Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A hot stream of blue zipped past Aang’s ears. He’d just barely dodged that. Having less than a second to breathe, he leapt again to avoid Azula’s strikes. She cackled something about his weaknesses; he wasn’t really paying attention. He just wanted to sleep.

A burst of flame woke him up, as he narrowly avoided another fatal hit. They were much, much more powerful and concentrated than Zuko’s. That was something odd too. 

Aang had always thought of Zuko as powerful, especially in the beginning, but then Team Avatar could always outsmart him and his group. He wondered at that sometimes, after Pohuai Stronghold late at night. Was Zuko ever aiming to kill?

 Aang didn't get his answer as Azula’s blue whip singed his cloak. Aang sprung into the air using water to douse the flame.

Aang almost wished he was facing Zuko instead. He wished he hadn’t snapped at Toph.

There was a lot he regretted, he mused as he ducked under another scorch of fire. The blue flames might have been mesmerizing if they weren’t aimed at killing him with every strike. The tendrils circled out in sharp edges, glaring in the midafternoon sun.

He’d just settled on the ground, preparing to use water to repel her, when a powerful stream of fire rushed toward him.

“Do you really want to fight me?” smirked Azula, her cocky attitude something Aang was beginning to associate with the entire Fire Nation. Suddenly, the stream of blue fire aimed at him veered off and diffused.

“Yes. I do,” said a raspy voice, gold eyes set in that unyielding stare as Zuko stared down his sister. Half his mind was yelling Avatar Avatar Avatar Avata— he told that part to shut up. 

Azula was here.

“Oh, Zuzu ,” she smiled sweet and sharp, her eyes all arrogant and smug. “I was wondering what happened to you.” Her eyes tracked over him. “Not too good, I see.”

Zuko snarled, “What are you doing here?”

She smirked. “Cleaning up your mess, of course.” She shot a flare at Aang, who’d just realized who his mysterious saviour was. Aang blinked at Zuko—who apparently had hair now—and repeated Azula’s earlier words. “ Zuzu ?”

Zuko barely hazarded a glance in his direction. “Stay out of this, Avatar. This is family business—” Even before he could finish, the Avatar was sidling up next to him, hands raised in a familiar waterbending gesture. Zuko sighed. “What are you doing?”

The Avatar smiled—and wow, those were some eye bags—“Enemy of my enemy,” he said, and well, Zuko was always partial to play references and it was Azula. He wasn’t above using the help, though he’d never admit it. So he tipped his head in silent acknowledgement, and the two stood side by side.

Azula laughed. “Look at that. Seems the reports were right. You are a traitor.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened, and he threw a fire punch in response. With the Avatar’s air and water bending combined with Zuko’s steady stream of fire, they managed to corner Azula against a wall.

Soon Toph, Katara, Sokka, and that old man—Zuko’s uncle?—had joined.

“Friends and foes working together in unison,” sneered Azula.

“You have nowhere to go, Azula,” yelled Zuko, eyes flickering over her like a tiger-cat waiting to pounce.

Azula chuckled. “Oh, Zuzu,” she patronized before pointing two fingers at the old man, "Haven't you learnt not to underestimate me." she smirked before firing. The hailstorm of elements thrown at her didn’t seem to stop her. All it left behind was a cloud of dust.

“UNCLE!” The scream that tore from Zuko was painful as he dropped down next to the man, frantically checking for a pulse.

“Zuko... we can help,” said Katara. Always willing to help no matter who. Sokka kept a hold on his boomerang just in case, eyeing the fluttery Fire Prince.

“Get away from us!” snapped Zuko, eyes blazing in fear and pain. He was puffing smoke and sparks. Could firebenders breathe fire? Sokka didn’t want to find out, however, Katara could never just let things go. 

She pushed past his wall of sparks and thorns and knelt next to Zuko’s uncle.“He needs help. I have healing powers.” Her eyes locked onto Zuko’s, hard with determination. “I will help.”

Zuko exhaled shakily, eyes frantic as he tensely nodded, letting her help despite the voices screaming that she was going to harm Uncle. The waterbender approached Uncle with arms coated in glowing blue, and all Zuko could feel was the air leaving his lungs. His heartbeat shot up; all he could think of was her harming Uncle, but his arms wouldn’t move. His mouth wouldn’t unstick.

“Uh... could someone check on Sparky?” came Toph’s uncharacteristically concerned voice. 

Sokka raised a brow, staring at the Jerk Prince. “What? Why?”

Toph bit her lip. “His heartbeat is all over the place. I think he’s going to lose it.”

Sokka immediately snapped to the Jerk Prince. “Hey. Earth to Zuko,” he waved his hand in front of the now admittedly panicked prince. “You there?” All he got was a flicker of glazed-over eyes. Well, eye.

Aang fluttered down next to the boy. “Katara isn’t going to hurt your uncle, Zuko. Avatar’s honor.”

Only after that did Zuko calm down, blinking rapidly as he relaxed his fingers from where they’d been clutching his pants. “Thanks,” he croaked out, voice still rough. The glowing water swirled over his Uncle’s injury, neatly stitching back the injury to normal.

Zuko swallowed his panic and turned to the waterbender. “Thank you,” he said softly like the words physically pained him to say.

She just nodded. “I’ll need to work on him for a few more sessions till he’ll be alright.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “I appreciate the help, but I think I can manage on my own.” He was staring at his Uncle’s injury, tasting ash in his mouth from the lie. They would not survive alone.

Katara’s eyes hardened as she raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You and what survival skills?”

Zuko scowled, fists clenching. “We’ll be fine,” he gritted, still flustered and ashamed of his earlier weakness.

She just clicked her tongue. “Don’t be stubborn. You have no choice in this,” she stated matter-of-factly, eyes bright and determined. Her eyes were very blue. Earnest and bold. Like the sea of Ember Island. Maybe that’s why he didn’t protest when she corralled the others into helping him and Uncle onto the bison’s back.

“You will stay with us till he is healed,” stated the Water Tribe boy—he really should ask their names—eyes narrowed. “Any funny business and you’re off the bison.”

Zuko merely nodded, settling right next to his still-unconscious Uncle.

The ride on the bison had been tense and quiet. Zuko kept to himself, sitting close to his uncle and stealing wary glances at the group around him. He couldn’t shake the nagging unease of being surrounded by his former enemies—or the strange sense of relief that they were willing to help.

The camp they set up was nestled along an earthen ravine, its jagged edges a testament to the power of the earthbender—Toph, he’d learned her name during one of her loud introductions. “Perfect for earthbending,” she had declared the spot with a smug grin, stomping her foot to send a spray of jagged spikes jutting from the ground.

Zuko’s lips twitched involuntarily. She was… endearing in a way that caught him off guard. Confident, brash, and unapologetically herself. It reminded him of what Azula might have been, had things been different.

The thought made his stomach twist. He clenched his fists, exhaling sharply. Sparks crackled faintly from his breath, a manifestation of the storm inside him. He shook his head, forcing his focus back to the present, where his uncle still rested, recovering under the care of the waterbender—Katara.

Katara had kept her distance after ensuring Iroh’s injuries were stabilized, but her sharp glances were ever-watchful. It was clear she didn’t trust him. None of them did, really.

And yet, here he was.

The quiet camaraderie of the group was disarming. Aang practiced with Toph at the ravine’s edge, their laughter carrying over the sound of shifting earth. Sokka sharpened his boomerang nearby, casting wary glances Zuko’s way every so often. Even Katara, busy stirring a pot over the fire, seemed at ease in this makeshift home.

It was a rhythm, Zuko realized, one he wasn’t part of but had unwillingly stepped into. It unsettled him how natural it all felt—and how much he wanted to belong.

Shaking his head from the treasonous thoughts, he exhaled sharply—meditation—with sparks and smoke.

“Woah! You really can breathe fire!” Exclaimed the Avatar—Aang eyes bright.

Zuko yelped losing balance from where he’d been balancing on a sharp ledge, “Oof—’’

“—Sorry,” Said Aang sheepishly helping Zuko up. “How did you do that?”

Zuko tilted his head, “My breath of fire?” He asked demonstrating sparks as he exhaled.

Aang’s eyes sparkled excitement, “Yes!”

Zuko paused, “Firebending comes from the breath, it’s one of the first things you learn to do and—’’ He cut off abruptly, “Anyway, did Katara say he was up?” 

Aang deflated hoping he’d get more from Zuko but nodded, “Yeah, she said he was more likely to get up now.” 

Zuko sighed with relief before walking back towards their camp trying to ignore all the Avatar’s pressing questions. 

Lifting the tent hood up, he stepped in to see Katara’s expert hands bandaging Uncle’s wound. She must have felt his gaze because she sighed, “Stop staring.”

Zuko frowned, “I’m not.’’

She glanced at him amused, “You are. It’s distracting.’’ 

The two had come to a sort of agreement on account of her saving his Uncle and seeing the softer side to him. She still thought he was the worst…but not as bad as she’d initially thought. 

He huffed, stepping over next to her. He placed his hand over Uncle’s chest and closed his eyes in concentration. 

Katara quirked a brow, “What are you doing?” 

He didn’t open his eyes, “Checking his inner fire.” She made a questioning noise so he explained, “Firebending comes from within… it’s what gives him his fire. It’ll let me know how close to consciousness he is.’’ He opened his eyes, ‘’Much better.’’ He muttered to himself, flexing his fingers. 

Katara eyes his hands, “What is your plan anyway?” 

The two stepped out of the tent as Zuko replied, ‘’What do you mean?” 

She shrugged, “We didn’t see you after the Northern invasion…and when we do, you’re fighting with Aang against your sister.” 

Zuko looked straight ahead, on the path to where her kitchen set up was. “It’s…complicated.’’ He sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. “Uncle and I are declared traitors for our defeat at the North.” His jaw ticked, “Azula’s been tasked to bring us in, so we decided to go to Ba Sing Se as refugees…but Uncle and I had a disagreement.” 

He had no idea why he’d rambled about everything. Maybe it was because she was so earnest or that her big blue eyes looked at him not in fear or pity just… curiosity, understanding. He helped light the fire, silently cutting up the vegetables and meat as she added the spices and salt they had in store. 

“Disagreement?” Katara asked, stirring the pot. 

Zuko paused his chopping, “I…I was being an idiot. He just wanted me to be good , safe…and I threw it all back at his face.” 

Katara’s eyes softened, but she quickly masked it, turning her attention back to the pot. “Well, at least you’re honest about it,” she said after a beat.

Zuko snorted faintly, resuming his chopping. “Not that it helped much. I didn’t listen. Now, here we are.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was weighted. The crackle of the fire seemed louder, the distant sounds of Aang and Toph earthbending echoing faintly from the ravine.

“You’re lucky to have him,” Katara said suddenly, her voice quieter than before.

Zuko didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the fire, her words sinking in. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “I don’t deserve it. At all.”

Katara didn’t argue, which stung more than it should have. Instead, she poured a ladle of stew into a bowl and handed it to him. “Eat,” she said simply.

He took it, surprised by the small gesture. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, settling down with her own bowl.

They ate in silence for a while, the air between them slightly less tense but still cautious.

“So,” Katara said after a while, her tone more casual, “What’s next for you?”

Zuko hesitated, his chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve been so focused on running from Azula and keeping Uncle safe, I haven’t thought much beyond that.”

Katara nodded, her expression unreadable. “You should figure it out,” she said bluntly. “Because running isn’t a plan. Not forever.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. “I know,” he said quietly, staring at the tendrils of fire from the camp. They rose and fell with his breath. He never seemed to realise just how strong his presence was. 

Katara studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the tension in his shoulders, the way he hunched slightly as if bracing for something. “Maybe it’s time to stop running,” she said, her voice softer now. “You helped us against Azula. Maybe you can help more.”

Zuko looked at her sharply, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’d trust me that much?” A small fire stoked in his chest.

She shook her head. “Not yet. But I trust what you did back there. And…I trust your uncle.” Flashes of the talk with Top came to her mind as she stirred her bowl lazily.

Her words stung, but they also felt oddly grounding. He nodded, looking back at his bowl. “Fair enough.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two fell into a more companionable silence. Toph wandered over, covered in dust, and flopped onto the ground with a satisfied groan.

“Didn’t know you two were such chatterboxes,” she teased, smirking.

Katara rolled her eyes as she passed Toph a bowl. “Don’t you have rocks to punch?”

“Already did. Gotta give the ground a break,” Toph quipped, leaning back on her elbows. She tilted her head toward Zuko taking the offered bowl from Katara and giving her a small thanks as she dug in. “So, Sparky, how’s life on the run?”

Zuko scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

Toph grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Whatever you say, Sparky.”

Katara hid a small smile behind her bowl, but her eyes flicked briefly to Zuko. He was exchanging banter with Top, eyes clearly fond as he regarded the younger girl. Toph was right, mused Katara, that boy could not keep a single emotion off his face. 

Once they were done she got up to go feed Aang. La knows that the boy forgot to eat whenever he’d been through a hard training run. 

As Katara walked away, bowl in hand, she couldn’t help but glance back at the fire. Zuko was still talking to Toph, the edges of his scowl softening into something that almost resembled amusement. It was strange—seeing him fit into their group dynamic, even if it was just for fleeting moments. She shook her head and focused on her task.

Aang sat cross-legged near the edge of the ravine, staring intently at a rock. His hairless head gleamed in the fading sunlight, and he didn’t even look up as Katara approached.

“You’re going to burn out if you don’t eat,” she said, setting the bowl in front of him. 

He gratefully took the bowel giving her a sheepish smile. “I forgot.”

She rolled her eyes, “C’mon, let's get you back to camp.”

She turned back toward the campfire, half-expecting to hear Toph’s teasing or Zuko’s clipped responses, but the quiet that greeted her instead was peculiar. It wasn’t tense, exactly, but it wasn’t familiar either. When they arrived, Sokka stood to the side with Toph, arms crossed, his gaze fixed squarely on Zuko who was returning from his check-in on Iroh toward the campfire.

“Is it just me, or has our favourite jerkbender gotten…” Sokka twirled a hand in the air, searching for the right word.

“Quieter?” Katara offered, sitting back down.

“Less threatening?” Aang piped up from behind, bowl in hand.

“Yes!” Sokka pointed dramatically. “Exactly. And isn’t that suspicious?”

Toph groaned, tipping her head back. “Ugh, Sokka, give it a rest. Sparky’s harmless.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Harmless? The guy tried to kidnap Aang like a million times!”

“Yeah, well, his heartbeat doesn’t lie,” Toph said with a shrug. “It’s steady. Honest. Maybe a bit fluttery. But kinda boring, if you ask me.”

“Boring?” Sokka repeated, scandalized.

“Relax, Snoozles. If Sparky were up to something, I’d know.” Toph grinned, leaning back smugly.

Sokka mulled over her words for a moment before turning to Zuko, who was quietly stoking the fire. “Alright, jerkbender! You’re coming with me.”

Zuko looked up, startled, the fire rising momentarily. “What?”

“Firewood. Now.” Sokka didn’t wait for an answer, already striding toward the tree line.

Zuko shot Katara a long-suffering look. She simply raised an eyebrow. “You’d better go before he starts yelling.”

With a sigh, Zuko stood up, grabbed a blade and followed Sokka, muttering something under his breath about “Ridiculous Water Tribe siblings.”

The forest clearing was cold. The night was not kind to firebenders. Zuko breathed as he caught up with Sokka. After a while, Sokka broke the quiet. “You’ve been... less shouty than usual.”

Zuko’s steps faltered, but he didn’t look up. “And?” Oh, that was some nice wood. He picked up a stack.

“And I was just wondering if that’s because you’re plotting something, or because you’re still figuring out how to be a normal human being,” Sokka said, his tone light but edged with sincerity as he picked up a few branches.

Zuko’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not plotting anything,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual as he stared at the cloudless sky. 

Sokka nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Good.” He flipped a twig to mark their path as he added, “ Because, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re the worst guy we’ve ever met. But you don’t make it easy for people to see that.”

Zuko glanced at him, surprised by the honesty. “I—Thank you.” Zuko sighed heavily, “I’d given up on the Avatar actually.” 

Sokka snapped to stare at him mouth agape. 

Zuko continued like it was nothing, “That’s why I sorta helped Aang… Uncle and I were on our way to the Ba Sing Se, but we got… separated.” 

Sokka was willing to bet there was more to that but he didn't feel like he could push so he just nodded dumbly, “So..what’s your plan?” 

Zuko snorted, “What is it with you Water Tribe and asking me my plan? Your sister asked me the same thing.” He sighed turning to look back at the sky, tracing the shape of the constellation for Dragon, Druk. It was a seafaring sign that one used to go back to Caldera. Zuko picked up a habit of looking for it whenever he felt homesick. “I don’t know…I’m a traitor to my nation… but there’s no way I’d fight against my nation.”  Even if they didn’t want me, was left unsaid but implied.

The air between Zuko and Sokka grew heavier, the kind of weight that came from words unsaid but understood nonetheless. The forest around them was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of twigs beneath their feet.

Sokka looked at Zuko from the corner of his eye, his usual wit faltering in the face of something unspoken in the firebender’s demeanour. “You don’t have to be loyal to a nation that’s betrayed you, you know,” Sokka said finally, his voice gentler than Zuko expected.

Zuko stiffened, his grip tightening on the wood in his arms. “It’s not about loyalty to the people in charge,” he muttered. Not anymore . He mused, Such treasonous thoughts. “It’s about what the Fire Nation means. It’s my home. My family…” His voice broke slightly before he composed himself, clearing his throat. “It’s complicated.”

Sokka nodded slowly, his lips pursing in thought. He dropped the wood he was holding into a growing pile at his feet and sat on a mossy log, motioning for Zuko to join him. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, my dad’s off fighting a war that could kill him any day, and I’m here... trying to be the leader he expects me to be. Sometimes it feels like… no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Zuko hesitated but finally sat down, the wood resting at his feet. He kept his eyes on the ground, his fingers tracing the grooves of the log beneath him. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” he admitted quietly.

Sokka chuckled dryly, his eyes scanning the treetops. “What, you think you’re the only one who has to deal with impossible expectations? Please. Join the club. My dad expects me to protect our tribe and take care of Katara while he’s off saving the world. I want to make him proud, but half the time I feel like I’m just pretending to know what I’m doing.”

Zuko’s lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost. “At least your dad believes in you,” he said, his voice barely audible. He’d never actually admitted this out loud. It was treason. Yet…

Sokka frowned, sensing the weight behind those words. “Yeah, well, it’s not always a picnic. But… I guess I’d rather have that than nothing.”

Zuko’s gaze dropped, and he exhaled shakily. “My father…” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists. “It doesn’t matter.’’ He shook his head sighing. 

Sokka shook his head, ‘’No, continue.’’

Zuko swallowed thickly, ‘’It’s just—It’s treason to think like that.’’ He admitted softly. 

Sokka’s eyes widened, before softening, “Okay…take your time man. We’ll be here.’’ He hesitated before patting Zuko on the back. 

Zuko tensed before relaxing to the touch, looking at Sokka in surprise, “What if I take too long?” He asked waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Sokka smiled standing up, “Nah, take your time, Prince Grumpy.” 

Zuko’s eyes crinkled as he followed Sokka out of the forest, “Prince Grumpy?” 

Sokka's eyes gleamed in mischief, “Don’t like that, your highness? What about Hothead? Or Blazy Mcbroodface? Or—’’

‘’—Goodnight.’’ Stomped an annoyed Zuko who dropped the firewood near the camp before making a beeline for Iroh’s tent. Sokka’s cackle echoed in the background and maybe just maybe the warmth in Zuko’s heart didn’t have to be stifled this time.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, the group fell into a kind of rhythm.

Nights were split into shifts, with Zuko naturally taking the last watch. He woke before dawn, just as the first light crept over the horizon, using the quiet hours to meditate and practice his katas. The fluid motions steadied him, his breathing in sync with the rising sun. The stillness brought a sense of balance, though his mind often wandered to uneasy places. Thoughts of his father, of Azula, of the Fire Nation’s endless war against the world—questions he hadn’t dared to ask himself before now crept in like shadows.

Was it really all for balance, as Father claimed? Was it worth all the pain and destruction?

He shook his head sharply, forcing the treacherous thoughts aside as he exhaled a stream of controlled flame. Meditation wasn’t for answers—it was for clarity. He would stoke the embers of their fire back to life, grounding himself in the present as he helped Katara with breakfast.

Katara didn’t say much to him at first. Just curt nods and the occasional instruction: “Pass me the knife,” or, “Watch the fire, it’s too high.” But over time, the silence softened. She’d ask him to taste a soup or critique her spice choices. One morning, she even allowed herself a small laugh when he admitted, gruffly, that the food was better than anything he’d made while travelling alone.

“Guess royal tutors don’t teach you everything, huh?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes searching.

He tried to scowl but found himself smirking instead. “Not when it comes to cooking.”

Sokka and the others scattered after eating, gathering supplies or taking care of small chores around the camp. Toph and Aang would disappear together, the sounds of earthbending practice—grunts, crashes, and occasional cheers—filtering faintly through the trees.

Zuko often stayed near the camp, chopping wood or repairing equipment. Sokka, to his surprise, began lingering around him. At first, it was with transparent suspicion, watching his every move like he expected Zuko to breathe fire on their belongings.

“You’re not going to burn down the camp, are you?” Sokka had asked one afternoon, his tone sarcastic but his eyes wary.

Zuko had snorted. “Not unless you keep asking me stupid questions.”

Despite the jab, Sokka had stayed. And then he stayed the next day too, occasionally asking questions about Zuko’s swordsmanship or critiquing his firebending form like he had any real idea what he was talking about.

“You’ve got decent reflexes,” Zuko found himself saying one evening, watching Sokka clumsily mimic a sword kata. “But you’re leaving your left side open. If I were your opponent, you’d be on the ground in seconds.”

“Ha! As if you could take me down,” Sokka shot back, trying the move again. This time, it was cleaner, smoother.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. “Piandao would’ve loved you,” he muttered begrudgingly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Zuko said quickly, turning away.

Evenings brought a different energy. Katara and Sokka often trained together, their movements fluid under the moonlight. Zuko sometimes watched from the edge of the campfire, unable to resist analyzing their techniques. He was surprised one night when Katara turned to him, breathless but steady, and asked, “Want to join?”

He blinked, taken aback. “What?”

She shrugged, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “You look like you’re itching to correct us. Might as well be useful.”

He hesitated, unsure if it was a genuine offer or a veiled challenge. But the curiosity in her eyes wasn’t hostile, and he found himself stepping forward.

It was awkward at first, the three of them moving in tandem but out of sync. Zuko’s fire didn’t flow the way Katara’s water did, and Sokka’s swordsmanship was more brute force than technique. Yet, somehow, they began to find a rhythm. Zuko adjusted his stances to mimic the fluidity of Katara’s movements, while Sokka picked up on some of Zuko’s defensive strategies.

It had been ages—since Zhao took his crew—that he’d had a good sparring.

By the time they stopped, the air was charged with something unspoken—something almost like friendliness.

Zuko sat by the fire that night, watching the embers dance as the others drifted to their tents. The warmth of the fire didn’t ease the chill in his thoughts.

The Fire Lord is wrong.

The idea crept in unbidden, sharper now, harder to ignore. His fists clenched around his knees as he stared into the flames. If his father was wrong—if the Fire Nation was wrong—then what did that make him?

And yet, the quiet voices of the others, the faint laughter echoing from their tents, felt… grounding. He wasn’t sure if he belonged here, but for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave. It wasn’t perfect. But it was the most Zuko ever felt comfort in.

It was during one of those calm evenings when the sky was cloudless and the breeze clear and warm. They sat around the fire, and the conversation shifted. Aang broke the silence, his tone thoughtful. “So, uh… what’s next? Ba Sing Se is still our best bet to find the Earth King and figure out how to stop the war.” His eyes flicked to Zuko watching his reaction.

Zuko glanced up from where he was feeding a small flame. “That’s where Uncle and I were headed anyway. It’s a huge city. We can disappear there, start over.”

Sokka tilted his head, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Makes sense. And it’s not like you’re much trouble to babysit.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious.”

Katara hummed amused, ‘’True. Plus we have Toph, there’s nowhere he could turn to betray us.

“I’m not planning to,” Zuko muttered, throwing a small pebble in Katara’s direction. Much to her amusement the pebble landed right next to her. They all knew how good of a shot Zuko was.

Toph smirked, stretching her arms behind her head. “I’m fine with it. Sparky’s not bad for a firebender. Kinda like having a cranky heater.”

Zuko glared, but she just grinned wider.

The decision was made with little fanfare, the group settling into their usual routines.

As Zuko stared at the fire that night, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was—relief, hesitation, or something in between. But for now, this odd group of misfits was slowly becoming something clearer. Something like home.

The rhythm of their days had become predictable, almost comforting. Zuko rose with the first light, the air cool against his skin as he settled into his morning meditation. It was supposed to clear his mind, to steady the storm that raged wildly inside him, demanding an opening. 

But the morning stillness only gave the storm room to grow.

The Fire Lord is wrong.

The thought surfaced again, unbidden but familiar now, a shadow that refused to leave. 

It clawed at the edges of his mind, whispering treason with every breath he took. His chest tightened, his hands curling into fists on his knees. The air felt heavier, suffocating, and no amount of measured breathing could push it away. 

He felt like he could burst into flames like the famed phoenix.

What if he really was wrong? Or worse—what if Zuko was just losing himself?

Zuko tried to focus on the steady hum of the fire within him, a lifeline he’d clung to since childhood. But today, even that seemed to waver, uncertain. He pressed his palms to his knees, the tension building until—

A sudden flicker of warmth brushed against his senses. It wasn’t his fire.

Zuko’s eyes snapped open, his heart lurching. That was odd. Uncle was the only other firebender, and—
The realization hit him like a lightning strike. Uncle .

He was on his feet before he could think, sprinting toward the tent where Iroh lay. His breathing was uneven, his steps hurried as he tore open the flap and stumbled inside. He dropped to his knees, pressing a trembling hand to Iroh’s chest. 

Warm. 

Alive .

“Uncle?” Zuko whispered, his voice cracking.

Iroh’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, Zuko didn’t dare breathe. Then, slowly, Iroh’s eyes opened. “..u..ko…?”

Relief surged through Zuko, almost overwhelming. “Stay here,” he stammered, backing out of the tent in a rush. “I’ll get Katara.”

He didn’t stop to think as he ran, his feet carrying him straight to her tent. Pushing past any hesitation, he ducked inside, shaking her shoulder. “Katara! Katara, wake up!”

She stirred groggily, blinking at him with confusion. “Zuko? What—?”

“He’s awake,” Zuko interrupted, his voice urgent. “Uncle’s awake.”

The words jolted Katara into action. She was up in an instant, her water pouch in hand as she followed Zuko back to the tent. Ducking under the flap, she knelt beside Iroh, her hands already glowing with the soft blue of her healing water.

“Good morning, Iroh,” she said gently, her tone warm but professional.

Iroh blinked up at her, his expression groggy but amused. “Oh, hello, dear,” he murmured, his voice rasping but familiar.

Katara smiled as her water flowed over his chest, soothing and steadying. “You seem to be doing much better,” she remarked, barely glancing at Zuko as he stepped in with a tray of food.

Iroh hummed, his sharp eyes taking in Zuko’s movements and the easy familiarity between the two. “My niece has been quite temperamental,” he said, his voice teasing despite its weakness. “Nothing unusual.”

Zuko let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Uncle…”

Katara patted Iroh’s arm lightly as she stood. “You’re lucky, Iroh,” she said with a yawn, her exhaustion catching up to her. “You seem to be recovering right on track. I’ll check up on you at a more reasonable hour.” It was still barely dusk. The soft morning light highlighting her blue eyes.

Zuko followed her to the tent’s opening, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice full of genuine gratitude. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

Katara raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. “The only thing I trust you to make is tea and porridge.” She bumped her shoulder against his lightly before stepping out into the dawn.

Zuko watched her go, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But the moment was short-lived.

Iroh coughed. 

Zuko turned back to see Iroh watching him with an all-too-smug expression. “Uncle,” Zuko started, but Iroh interrupted with a wistful sigh.

Dabbing his eyes, he softly murmured, “Finally, grandbabies. ”

Zuko’s face flamed red. “What!? No. No, Uncle . Stop.” He buried his head in his hands as Iroh laughed softly. “She’s just a friend,” he mumbled, his words lacking the conviction they should. Friend. He finally had one, he thought with a smile glancing back out the tent opening.

“Grandbabies,” Iroh insisted with a chuckle eyes twinkling.

Zuko groaned, sliding down into a chair. “ Uncle, no .”

Iroh’s amusement softened into warmth as he took the offered tea. “Tell me, nephew,” he said, his voice quieter now. “How did you get here?”

And so, Zuko began to recount everything—the young boy he’d helped only to be turned away, Azula’s ambush, Iroh’s injury, and his decision to trust Katara and the Avatar. His words faltered as he reached the hardest part.

“The Fire Lord is wrong,” Zuko admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down, ashamed. “I think… I think I’ve known it for a while.”

Iroh spit out his tea, eyes wide as he gazed at his nephew-turned-son. “You what?” He choked.

Zuko blinked, then hesitantly, “I…Father was— is wrong. We’re not better. Maybe that was true once, but that was no reason to do this war.” Zuko’s jaw tightened as he looked down at his lap. “It is cruel and wrong. Our citizens don’t deserve this.” Zuko looked up into Iroh’s eyes determined, “And…and neither did I.” He concluded softly, voice haunted with the sounds of that fateful Agni Kai. 

Iroh’s eyes glimmered with tears, “Oh, my boy. My sweet, sweet boy.” He gestured to hug Zuko, “I’m so proud of you. Yes. Ozai was cruel and wrong, you never deserved it. It was unjust.” He pulled back to cup Zuko’s wet cheek. “It is my greatest failure.” 

Zuko exhaled shakily, “Uncle...’’ he tried to protest, shaking his head.

“No, my dear boy. It is. I should have stopped Ozai.’’ There was deep heavy regret in Uncle’s voice. One that he probably wouldn’t understand fully. 

Zuko looked down, his fingers clenching into fists in his lap. “You didn’t fail me,” he said softly after a while. “You were the only one who… who believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself.” His voice wavered, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Iroh’s eyes.

 “You helped me Uncle. I,” Zuko sighed deeply, “I wondered these past few days…if father had been right that— that day. But he wasn’t. I tried to think of you doing that to me or even Lu Ten and—’’ His voice broke, “I just can’t picture it. Which means…father never truly loved me…but you did, Uncle. You saved me, even when I didn’t deserve it.  More times than I can count.”

Iroh smiled, his expression filled with both sorrow and pride. “And I will continue to do so, as long as you need me.” He placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. “You are stronger than you know, Zuko. And wiser, too. To see the truth, to admit it—it is no small thing.”

Zuko’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He simply nodded, his eyes glistening.

After a long silence, Iroh leaned back, his tone lightening slightly. “Now, tell me, what do you plan to do next now that you have the truth? I will support you no matter your decision.”

Zuko hesitated, the question pulling at the tangled web of thoughts in his mind. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so much of my life chasing Father’s approval, trying to prove I was worthy. If he’s wrong… if everything I’ve believed is wrong… then what am I supposed to do?”

Iroh studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You must decide what kind of man you wish to be,” he said gently. “Not for your father, or for anyone else, but for yourself.”

Zuko looked away, his brow furrowing as he mulled over Iroh’s words. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears and possibilities. 

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” Zuko admitted quietly, his voice trembling. “All I’ve ever been is… angry. Desperate. A failure.”

Iroh’s expression softened, “You are not a failure, Zuko,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “You are a survivor. You have endured so much, and yet you still strive to do what is right. That is not weakness—it is strength.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. “But I’ve hurt people, Uncle. I’ve made so many mistakes. How can I make up for that?”

“You cannot undo the past,” Iroh said gently. “But you can choose to learn from it. Every mistake—they are part of your story, but they do not define who you are. What defines you is what you do next.”

Zuko blinked rapidly, his vision blurring as the weight of Iroh’s words sank in. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Iroh leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You are stronger than you know, my boy,” he said. “The fact that you are questioning, that you are seeking a better path—it takes great courage to face the truth, even when it is painful. And you are not alone. I am here, and I always will be.”

Zuko’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He looked at Iroh, seeing not just his uncle, but the man who had been his constant anchor, his unwavering guide through the chaos of his life. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said finally, his voice breaking. “And…I’m so, so sorry I don’t listen to you.”

Iroh pulled him into a firm embrace, his arms encircling Zuko with a warmth that spoke of unconditional love. “I am so proud of you, Zuko. The man you’ve become would surely make your mother proud,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Never forget that, you are always loved. I will stand by you.”

Zuko clung to him, his walls crumbling in the safety of Iroh’s presence. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel—not anger or shame, but the quiet solace of being accepted for who he was.

As the dawn light seeped into the tent, it cast a gentle glow over the two of them, a quiet promise of a new beginning.

And if Katara helped their resident grump with his red eyes later that day, that was no one's business but hers. 

Chapter Text

It started with something small—his flames weren’t as bright as they used to be. He noticed it during a sparring session with his uncle; his strikes didn’t crackle with the same intensity. He brushed it off at first, telling himself it was fatigue or maybe the weather.  

But then it got worse .  

By the third day, the flames sputtered mid-strike, flickering weakly before fading out entirely. His fists burned with frustration, but the fire didn’t come. He tried again, summoning all the anger he could muster, but it felt hollow, like grasping at smoke.  

Zuko didn’t say anything to his uncle at first. He couldn’t. How could he admit that he, a firebender, was losing his bending? The shame curled in his chest like a living thing, gnawing at his pride and fueling his panic.  

That night, as he lay staring at the ceiling of their small camp tent, the fear crept in like a shadow. What if this is because I stopped chasing the Avatar? The thought struck him hard, making his stomach twist. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and cruel: You are nothing without me. You are nothing without your fire.

The memory made him sit up abruptly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He pressed his hands together tightly, trying to steady the shaking. “I’m not nothing,” he whispered to himself, but even as he said it, the words felt weak, brittle.  

Frustration grew in his chest at every failure, but more than frustration, it was fear that gnawed at him.  

What if this was because he had stopped doing what Father asked? What if firebending—the only thing that had ever made him useful—was slipping through his fingers like sand?

By the fifth morning, the fear had become unbearable.  

He even snapped at Toph.  

If it had been weeks ago, he’d have been mortified and kicked out for sure. But now, Toph merely rolled her eyes at him, calling him a “Drama King” before smacking his side with a pebble.  

Zuko winced, apologizing softly, “Sorry…”  

She waved him off. “Whatcha thinking, Sparky?” she asked, tilting her head, eyes oddly focused on his face.  

Zuko sighed. “My firebending’s gone...”  

She blinked. “What?”  

At the same time, Katara said, “Can that even happen?” She’d been coming back from her lesson with Aang when she overheard their conversation.  

Zuko sighed deeply, glancing at her. “I don’t know… It’s never just…” He shot a burst of fire only for a puff of smoke and sparks to erupt. “…fizzled out like this.”  

Katara winced sympathetically.  

Toph glanced at him. “What’s your source?”  

“My source?” he echoed, thinking it over. “Ah… probably anger…”  

Toph hummed. “Why not try learning from the original source? That’s what helped me,” she said thoughtfully, wriggling her fingers. The ground beneath them followed her movement.  

Zuko groaned. “The original source for firebenders is dragons… and they’ve been extinct for the past hundred years.”  

Toph shrugged. “Maybe Tea Uncle can help.”  

Zuko snorted at her nickname. “Yeah… right…”  

By the time the sun had risen high on the seventh day, Zuko’s frustration had reached a boiling point. Every failure felt like a blow to his pride, his purpose, his very identity. The laughter of the others in the camp grated against his nerves, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him.  

He tried again, willing the flames to come. His hands trembled as he struck the familiar stance, but when he pushed the energy forward, there was only a pitiful puff of smoke. The emptiness that followed felt like a gaping chasm in his chest.  

Toph’s words echoed in his mind: Maybe Tea Uncle can help. He had scoffed at the suggestion, shame colouring his heart, but now… what choice did he have?  

Zuko clenched his fists, frustration giving way to a gnawing fear that he couldn’t ignore any longer. Without firebending, who was he?  

The question pushed him to his feet, his resolve hardening. If anyone could make sense of this, it was Uncle.  

After another failed attempt that left him shaking with anger and desperation, he stormed into the small clearing where his uncle sat sipping tea.  

“Uncle, something’s wrong,” Zuko blurted out, his voice sharp with panic. “My firebending—it’s... it’s getting weaker. I can barely bend at all.”  

Iroh set his teacup down with deliberate calmness that Zuko knew meant whatever he had to say wouldn’t be pleasant. “Ah, so you’ve noticed,” he said, as though they were discussing the weather.  

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “You knew?”  

“I suspected,” Iroh corrected, motioning for Zuko to sit. When his nephew didn’t move, Iroh sighed and gestured to the space again. “Come, sit. Let us talk about this.”  

Reluctantly, Zuko sank onto the grass across from him, his fists clenching and unclenching as he waited for an answer.  

“It is not because you have stopped chasing your father’s orders,” Iroh began gently, sensing the unspoken fear behind Zuko’s words. “Firebending is not something so fragile that it disappears simply because you change paths.”  

“Then why?” Zuko asked, his voice cracking like shards of glass.  

Iroh leaned forward, his expression soft yet serious. “Firebending comes from the breath, the energy within you. And that energy is rooted in emotion. You have spent years drawing your fire from anger, from pain. But now, those emotions no longer dominate you as they once did. Without them, you must find a new source.”  

Zuko stared at his uncle, his mind spinning. “A new source,” he repeated. “What does that even mean? Fire is… power. That’s what fuels it.”  

“Not entirely,” Iroh said, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Anger is one path to firebending, yes, but it is not the only path. Fire is life itself, Zuko. It is energy, passion, creation. To truly master firebending, you must understand this.”  

“Life?” Zuko echoed, skepticism coloring his tone.  

Instead of answering, Iroh stood and motioned for Zuko to follow him. They walked to a rocky outcrop overlooking a shallow stream, the sunlight filtering through the trees in golden rays.  

Iroh turned to face him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Watch closely,” he said.  

Without further explanation, Iroh took a deep breath and raised his hands, his movements deliberate and smooth in that familiar motion that once drew so much of Zuko’s ire and jealousy. Now he could just look and learn.  

Iroh drew in the energy around him, and suddenly, Zuko saw it—the flow of energy in his uncle’s stance, in the way his hands moved like the current of the stream below. Iroh struck forward with purpose, releasing a burst of energy that arced into his palm. A streak of lightning sparked into existence.  

Zuko murmured, gazing at the crackling fire, “Lightning.”  

Iroh smiled, holding the bolt in his hand as if it were a mere plaything. “Energy at its purest, flowing without resistance. I will show you how to redirect it.”  

For the next hour, Iroh guided Zuko through the technique, showing him how to absorb the energy into his body and guide it through his core. Zuko barely understood at first, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea.  

“It’s like the flow of the river,” Iroh explained as Zuko practiced the movements. “You cannot fight it; you must guide it.”  

Zuko nodded, sweat dripping down his brow as he repeated the motions. His body ached, his mind reeled, but a spark of something new began to kindle within him—a spark of understanding.  

By the end of the lesson, Zuko was exhausted but calmer than he had felt in days. “So… fire isn’t just destruction,” he said quietly as they sat by the stream, catching their breath.  

“No,” Iroh said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Fire is life. It is balance. And when you find your balance, your fire will return.”  

Zuko stared at the stream, watching the water flow effortlessly over the rocks. He didn’t fully understand yet, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was moving in the right direction, he mused, glancing at the glimmering pure white flame in his cupped palms.

Chapter Text

Zuko blinked, staring at Aang as if he had grown another head. “Wan Shi Tong’s library,” he repeated, dearly hoping he’d just heard Aang wrong. But no, one glance at that bubbly, squishy, excited face told Zuko that yes, he had heard Aang right. He wanted to go to Wan Shi Tong’s library.

Zuko heaved a deep, deep sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he decided to risk it. “Can I ask why?”

Aang tilted his head, his grin still impossibly bright. “Cause it’d be fun, right?”

And, well. Zuko did enjoy libraries. But fun? That wasn’t the word he’d use for such a sacred place. Libraries were for quiet introspection, for discovery—not for “fun.” He blew out a breath, glancing at Uncle.

Iroh just smiled kindly at Zuko, patting his back. “If you wish to go, go. Don’t worry about me. I shall stay here with my dear friend Fung.”

The said man, offered a tiny wave from the side.

Zuko’s jaw ticked as his desire to see the famed spirit library filled with all sorts of knowledge warred with his instinct to stay behind. Eventually, curiosity won over, and he quickly packed a bag.

Before they left, Iroh’s usual twinkle dimmed, his gaze distant. “Spirits value balance and understanding, but they are not human. They do not forgive easily, nor do they forget. Be careful not to gain the Spirit’s wrath.”

Zuko glanced curiously at his Uncle. Maybe those tales of him going of on a spirit journey had been true after all. He’d never seen Uncle this serious.

“Right,” Sokka squeaked. Not a girly squeal. No, no, he let out a manly squeal. “Totally, cool. Yep, we’ll be fine. Fineee.”

Toph crossed her arms, leaning against Appa’s side. “You’re all insane if you think going into some spirit’s dusty library is a good idea.”

Sokka clutched his bag tighter, his grin strained. “It’s not insane—it’s adventurous. Totally different.”

Katara sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We just have to be careful. Spirits don’t see the world the way we do.” She glanced at Zuko, her tone softening. “Are you sure you want to come?”

Zuko hesitated, glancing at Iroh one last time. His uncle’s calm demeanour betrayed none of the lingering unease in Zuko’s chest. “Yeah,” he said finally, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m coming.” He grabbed his swords just in case. 

Iroh watched them go, his expression unreadable. “They say Wan Shi Tong’s library holds knowledge from the dawn of time,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “But knowledge is a double-edged sword. Those who seek it must be prepared to pay the price.”

Zuko swallowed hard, the weight of Iroh’s words pressing against his chest. Almost feeling like a warning. Odd. If the library was real, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. He’d just have to hope that this wouldn’t turn into yet another disaster.

The library was grand. A structure of pure white marble jutting out in a single tower, hinting at the huge form buried under the sand. Zuko could hardly believe his eyes at the spectacle. 

It was real. 

And a feat of architecture judging by the building. The smooth, polished stone glimmered faintly in the relentless desert sun as if daring the sands to consume it entirely.

The desert heat was unbearable to most, and the air shimmered with oppressive warmth. But to a boy from Caldera, he was breezing by.

“Is it hot?” he asked casually, watching the others sweat buckets. Toph seemed relatively better, though even she looked vaguely uncomfortable.

“Oh, shut it, jerkface,” scowled Sokka, fanning his face with his boomerang. “Stupid sun.”

Katara, wiping sweat from her brow, glanced at the structure ahead and contemplated bending their sweat to get some reprieve. Before she could, though, the entrance—or well, only visible entrance—appeared.

A lone window up the tower.

“Any idea how we scale that?” she asked, glancing at the group as Aang took off, flying to the window. “Great,” she muttered at his display, before sharing a look with Sokka.

Zuko hummed, then practically ran up the tower with how fast he climbed it, his hands and feet finding purchase on the smooth surface with ease.

“What?” yelled Sokka, equal parts annoyed and impressed.

Zuko popped his head out, his hair windswept. “It’s not too bad to scale.”

Sokka glared. “Yeah, and how do you suppose we get up, hothead?”

Zuko blinked. “Uh...”

Katara rolled her eyes fondly at both of them. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath before bending a staircase out of her water sack. She turned to Toph. “C’mon.”

Toph cocked her head toward the sound of shifting earth. “A water staircase, huh?” She smirked and nudged Katara lightly. “Fancy.”

“You coming?” Katara asked gently.

Toph chewed her lip. “I dunno... it’s just gonna be a bunch of books, right? Not really my thing.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess...” Sometimes it was so easy to forget that she was blind. Still, Katara persisted, “Come along anyway. Maybe we’ll find cool artifacts.”

“Yeah!” chimed in Sokka, trying to rally her. “Maybe a treasure map or something awesome. I mean, what kind of ancient library doesn’t have some weird hidden junk, right?” 

Professor Zei nodded enthusiastically, “Of course Lady Toph, it isn’t just books’’ he said, climbing up Katara’s staircase.

Toph snorted. “Fine, but only because I’d rather not bake out here like a pie crust.” She reached out and grabbed Katara’s hand, allowing herself to be led up the staircase.

The interior was a revelation. Towering shelves stretched endlessly into the shadows, filled with tomes and scrolls that seemed to hum with age.  The air was cool and dry, carrying the faint scent of parchment and ink. A warm, golden light filtered in through the high, arched windows, casting long, serene shadows.

“Whoa,” whispered Sokka, his earlier complaints forgotten as he stared, wide-eyed, at the sheer scale of the place.

Zuko’s hand brushed against a nearby shelf as they walked. The weight of history here was almost tangible, and he felt an unfamiliar pang of longing—a wish to stay and read everything. He’d missed this feeling.

Toph, however, scuffed her heel against the polished floor. “You guys better narrate the cool stuff,” she said dryly. “Otherwise, this is just a bunch of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ for nothing.”

“Don’t worry, Toph,” Aang assured her, his voice bouncing with excitement. “I’ll describe everything!”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, can’t wait to hear about every scroll and scrap of paper. Riveting.”

A sudden rush of air and shadow knocked the air out of their lungs. Filling it with the musty smell of old books dried with fungus and moss.

“LOOK OUT!” shouted Sokka, grabbing the closest person to him—Aang—and tackling him to the ground, dragging Toph with him.

“Hey!” Toph snapped, shoving at Sokka. “Watch the hands, Snoozles!”

Zuko, having gained a sort of sixth sense for Spirit-related things during his years searching for the Avatar, rolled his eyes. “Hang on, Sealbrain,” he said, brushing himself off. 

He continued over Sokka’s offended, “Sealbrain!?” to add, “I think that’s Wan Shi Tong...”

A shadow loomed over them, and the great Owl Spirit appeared, massive and imposing, its feathers shimmering like a mirage in the golden light. “YOU DARE ENTER MY LIBRARY, PESKY HUMANS?” roared a scratchy, furious voice, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a storm.

Nice Entrance , thought Zuko before snapping to attention.

Professor Zei stepped forward eagerly. “Forgive us, dear Spirit, but we do truly wish to seek knowledge—nothing more. Trust us.”

The Spirit snorted—or what counted as a snort for it—as it moved forward. Its piercing, ancient eyes locked unnaturally onto Zuko.

“How could I believe that? Trust humans? Do you know what happened the last time I trusted one of you?” The Spirit’s voice turned sharp and accusing as it bore down on Zuko, its presence suffocating.

Toph tensed, her bare feet shifting slightly against the stone floor. “Okay, that thing’s big,” she muttered, her tone betraying just a hint of unease.

“Relax,” Zuko muttered back. “It’s just mad.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Sparky,” Toph retorted, her voice clipped. Zuko placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“I let a man in. He claimed to be noble. He sought information on the water spirits, and now look!” The Spirit spread its wings wide, showcasing the ruined Fire Nation section of the library. Burnt and blackened shelves loomed in tragic contrast to the rest of the pristine space. “Burnt. Lost to the ruins of time,” it sneered.

Zuko’s chest tightened. Zhao . He’d destroyed all of it. Their entire history, reduced to ashes. How dare he—

Wan Shi Tong turned back to the group, glaring at Zuko. “Trust,” it repeated, mocking. “You have a Firebender in your midst—”

“—Forgive us,” Zuko interrupted, dropping to a low bow that shocked everyone into silence.

Katara blinked, startled. Sometimes she forgot he was raised royalty.

“Zhao was a fool to destroy anything in this sacred sanctuary of knowledge. The man went mad and threatened Tui and La—and got what he deserved from La.”

Aang flinched at the memory of the Ocean Spirit taking over him, the terrible power still vivid in his mind. The voices of those soldiers an echo he didn’t want to repeat.

Zuko continued, his voice steady and firm. “As for the records... I am Crown Prince Zuko, helping the Avatar on his quest for balance. I swear by my blood as the son of Lady Ursa that I will help you restore all our history through whatever means possible as I gain the Dragon Throne by defeating Fire Lord Ozai. Our records room in Caldera shall remain open until this library can be replenished.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke.

Wan Shi Tong paused, circling Zuko, its massive wings stirring the stillness. “You... do not lie,” it said finally.

Zuko didn’t move, maintaining his bow. Sweat dripped down his face, a testament to the heat and wrath of the spirit.

“Fine. I shall hold you to your word, Zuko, son of Lady Ursa,” the Spirit said, its tone wary but less wrathful. It glanced at the rest of the group. “Only for knowledge,” it mused, before fading back into the shadows. 

Its voice echoed one last warning: “I do so hope you do not disappoint me. Then again,’’ it laughed mockingly, ‘’I suppose I’d have fun if you did.’’ 

The atmosphere after Wan Shi Tong's departure was thick with tension like the room itself was holding its breath. No one spoke at first, the Spirit’s parting words lingering in the air, an unsettling mix of warning and malice. 

The sound of Zuko’s measured breathing was the only thing breaking the silence, his posture still rigid from the encounter. He stood up looking exhausted.

Aang was the first to exhale, a shaky sound that seemed to release some of the pressure in the room. “That... could have gone worse,” he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

“Yeah,” Sokka muttered, still clutching his boomerang as if it could do anything against a Spirit of that magnitude. He glanced at Zuko, his expression caught somewhere between grudging admiration and disbelief. “Sealbrain, huh? Remind me never to bet against you pulling off a something crazy again.”

Zuko straightened slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow but saying nothing. His face betrayed no emotion, but there was a weight to his movements, a quiet determination that spoke volumes.

“Smooth moves, Sparky,” Toph said, breaking the heavy mood with her usual dry humor. “Didn’t think you had it in you to sweet-talk a giant owl spirit. I’m impressed.”

“Not sweet-talking,” Zuko muttered, his voice low but steady. “Just telling the truth.”

Katara stepped closer, her sharp gaze fixed on him. “You really meant all that? About helping the Avatar and opening the Fire Nation’s records?”

Zuko met her eyes without hesitation. “I did. It’s the least I can do after what my people have done. And...” He paused a bit, cheeks flushing slightly. "It was something that I felt like I could do to help." 

Sokka grinned, patting the Prince, ‘’I guess you did come to a choice after all.” 

Zuko’s ears burned at the attention but he nodded, eyes catching with Katara.

Her expression softened, as she gave him a proud soft smile.

Professor Zei, who had been uncharacteristically silent, finally spoke up, his voice tinged with awe. “In all my studies, I never imagined encountering Wan Shi Tong would be so... intense. Your actions, Prince Zuko, may have just saved us all.”

The group began to stir, their nerves settling slightly as they realized the Spirit was truly gone—for now. Aang brightened first, his natural optimism pushing through. “Well, we’re here, and Wan Shi Tong didn’t kick us out! Let’s find what we need!”

Toph groaned. “Great. Back to the part where I stand around while you all nerd out over books.”

Sokka, recovering quickly, threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Toph. We’ll find something cool and non-bookish for you to punch. Maybe a map! Or a secret lever!”

The tension broke further as Toph shoved him off with a snort. “Fine. But if I get bored, I’m breaking something.”

Katara gave Zuko one last look before turning to Toph and rolling her eyes. “Let’s try not to anger the great Spirit.” 

As the group scattered into the towering aisles of the library, Zuko's mind was heavy with the weight of the Spirit’s challenge. The knowledge they sought might bring balance, but the promise he’d made felt like a burden far greater than even he had imagined.

The soft shuffle of footsteps and murmurs of voices filled the cavernous space around him, but Zuko’s mind was far from the quiet. He couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of fear, guilt, and hope.

“Oh!” Aang’s voice broke through the fog in Zuko’s thoughts, the excitement in it a welcome distraction. He spun around, watching the boy’s eyes light up as he found the airbender section, his joy bubbling over. Katara followed close behind, and Zuko saw the way her presence steadied Aang, grounding him as she always did. 

Sokka and Toph were already off somewhere, bickering as usual—some argument about rocks or something else Zuko had long since stopped trying to understand.

“Looking for something?” Zuko asked, his voice rough as if the air itself weighed too heavily in his lungs.

Katara glanced up from the shelves, giving him a small shrug. “We don’t have anything like this back home. So I guess I’m just looking around.”

Oh, Zuko blinked, not having considered that possibility. He tilted his head. “How do you keep your history then?”

Katara’s smile softened, remembering her Gran-Gran’s stories. “Word of mouth. The most important bits of information, they carve into wood.”

Zuko hummed thoughtfully, grabbing a book off the shelf. “Makes sense. Paper wouldn’t survive long in the ice.”

Katara nodded, peering over his shoulder to see what he had grabbed.

“ Guide to the Lineage of the Avatar, Volume 200 ,” she murmured, eyeing the title with quiet curiosity. “Interesting.” 

Zuko let out a short snort. “Yeah, right. This is probably...” His words trailed off as his eyes caught something in the pages—a name that stopped his heart in its tracks.

His breathing quickened as he flipped through the pages, disbelief flooding his chest. There it was.

Granddaughter: Ursa

Status: MIA (possibly alive)

Children: Two, possible third

Zuko, Azula; Kiyi (unsure)

The words blurred in his vision, and his pulse hammered in his ears. “She’s alive,” he whispered, his voice trembling. All the noise in the library seemed to quieten. Static filled the air.

Katara blinked, her brow furrowing as she saw the sudden shift in his expression. “Who? Who’s alive?”

Zuko’s chest felt like it was being crushed. He laughed—a broken sound that felt foreign in his throat. “My mother,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the ink on the page as if it were a lifeline. “I thought she was—thought she was gone. That he…” His words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his eyes wide, the air rushing from his lungs.

Katara’s confusion intensified as she caught his expression, “She was dead?”

Zuko’s expression twisted, caught between disbelief and raw emotion. He tried to laugh it off, but it sounded more like a strangled sob. “Yes—No, Not according to this…’’

Before he could process the enormity of what he had read, Aang bounced up to him, full of joy, as if the world had just handed him a gift. “What’re you reading?” He asked, glancing at the page. 

“Avatar Roku’s…great grandson!?” Aang’s face lit up with excitement, his hands clapping together in glee. “That makes me, what? You’re great-grandfather?” 

The library around them seemed to dim, the murmurs and rustling of pages fading into the background as Aang’s words sank in. Zuko’s world felt like it was shifting on its axis, each breath becoming harder than the last.

Zuko stared at Aang, his chest tight with conflicting emotions—grief, anger, hope, and an overwhelming sense of loss. His voice was barely a whisper, as if the words might break him. “No,” he managed to say hoarsely. “Well, yes, but... not you. Avatar Roku ... that’s... that’s who I mean.” He flipped through the book again, as if it would somehow make everything clearer, but the words only swam before his eyes.

Katara stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, a grounding presence. She could see the vulnerability in him now, the fear and the longing mixing with the faintest stirrings of hope. She watched as Zuko closed the book with trembling hands, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I thought… I thought she was gone,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “That Ozai had... killed her. But this…” He let out a shaky breath. “It says she’s alive. That she’s out there somewhere.”

The weight of his words seemed to settle heavily between them. The silence stretched for a moment before Aang, still bouncing with barely contained excitement, leaned over to read the page.

“If she’s Roku’s granddaughter,” Aang continued, his voice full of youthful optimism, “she must be amazing , right? She’s got to be brave, like you, Zuko!” His grin was wide, infectious, but it didn’t reach Zuko’s eyes.

Zuko managed a shaky laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his heart. “Yeah… she was.” The words felt hollow as they left his mouth, but he didn’t have the strength to explain. Not yet.

Katara gave him a gentle smile, her voice full of quiet understanding. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’ll help you. You’re not alone in this, Zuko.” She bumped her shoulder with his. A show of silent comfort. 

Zuko’s heart stuttered in his chest, the weight of her words anchoring him in a way nothing else had. He had always been alone. But this—this promise of not being alone anymore—it filled him with a strange, unexpected warmth.

He leaned back against the shelf, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. His mother could be alive. After everything—after all the years of pain, of loss, of longing—there was a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless.

Hope flickered, weak and fragile, in his chest. It felt like a new kind of mission—one that stretched beyond the war, beyond the endless battles and the search for balance. This was personal. A spark of life after all of this. Something he hadn’t ever dared to wish.