Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air at the Western Air Temple was heavy with mist, curling around the ancient stone bridges like whispering ghosts. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the temple’s curved walls, casting long shadows as the night deepened.

Zuko sat on the edge of one of the stone walkways, staring at the steam rising from the cup of tea he held in both hands. The warmth didn’t do much to stop the knot twisting in his stomach.

He knew this was coming.

Footsteps echoed softly against the stone. Slow, deliberate. A warrior’s walk.

Zuko stiffened but didn’t turn as Hakoda approached. The Water Tribe chief was a strong, commanding presence, even in the dim light. His eyes—deep, thoughtful, but cautious—studied Zuko like he was inspecting a weapon he wasn’t sure was safe to hold.

For a long moment, Hakoda said nothing. Just the quiet, the flicker of torchlight, and the distant murmur of Sokka and Katara talking somewhere deeper in the temple.

Then—

“You're Fire Nation,” Hakoda finally said, his voice steady but edged. “That’s hard to ignore.”

Zuko swallowed. He gripped his cup tighter. “I know.”

“You fought against us. You hunted my son. My people.” Hakoda’s voice was even, but the weight behind it made Zuko feel like he was sinking. “Now, suddenly, you’re on our side?”

Zuko exhaled through his nose. He forced himself to meet Hakoda’s gaze. “It’s not sudden.”

Hakoda raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Zuko set the cup down beside him, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’ve been trying to change. For a long time.” His hands clenched into fists. “I made mistakes. I—hurt people. I won’t make excuses for that.” He hesitated. “But I left the Fire Nation. I turned against my father. I helped Sokka rescue you because it was the right thing to do.”

Hakoda watched him. The silence stretched, and Zuko fought the urge to fidget under the chief’s scrutiny.

“Chit Sang,” Hakoda said at last, voice low. “He’s Fire Nation too.”

Zuko frowned. “Yeah, but he’s not—”

“Not royalty?” Hakoda interrupted. “Not the son of the man who took my wife? Who attacked my home? Who tried to wipe my people off the map?”

Zuko flinched. He knew this. Knew what his family had done. But having it thrown in his face—it never got easier.

“I’m not my father,” Zuko said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

Hakoda exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “You’re not,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Zuko nodded slowly. He looked down at the cup of tea, now gone cold. “I get it,” he muttered.

Hakoda studied him for another long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “Sokka and Katara trust you.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. He looked up. “They do?”

Hakoda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Sokka wouldn’t have let you anywhere near me if he didn’t. And Katara…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “She wouldn’t hold back if she thought you were a threat.”

Zuko huffed a quiet, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Hakoda didn’t smile. But he also didn’t glare. That, at least, felt like a victory.

Finally, the chief uncrossed his arms. “I don’t trust you,” he repeated. “But I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Zuko sat a little straighter. “Okay.”

Hakoda nodded once, then turned, walking back toward the others.

Zuko let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His hands were still shaking. But something in his chest felt… lighter.

One step at a time.

The flickering firelight cast restless shadows across the stone walls of Zuko’s small chamber in the Western Air Temple. The night was quiet, save for the distant sound of dripping water and the occasional murmur of voices from the others.

Zuko sat cross-legged on the floor, absently running a hand through his unkempt hair. His conversation with Hakoda still weighed on him, but exhaustion kept him from overthinking. For once, he let himself breathe.

A knock at the doorway startled him. Before he could answer, Chit Sang stepped inside.

“Hope I’m not interrupting, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko blinked at the title. No one had called him that since he left the Fire Nation. The others just called him Zuko, or sometimes Sparky, if Toph was feeling particularly annoying.

He straightened slightly. “It’s just Zuko,” he corrected. “And… no, you’re not interrupting.”

Chit Sang nodded but didn’t move from where he stood. He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped forward—and, to Zuko’s shock, he dropped to one knee.

Zuko’s heart skipped. His stomach twisted.

“I served in the 41st Division,” Chit Sang said, voice steady but reverent. “The same division that manned the Wani. The same division that once swore loyalty to you.”

Zuko’s breath caught in his throat.

The Wani. His old ship. His first crew.

The last time someone knelt to him like this, he had just saved his crew from the storm—when, for the first time in his life, his people had seen him, not as a failure, but as a leader. The memory burned, bittersweet, in his mind.

Chit Sang continued. “We were cast aside. We weren’t like the rest. The 41st was full of ‘rejects.’” His jaw tightened. “When we were sent to the Boiling Rock, I figured that was it. The Fire Nation had no more use for me. But you—you fought to free your enemies. You freed me.”

Zuko opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no idea what to say.

“I’m done following Ozai,” Chit Sang said firmly. “You’re the only Fire Nation leader I see worth following.” He bowed his head. “If you’ll have me, my loyalty belongs to you, Prince Zuko.”

The title made Zuko’s chest ache. He wasn’t a prince anymore. Not really. He had no crew, no ship, no nation.

But… wasn’t this what he always wanted? To be worthy of loyalty, not by birthright, but by choice?

His throat felt tight. “Chit Sang…” He exhaled slowly. “I’m not a prince. Not anymore.”

Chit Sang smirked slightly. “Maybe not to the Fire Nation. But you’re still a leader. And I’d rather follow you than the so-called ‘Fire Lord.’”

Zuko swallowed hard. The weight of those words settled deep in his chest.

Slowly, he reached out—placing a firm hand on Chit Sang’s shoulder. “Then… I won’t let you down.”

Chit Sang met his gaze, nodding once before standing.

Zuko sat there a moment longer after Chit Sang left, staring at the floor, at his hands, at the flickering firelight.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged.

The morning mist still clung to the stone archways of the Western Air Temple, curling around the ancient ruins like a ghostly veil. The soft hum of nature—distant waterfalls, rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of a bird—was broken by the sharp crackle of fire and the thunderous impact of rock against stone.

Zuko skidded back across the courtyard, barely dodging a jagged pillar of earth that shot up where he had been standing a second ago.

“Come on, Sparky!” Toph called, arms crossed with a smug grin. “Is that all you got?”

Zuko growled, wiping sweat from his forehead. He launched himself forward, flames curling around his fists as he sent a controlled arc of fire toward her.

Toph smirked, slamming her foot down. The ground erupted, cutting straight through the flames, dissipating them like smoke in the wind. Zuko barely had time to twist out of the way before another chunk of earth came flying toward his head.

From the sidelines, Hakoda watched with narrowed eyes. His arms were folded, his stance rigid.

Beside him, Sokka casually munched on a strip of dried meat. “So, whatcha thinking, Dad?” he asked, voice intentionally light. “Enjoying the show?”

Hakoda didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on Zuko, eyes sharp and calculating.

“He’s good,” he finally muttered.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Wow. A compliment? Careful, Dad, you might hurt yourself.”

Hakoda ignored him. “His form is disciplined. Focused.” His eyes flickered as Zuko dodged another earth attack and countered with a precise burst of fire. “He doesn’t waste movement. He fights like a soldier.”

Sokka chewed thoughtfully. “Well, yeah. He kinda was a soldier.”

Hakoda’s expression darkened. “Exactly.”

Sokka sighed, tossing the rest of his snack into his mouth. “Okay, look, I know you’re suspicious of Zuko. But maybe—and hear me out—you don’t need to stare at him like he’s a tiger-seal about to steal our fish.”

Hakoda’s eyes didn’t leave the sparring match. “I’m just trying to understand what kind of fighter he is.”

Sokka smirked. “A good one.”

Hakoda shot him a look. “That’s not what I mean. He’s disciplined, but he’s not aggressive. He’s defensive, adaptable. That’s not how I’d expect a Fire Nation soldier to fight.”

Sokka frowned, watching as Zuko sidestepped Toph’s next attack instead of blocking it head-on. The way Zuko moved—it wasn’t about overpowering. It was about control. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t attacking blindly.

He was choosing his fights.

Sokka scratched his chin. “I mean… yeah. Zuko’s been through a lot. I think he kinda had to unlearn a lot of what the Fire Nation taught him.”

Hakoda hummed, eyes still unreadable. “Maybe.”

Meanwhile, in the training area, Zuko had just barely managed to hold his ground against a sudden shockwave from Toph. He let out a sharp breath, lowering his stance, eyes narrowed in determination.

Toph grinned. “Not bad, Sparky. You’re finally learning how to keep up with me.”

Zuko scowled, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’ve been keeping up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toph said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s see if you can keep up with this—”

She stomped the ground again—

—Only for Zuko to disappear in a flash of fire, flipping over her head and landing neatly behind her.

Sokka let out a low whistle. “Okay, I know I said Zuko’s cool before, but—he’s cool, right?”

Hakoda didn’t answer. But his expression had shifted, ever so slightly.

Not suspicious.

Not distrustful.

Just… thoughtful.

Maybe, just maybe, Firelord Ozai’s son wasn’t what he expected.

The heat of the sparring session still clung to Zuko’s skin as he exhaled, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. The scent of scorched stone and earth still lingered in the air.

As he turned to leave the training area, a large hand extended a towel toward him.

"Here, Prince Zuko," Chit Sang said with a slight grin.

Zuko blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He hesitated before accepting it, wiping his face. The gesture felt… strange. Not unwelcome, just unfamiliar.

Katara scoffed from nearby, arms crossed. "You don’t need to baby him, you know," she said, shooting Chit Sang a look. "He can handle a little sweat."

Chit Sang shrugged. "Nothing wrong with showing a little respect."

Katara rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned, watching as Aang stepped onto the training grounds where Toph stood waiting.

Aang stretched his arms. "Alright, Toph, I’m ready!"

Toph cracked her knuckles, smirking. "Hope so, Twinkle Toes. You’re gonna need it."

With a sudden stomp, the ground rumbled beneath Aang’s feet, forcing him to jump into the air. The temple floor shifted unpredictably as Toph sent small, precise tremors toward him. Aang twisted mid-air, barely managing to regain his footing.

Hakoda stood off to the side, observing quietly. His gaze wasn’t on Aang or Toph, though. It was on Chit Sang and Zuko.

Chit Sang, still standing beside Zuko, crossed his arms. "She’s got a point, though. You don’t let people take care of you much, do you?"

Zuko frowned slightly, looking down at the towel in his hands. "I don’t need people taking care of me."

Chit Sang hummed, not entirely convinced. "Maybe. But you’re not on your own anymore."

Hakoda’s expression remained unreadable as he listened. He watched the way Chit Sang spoke to Zuko—not as a superior, not as a wary outsider, but as someone who had already chosen where his loyalty lay.

And Zuko… he wasn’t brushing it off. Not entirely.

Hakoda wasn’t sure what to make of that yet.

Aang yelped as another shockwave sent him rolling across the stone floor, bringing Hakoda’s attention back to the training match.

Zuko, still holding the towel, exhaled slowly. "Thanks, Chit Sang," he said at last.

Chit Sang simply nodded. "Anytime, Prince Zuko."

Chapter Text

Katara dusted her hands off and turned toward Zuko, who was still standing with Chit Sang. She eyed him up and down before jerking her thumb toward the temple’s makeshift kitchen area.

"Alright, Zuko. You’re on lunch duty today," she said, matter-of-fact.

Zuko blinked. "What? Why me?"

Katara huffed. "Because Toph doesn’t cook, Sokka burns everything, Aang will just make salads, and Chit Sang is too busy watching your every move." She shot the large man a pointed look before crossing her arms. "That leaves you."

Chit Sang chuckled but didn’t argue. Instead, he followed Zuko as he begrudgingly made his way to the fire pit, rolling up his sleeves.

As Zuko started pulling out ingredients, Hakoda wandered over, watching as the younger man moved with practiced ease—washing rice, slicing vegetables, preparing everything with efficient, precise motions.

"You seem comfortable in the kitchen," Hakoda commented, arms folded. "Didn’t expect that from a prince."

Zuko didn’t look up. "I spent a lot of time on a ship," he said simply, tossing vegetables into a pan. A controlled flame flickered beneath it, the sizzling sound filling the air. "You learn to cook when you don’t want to rely on whatever slop the crew throws together."

Hakoda raised an eyebrow. "Did your crew make you cook?"

Zuko shook his head. "No. But… my uncle did. He said it was an important skill." His hands stilled for a moment, his voice softening. "He liked tea more than actual food, though. Half the time, I had to cook just so we wouldn’t starve."

Chit Sang grinned, arms resting on his knees as he watched. "Bet you weren’t half bad at it, huh, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko let out a breath, stirring the pot. "I manage."

Hakoda kept watching, thoughtful. There was something oddly humanizing about it—Fire Nation royalty, standing there, making lunch for the people he once called enemies.

And he did it without complaint.

Katara, hands on her hips, surveyed the temple grounds as Zuko finished preparing lunch. With a quick nod of approval, she turned back to him.

"Alright, since you’re already being useful, you can scrub the floors after we eat," she said casually. "And after that, make some tea. Oh, and heat up the bathwater, too."

Sokka snickered from where he sat. "Wow, Katara, really putting the prince to work, huh?"

Katara smirked. "Well, if he wants to prove he belongs here, he can start by pulling his weight."

Chit Sang glanced at Zuko, waiting for him to argue, to push back, to snap something. But Zuko only nodded, quietly serving out the food before getting to work once they were finished.

He scrubbed the stone floors of the Western Air Temple’s courtyard, sleeves rolled up as he worked in silence. The damp cloth left streaks of clean stone in its wake.

He brewed tea over a small controlled flame, carefully pouring it into cups without a single protest.

He heated the bathwater without being asked twice, steam rising in lazy curls as he ensured it was at the perfect temperature.

Hakoda, arms crossed, watched it all unfold.

He had expected resistance. Some sign of the arrogance or entitlement that royalty carried. But Zuko took every order without hesitation, without frustration.

It wasn’t subservience—Hakoda could tell that much. It was determination. A quiet, stubborn insistence on proving himself.

Zuko wasn’t just following orders—he was choosing to.

Hakoda narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as Zuko set down the tea with steady hands. He had seen men try to earn trust before. Some out of guilt. Some out of desperation. Some because they didn’t know how else to move forward.

He wondered which one Zuko was.

Chapter Text

The temple was quiet at night, the usual chatter of the Gaang replaced by the distant sound of wind rushing through the cliffs. Zuko sat near his bedroll, rubbing his sore arms. The day’s chores had taken their toll, but he didn’t regret a second of it. Earning trust meant putting in the work.

A faint shuffle echoed from the corridor, and a moment later, Chit Sang appeared, rolling up his sleeves. "Hey, Prince Zuko," he said, his usual smirk in place. "Got something for you."

Zuko furrowed his brow as Chit Sang stepped aside, revealing a large basin filled with steaming water.

Zuko sighed. "Chit Sang, you didn’t have to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Chit Sang waved him off, placing the basin down with a thud. "But it’s the least I can do. You took me with you back at the prison, gave me a chance to fight on the right side. This is nothing compared to that."

Zuko ran a hand through his hair, staring at the steaming water. "You don’t have to act like this. I don’t need… special treatment."

Chit Sang crouched beside him, his usually carefree tone softening. "It’s not special treatment, Prince Zuko. It’s loyalty. I was 41st Division—I fought for the Fire Nation once. And I know what it feels like to have no one at your back."

Zuko’s throat tightened at that. He knew that feeling too well.

Chit Sang clapped a large hand on his shoulder. "So let me do this. You don’t have to carry everything alone. Rely on me."

For a moment, Zuko didn’t know how to respond. But after a long pause, he exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

"Alright," he murmured. "Thanks, Chit Sang."

Chit Sang grinned. "Anytime, Prince Zuko."

Zuko and Toph sat on the edge of a rocky outcrop, looking out at the misty expanse of the Western Air Temple. The morning was quiet, the usual chaos of the group still settling as everyone went about their routines.

Toph absentmindedly flicked small pebbles over the edge with her toes. “Y’know, my parents locked me in a fancy house my whole life. Never let me leave, never let me fight, never even let me be me.” She smirked, but there was no humor in it. “All they saw was some fragile little blind girl. Had to run away just to breathe.”

Zuko exhaled, staring down at his hands. “At least they kept you because they cared,” he muttered. “My father burned half my face off and banished me just for speaking out of turn.”

Toph stopped flicking pebbles. “Yeah, well… that’s worse.”

Zuko let out a dry chuckle. “No argument there.”

Before Toph could say anything else, Katara walked past and caught the tail end of their conversation. She turned toward Toph, expression soft. “Toph, I know we tease you about your parents, but that must’ve been really hard.”

Toph shrugged, but there was a hint of gratitude in her posture. “Yeah, well, I got out, didn’t I?”

Katara nodded, then turned her gaze to Zuko. Her warmth disappeared. “Not really the same thing, though, is it?”

Zuko tensed, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t say it was.”

Katara folded her arms. “You were still a prince, still had everything handed to you until you messed up. Toph didn’t even get a choice.”

Toph scowled. “Whoa, hold on, I started this conversation, and trust me, Zuko got it worse.”

Zuko shook his head, standing up abruptly. “Forget it.”

Katara scoffed but didn’t stop him as he walked away.

Sokka, Aang, and Hakoda sat a little ways off, watching the scene unfold. Sokka scratched the back of his head. “Katara, don’t you think that was kinda harsh?”

Katara crossed her arms. “I don’t see why we should compare trauma like it’s some contest.”

Toph huffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah? Then why does it only count when it’s mine?”

Hakoda remained quiet, watching Zuko’s retreating figure with an unreadable expression.

Katara didn’t let up on Zuko. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she had him fetching water, scrubbing pots, and hauling supplies from Appa’s saddle. Zuko did it all without complaint, jaw tight, shoulders stiff, but never once arguing. Hakoda watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, taking in every action and reaction.

Later, as the afternoon wore on, Sokka stretched, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, Sparky, time to see what you've got. Let’s have a rematch!"

Zuko raised a brow, already rolling his sore shoulders. "You sure? Last time, you almost stabbed yourself."

Sokka scoffed. "That was a strategic feint!"

"Right."

They took their stances in the courtyard, each wielding twin dao swords. Hakoda lingered nearby, more out of habit than intent, but as soon as the fight started, his eyes sharpened.

Zuko moved fluidly, effortlessly matching Sokka’s swings, turning and countering with practiced precision. He wasn’t just competent—he was skilled. His footwork was impeccable, his grip confident, and he executed techniques Hakoda had only ever seen from highly trained warriors.

A particularly swift parry knocked Sokka off balance, and Zuko lunged forward, stopping just short of his throat. Sokka huffed, lowering his weapons. "Alright, alright, you win. Again."

Hakoda finally spoke. "You fight well with those swords."

Zuko sheathed them in one smooth motion. "I should. I’ve been training with them since I was little."

There was something about the way he said it—offhanded, but laced with something deeper. Hakoda frowned. "Since you were little? Why not just train with firebending?"

Zuko didn’t look at him, gaze fixed on his blades. "Because I couldn’t firebend."

Sokka blinked. "Wait, what?"

Zuko exhaled. "I was a late bloomer. My father… wasn’t impressed. So he sent me to Piandao to train with swords. Said if I couldn’t bend, I should at least be useful."

Hakoda's frown deepened. He knew of Piandao—everyone did. The man was one of the greatest swordsmen in the world. But Ozai sending Zuko to him not out of pride, but as a consolation for his failure…

That sat wrong.

Sokka scratched his head. "So wait, you're telling me your backup plan was training with a legendary sword master? Spirits, rich people are wild."

Zuko snorted, shaking his head. "It wasn’t exactly a choice."

Hakoda stayed quiet, watching the boy carefully.

Ozai had sent his own son away for failing to meet his expectations. And then, when Zuko did show promise, when he did earn his bending, it still wasn’t enough.

Hakoda had been wary of the prince from the moment Sokka and Katara returned with him. But this?

This made him reconsider.

Sokka and Zuko squared off again, sweat already forming from their last bout. Sokka wiped his forehead. “Okay, rematch. Best two out of three.”

Zuko nodded, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. But it’s hot." Without much thought, he pulled off his tunic, tossing it aside before dropping into a ready stance.

Silence.

Sokka, who had been mid-lunge, froze. Aang, Katara, and Toph, who had been chatting nearby, fell quiet. Hakoda, standing with his arms crossed, went completely still. Even Chit Sang, who had been sitting off to the side, furrowed his brows.

Zuko barely noticed at first. Then he looked up, confused. "What?"

That’s when he saw their faces.

He followed their gazes downward—to his own torso.

The scars.

His chest, his back, his arms—there wasn’t a single place untouched. Some were old, faded white lines crisscrossing his skin. Others, deeper, darker—angry reminders of burns, whips, cuts that had healed but never truly disappeared. The worst of it ran across his shoulders and back, jagged and uneven, clear evidence of pain suffered long before he ever set foot in the Western Air Temple.

Zuko exhaled slowly, his face unreadable, and turned back to Sokka. “You gonna stand there all day or fight?”

Sokka still hadn’t moved. He was staring. "Zuko… what the hell?"

Zuko frowned. "What?"

Sokka gestured wildly. "What—all that!" He motioned to Zuko’s chest, then turned to the group. "Are we seriously not gonna talk about this?"

Aang looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Katara’s arms had dropped to her sides, her usual sharpness absent as she took it all in. Even Toph, who couldn’t see, felt the shift in the air, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

Chit Sang, watching from a distance, clenched his fists but said nothing.

Hakoda studied Zuko carefully, his gaze lingering on the deep, whip-like scars. He had seen marks like those before—on prisoners of war, on men punished for stepping out of line. But on a prince? A child?

Zuko’s expression hardened. He turned back to Sokka, dao swords at the ready. "We fighting or not?"

Sokka slowly raised his blades, but his stance lacked its usual confidence. "Yeah. Just—uh—try not to scar me up too, okay?"

Zuko smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "No promises."

After the match, the Gaang gathered in a small circle near the edge of the temple, their conversation subdued. Sokka, ever the curious one, was the first to break the silence. "So… uh, Zuko?"

Zuko was sitting off to the side, towel draped over his shoulders, breathing heavily as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He glanced at Sokka but didn’t make eye contact.

"Yeah?"

Sokka hesitated, glancing over at the others who were hanging back, unsure if this was a topic anyone wanted to touch. "Those… scars. What happened?"

Zuko’s jaw tightened. His fingers gripped the towel in his lap, but he said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead.

Aang, sensing the tension, spoke up. "Zuko, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… it’s clear those scars mean something."

Zuko’s gaze flickered to Aang, and then to the ground, before he let out a slow breath, visibly gathering his thoughts. The others watched in silence—Hakoda with narrowed eyes, Chit Sang standing quietly off to the side, leaning against a wall, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Zuko spoke, voice low and steady. "I was a prince," he began, as though testing the words. "But I was never treated like one. Ozai, my father—he never saw me as his son. He saw me as a failure."

He paused, and there was a hardness in his eyes as he looked off into the distance. "He would... punish me. I was weak in his eyes. I couldn’t bend like he expected me to. I couldn't be the perfect prince, the perfect warrior he wanted."

Katara's expression softened, her eyes searching Zuko's face, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

Zuko’s voice grew quieter. "So, my teachers... they would beat me when I couldn’t keep up. They said it was training. Said I needed to be stronger. But it was just torture."

Sokka opened his mouth to say something, but Zuko cut him off before he could. "Piandao was the only one who ever treated me with respect. He trained me to be a swordsman, taught me not as a prince, but as a student. He never asked for perfection. He let me grow."

Aang looked at Zuko with a mix of sadness and understanding. "So Piandao was… like a father figure to you?"

Zuko gave a tight nod. "In a way. He was the only one who didn’t see me as some failure to be fixed."

The group stood in stunned silence for a moment. Hakoda’s expression was unreadable, though there was a faint flicker of understanding in his eyes. Chit Sang shifted, his hands folded behind his back, his gaze thoughtful as he processed Zuko’s words.

Katara broke the silence softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Zuko, I... I’m sorry."

Zuko nodded but didn’t say anything more. Instead, he stood up, brushing off his pants and picking up his shirt. "It’s in the past. Doesn’t matter anymore."

Sokka opened his mouth, but Zuko’s tone stopped him. "I’m not going to talk about it more."

There was a weight to his words, one that everyone understood without needing to be said again. They had reached the end of that conversation. Zuko didn’t need their pity. He didn’t want it.

For a long moment, no one spoke, the wind carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. Finally, Chit Sang cleared his throat and clapped Zuko on the back. "You’ve got a hell of a story, kid."

Zuko only grunted in response, his posture stiff but somehow… a little lighter than before.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp stone and lingering embers from the previous night’s fire. The Gaang was gathered near the temple’s edge, discussing plans for the day.

Hakoda stood with his arms crossed, addressing Sokka about their next move.

“We need to be more careful,” Hakoda said, his voice firm. “The Fire Nation isn’t going to underestimate us again, and I won’t have you rushing into things without thinking.”

Sokka, always defensive, threw up his hands. “I was thinking! It’s not like I’m just making plans on the fly—”

“You weren’t thinking enough,” Hakoda cut in, raising his voice. “If we’re not careful, we’ll lose our chance at stopping the Fire Lord for good!”

The moment Hakoda’s voice sharpened, Zuko flinched. It was barely noticeable—just a small, instinctive jerk of his shoulders—but Toph, standing nearby, caught it instantly.

She didn’t see it, but she felt it—the way Zuko’s heartbeat spiked, the way his muscles tensed, bracing for something that never came.

Toph’s brows furrowed. She turned her head slightly toward Zuko, listening as his breathing steadied again. He wasn’t looking at anyone, his gaze cast downward, as if trying to make himself small.

Hakoda sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I just want you to be careful, Sokka. That’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Sokka muttered. The tension between them passed quickly, and the conversation moved on.

But Toph didn’t forget.

She turned toward Zuko, tilting her head. “Hey, Sparky,” she said casually.

Zuko blinked and looked at her. “What?”

“…Nothing.”

She let it drop. For now.

Toph found Zuko sitting on the temple steps, staring out over the misty cliffs. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the ancient stone, but Zuko didn’t seem to notice. His arms rested on his knees, fingers absentmindedly tracing a scorch mark on the step beneath him.

She plopped down next to him, kicking her feet out. “You’re way too broody for someone who just kicked Sokka’s butt in sword training.”

Zuko huffed. “I didn’t kick his butt.”

“Pfft, yeah, you did,” Toph said, smirking. “Not that I’m surprised. You trained with Piandao and all.”

Zuko nodded, exhaling slowly. A silence settled between them before Toph broke it again.

“So, what’s eating you?”

He hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Toph snorted. “I felt you flinch earlier when Hakoda raised his voice. You thought he was gonna hit Sokka, didn’t you?”

Zuko stiffened. “…I guess.”

Toph rested her arms behind her head. “I get it. My parents never hit me, but they sure tried to control every part of my life. Kept me locked up, treated me like some fragile doll.”

Zuko turned to her. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. They didn’t let me go anywhere, didn’t think I could take care of myself. They were always deciding my future for me.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Guess they didn’t count on me running away and joining a bunch of rebels.”

Zuko was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “I used to think my father wanted me to be strong. That if I just tried hard enough, he’d finally see me as worthy.” He clenched his fists. “But the only way I was ever ‘worthy’ in his eyes was if I was exactly like him. And when I wasn’t…” He trailed off, gaze distant.

Toph kicked him lightly in the leg. “Well, screw that. You’re stronger than him just by being your own person.”

Zuko gave a small, surprised chuckle. “That’s… probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Toph grinned. “Don’t get used to it, Sparky.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, two kids who had spent their whole lives trying to break free of the people who were supposed to love them.

Later in the evening, as the sky faded into soft purples and oranges, Zuko and Toph sat on the temple steps again. This time, Zuko wasn’t brooding—he was watching.

Below them, Sokka and Hakoda were laughing as they worked together to set up a new pulley system for their supplies. Sokka was gesturing wildly, clearly explaining some grand idea, while Hakoda listened with an amused smile. Every now and then, Hakoda would ruffle Sokka’s hair or playfully nudge him, and Sokka, despite his exaggerated groans, never pushed him away.

Zuko exhaled through his nose. “It’s weird.”

Toph tilted her head. “What is?”

“Them.” He nodded toward the father and son below. “They’re so… different from me and my father.”

Toph leaned forward, listening.

Zuko continued, his voice quieter. “Sokka doesn’t have to prove himself to Hakoda. His father actually listens to him. Respects him. They joke around, but you can tell Hakoda really cares about him.” He paused, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “Ozai never laughed with me. He never talked to me like that. It was always about being better, being stronger, being worthy. And if I failed…” He swallowed, eyes darkening.

Toph didn’t say anything for a moment. She just let his words sit in the air. Then, she shrugged. “Well, yeah, Hakoda’s an actual dad, and Ozai’s just a power-hungry jerk. Not exactly a fair comparison.”

Zuko let out a soft chuckle. “I guess not.”

They watched as Sokka showed Hakoda something on his map, the older man nodding along with a proud smile. Zuko’s expression remained unreadable.

“…I used to think that was normal,” Zuko admitted. “That fathers had to be like Ozai. That it was my fault if I couldn’t meet his expectations.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I ever really understood how wrong that was until now.”

Toph crossed her arms. “Took you long enough.”

Zuko smirked, but his gaze lingered on Sokka and Hakoda. There was a small, wistful look in his eyes—like he was seeing something foreign, something he had never allowed himself to want.

Chapter Text

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Western Air Temple. Tensions were rising, and the air felt thick with unspoken words. Hakoda and Katara stood near the central courtyard, voices raised in an argument that echoed against the stone walls.

“I’m trying to keep us safe, Katara! You need to trust my judgment,” Hakoda insisted, frustration etching lines into his brow.

Katara crossed her arms, glaring up at her father. “You think I don’t want to be safe? You’re just treating me like a child! I’m not helpless, Dad!”

Hakoda stepped closer, his voice firm but concerned. “You need to understand that my decisions aren’t just about you—they affect everyone! You can’t just think about what you want!”

Zuko, who had been standing off to the side, watching the argument unfold, felt a pang of familiarity. The tension in Hakoda’s voice reminded him of the countless times he had faced his own father. Without thinking, he stepped forward. “Hakoda, maybe you should listen to her—”

Katara’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to Zuko, disbelief flashing across her face. “What are you doing, Zuko?”

“I’m just saying—” he started, but Hakoda’s gaze shifted, darkening.

“Stay out of this, Zuko,” Hakoda snapped, the warning clear in his tone.

“But he’s right,” Aang interjected, moving between them. “Everyone is just trying to do their best here. Maybe we can talk about this without shouting?”

Katara’s frustration boiled over. “What do you know, Aang? You’re defending him now?” She pointed at Zuko, her voice rising. “You’re just going to trust him after everything?”

Zuko recoiled slightly at her words, feeling a familiar sense of shame creep in, but he stood his ground. “I’m not asking for trust. I just think—”

Katara cut him off, her anger sharp. “You think what? That you can just waltz in here and act like everything’s fine? You think you understand us?”

Aang, sensing the escalating tension, raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Hey, we’re all on the same side here. Zuko’s been working hard to prove himself. Can we focus on that instead of fighting among ourselves?”

But Katara’s frustration didn’t wane. “You don’t understand, Aang! He’s still a Fire Nation prince! We can’t forget that!”

Hakoda watched the exchange, torn between his daughter’s anger and Zuko’s unexpected loyalty. Zuko felt the weight of their stares, a mixture of anger, fear, and disbelief. He had wanted to help, but now he could feel the chasm between them widening again.

“I just want to be part of this team,” Zuko said quietly, his voice steady but filled with vulnerability. “I don’t want to fight.”

The air was thick with tension, and for a moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance.

The tension in the air became electric as Katara’s frustration reached a boiling point. “You’re both being ridiculous!” she shouted, her fists clenched at her sides. In a surge of anger, she thrust her arm out, summoning an ice spike from the ground that shot toward Zuko.

Zuko barely had time to react. The spike grazed his arm, sending a sharp sting through him as he staggered back, eyes wide with shock. He pressed a hand to the wound, feeling warm blood seep between his fingers.

“Katara!” Aang exclaimed, rushing to Zuko’s side. “What are you doing? You can’t just attack him like that!”

Katara’s eyes flared with anger. “He’s still a threat! You’re defending him after everything he’s done!”

“Zuko’s trying to change!” Aang shot back, stepping between them. “He’s not the same person he was before! You know that!”

“Do I?” Katara retorted, her voice laced with incredulity. “You want to trust him just because he’s standing here now? You’re just blinded by your friendship!”

Zuko flinched at her words, feeling the weight of his past pressing down on him. It was the same feeling he’d had countless times before—the belief that no matter how hard he tried, he’d always be viewed through the lens of who he used to be.

Aang turned to Katara, frustration spilling over. “This isn’t just about you! We’re all trying to work together, and Zuko’s part of that. Can’t you see how much he’s trying?”

“Trying?” Katara snapped, her voice rising. “He hurt my mother! He’s a reminder of everything we’ve lost!”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Zuko felt a surge of shame wash over him, the truth of her accusation cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Aang, visibly upset, shook his head. “This isn’t helping anyone! You’re letting your anger take over. Zuko deserves a chance, just like everyone else.”

Katara’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “And what if he hurts us again? What if you’re wrong?”

Zuko stepped forward, wincing at the pain in his arm. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to make things right.”

Katara glanced at him, the anger in her gaze wavering slightly as she took in his sincerity. But the fear still lingered, and it clawed at her insides. “You can’t just expect me to forget the past, Zuko.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he replied quietly, the fight leaving him. “Just give me a chance to show you who I am now.”

The silence that followed was charged with unresolved emotions, each person grappling with their own fears and hopes. Aang stood firmly, trying to bridge the gap, while Katara wrestled with her anger and the echoes of betrayal that still haunted her heart.

Katara, fuming with frustration and hurt, turned on her heel and stormed away, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. “I can’t deal with this right now!” she called over her shoulder, her voice trembling with anger.

Hakoda watched her go, a mixture of concern and disappointment crossing his features. He turned his attention to Zuko, his expression hardening. “What were you thinking, Zuko? You had no right to interfere in that argument,” he snapped, his voice low but intense. “You should know better than to get involved in family matters that don’t concern you.”

Zuko’s shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of Hakoda’s words like a physical blow. “I was just trying to help,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “I thought—”

Hakoda cut him off, his tone stern. “You thought what? That you could just step in and fix everything? You don’t know anything about our family dynamics. You can’t just act like you’re one of us.”

Aang stepped forward, his heart heavy with sympathy for Zuko. “That’s not fair, Hakoda,” he interjected, glancing between them. “Zuko is trying to change. He’s trying to be better, and we should support him.”

Hakoda’s gaze shifted to Aang, frustration etching deeper lines on his face. “You’re defending him? After everything? He’s a Fire Nation prince; that history doesn’t just disappear because he says he wants to change.”

Zuko felt a familiar sting of shame but remained silent, his gaze focused on the ground. Aang, however, pressed on. “He’s not that person anymore. We all have things we’re trying to overcome. Zuko is just trying to find his place, just like the rest of us.”

Hakoda’s expression softened slightly, but he shook his head. “You don’t understand. I can’t just trust someone who has caused so much pain.”

Zuko swallowed hard, the emotions churning inside him. “I don’t want your trust, Hakoda. I just want to prove that I’m not a threat.”

Aang looked at Zuko, empathy in his eyes. “You are not alone in this, Zuko. We’re all trying to find our way, and it’s not easy.”

Hakoda’s gaze lingered on Zuko for a moment longer before he turned to follow Katara, his heavy footsteps echoing in the temple.

As the silence settled, Aang put a comforting hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you. You’re doing your best. It’s a process, and it’ll take time.”

Zuko took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Thanks, Aang. I just wish it didn’t feel like I’m always fighting an uphill battle.”

“It’s okay,” Aang reassured him. “We’ll get through this together. Just keep being yourself, and the others will come around.”

Zuko nodded, grateful for Aang’s support but still feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down on him.

Hakoda walked the quiet halls of the Western Air Temple, the distant sound of wind whistling through the ruins. His mind was still troubled from the argument earlier, Katara’s anger lingering in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he had handled things right, but his instincts told him to be wary of Zuko.

Then, as he passed by one of the alcoves, he heard it—low, distressed murmurs, sharp gasps, and the unmistakable sounds of a nightmare.

“No—please—” Zuko’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the pain in it was undeniable. “I’m sorry… I’ll do better—just don’t—”

Hakoda froze, his brow furrowing. The boy’s words were fractured, panicked, and filled with a fear Hakoda hadn’t expected. He had seen men haunted by war, soldiers waking up screaming in the dead of night. This was no different.

Before he could think on it further, a shadow shifted in the dim torchlight.

Chit Sang.

The large firebender leaned casually against the stone wall near Zuko’s room, arms crossed over his broad chest. His presence was unmistakable—a silent sentinel standing guard. His usual cocky demeanor was absent, replaced by something more unreadable, more calculating.

Hakoda met his gaze, searching for an explanation. “You’re standing guard,” he stated, voice quiet.

Chit Sang shrugged. “Prince Zuko’s had a long day. It’s not my place to let anyone disturb his rest.” His words were smooth, but there was an edge to them, something firm beneath the casual phrasing.

Hakoda glanced toward Zuko’s room again. The murmuring had quieted, but the air still felt heavy. “You’re awfully loyal to him.”

Chit Sang smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve seen real leaders before, Chief. They don’t always sit on thrones.”

Hakoda’s expression darkened slightly. “You put a lot of faith in a Fire Nation prince.”

Chit Sang’s eyes flickered, a hint of amusement and something sharper beneath. “And you put a lot of faith in old grudges.”

Hakoda stiffened. He had faced plenty of warriors in his life, but something about Chit Sang’s unwavering certainty unsettled him. It wasn’t just loyalty—it was devotion, the kind that wasn’t easily swayed.

“You should get some sleep, Chief,” Chit Sang said, his tone deceptively light. “Wouldn’t want you losing focus in the morning.”

Hakoda held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned without another word. As he walked away, he could still feel Chit Sang’s eyes on his back, unwavering and watchful.

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if Zuko was the real threat he should be worried about.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, the golden light of dawn filtering through the high arches of the temple ruins. The Gaang had settled into their daily routines, but the tension from the previous night still lingered.

Zuko barely had time to sit down before Katara’s voice rang out.

“Zuko, the pots from last night still need scrubbing,” she said sharply, arms crossed. “And don’t forget to fetch more water for the bath. Oh, and make sure the fire pit is cleaned out, too.”

Zuko didn’t argue. He just nodded, rolling up his sleeves as he silently got to work.

Nearby, Chit Sang, who had been watching, wordlessly grabbed a second rag and crouched beside Zuko to help with the pots. Hakoda, standing off to the side, narrowed his eyes slightly. He had been keeping an eye on Chit Sang since their conversation the night before, and what he saw unsettled him.

Chit Sang wasn’t just helping Zuko—he was watching him, attentive to every movement. If Zuko so much as frowned at a difficult stain, Chit Sang was already shifting to make the task easier. It wasn’t just camaraderie; it was loyalty in its purest form.

Hakoda couldn’t understand it. Chit Sang was a former prisoner, a man who had no reason to swear fealty to anyone, let alone the son of the Fire Lord. And yet, there he was, keeping pace with Zuko’s chores as if it were his own duty.

“You don’t have to help, you know,” Zuko muttered under his breath as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn pot.

Chit Sang smirked. “What kind of soldier would I be if I let my commander do all the work?”

Zuko stiffened slightly at the word commander, but he didn’t argue.

A few feet away, Toph and Aang sat on a ledge, idly watching the interaction.

“Katara’s being extra bossy today,” Toph commented, tilting her head toward Aang. “Not that Sparky doesn’t deserve a little tough love, but come on.”

Aang sighed. “She’s just… working through things in her own way.” His expression darkened. “I just wish she’d see that Zuko’s really trying.”

Hakoda overheard their conversation but kept quiet, his focus still lingering on Chit Sang and the way he subtly adjusted the weight of the water bucket before handing it off to Zuko.

There was something deeply unsettling about how effortlessly Chit Sang followed Zuko’s lead, as if it were second nature.

Hakoda wasn’t sure yet whether it was admirable—or dangerous.

The midday sun hung high above the Western Air Temple, casting long shadows across the training ground. Aang stood opposite Zuko, his stance focused but uncertain, as Zuko demonstrated a precise firebending form.

"Again," Zuko instructed, his tone calm but firm.

Aang wiped sweat from his brow and mimicked the stance, shifting his weight and moving his arms in controlled arcs. A small burst of flame followed his motion, flickering before fading too soon.

"You’re hesitating," Zuko noted. "Firebending needs intent. You can't second-guess yourself halfway through."

Aang frowned. "It’s just… fire feels so aggressive. I don’t want to hurt anyone."

Zuko exhaled through his nose, glancing at Aang’s uncertain expression. "Fire isn’t just destruction. It’s energy, life itself. You have to stop treating it like it’s something dangerous and start seeing it as something you control."

From a short distance away, Hakoda and Toph sat on a large rock, watching the training session.

“He’s not half-bad at teaching,” Hakoda admitted, arms crossed.

Toph smirked. “Yeah, Sparky’s come a long way. He used to be all stiff and dramatic about it—now he actually explains stuff.”

Hakoda hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on Zuko. The boy was patient with Aang, correcting his form without frustration. He was nothing like the arrogant, brash firebender Hakoda had once imagined.

“Hard to believe he’s the same kid who chased you all across the world,” Hakoda muttered.

Toph snorted. “Yeah, well, we’ve all done some dumb things. Aang was a runaway, Katara was a thief, and Sokka—”

“Was what?” Hakoda asked, raising an eyebrow.

Toph grinned. “I dunno, Sokka.”

Hakoda chuckled softly. He hadn’t expected to enjoy talking with Toph, but the earthbender had a way of cutting through the tension without making things feel forced.

His eyes drifted back to Zuko. Even after days of watching, he still couldn’t fully understand the boy. But at the very least, he was beginning to see why the others trusted him.

In the background, Katara stood with her arms crossed, watching the training session with a tense expression. She hadn’t said anything, but the conflict in her eyes was clear.

The fire crackled in the center of the group, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls of the Western Air Temple. The Gaang and Hakoda sat in a loose circle, the air thick with unspoken tension. Zuko sat slightly apart, staring into the flames, the light reflecting off the edges of his scar.

Hakoda exhaled, his expression unreadable as he looked directly at Zuko. “If you want our trust,” he said, voice even but firm, “then we deserve to know the truth. How did you get that scar?”

The fire popped. The group fell silent.

Zuko stiffened. His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing into his skin. He wasn’t surprised—it was only a matter of time before they asked—but hearing it spoken aloud made his chest tighten.

Chit Sang, sitting nearby, subtly shifted closer, a silent show of support. Toph’s face was unreadable in the dim light, but he knew she was listening intently. Katara’s arms were crossed, her expression guarded. Aang and Sokka watched him with quiet anticipation.

Zuko inhaled deeply and finally spoke.

“I spoke out of turn in a war meeting,” he began, his voice eerily steady. “I was thirteen. It was my first time attending—my uncle brought me. There was a general who wanted to use fresh recruits as bait to lure an enemy into a trap. I thought it was wrong. I said so.”

The fire crackled, but no one else made a sound.

“My father called it a challenge,” Zuko continued, his hands tightening into fists. “I didn’t understand what he meant until I was dragged into the Agni Kai arena. I thought I’d be fighting the general. But when I turned around, my father was the one stepping onto the platform.”

Aang’s eyes widened in horror. Sokka and Hakoda tensed.

“I begged for forgiveness,” Zuko admitted, his voice quieter now. “I dropped to my knees. I swore I meant no disrespect. But he said I needed to learn respect through suffering.” His fingers trembled slightly. “And then he burned me.”

No one spoke.

Zuko swallowed, forcing himself to keep his voice even. “I was banished right after that. He told me the only way I could come home was if I captured the Avatar.” He exhaled shakily. “That’s why I chased you, Aang. It wasn’t about honor—it was about going home. I thought if I could just prove myself, maybe… maybe he’d finally accept me.”

The fire flickered, but the warmth did nothing to cut through the cold silence that followed.

Aang looked stricken, his expression a mix of sadness and guilt. Sokka stared at the ground, gripping his boomerang tightly. Toph’s jaw was clenched. Chit Sang sat rigidly beside Zuko, eyes dark with anger.

Katara was the first to move. Her arms weren’t crossed anymore. Her fingers curled slightly, as if she wanted to reach out but couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Hakoda let out a slow breath, his gaze still locked on Zuko. There was no deception in the boy’s words—just raw, painful truth.

The trust they had demanded from Zuko now felt like a heavier burden than before.

The fire crackled, filling the heavy silence that had settled over the group. No one spoke, still absorbing Zuko’s words. His scar, once just an unsettling mark on his face, now carried a weight none of them could ignore.

Chit Sang was the first to break the silence. He shifted forward, placing a firm hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“He burned for us,” Chit Sang said, his deep voice steady.

The Gaang turned to look at him, confused.

“For the 41st Division,” Chit Sang continued. “That war meeting? The one where he spoke out of turn? The fresh recruits that general wanted to sacrifice? That was us. Me. My friends.” His voice hardened. “Zuko spoke up because we were nothing to them—disposable. But he saw us as people.”

Zuko didn’t react. He kept staring into the fire, jaw clenched, his shoulders tense under Chit Sang’s grip.

“If you have a problem with Zuko,” Chit Sang said, voice carrying an edge of warning as he swept his gaze over the group, “then you have a problem with me.” He leaned forward slightly, looking directly at Hakoda. “And I don’t think any of you want that.”

Hakoda inhaled sharply, realization dawning on him.

Zuko wasn’t just some privileged prince who had fallen from grace. He had been a boy—barely more than a child—who had been punished for doing the right thing. A boy who had spoken out against cruelty and had been branded for it.

And more than that…

Zuko had risked everything for the lives of Fire Nation soldiers. For men like Chit Sang. For people Hakoda himself had fought against.

Hakoda felt something shift inside him.

Aang looked between Zuko and Chit Sang, his expression full of sorrow. “Zuko… I didn’t know.”

Zuko finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t tell you because it doesn’t change anything.”

Katara, still looking shaken, opened her mouth but found no words. Sokka rubbed the back of his head, looking deeply troubled. Even Toph, usually so quick with a quip, stayed silent.

Hakoda exhaled, looking at Zuko with new eyes. The anger and distrust that had sat in his chest since they had rescued him felt… misplaced now.

Zuko had already paid for his sins. Over and over again.

And yet, here he was, still trying to earn their trust.

Hakoda had demanded the truth. And now that he had it, he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

Chapter Text

Zuko exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the conversation had settled behind his eyes. The firelight flickered against his tired face.

“My father always hated me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was eerily calm, like he was stating a simple fact. “I was never strong enough. Never smart enough. Never enough.”

He shifted his gaze to the fire, watching the embers drift into the night. “I don’t even know when it started. I just… always remember trying to be better, trying to make him proud. But no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough.”

His fingers curled into the fabric of his pants, tightening into fists. “I should’ve seen it coming.” His voice was quiet, but the words sent a chill through the group. “I wasn’t surprised when he burned me.”

That made everyone tense.

Aang’s face fell. “Zuko…”

Zuko pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head. “I’m going to train.”

No one tried to stop him.

He walked away from the fire, his steps stiff with frustration. The weight of their pity, their horror—it was too much. He didn’t want it. He just wanted to feel something else.

Chit Sang watched him go, then sighed and stood as well. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” he muttered, following after him.

The Gaang remained silent as Zuko’s words sank in.

Hakoda stared into the fire, his expression unreadable. He had never met a child who wasn’t surprised when his own father burned him.

And for the first time, he didn’t just see Zuko as the Fire Lord’s son.

He saw a boy who had never been given the chance to be anything else.

Zuko’s swords cut through the air in fluid arcs, the metal glinting under the dim moonlight. His movements were sharp, controlled, each strike punctuated by a heavy exhale. He wasn’t just training—he was burning off the emotions clawing at his chest.

Chit Sang leaned against a pillar nearby, arms crossed. He let Zuko work through it, knowing there was nothing he could say that would make it easier.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Zuko slowed. His breathing was ragged, sweat clinging to his skin despite the cool night air.

"You done?" Chit Sang asked, pushing off the pillar.

Zuko sheathed his swords with a quiet shhk. "For now."

Chit Sang walked over and tossed him a water pouch. "Figured."

Zuko caught it, but didn’t drink. He stared down at the worn leather in his hands. "You shouldn’t have said all that back there," he muttered.

Chit Sang raised a brow. "About the 41st division? About you?"

Zuko clenched his jaw. "It’s not their burden."

Chit Sang scoffed. "It’s not just yours either, kid." He gestured toward the temple. "They needed to hear it. They needed to know who they’re dealing with. You needed to say it."

Zuko let out a long breath, tilting his head up to the sky. "Doesn't change anything."

Chit Sang shook his head. "Maybe not. But you gotta stop acting like you're alone in this."

Zuko didn’t respond.

Chit Sang sighed, nudging his shoulder. "Get some rest, kid. Even Fire Princes need sleep."

Zuko rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

As they made their way back, a shadow in the distance shifted.

Hakoda stood at the edge of the temple, hidden in the dark. He had followed out of curiosity, out of something deeper he didn’t quite understand.

And for the second time that night, he realized how much he had misjudged Zuko.

Zuko challenged Katara to a fight.

The tension in the Western Air Temple courtyard was thick as Zuko stood across from Katara, his twin dao swords drawn and gleaming in the sunlight.

Katara’s expression was fierce, her stance ready. "You really think you can beat me without firebending?" she asked, voice laced with skepticism.

Zuko nodded, gripping his swords tighter. "Yes." His voice was steady, unwavering. "If that’s what it takes to prove my worth to you, then I’ll do it."

The Gaang stood at the sidelines—Aang, Sokka, Toph, and even Hakoda. Chit Sang stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, watching intently.

"Alright, Sparky," Toph called, grinning. "Let’s see if you can handle it!"

Sokka, despite his loyalty to Katara, muttered, "I mean… Zuko did train with Piandao…"

Katara didn’t waste any more words. With a flick of her wrists, she sent a wave of water surging toward Zuko.

Zuko dodged, twisting his body to avoid the attack. His movements were fast, precise. He ducked under a second stream of water, rolling forward and closing the distance between them.

Katara sent a blast of ice toward his feet, trying to trap him. Zuko reacted instantly, slamming the flat of his sword against the ice, breaking it before it could encase him.

He moved with relentless efficiency—sidestepping, parrying her water whips with the flat of his blades, even deflecting incoming ice shards with expert precision. His control was frighteningly sharp, his discipline unwavering.

Katara frowned, realizing that despite his lack of bending, Zuko was overwhelming her. He was always one step ahead, reading her movements, countering her attacks before they could land.

Then, in a flash, he was there. He pivoted around her last strike, swept her legs out from under her, and before she could recover, the cool edge of his blade was at her throat.

Katara froze, breathing hard, eyes wide.

The courtyard was silent.

Zuko lowered his swords and stepped back, offering her a hand. "I told you I’d win."

Katara stared at him for a moment, then exhaled, taking his hand. He helped her up, and she studied him for a long moment before nodding.

"You proved your point." Her voice was quieter, more thoughtful.

The Gaang murmured amongst themselves, impressed.

Sokka whistled. "Okay… I’m officially scared of both of you now."

Aang grinned. "That was amazing, Zuko!"

Toph punched his shoulder. "Nice moves, Sparky."

Hakoda watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. He had expected Zuko to falter, to struggle. Instead, he had watched a young man who had clearly been fighting for his survival his entire life—and winning.

Chit Sang smirked, arms still crossed. "Tch. As if there was ever any doubt."

Katara dusted herself off, still catching her breath as she looked at Zuko with something different in her expression—not quite admiration, but no longer the hostility she had clung to for so long.

"Where did you even learn to fight like that?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Zuko sheathed his swords, his gaze distant. "The one time I ever won against Azula was when I fought her with my swords." His voice was even, but there was something weighted beneath it.

The Gaang stilled at that.

Katara frowned. "Wait… one time?"

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. I could never beat her in firebending. She’s stronger, faster, and… well, Azula doesn’t hold back." His jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his tone controlled. "But with swords, it was different. She didn’t have an advantage there, so I actually won."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That’s why she actually respects Mai and Ty Lee, even though they aren’t benders. They can beat benders without relying on bending, and Azula only respects strength."

Katara was quiet for a long moment. The idea of Azula—someone who had always seemed untouchable—being beaten by Zuko of all people was something she never imagined.

Toph smirked. "So you’re telling me Azula got her butt kicked by some swords? That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day."

Sokka scratched his chin. "You know… that actually makes a lot of sense. Azula always acts like bending is everything, but she does treat Mai and Ty Lee like equals. Guess it’s because they can take her down if they really tried."

Aang was still processing. "That’s… actually kind of sad," he said. "She only respects people who can fight her?"

Zuko shrugged. "It’s how she was raised." His voice was flat, like it wasn’t worth talking about.

Katara studied him, then sighed, her anger cooling just a little more. "I still don’t trust you completely," she admitted. "But… I get it now."

Zuko nodded. That was more than he had expected.

Chit Sang grinned and clapped Zuko on the back. "That’s our prince. Kicking butt and proving points."

Zuko rolled his eyes but didn’t push him away. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged.

Chapter Text

That night, as the fire crackled softly, Hakoda approached Zuko. His expression was no longer wary or suspicious—just thoughtful.

"You’ve been through a lot," Hakoda said after a long pause. "More than I ever realized."

Zuko, poking at the fire with a stick, didn’t look up. "Yeah." He didn’t say it for pity. It was just a fact.

Hakoda sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I misjudged you, Zuko. I was so focused on protecting my kids, on making sure they were safe, that I didn’t stop to think that maybe you needed protecting too."

Zuko blinked, caught off guard by the words. "I… don’t need protection." His voice was quiet, but it lacked its usual sharp edge.

Hakoda smiled slightly. "I think we all need it, in some way or another."

Zuko didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nodded.

Not far away, Katara sat beside Sokka, watching them. She had spent so long holding onto her anger, to the hurt and rage from what the Fire Nation had taken from her. But looking at Zuko now, she saw someone who had been hurt just as much—maybe even more.

She took a deep breath, then stood up and walked over.

Zuko glanced at her warily as she sat down beside him.

Katara hesitated for a moment, then held out a water pouch. "For your arm," she said, nodding to the scrape she had given him during their fight.

Zuko hesitated, then took it. "Thanks."

Katara watched as he poured a little water onto the wound, letting it cool the burn. She folded her arms and looked at him seriously. "I was wrong about you."

Zuko looked at her, surprised.

She sighed. "You’re still a jerk sometimes, but… I trust you now."

Zuko’s throat felt tight. He hadn’t realized how much he had wanted to hear that until now. He gave her a small nod. "Thanks."

Katara smirked. "Don’t make me regret it, Sparky."

Toph cackled from the side. "Took you long enough, Sugar Queen!"

The Gaang laughed, and for the first time in a long time, Zuko felt like he was truly one of them.

The Gaang, along with Hakoda and Chit Sang, made their way into a nearby Earth Kingdom town to gather supplies. The town was bustling with traders, travelers, and merchants, but there was also an underlying tension in the air. Soldiers from the Fire Nation occupied the marketplace, their red and black armor standing out among the earthy tones of the town’s buildings.

“We should keep a low profile,” Hakoda warned as they stepped onto the main street. “We don’t want to start trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toph said, stretching her arms. “We’ll be real sneaky.”

Zuko, however, kept his head down and pulled his hood up. He had learned the hard way that his face was recognizable, even without his royal regalia.

As they split up to gather supplies, things were going smoothly at first. Sokka haggled with a merchant over dried meat, Aang admired an old map at a book stall, and Toph was already sneaking extra fruit into their bag without paying.

Then, the trouble started.

A commotion near the blacksmith’s shop caught their attention. A group of Fire Nation soldiers had cornered an elderly man, shoving him back against a wall.

"You think you can just sell weapons to anyone? That blade has Fire Nation markings!" one of the soldiers growled, snatching a sword from the man's hands.

"I only repair weapons! I didn’t know who it belonged to!" the old man protested.

Zuko tensed. He knew this routine—soldiers abusing their authority, terrorizing people because they could. His hands clenched into fists, but before he could act, Chit Sang stepped in.

"Hey," Chit Sang called out, strolling toward the soldiers like he had all the authority in the world. "What’s the big deal? Maybe the guy’s just running a business."

The soldiers turned to glare at him. "This doesn’t concern you, citizen. Move along."

Chit Sang smirked. "Oh, it concerns me if I don’t like what I’m seeing."

One of the soldiers stepped closer, ready to intimidate him. "Watch yourself, unless you want trouble—"

Zuko, still hooded, was suddenly at Chit Sang’s side. "He said to leave the man alone."

The soldier sneered. "And who do you think you—"

Then Zuko’s hood slipped back slightly, revealing his scar.

The soldier’s face paled. "P-Prince Zuko?"

The group went dead silent. Sokka let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh, great."

Aang sighed. "So much for keeping a low profile."

The soldiers hesitated, unsure of what to do. Their last orders had been to consider Zuko a traitor, but here he was, standing in front of them.

Before they could react further, the lead soldier suddenly snarled. "Traitor! You dare show your face here?"

The fight broke out instantly.

The soldiers lunged, and Zuko barely had time to pull his swords free before deflecting a spear aimed at his chest. Chit Sang grabbed one of the soldiers and threw him into a cart of cabbages (earning a loud "MY CABBAGES!" from a disgruntled merchant).

Toph stomped her foot, sending the earth beneath another soldier’s feet into an unsteady tremor. He yelped as he collapsed into a pile of flour sacks.

Katara flicked her wrist, water from a nearby barrel snapping out in a sharp arc to freeze another soldier’s legs in place.

Aang, trying to minimize the damage, sent a gust of wind that sent two soldiers stumbling backward. "Can we not destroy the whole town this time?" he called out.

Sokka grinned as he swung his boomerang. "No promises!"

Zuko, now fully engaged in battle, spun with his swords, deflecting attacks with practiced ease. Despite being outnumbered, the Gaang was clearly winning.

Hakoda, having grabbed a staff from a nearby cart, whacked a soldier on the back of the legs, sending him crashing down. "You’re getting slow," he muttered, shaking his head.

Within minutes, the soldiers were either unconscious or too groggy to fight back. The town’s people, who had been watching anxiously, now started to cheer.

The old blacksmith approached Zuko hesitantly. "Thank you… Prince Zuko."

Zuko flinched at the title but nodded. "It’s just Zuko."

As the Gaang gathered themselves, Sokka sighed. "So much for keeping a low profile."

Aang scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… we should probably leave before more show up."

"Agreed," Hakoda said, eyeing Zuko thoughtfully.

As they quickly gathered their supplies and made their exit, Zuko couldn’t help but notice the way Hakoda looked at him—like he was seeing him in a different light.

Chapter Text

As the Gaang entered the town again, the uneasy feeling in the air returned. The streets were too quiet, and before they could react, trouble found them. A group of Fire Nation enforcers, mixed with local thugs, emerged from the alleyways, surrounding them.

“Well,” Sokka muttered, “I guess they didn’t appreciate us crashing their party last time.”

Aang shifted into a defensive stance. Katara’s hands hovered near her water pouch. Toph cracked her knuckles.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way,” Chit Sang said, rolling his shoulders.

Zuko’s eyes scanned the scene, his mind racing. There were too many of them to fight conventionally, and if they stalled too long, reinforcements would come. He took a deep breath, then turned to Chit Sang.

“Pray to Agni for lightning,” Zuko commanded.

Chit Sang blinked. “What?”

“Do it. Now.”

Chit Sang wasn’t the praying type, but something in Zuko’s voice made him hesitate before closing his eyes and whispering a quick, hasty prayer to Agni.

The sky, already dark with heavy clouds, rumbled ominously. A strong gust of wind blew through the streets. The enforcers hesitated, glancing upward as an eerie energy crackled in the air.

Then, in a blinding flash, a bolt of lightning struck—hitting Zuko.

“ZUKO!” Aang and Katara screamed.

The Gaang watched, frozen in shock, as Zuko’s entire body crackled with raw electricity. But instead of collapsing, his movements were deliberate, controlled. His muscles strained as he directed the lightning downward—not into the ground, but into the twin swords he now held in his hands.

The metal blades sang as they became conduits of pure energy, glowing white-hot with redirected lightning.

Before their enemies could react, Zuko moved.

He became a blur, cutting through the ranks with electrified slashes. Every strike sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Those who weren’t hit directly staggered back, blinded and disoriented by the sheer force of the redirected lightning. Sparks danced along the ground with each movement of his swords.

Within seconds, the fight was over. The enforcers and thugs lay defeated, some twitching from the residual electricity, others too dazed to stand.

The Gaang stood there, utterly flabbergasted.

Toph was the first to break the silence. “Okay, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Sokka’s jaw hung open. “Did he just—did you just—WHAT?!”

Katara looked between Zuko and the unconscious enemies, her mind struggling to catch up. “You redirected lightning… into your swords?”

Aang was wide-eyed. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Chit Sang whistled. “Remind me to listen when you tell me to pray.”

Zuko, breathing heavily, sheathed his swords. “Let’s go before more show up.”

Nobody argued. They followed Zuko back toward the temple, still stunned into silence.

Sokka finally spoke as they walked. “Okay. But seriously. WHAT?”

As they made their way back to the Western Air Temple, Chit Sang couldn’t help but voice the question on everyone’s mind. “How did you know that would happen, Zuko?”

Zuko kept his gaze forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “I take my faith seriously,” he replied, his tone more serious than casual. “Agni has always been a part of my training. Redirecting lightning is a skill that Firebenders can learn, but it requires a deep connection to the spirit of fire.”

Sokka glanced at Zuko, still in awe. “So you’re saying you just knew you could do that?”

Zuko shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice with fire—both good and bad. It’s not just about power; it’s about understanding.”

Aang, ever the easy-going one, chimed in with a smile, “Agni is real, you know. The spirits of fire are powerful.”

Katara and Sokka halted in their tracks, both turning to stare at Aang with wide eyes.

“What do you mean, Agni is real?” Katara exclaimed, her hands on her hips.

Aang shrugged, still casual. “I mean, I’ve met fire spirits before. They’re not just myths. If Zuko says he has faith in Agni, I believe him.”

Sokka shook his head in disbelief. “So you’re telling me that our friend here can pray to an actual god of fire, and it answers back? That’s… a lot to process.”

Zuko felt a warmth in his chest at Aang’s words, though he tried not to show it. “It’s not like that,” he said, trying to deflect. “I didn’t pray for anything. I just used what I learned.”

“But you believed it would work,” Chit Sang pointed out, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Faith isn’t just about expecting answers,” Zuko explained, looking at his friends. “It’s about believing in your strength, too.”

Katara’s expression softened. “That was incredibly brave, Zuko. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

Zuko glanced away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I just wanted to protect you all.”

Sokka, trying to lighten the mood, grinned. “Well, as long as we’re not talking about your cooking skills, I think we’re safe.”

The tension eased, laughter breaking the seriousness of the moment. Zuko couldn’t help but smile, feeling more accepted within the group.

As they approached the temple, the atmosphere shifted to one of camaraderie and mutual respect. It felt like a new chapter was beginning for Zuko—one filled with trust, friendship, and a little less uncertainty.

“Let’s get back to the others,” Aang said, looking ahead. “I think we could all use a little celebration after today’s… epic showdown.”

Zuko nodded, feeling a surge of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was finally finding his place among the Gaang.

As they neared the temple, the conversation continued. Aang turned to Katara and Sokka, his expression curious.

"Why are you two so shocked that Agni exists?" Aang asked, his voice light but thoughtful. "I mean, you’ve met Tui and La, the spirits of the Moon and Ocean, right? Why should Agni be any different?"

Katara blinked, taken aback by the question. "Well, Tui and La are… different. They're spirits we saw during our time in the Northern Water Tribe." She paused, frowning slightly. "But we’ve never really seen a fire god."

Sokka crossed his arms, still processing everything that had happened. "Yeah, I mean, fire spirits? That’s a lot to wrap your head around." He gave Aang an incredulous look. "And what, you just casually know about all this fire stuff now?"

Aang shrugged, looking at Zuko with a grin. "Yeah, I know a bit. Kuzon used to take me to the Fire Nation’s Agni festivals sometimes."

Zuko’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You… you went to the Agni festivals?"

Aang nodded, his eyes distant as if recalling the memories. "Yeah. Kuzon and I were friends before I… left the Fire Nation." He grinned sheepishly. "He was always really into the whole spiritual culture thing, especially the Agni festival. I wasn’t that into it at first, but the festivals were pretty cool. A lot of dancing, singing, and honoring Agni."

Zuko blinked, processing the new information. He hadn’t expected Aang to have such close ties to Fire Nation culture, even before he left. It was a side of Aang he hadn’t seen before. "I didn’t know Kuzon was into that stuff."

Aang smiled, remembering his old friend. "Yeah, he was a big believer in the spiritual side of things. He even taught me a few firebending forms from his old master. It was actually kind of fun."

Zuko chuckled softly at the thought. "You learned firebending from Kuzon? He must’ve had some interesting ideas."

"Hey, he was really into it," Aang said with a laugh. "He always wanted to get better at everything, even firebending."

Katara shook her head in amusement, but there was still a hint of disbelief in her voice. "I still don’t understand how you could just accept all of this so easily. Agni, the fire spirits… everything. It’s hard for me to just… believe."

Zuko looked at her, his expression softening. "I get it. I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out what I believe, too." His voice grew quieter, more reflective. "For me, it’s not just about fire. It’s about where it comes from—why it exists, and how I can honor it. That’s something my father never taught me. But it’s something I’ve had to learn on my own."

Aang nodded thoughtfully, then his eyes brightened as he shifted the topic. "So, Zuko, what are you doing for the upcoming Agni Festival? It's not too far away, right?"

Zuko blinked, slightly taken off guard by the question. "The festival? Well, I haven't really thought about it. I haven't been to an Agni Festival since I was… well, since I was banished." His expression turned pensive. "The festivals were a big deal back home. Lots of family and ceremonial stuff, but after everything with my father… I don’t really celebrate anymore."

Aang smiled gently. "Well, maybe you can try again. It doesn’t have to be the same as it was. We can all do something together. It could be fun!"

Zuko’s eyes flickered with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. "Maybe…"

Katara smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I think it would be nice for all of us to be there, especially for you, Zuko. You deserve to feel connected to your culture, even after everything."

Sokka, grinning mischievously, added, "Yeah, and maybe we can finally get some good food at the festival. I mean, I’ve never had Fire Nation food that wasn’t terrible."

Zuko gave a small, almost imperceptible laugh. "You might be surprised. The Fire Nation’s food can be pretty amazing if you know where to go."

Aang looked at Zuko with excitement. "Well, let’s go together. I think it’d be a great way to connect with your roots, Zuko."

Zuko looked around at the Gaang, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with fire. For the first time in a long while, the idea of celebrating something as personal as the Agni Festival didn’t seem like an impossible concept.

Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to celebrate who he was—not just as the son of Fire Lord Ozai, but as Zuko, a person with his own path and his own beliefs. And with the Gaang by his side, it felt like it could be possible.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the temple, Aang, Chit Sang, and Zuko gathered in the corner of the large open space. They decided to set up an altar to Agni, a way to honor the Fire Nation’s spiritual roots and embrace Zuko's heritage.

Aang and Chit Sang worked together, gathering stones and arranging them in a circle. Zuko stood off to the side, watching them with a mix of nostalgia and determination. He felt a pull to his culture that had been absent for so long.

“Maybe we should add some candles,” Aang suggested, looking around for anything that could serve as offerings. “They can represent the fire and light that Agni brings.”

Chit Sang nodded, already searching for dried herbs and flowers that could add to the altar's beauty. “We can make it colorful. Fire is not just about destruction; it’s about life and warmth.”

Zuko stepped forward, his heart swelling with gratitude for the camaraderie surrounding him. “Thank you, both of you. This means a lot.”

Once the altar was complete, adorned with candles, flowers, and small stones representing the four elements, Zuko took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I want to do a fire dance for Agni,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s a way of honoring the fire and showing my respect.”

Aang and Chit Sang exchanged glances, understanding the significance of this moment. “Go for it,” Aang encouraged, stepping back to give Zuko space.

Zuko centered himself, focusing on the flickering candles and the vibrant altar. He began to move, allowing the rhythm of the fire to guide him. His body flowed gracefully through the space, embodying the spirit of fire itself—both fierce and fluid.

With each movement, flames danced along with him, responding to his inner energy. Zuko felt the connection deepen; he was no longer just a prince who had once been banished. He was a firebender, a son of Agni, embracing his heritage.

Chit Sang watched with admiration, his heart swelling with pride for his friend. Aang clapped his hands in rhythm, joining in with Zuko’s dance in spirit. The atmosphere around them crackled with energy, filled with warmth and acceptance.

As Zuko spun and twirled, the firelight reflected in his eyes, illuminating the scars of his past and the hope for his future. He was surrounded by friends who saw him not just for his past mistakes but for who he was becoming.

When he finished, breathless and exhilarated, Aang and Chit Sang erupted into cheers.

“Wow, Zuko! That was amazing!” Aang exclaimed, his eyes shining with awe.

Chit Sang stepped forward, his voice steady and sincere. “You’ve honored Agni well. Your passion burns brightly.”

Zuko’s chest swelled with pride as he looked at his friends. “Thank you. This feels… freeing. I want to keep honoring my past while moving forward.”

Aang nodded enthusiastically. “And we’re here to support you, Zuko. This is just the beginning!”

As they stood around the altar, Zuko realized that he was finally beginning to understand what it meant to belong—not just to a family or a nation, but to a group of people who accepted him wholly, fire and all.

Chapter Text

As the Gaang made their way through the bustling marketplace, the scent of roasted meat and fresh fruit filled the air. Vendors called out, advertising their goods, and townsfolk bustled past, too caught up in their own lives to pay much attention to the group. Zuko, as usual, kept his hood up, wary of drawing unwanted attention.

Chit Sang was casually scanning the crowd when his eyes suddenly widened. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

From across the marketplace, a grizzled, battle-worn man with a thick beard and a weathered expression was staring at them. He wore the faded uniform of a Fire Nation officer, though it had clearly seen better days. Recognition flashed in his dark eyes before he strode forward.

"Lieutenant Jee?" Zuko said, his voice laced with shock.

Jee crossed his arms, his gaze flicking between Zuko and Chit Sang before settling on the latter. "Chit Sang. Didn't expect to see you out here."

Chit Sang grinned, stepping forward to clasp Jee’s arm in a firm handshake. "Same to you, old man. I thought you’d still be drinking your weight in Fire Whiskey somewhere."

Jee snorted. "I could say the same about you. But instead, you’re running with the prince now?" He turned to Zuko, his expression unreadable. "Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, kid."

Zuko stiffened at first but then gave a nod. "Yeah. It’s been a long road since my ship."

Jee studied him for a moment before sighing. "Heard rumors you switched sides. Didn’t believe ‘em at first." He then smirked slightly. "Guess you always were full of surprises."

The rest of the Gaang, having no idea who this man was, exchanged wary glances. Sokka leaned toward Aang. "Who the heck is this guy?"

Before Aang could answer, Chit Sang clapped Jee on the back. "Jee was in the 41st division before he got assigned to the prince’s ship. He’s seen his fair share of battles."

At that, Katara tensed. "So, he was hunting us too?"

Jee let out a dry chuckle. "Hunting? More like babysitting a brooding teenager with anger issues." He glanced at Zuko. "No offense, kid."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "None taken."

Aang, ever the peacemaker, grinned. "Well, if you were on Zuko’s crew, that means you must have some wild stories!"

Jee smirked. "Oh, you have no idea."

Chit Sang grinned. "Come on, let’s catch up. Drinks on me."

Jee let out a hearty laugh. "Now you’re speaking my language."

As they walked toward a quieter corner of town, Zuko couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia. Seeing Jee again reminded him of his old life, but for once, it didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like another piece of his past he was finally making peace with.

The tavern was dimly lit, the scent of cheap ale and roasted meat filling the air. It was a place where weary travelers and off-duty soldiers gathered, swapping stories and drowning their troubles in strong drink. The Gaang sat at a table in the background, keeping a cautious eye on their Fire Nation companions, while Chit Sang and Jee leaned against the bar, reminiscing over mugs of warm sake.

Jee took a long sip before setting his cup down with a satisfied sigh. "Didn’t think I’d ever see another soul from the 41st out in the wild. Figured most of us were either locked up or buried by now."

Chit Sang chuckled. "Yeah, well, some of us got lucky. Some of us got really lucky." He nudged his head toward Zuko, who was sitting a few seats away, quietly nursing a cup of tea. "Wouldn't be standing here if it weren’t for him."

Jee followed his gaze, his expression unreadable. "So, it’s true then? You switched sides for the prince?"

Chit Sang shrugged. "Wasn’t exactly a hard choice. Kid took a bolt of lightning for me. Saved my ass more than once. Ain’t exactly something you forget."

Jee scoffed and shook his head. "You know, back when we were stuck on that rust bucket of a ship, I used to think he was just another spoiled royal—stubborn, hotheaded, always getting into trouble." He paused, glancing over at Zuko again. "But I’ll be damned. He turned out different."

Chit Sang smirked. "Yeah, he’s still stubborn and hotheaded. Just… in a better way."

Jee let out a rough laugh. "Guess some things never change." He turned fully toward Zuko now, raising his mug in his direction. "Hey, Prince Zuko."

Zuko blinked, looking up from his tea.

Jee gave him a nod. "Glad to see you’re still standing."

Zuko hesitated for a moment, then offered a small nod in return. "Glad to see you too, Jee."

From the background, Sokka leaned toward Katara and Aang, whispering, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that Zuko apparently has this secret army of dudes who are ride-or-die for him?"

Katara sighed. "Honestly, at this point, I'm not even surprised."

Toph grinned. "I like this guy. He’s got a good vibe."

Aang just smiled, watching as Zuko—once their enemy, now their friend—sat among people who, despite their rough exteriors, had always seen more in him than just a scarred prince.

Hakoda pulled up a stool next to Zuko, his expression neutral but observant. He had been quietly listening from the background, trying to piece together Zuko’s past through the fragmented stories between Chit Sang and Jee. Now, as the conversation grew more serious, he decided to join in.

Jee took another sip of his drink before turning to Zuko. “So… where’s the old man?”

Zuko tensed for just a moment before responding. “I don’t know,” he admitted, staring into his tea. “The last time I saw him was Day of Black Sun. He left me a note before he disappeared.” His grip tightened around the cup. “I think he wanted me to find my own way.”

Jee exhaled through his nose, nodding as if he expected that answer. “That sounds like him,” he muttered. “Always had a way of making things harder than they needed to be.”

Zuko didn’t answer, but his shoulders relaxed slightly at Jee’s understanding tone.

After a beat of silence, Zuko looked back up at Jee. “How many of the 41st are still around here?”

Jee scratched at his beard, thinking. “Not sure about exact numbers. The old crew got scattered after things started going south. Some went underground, some just blended in with the colonies. But if you’re asking whether they’d be willing to answer if you called?” He took a slow sip of his drink before nodding. “Yeah. They would.”

Zuko blinked, clearly taken aback. “Why?”

Jee gave him a look like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Because you fought for us when no one else did.” He glanced at Chit Sang, who nodded in agreement. “You burned for us. You took the punishment meant for a whole division. That kind of thing? It sticks with people.”

Chit Sang grinned and clapped Zuko on the back, nearly knocking him into the bar. “See, kid? Told you you’ve got people.”

Zuko looked down at his tea, processing that. He had spent so much of his life feeling alone, believing that his honor was something he had to chase, something only his father could grant him. But now, sitting among former enemies and old crewmates, he realized something else—he had earned a different kind of honor. One that no one could take away from him.

Hakoda, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “So let me get this straight,” he said, folding his arms. “You have an entire division of Fire Nation soldiers who are loyal to you?”

Jee smirked. “Not just loyal. If the prince told them to jump, they’d ask how high.”

Hakoda’s gaze flickered to Zuko, appraising. “Huh,” he mused. “Interesting.”

Zuko sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m not trying to start an army, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hakoda chuckled. “No, I wasn’t thinking that.” He took a sip of his drink before giving Zuko a knowing look. “But it’s always good to know who’s willing to fight for you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The courtyard was packed as the Gaang, Hakoda, and the entire 41st Division gathered to watch Zuko and Aang spar. The tension in the air crackled with excitement, soldiers murmuring amongst themselves as they anticipated the match. It wasn’t every day that they got to witness the Fire Prince and the Avatar go head-to-head.

Aang bounced on his feet, twirling his staff in his hands. “You ready for this, Zuko?” he asked, grinning.

Zuko smirked, rolling his shoulders as he took his stance. “I should be asking you that.”

Chit Sang chuckled from the sidelines. “Commander’s got confidence. I like it.”

Hakoda folded his arms, watching carefully. “This should be interesting.”

The match began in a blur of motion. Aang darted forward, fire swirling around his hands, while Zuko met him head-on, countering with precision. Flames clashed in midair, orange and gold at first—until something changed.

The fire shifted.

Brilliant colors exploded in the air as Aang and Zuko’s flames transformed into vibrant blues, greens, purples, and reds—living proof of their encounter with the last living dragons. Gasps echoed through the crowd as the soldiers and the Gaang stared in awe.

“What the—?” Sokka gaped. “Are those rainbow flames?”

“They learned it from the dragons,” Toph said smugly. “You know, when they didn’t die in that ancient firebending trial.”

The soldiers of the 41st murmured in shock, some exchanging glances of disbelief. Seeing firebending that wasn’t destructive but instead beautiful and full of life was… unheard of.

Zuko spun mid-air, launching a sweeping arc of blue and green fire, while Aang countered with a spiraling blast of red and violet flames. Their movements were like a dance—perfectly in sync, both testing and respecting each other’s strength.

Katara, despite herself, was mesmerized. This wasn’t the violent, aggressive firebending she had always feared. This was something else—something alive, something graceful.

Hakoda watched in silence, his expression unreadable.

Then, with one final strike, Zuko and Aang clashed in the center of the courtyard, their flames swirling together in a radiant burst before vanishing into the air.

Breathing heavily, Aang grinned. “That was amazing.”

Zuko nodded, exhaling as he relaxed his stance. “Yeah. It was.”

Silence lingered for a moment before the entire 41st Division erupted into cheers.

“Commander, that was incredible!”

“Did you see those flames? I didn’t even know fire could do that!”

Chit Sang let out a low whistle. “Guess we’re following a guy who learned from dragons themselves.”

Hakoda, still watching Zuko closely, finally spoke. “I’ve seen many firebenders in my life. But I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Zuko looked at him for a moment, then simply said, “Fire doesn’t have to destroy.”

Hakoda didn’t reply right away. But after a moment, he gave a small nod of approval.

The Gaang exchanged glances. Whether they realized it or not, Zuko’s firebending had just earned him something greater than respect—it had solidified his place among them.

The Gaang, Zuko, Hakoda, and the 41st Division gathered around a large map of the Fire Nation capital, spread out on the temple floor. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over their determined faces.

Sokka tapped his chin, deep in thought. "So, just to recap—our main goal is to take down Ozai before Sozin’s Comet. We can’t just storm the front gates; that’s suicide. We need another way in.”

Zuko traced a path along the map with his finger. “The abandoned sewer tunnels beneath Caldera City.”

Katara wrinkled her nose. “Sewer tunnels? That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, but it’s effective,” Toph said, smirking. “No one expects an invasion to come crawling out of the sewer.”

Aang looked over the map, thoughtful. “Are they big enough for all of us?”

Zuko nodded. “They were built centuries ago, but they’re still intact. They run beneath the palace and connect to several key locations in the city. If we use them, we can get inside undetected.”

Hakoda studied the map, frowning. “Do the Fire Nation still use them?”

“No,” Zuko answered. “After the royal waste system was modernized, the tunnels were abandoned. Most people don’t even know they exist anymore. I found them when I was younger, sneaking out of the palace.”

Sokka pointed at a section of the map. “So, we get in through the tunnels, sneak into the palace, and take down Ozai before anyone knows we’re there.”

Chit Sang crossed his arms. “What about the guards? The Fire Lord’s chamber isn’t going to be unprotected.”

Zuko exhaled. “We’ll have to split into teams. One team goes after Ozai, while the others create a distraction.”

Hakoda nodded. “A small strike team should go after Ozai—too many people will make us easier to spot. The rest of us can stage an attack on the main gate. It’ll make it look like we’re coming from the front while the real fight happens inside.”

Aang looked around the group. “That means we need people who can take on the Fire Lord directly.”

Everyone turned to Zuko.

Zuko’s expression didn’t waver. “I’m going.”

Katara crossed her arms. “So am I.”

Aang straightened his back. “Me too.”

Sokka sighed. “Well, I guess I have to come. Someone’s gotta make sure you guys don’t die.”

Toph smirked. “I’d like to see Fire Lord Hotpants try to fight me. I’m in.”

Hakoda nodded approvingly. “Then Chit Sang, the 41st, and I will handle the distraction.”

Zuko looked down at the map, his golden eyes dark with thought. He had once imagined taking down Ozai alone. But now, he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Alright,” he said, looking up. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

As the invasion began, the 41st Division stormed the main gates of Caldera City, drawing the attention of the Fire Nation forces. Explosions and battle cries echoed through the streets, providing the perfect distraction. Meanwhile, the Gaang and their strike team slipped into the abandoned sewer tunnels, navigating the dark, damp passageways toward the palace.

Above ground, Chit Sang stood among the warriors, his fists crackling with fire as he fought off Fire Nation soldiers. But as the battle raged, he turned his gaze to the stormy sky above. He remembered Zuko’s words: Pray for lightning.

Closing his eyes, Chit Sang raised his hands to the heavens and whispered a prayer to Agni. The air grew heavy with tension, the clouds swirling with energy. Then, with a deafening crack, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, striking Zuko.

Gasps rang out from both allies and enemies, but Zuko stood firm, his body absorbing the raw power of the strike. The moment seemed frozen in time. Then, with a steady breath, he channeled the energy down his arms, into his twin swords. The metal gleamed as lightning crackled along the blades.

Zuko’s golden eyes burned with determination. He exhaled, releasing a stream of fire—not ordinary flames, but brilliant rainbow fire, shimmering with blues, greens, and purples, the mark of true mastery.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment. Fire Nation soldiers hesitated, some stepping back in fear.

Then, with a single, decisive motion, Zuko lunged forward, lightning surging through his swords as he cut through the enemy ranks like a storm given form. His rainbow fire illuminated the battlefield, a beacon of something greater than mere firebending—proof of his connection to the dragons, to Agni, to something beyond the Fire Nation’s rigid traditions.

Chit Sang grinned, cracking his knuckles. “That’s my prince.”

The invasion had truly begun.

As the battle raged on, Hakoda fought alongside the 41st Division, striking down enemy soldiers with precision. But as the fight continued, he started to notice something unsettling—the 41st didn’t just fight to win. They fought to eliminate.

The soldiers moved with deadly efficiency, showing no hesitation, no mercy. Every strike was precise, every attack designed to incapacitate or kill. The Fire Nation soldiers they faced were not given the chance to retreat or surrender. The 41st overwhelmed them with sheer brutality.

Hakoda watched as one soldier, backed into a corner, dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender—only for a 41st soldier to cut him down without hesitation.

A pit formed in Hakoda’s stomach. This wasn’t the way his warriors fought. Even in war, there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. He turned to Zuko, who stood at the frontlines, blades crackling with residual lightning.

“Zuko,” Hakoda called, stepping closer. “Your soldiers… they’re ruthless.”

Zuko didn’t look at him as he parried an incoming strike, twisting his body to knock an enemy unconscious with the hilt of his sword. “Of course they are,” he said simply.

Hakoda frowned. “This isn’t just a well-trained unit. This is something else entirely.”

Zuko finally turned to him, eyes sharp and unreadable. “The 41st isn’t just another division,” he admitted. “It’s the deadliest force in the entire Fire Nation military.”

Hakoda’s grip tightened on his sword. “Why?”

Zuko exhaled, his breath forming a brief wisp of steam in the cool night air. “Because Iroh and I trained them ourselves.”

Hakoda’s heart skipped a beat. He had always respected Iroh, the Dragon of the West, for turning against the Fire Nation’s war machine. But to hear that he and Zuko had created the deadliest force in the military was staggering.

Zuko continued, his voice low and measured. “Iroh shaped them with his battlefield experience. He taught them strategy, endurance, and how to fight like an army of dragons. I… I made them relentless. Fire Lord Ozai’s court called me weak, but on the battlefield? I turned that weakness into strength. I trained them to be the best. And they are.”

Hakoda looked back at the 41st, watching how they cut through their enemies without remorse. It was clear now—this division had been shaped into something more than soldiers. They were weapons, honed to perfection.

Hakoda faced Zuko again, something unreadable in his eyes. “And now?” he asked carefully. “Do they still answer to you?”

Zuko nodded. “They always have.” He glanced at the battlefield, his expression hardening. “But they follow my orders. And I won’t let them go too far.”

Hakoda wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the division’s brutality or the unwavering loyalty they had for Zuko. Either way, the tides of war had shifted, and Hakoda wasn’t certain what kind of warriors they would all be by the end of it.

As the battle against Fire Lord Ozai reached its peak, the Gaang stood together at the gates of the Fire Nation Royal Palace. The sky above was darkened by thick storm clouds, the distant rumble of thunder echoing across the battlefield. Lightning flashed, illuminating the burning city below.

Aang stepped forward, air swirling around him as he took the lead. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with determination. "This ends today," he said firmly.

Ozai stood at the top of the palace steps, his golden armor gleaming in the firelight. His presence alone radiated power, his piercing gaze locking onto Aang. "You dare challenge me, boy?" he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "You think you can defeat the Phoenix King?"

Zuko stepped up beside Aang, swords drawn, flames flickering at his fingertips. "You're not a king," Zuko said coldly. "You're just a tyrant who’s afraid of losing his power."

Ozai's eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his hands, a wall of fire erupted between them. "Then let’s see if you’ve learned anything since the last time you stood before me, Zuko."

The Gaang sprang into action. Aang surged forward, bending the wind around him to leap over the flames. He met Ozai’s attack head-on, redirecting a blast of fire with swift, practiced movements.

Zuko moved in tandem with Aang, ducking and weaving between strikes, using his swords to parry fire blasts. Every step he took was precise—no longer the uncertain prince he once was, but a warrior with purpose.

Toph stomped her foot, sending pillars of stone erupting from the palace floor, trying to corner Ozai. Sokka and Suki worked together, striking from the flanks, using quick movements to keep Ozai from focusing on Aang.

Katara lashed out with water whips, freezing the air around Ozai’s feet to limit his movement. "You’re not unstoppable," she said, voice filled with defiance. "You’re just another man who thinks he’s above everyone else."

Ozai roared in fury, unleashing a wave of fire in all directions. But Aang, with a deep breath, centered himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment—then opened them again, glowing with the power of the Avatar State.

Wind, water, earth, and fire swirled around Aang in perfect harmony. He stepped forward, each movement precise, controlled. Ozai launched another fire blast, but Aang caught it effortlessly, twisting it into nothingness.

"You have no power over me, Ozai," Aang declared. His voice was steady, filled with something undeniable—authority.

For the first time, Ozai faltered.

The Gaang pressed on, each fighting with everything they had. But in the end, it was Aang who stood before Ozai, his glowing eyes meeting the Fire Lord’s own fearful gaze.

And with a final breath, Aang made his choice.

As Aang hovered above the battlefield, glowing with the overwhelming power of the Avatar State, the elements swirled around him—fire, water, earth, and air dancing in perfect harmony. The storm above raged, lightning flashing across the sky as if the world itself was watching the final battle unfold.

Ozai, once the most feared man in the world, was on his knees, panting heavily. His golden armor was scorched, his once-proud stance reduced to a desperate crouch. He glared up at Aang with fury, but behind his rage, there was something else—fear.

"You think you’ve won, boy?" Ozai snarled, his voice hoarse. "I am the Phoenix King! You can't stop me!"

Aang looked down at him, his expression unreadable, his entire being glowing with cosmic energy. The wind around him howled, the air thick with raw power. But as he hovered over Ozai, something changed. The fury of the Avatar State steadied into something calmer, more deliberate.

"I won't end your life," Aang said, his voice resonating with the wisdom of past Avatars. "But I will end your reign."

With that, Aang stepped forward, placing his hands firmly on Ozai’s chest and forehead. The energy around him intensified, and golden light poured from his fingertips, surrounding Ozai’s body.

Ozai screamed as the power surged through him, his firebending resisting, struggling to remain. His eyes widened in horror as he felt his own strength being ripped away from him, his connection to fire severed at its very core.

The Gaang stood frozen, watching in awe. Zuko’s grip tightened around his swords as he watched his father—the man who had terrorized him his entire life—reduced to nothing. Katara and Sokka exchanged stunned glances, while Toph could feel the vibrations of Ozai's struggle fade, his once-powerful presence becoming weak and hollow.

Aang’s glow dimmed, and as he stepped back, Ozai collapsed onto the stone floor. The once-mighty Fire Lord gasped for breath, his body shaking. He raised a trembling hand, trying to summon fire—only for nothing to happen.

His bending was gone.

Ozai stared at his empty hands, realization setting in. "No... no, this isn't possible!" He looked up at Aang with something akin to terror. "What have you done to me?!"

"I took away your firebending," Aang said solemnly. "You don’t deserve its power."

Silence stretched between them, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. The war was over. Ozai had been defeated.

The Gaang slowly stepped forward, taking in the sight. Zuko, still breathing heavily from the battle, locked eyes with his father. But there was no triumph in his expression—only quiet understanding.

"It’s over," Zuko said, his voice steady.

Ozai said nothing. He simply knelt there, powerless, as the storm above finally began to clear.

As the storm clouds cleared and the first rays of sunlight bathed the ruined Caldera, people gathered in the city square—Fire Nation civilians, soldiers of the 41st Division, and the Gaang standing together. The weight of the war’s end hung in the air, thick with exhaustion, relief, and uncertainty about what came next.

Aang and Zuko stepped forward, standing before the crowd. Aang, still radiating the quiet energy of the Avatar, looked out at the people—the same people who had lived under Ozai’s rule, some of whom had fought for him, others who had simply endured. Zuko, standing beside him, was no longer the outcast prince or the banished son. He was something new, something stronger.

Aang took a deep breath and spoke first, his voice carrying through the square.

"This war has hurt all of us," he began. "For a hundred years, the world has suffered—nations divided, families torn apart, lives lost. But today, it ends. Today, we begin something new."

He looked at the people, seeing their exhaustion, their fear, and their hope. "The Fire Nation is not evil. Your bending is not evil. What made this war happen wasn’t fire—it was hate. And hate is something we can choose to let go."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some of the Fire Nation soldiers looked uneasy, others thoughtful. The civilians listened, their faces unreadable.

Zuko stepped forward, his golden eyes steady. "I grew up believing my nation was meant to rule the world," he admitted. "That it was our destiny to spread our power, no matter the cost. I was wrong. My father was wrong." He let the words settle. "But that doesn’t mean the Fire Nation can’t be great. It just means we have to find a new path—one built on honor, not conquest."

Zuko scanned the crowd, his gaze locking onto the members of the 41st Division—his soldiers, his family. "We fought because we were told it was the only way. We were raised to believe strength meant control. But real strength isn’t about taking—it’s about protecting. It’s about standing together, even when it’s hard."

He looked toward Aang, then back to the people. "The world doesn’t need rulers. It needs balance. And that’s what we’re going to build. Together."

A heavy silence followed, then—applause. It started small, hesitant, then grew. The division saluted Zuko in unison, and some civilians cheered. Others still looked uncertain, but for the first time in a century, there was a glimmer of hope.

Aang smiled softly. Zuko exhaled, feeling the weight of his words settle over him.

This was only the beginning. But for the first time, the Fire Nation was ready to listen.

In the days following the battle, Zuko settled into the Fire Nation palace, the weight of his new title pressing heavily on his shoulders. The grand halls, once filled with the oppressive presence of Ozai, now felt eerily empty. The palace staff moved around him cautiously, their eyes wary, their movements stiff with uncertainty.

He could hear the whispers—servants murmuring behind doors, guards exchanging uneasy glances. They didn’t know what kind of ruler he would be. Would he be like his father? Like his grandfather? Or something else entirely?

Zuko couldn’t blame them. He barely knew himself.

The only ones who didn’t hesitate around him were the 41st Division. They stood at their posts with quiet, unshakable loyalty, stationed at every entrance, lining the halls, guarding his chambers. They had fought for him in the war, and now they served as his personal bodyguards. Where the palace staff hesitated, the 41st moved with certainty.

Lieutenant Jee stood at his side, watching the wary servants with a knowing smirk. "They’ll come around," he told Zuko one evening as they walked through the halls. "They’re used to rulers who demand fear. You’re not what they expected."

Zuko sighed, rubbing his temples. "I don’t need them to be afraid of me. I just… I just want to do this right."

Jee shrugged. "Then give them time. And in the meantime, you’ve got us."

Chit Sang, who had been listening nearby, clapped Zuko on the back with a grin. "Yeah, Firelord. Don’t worry—we’ll scare ‘em into trusting you."

Zuko groaned. "That’s not how trust works."

Chit Sang smirked. "Eh, close enough."

As the days passed, Zuko tried to bridge the gap between himself and the palace staff. He took meals with them instead of alone in the grand dining hall. He asked their names, listened to their concerns. Slowly, the wariness in their eyes began to fade.

But it wasn’t just the staff he had to convince. The Fire Nation—his entire nation—was watching, waiting.

And Zuko was determined to prove he was worthy of the crown.

Determined to break the tension in the palace, Zuko took it upon himself to get to know the staff. It was awkward at first—servants would bow stiffly when he entered a room, avoiding his gaze, waiting for orders he never gave.

One morning, as he walked into the palace kitchens, the workers froze mid-task. The head chef, a stout woman named Madame Jia, tightened her grip on a ladle. "Firelord Zuko," she greeted, her voice carefully neutral. "Is something wrong with your meals?"

Zuko blinked. "No… I just wanted to see how everything works back here."

The kitchen was bustling—chefs chopping vegetables, boiling broth, kneading dough. The scents of roasted duck, jasmine rice, and spiced tea filled the air.

A younger cook, barely out of his teens, hesitated before asking, "You mean—you actually want to be here?"

Zuko crossed his arms. "Yeah. I used to cook for myself when I was traveling with the Avatar. I know how much work it takes." He paused before adding, "And I know it’s a thankless job. So… thank you."

A few chefs exchanged looks. Madame Jia eyed him suspiciously, then handed him a knife. "If you want to be here, then help chop these vegetables. Let’s see if the Firelord still remembers how to use a kitchen knife."

Zuko rolled up his sleeves and got to work. The staff watched warily at first, but as time passed, the tension eased. Someone made a joke about how slow he was compared to the rest of them, and Zuko shot back that at least he hadn’t burned anything yet. Laughter rippled through the kitchen.

After that, word spread.

Zuko made it a point to talk to the servants, the guards, the attendants. He learned their names, their families, their worries. He found out that one of the laundry attendants, Mei-Lan, was raising two younger brothers on her own. That one of the night guards, Ren, was the son of a soldier from the 41st division. That Madame Jia had been cooking in the palace for three generations.

Slowly, the wariness in the palace faded. The servants still bowed when he passed, but now they met his gaze. They greeted him with real smiles.

One evening, as he was walking back to his chambers, he overheard two maids whispering in the hallway.

“He’s nothing like Firelord Ozai,” one murmured.

“No,” the other agreed. “He’s better.”

Zuko exhaled a quiet breath of relief.

He was finally home.