He raised his mask to take a lungful of the cool night air, air that did not scar his lungs or coat his throat with ash. It was a myth that the people of the Fire Nation could breathe in the smog of their cities with no ill effects, a myth born of the fact that the people simply knew nothing else. Their heavy, thick, dark city air was the cleanest air they had ever inhaled, and so they did not know to be bothered. Zuko, though, Zuko relished the crisp atmosphere of the Earth Kingdom, because it was a constant reminder that he was not home.
He mulled over his new target, the chief of the Southern Water Tribe. An insignificant man, but not so insignificant that he hadn’t caused General Koga some trouble. He was last spotted at the Air Temple near the Fire Nation, along with the boy rumored to be the Avatar. Zuko did not believe in the rumors, but understood the importance of symbols and of hope, even if he had no hope himself. He knew Ozai was a fire too large, too hot, and too hungry to ever put out. Zuko did not need hope to cling to. He only needed the night air and some coin to put food in his belly and to buy silk thread to stitch up his wounds. And perhaps a bit more information about where he could find this Water Tribe man who had caused so much trouble for General Koga.
...
Sokka could not sleep. The heat didn’t bother him so much as the size of the room, the vaulted ceiling and the walls that were too far apart and how his heartbeat was the only noise. The room made him feel small. Not small like the stars made him feel small, how the infinite reaches of the sky made him feel small. It was different. It was different because he was alone. Night after night he had slept beside his friends, and when he awoke in the night, worried something terrible had happened to them in the hours he had been asleep, it didn’t take long to drift away again to the sound of their breathing. Aang hardly made a sound, but sometimes mumbled in his sleep, indiscernible words but marked with the telltale joy of a child at play. Katara’s breathing as she slept was long and slow and deep, pushing and pulling at the air like water on a shoreline. Toph snored, always the first to fall asleep and the last to wake up.
He wondered if the others were asleep, or if their exhaustion had won out over the eerie silence of the palace. He doubted he could have slept anyway, if they were back under the stars again. Ozai had been swept away to some dark dungeon, but Sokka’s relief had been fleeting. Katara had gone after Azula by herself, and though she had defeated the princess, had taken a lightning bolt to the chest. She had fallen into a coma like Aang had when he was struck. With no water bender to heal her, their father whisked her off to the Northern Water Tribe the moment they found her after Ozai had been defeated, laying limp in the palace courtyard. He hadn’t been this far away from her in his whole life. He could stand being away from their father, but it was his job to worry about Katara. And with her so far, his worry was not productive, and so he was useless. The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and with it, any semblance of purpose.
Sokka left his bed. The air had grown too thick to stay. He tiptoed past Aang’s room and thought about reaching for the handle, but if Aang was sleeping, Sokka had to let him stay that way. He was in the worst shape after Katara, every bit of his life force ripped from him during his fight with Ozai. Toph’s room was next, and she snored softly on the other side of the door. She would only tell him to piss off, so he continued down the hall.
He wandered. The guards paid him no mind, but his stomach twisted in knots when he passed the white faces of their helmets. He knew these were not the men and women that had killed his people, that most palace guards had never been abroad, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t kill him if they could get away with it. They had been Ozai’s guards just yesterday. Now, they were Iroh’s.
Sokka came to the garden. The turtle ducks slept along the bank, and he wondered if anyone would move him should he fall asleep beside them.
“Sokka, is that you?”
He stiffened at the voice, but relaxed when he saw Iroh sitting on the stone bench at the edge of the pond beneath the cherry blossom tree. Lanterns hung from the branches and fireflies floated lazily around the new firelord, pulsing with a gentle glow. Iroh looked unfamiliar in his long, dark red robes lined with gold. Far different from the humble man they had met at a tea shop in Ba-Sing-Se. He had made them the moment they walked through his door, but never posed a threat, and instead offered to teach Aang firebending. It wasn’t until much later that they discovered who he really was. None of them had believed him at first. It was clearer than ever now that Iroh was no bumbling old man, but a man of great power, a man strong enough to rival Ozai.
“Hey, Iroh—Uh, your majesty, I mean.”
Iroh chuckled softly and patted the spot on the bench next to him with a rough hand. “You may call me Iroh, still. But only in private.”
Sokka smiled sheepishly and joined Iroh on the bench. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.
A heavy sigh escaped Iroh’s lungs. He closed his eyes, and a serenity settled over Sokka as he caught the reflection of the moon in the pond. He hoped Yue was watching over his sister as she made her way north.
“I came out here to think,” Iroh finally said. “The palace officials have not left me alone all day. I have not had a moment to myself.”
“It’s ironic, you know. I came out here because I was lonely,” Sokka admitted. It was easy to admit things to Iroh. He had a way of understanding, always a sage piece of advice to offer without making Sokka feel stupid.
“You are worried about your sister?”
“Yeah. I just…I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself. I spent the last six months trying to prepare Aang to take down Ozai, I never thought about what I’d do after.”
Iroh pulled a worn piece of paper out of his robe. Sokka had seen it before, the little portrait of the boy on it. He had assumed it was Iroh’s son and never asked about it. Iroh was open about many things, but never talked about him the way Sokka never talked about his mother. Some things never stopped hurting, never ceased.
“I was going to wait to offer you this task,” Iroh said. “I thought you could use a few days of rest.”
“What is it?” Sokka asked.
Iroh ran his thumb over the portrait before handing it to Sokka. “This is my nephew.”
Sokka frowned and peered at it. “Your nephew? You mean…” Ozai was Iroh’s only sibling, right? “This is Ozai’s son?”
“Yes. He was banished several years ago when he was just a boy. His father had any record of him erased. His portraits burned. Thankfully, our royal portrait painter had saved some sketches, one of hich you’re holding now. He would be your age now, perhaps a little older.”
“Do you…do you think he’s alive?”
Iroh was quiet for a moment before he replied. “I would like you to find out. If he is, then I will need you to bring him home. And if he isn’t…”
“Then you won’t have to worry about him anymore,” Sokka murmured.
Iroh exchanged his solemn demeanor for a more professional one. “It will be hard to find him, but he has a burn scar over the left side of his face, over his eye.”
“How did he get it?”
Iroh winced, as if reliving a memory. “His father gave it to him before his banishment. Held him down, and—” He blinked away his tears. “I was going to go with him. I had prepared a ship of my own with thirty soldiers. But when I went to fetch him from the infirmary, he had already fled. I don’t know that he will want to come home. But if he is alive, he needs to know that his banishment is lifted, and that…that I will welcome him home.”
Sokka’s stomach writhed like bloated worms in wet soil. Ozai deserved to die. Deserved to suffer a thousand deaths. “I’ll bring him home.”
Iroh swallowed and nodded. “His name is Zuko. I will give you letters to deliver to city officials with his pardon. If we are lucky, you will not have to find him, and he will come out of hiding when he learns that it is safe here at the palace. That his father has been locked away.”
Sokka had a feeling it would not be that easy, assuming the prince was even alive anymore.
“But should you find him, he can be…reactive. He is a firebender, so you will have to be careful.”
If it came down to a fight, Sokka knew he would have no problem. “You can count on me, your flameliness.” He stood, resisting the urge to flash a beaming smile at Iroh. “I think I’ll head back to my room and draw up a route.”
“Maybe the avatar can be persuaded to let you borrow his bison.”
“In his exhausted state, I’m sure he’d agree to anything.”
The following morning, Sokka loaded his pack onto Appa, along with a few of Katara’s things that their father had left behind in his rush to get her to the Northern Water Tribe healers. He took a wicker cage as well, containing a scarlet feathered messenger hawk to send word of Katara back to the palace, and an official letter from Iroh to make copies of and distribute to city hubs in hopes of getting the information to the prince. Lastly, kept secure in the secret pocket Katara had sewn into the inside of his shirt, was the sketch of the prince. He was grateful to be out of the fire nation reds and back in his regular clothes, as dirty and worn as they were.
The sun just peaking over the ocean, Aang shuffled into the courtyard where Sokka was triple-checking that everything was secured to Appa. Aang produced the whistle that normally hung from his neck and handed it to Sokka as he leaned on his staff for support.
“Thought you might need this,” he said with a tired smile. There were dark circles under his eyes, but not lacking in ever-present mischief. Sokka nodded and looped the cord over his head.
“I know you wish you could go, buddy,” Sokka said, laying a hand on Aang’s shoulder.
“But I’m needed here.” Aang sighed and rubbed his eyes, appearing far too old.
“You are. As word continues to spread that Ozai is no longer on the throne, people are gonna be scared and confused. They’re gonna need someone to guide them.”
Aang nodded, his lips pressed together as he avoided Sokka’s eyes for a tense moment. Sokka squeezed his shoulder, and he looked back up, face set in determination.
“Send a letter as soon as you can,” he said.
Sokka nodded. “It’ll be here this time next week. And Katara will be following.”
Aang dropped his staff and threw his arms around Sokka. Sure, this kid was the avatar, but more importantly, he was Sokka’s friend. One of the most powerful beings in the physical realm, and also his little brother. He would always be there to offer advice, to hug him back, to reassure him that the girl he was in love with would be alright. Only, he worried that he was lying. But what else could he do except fend off the grief until they were, if ever, in a place to handle it?
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sokka said. “Hopefully with a wayward prince in tow.”
Aang sniffed and swiped the tears from his eyes, but there was no hiding the redness when he faced Sokka. Sokka scooped up the staff and handed it to Aang before his knees could buckle beneath him. He clambered up onto Appa as Aang murmured a farewell to the great beast, and settled into place behind the horns with the reins in his calloused hands.
“Tell Toph not to terrorize the guards too much, alright?” Sokka called down.
“Even if they deserve it?” Aang replied, a flicker of his smile back.
“Even if they deserve it.”
He flicked the reins, and Appa rumbled, causing the whole courtyard to tremble as he lifted into the air.
Though Sokka was sad to leave his friends, he was glad to leave the Fire Nation Capital behind.