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It’s honestly taking over his life. Zuko had known being Fire Lord would be a challenge, stepping up to fix political relations between almost every facet of the entire world was not an easy task. Lord knows Ozai had fucked up everything more than Zuko probably could have over a million years. Half the palace staff still trip over their feet, bowing their heads whenever he walks by. It wouldn’t be a good look for the newly crowned Fire Lord to yell “I’M JUST ZUKO” to them, especially considering he was a banished prince not eight months ago. The changes have been non-stop, Zuko can still feel the sting of Azula’s lightning bolt despite the mostly healed skin on his chest.
It’s been hard though, there’s not much else to it. He’s alone in this massive palace, despite the numerous staff, ambassadors, and advisors crawling the halls. Sometimes at night, it feels as though Zuko can hear his father’s taunting words from the cells, or Azula’s maniacal laughter from the medical wards he’s had her placed in. He gets it, of course, that Aang can’t just abandon his Avatar duties to hang out with him, but he’d hoped one of the others, perhaps Toph or Suki, could’ve stayed just a little bit longer. He’s unravelling.
“Uh…Fire Lord Zuko,” a timid voice drifts over to Zuko’s slumped form. He lifts his head from where it’s been resting on the desk for the better part of an hour to see Yaiso, a maid, staring at him concernedly. “It’s late, Your Highness, perhaps you should make your way to your chambers?” She poses it as a question, and even from his hunched viewpoint he can see her hands shaking. Zuko has to admit, the bravery to speak to him through all the fear is highly impressive. But he’s over feeling much of anything these days, so he just tries to smile at her through tired eyes and nods.
“Yeah, thank you Yaiso. I’ll head over there soon.” She just nods and scurries off. Zuko stares after her, left with the silence of his own company again. He drops his head against the table again and ignores the thunk it makes. Maybe if he gets brain damage he’ll stop feeling so listless.
‘ Zuko…if you are to feel, you must let yourself not feel until you create the ability yourself,’ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Uncle recites in his head. Zuko groans out loud. He’s pretty sure that his Mind Uncle is actually just him because that advice was a sack of shit, and a flowery way of saying get some damn sleep. He misses Uncle. So much.
Zuko drags himself off the table, ambling towards his bed chambers. He should’ve told Uncle he wasn’t ready, should’ve asked him to stay, should’ve asked someone to stay. Inside the room, he stares at the bed. Too big, too empty. He’d almost gotten used to living on top of his friends, all shared space and no privacy. Zuko knows if he wrote to any of them, asking them to come back, asking for help? They’d put everything on hold for him. Because they’re too good, too good for the likes of him.
Fire Lords traditionally have servants to help dress and undress them, but the idea of people having access to him during such a vulnerable time didn’t sit right with him. So he’d gotten them to do other things, feed the turtle ducks, clean the pond, and whatnot. It had clearly caught the staff off-guard, having a Fire Lord change things like this, but they’d taken it all in stride. So now, Zuko’s flopping on the bed, not bothering with his robes or his headpiece because what’s the fucking point anyways. He doesn’t sleep but he feels like he dreams.
Back at the arena, his father’s flaming hand never makes contact with his face but it burns all the same. Burns at his stomach, and Azula’s laughing at him while Katara’s in a smoking heap in the corner. He tries to shoot a stream of fire at her but it catches Toph’s feet instead, and Sokka and Suki are dragging her away. He watches helplessly as Aang turns his glowing eyes towards him, and Zuko tries to run to Uncle’s tent. Blindly seeking a warm embrace and forgiveness, but there’s no one in the tent. Only darkness.
Zuko’s eyes snap open, he’s on his back, sweat-soaked and breaths coming out in short gasps. Fuck. The sun is rising outside, he’s somehow gotten through what was left of the night. There are some sharp raps at his door, and he’s contemplating the merits of ignoring whatever service he’s going to be offered.
“Zuko!” It’s Mai. Zuko relaxes back into the bed and just yells for her to come inside. They have long since moved past the need for formality anyway. The door opens, and Mai sweeps inside, robes trailing on the ground around her. Another thing Zuko’s mad at himself about. Mai had loved him, and Zuko had loved her - but they’d changed. They’d tried as well, for a while but Zuko couldn’t fathom the idea of leading her on, and Mai had been the one to break it off. Sometimes he thinks about how easy it would’ve been if they could’ve loved each other, but every time he tells her, Mai reminds him how unfair it’d be for both of them.
He’s grateful to have her as a friend though, as he groans out a pathetic little, “Hey.” She tuts at him, gazing at him with a level look but he thinks he can spot a hint of compassion in there.
“You know this isn’t good for you, right?” she says. Zuko rolls around to bury his face into the pillow. “Seriously Zuko, how long are you going to pretend nothing is wrong?”
He lifts his head slightly to glare at her, but even he can tell lacks the usual heat. Judging by the unimpressed look on Mai’s face, she’s thinking the same thing.
“Well, it’s not like I can just stop being Fire Lord,” he mutters and ignores the long-suffering sigh Mai lets out.
“Well obviously dumbass-”
“That might be treason.”
“Look Zuko, I’m not telling you to stop, okay?”
Zuko huffs, “I accepted this responsibility, Mai.” He can tell he’s wearing her down, and he only feels marginally guilty at that.
“I know that. I’m saying t ell someone ,” she says.
“Who am I going to tell? The servants? My fucking father?” Mai narrows her eyes at him, clenching her fists like she’s about to start throwing knives. Honestly, Zuko wouldn’t blame her.
“You’ve got people in your corner,” she starts, “if you’d just use your eyes for a second.” He stays silent, letting her continue.
“I’m here, but write to Aang. Or any of your friends. Your uncle.” She stops, looks him up and down, but there’s an astounding lack of judgment from her.
“They can’t just…stop everything just because I’m having a meltdown,” he says.
“That’s for them to decide,” Mai says sternly, “I don’t like seeing you like this, and neither will they.”
“But-”
Mai interrupts him, “If you don’t write to them, I will, and you will definitely not appreciate what I am about to write.”
She walks up to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Get some rest Zuko.” She turns on her heels and slips out the door. Zuko flops on his back and groans at the ceiling.
__________
It takes until the next week for Zuko to admit that Mai is right. As she often is. He’s been trying to ignore her advice but one single meeting unravels all his futile attempts. He’s at the head of the table, trying to meditate inconspicuously to avoid yelling about the Fire Nation’s propaganda education at the idiot minister currently spewing bullshit to all the participants. Zuko is failing miserably.
“NO!” Zuko surprises himself with the force of his own voice, and valiantly tries to ignore the way most of the palace staff turn their heads to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he says, “we have to change the syllabus, there is no way around it.”
The stupid minister does not give up, sneering, “You’d give up such a major part of our children’s upbringing. We cannot teach them lies, Fire Lord Zuko.” Zuko’s trying to simmer down his rage, horrified to find tears prickling behind his eyes and his hands shaking. Fuck, he can’t cry here, he’d never live it down.
“I do not care what ‘traditions’ I give up, minister,” Zuko spits out, “I am changing our nation to be better, and that includes every single damn part. Meeting’s over. Everyone get out.” There’s a tense silence as the rest of the meeting attendees pack up their things, the idiot minister glaring at Zuko but quietly following everyone out of the room.
Zuko lets out a deep shudder of a breath, resting his head on his arms.
“Fire Lord Zuko,” someone cuts in, “are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you,” Zuko says, taking some deep breaths. He considers for a moment, then addresses the room at large, “Would someone bring me a messenger hawk please?”
Zuko grabs some parchment to scribble on as some of the staff run out the room. Mai was right.
__________
Zuko’s on his bed, spread out on his back again. He’s changed into some loose pants and a top this time, letting his floppy hair fall over his forehead. There’s a knock on his door, and he’s not even thinking when he yells out, “Yeah, yeah, I listened to you Mai.” But when the door opens, it’s not Mai.
Aang bounds into the room, one hand gripping his staff, eyes firmly locked on Zuko’s limp form. The sight of him has Zuko shooting up, sitting like a proper human, feet on the ground. A massive grin takes over Aang’s face as he launches himself towards Zuko.
“ZUKO!” He’s honestly expecting the excited screech, “I missed you so much buddy!” Aang’s got his arms wrapped tight around Zuko, head pushed into his neck.
Zuko awkwardly pats his back, “Uh yeah, me too Aang.” He surveys his face as he pulls back. The Avatar responsibilities must be getting to him, Aang looks older, a little bit taller too. When he zones back in, Zuko’s taken aback by the scrutinising look on Aang’s face as he stares at Zuko.
He hears, rather than sees, Toph come inside. She’s stomping over the place but yells out an affectionate, “SPARKY!” as she makes her way into Zuko’s room. She’s followed by Katara, Sokka, and Suki, all grinning widely as they make eye contact with him. Zuko’s aware that he’s gaping at all of them when Katara snickers good-naturedly. He’s genuinely not sure what to say or do, when Toph drops down next to him and grabs his arm.
“Hey Sparky, calm your heart down.”
“Uhhh…I only sent the letter to Sokka…how are you all here?” It really hadn’t been that long since Zuko sent the letter, much less enough time for them to correspond and show up at the Fire Nation.
Sokka flops on the bed next to him and throws an arm over his shoulders, “We were already coming to visit you! Been long enough, don’t you think so?”
“I – uhhh.” Their eyes soften at the hesitance in his tone.
“Sokka showed us your letter Zuko,” Katara says softly, “we’re here for you.”
“As long as you need us, we’re here,” Suki adds. It pushes Zuko a bit over the edge. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to breathe out slowly.
“You all - you can’t just stop everything to come be here with me.”
“Like hell we can’t!” Toph exclaims.
“You’re all so busy-”
“Not too busy for you,” Sokka says, tightening his arm slightly. When Zuko looks up, ignoring the suspiciously wet sensation in his eyes, his friends are sitting and standing around the bed looking at him with so much love, he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.
“If you need someone in your corner for the Earth Kingdom negotiations, count me in,” Suki winks at him playfully.
“Hey, you've got the whole Avatar at your service.” Aang’s still sitting in front of him, and he’s looking at Zuko imploringly with wide grey eyes. Zuko’s got no chance of saying no, and he wouldn’t want to anyway. So he nods and tries to breathe some more. Katara reaches over to take one of his hands.
“We wrote to Uncle Iroh. He’s on his way.” She’s squeezing his hand, and he feels a little more tethered.
“Thanks,” he huffs out, still unable to look up, he’s a bit overwhelmed.
“Anytime!” Aang smiles.
“As long as you’re not skiving off Avatar duty.”
Aang gasps, grabbing at his chest, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sifu Hotman!”
Zuko rolls his eyes half-heartedly, and feels a little more like himself saying, “Don’t call me that!”
“Hey, for real though, don’t hesitate to tell us if you ever need us, yeah?” Sokka says, shaking him slightly.
Zuko takes a moment, “I just don’t want to drag you all into my mess…”
“That’s our mess you’re talking about, Sparky,” Toph asserts. It kind of takes Zuko’s breath away. Their mess. They accept it so easily, they don’t even spend a second considering it.
“Why?” It’s all Zuko can bear to say.
“You’re our friend,” Aang says simply, “your mess is our mess.”
Zuko exhales a small laugh and genuinely smiles for the first time in maybe 4 months.
__________
Zuko’s putting on a brave face when his friends have to leave. But, Sokka finds him at the last minute, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“I was thinking,” he starts hesitantly, “Katara might look after the tribe for a while.”
“Oh,” Zuko replies smartly.
“Yeah so, like, I’ll need a place to stay right?”
“Yeah. Where are you thinking?”
“For fucks sake Zuko, I’m asking if I can stay here?”
“Huh?” Zuko’s full of great responses today.
“Maybe as an ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe?” Sokka asks, raising an eyebrow at him, “Definitely not an excuse to hang out with your sorry ass.”
Zuko doesn’t need to think twice about his response.