Chapter Text
Aang tore around a corner of the dreary catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se. He was a child of the air. Even with Toph teaching him earthbending—begrudgingly, slowly—he would always belong to the sky first. He had tolerated the Lovers’ Cave because they had to. This place, he tolerated only because Appa might be here.
But they had to find Appa. They had to.
It angered Aang in a way few things did to think his air bison had been trapped down here—maybe for a long time. The Fire Nation was terrible, he knew that. But what the Dai Li were doing here felt just as wrong.
To trap an air bison beneath the earth was unforgivable.
Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized how far he’d pulled ahead of the others. Slowing his steps, he waited for them to catch up. The catacombs had opened slightly now, lined with doors upon doors and Aang wondered–
How many people did the Dai Li have imprisoned? How many had gone missing down here without anyone knowing? After what had happened to Jet, maybe even the prisoners didn’t know they were missing. Was the Joo Dee that had harassed them for weeks with her facsimile of a smile, so wide it looked like it hurt, somebody’s missing daughter? A mother? What had her crime been?
He could open the doors. He could free the people.
Peeking through the barred window of one cell, he saw a small figure washed in the putrid glow of the crystals.
“Hey? Are you okay?”
The figure inside did not respond. Did not even look up.
A chill ran down his spine. He blew the door open and ran, tearing down the tunnel and ripping doors from their hinges. These people couldn’t just be left here.
He was moving so fast, he barely saw the figure crouched over a lock before he barreled into them.
The Blue Spirit glowered at him.
“Zuko?”
“Avatar,” Zuko said, pushing up his mask. His mouth was pinched, his right brow drawn into a scowl. Locking tools lay scattered at his feet, reflecting the dull, putrid light of the crystals. He scooped to pick them up.
“What are you doing here?” Zuko demanded from the ground.
“Freeing all these people. What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for—” Zuko trailed off. “I saw your flyer. I thought I knew where Ap—the sky bison—might be.”
“What were you going to do with him?” Aang dropped into a fighting stance.
“I was going to figure that out,” Zuko snapped.
“You broke into the Dai Li chambers to find Appa and didn’t even know what you were going to do with him?”
Aang wasn’t the best planner, but he was surprised that Zuko—who had hassled them across the world—was this bad at it.
Then again, he’d have been dead at the North Pole if not for Aang. Zuko’s grand plan there had been to steal his body and run across a glacier in a blizzard.
Belatedly, Aang realized Zuko’s entire worldview amounted to figure it out later.
Zuko scowled.
“So, you think he’s in here?”
“No—but.” He pointed. “There’s sunlight coming into this room. That seemed… odd.” Zuko sounded very young and uncertain.
Aang peered through the bars and saw Zuko was right. A pool of sunlight cut across the room. A body lay curled in the beam, like a pygmy cat.
Aang created a vacuum, pulling the door off its hinges like he’d done with the others. There was a sharp drop in pressure and a heavy thunk as the door was pulled free of its hinges.
The man inside looked up at them, as if waking from a long nap. His long black hair hung in matted ropes down his back. His cheeks were hollow, his golden eyes sunk deep into shadow. He was so thin Aang could see the shape of his ribs beneath the tunic.
Aang looked up at Zuko. “Do you know him?”
Zuko studied the broken man. “I don’t think so.”
Aang noticed that Zuko’s shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant.
“Are you part of the 41st?” Zuko asked.
“Never heard of it,” the man said, his voice dusky with disuse. “I was at the siege.”
“Under what command?”
“The 22nd. Colonel Gi.”
“Who was the general?”
“The Dragon of the West. General Iroh.”
Aang had been studying the man, but now he turned and saw Zuko’s eyes fracture.
“We’ll get you out of here,” Zuko said, and Aang heard a tone in his voice he’d never heard from Zuko.
The prince entered the chamber. “Can you walk?”
“I’ll manage.”
Zuko stooped. “Grab my shoulder. We’ll get you home.”
Aang felt helpless as the young prince took the man’s weight. Zuko wasn’t tall, and the prisoner already leaned too heavily on him. Aang would be no help at all.
“Zuko, if we find Appa, we can get him out of here better.”
“Zuko?” The man huffed. “I didn’t know the name had become so popular.”
“It hasn’t,” Zuko muttered, carrying the man’s weight.
They stumbled down the cavern, the prisoner struggling to keep up. “I tried,” he said. “For years I tried to keep myself in shape. But it’s hard.”
Aang’s impatience grew. Every minute spent here was a minute stolen from Appa. There were so many people down here—so why this one?
Why had Aang stopped at all? And why couldn’t he leave them?
“We’ll get you out, soldier,” Zuko promised—with more compassion than Aang had ever seen from him.
Except for the time he’d saved Aang from Zhao. Or the night he’d cried over his uncle after Azula attacked him.
And now the prince was stumbling through the sickly green light of the Dai Li’s catacombs to help a soldier with golden eyes.
Aang knew there was more to Zuko than blind fervor.
“Do you have a name, soldier?” Zuko asked as the man lagged.
“Lu Ten.”
Zuko stiffened. He kept moving under the man’s weight, but Aang saw him stumble.
“That was my cousin’s name,” Zuko said. “He died in the siege of Ba Sing Se.”
The man pulled away and stared at the prince. “Zuko?!”
Zuko stared at the man, taller than he. “I already said that.”
“Prince Zuko?”
Zuko scowled. “Not for three years,” he said.
The man’s eyes welled with tears. He collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around the boy. “Is my father still alive?”
Zuko stepped away, shrugging the man off him. “How should I know?”
“Iroh—the Dragon of the West—is he still alive?” the man repeated, his eyes bright with tears. “Your uncle. My father.”
What little color Zuko had drained from his face. He appeared ashen under the green light of the crystals.
“That Lu Ten is dead. He died five years ago. How dare you take his identity?”
“I’m not! I’m Lu Ten! You’re my cousin Zuko! I held you as a baby and taught you your first fire. Your sister is Azula. She summoned her first spark in the crib, but yours was late.”
Zuko stumbled back, his good eye wide. Any pretense of confidence shattered.
“That’s not true,” Zuko whispered. “My cousin is dead. You can’t be him.”
Lu Ten looked up at Zuko, his voice trembling but certain.
“Ember Island,” Lu Ten rasped. “You were seven. You found a giant moon-peach shell in a tide pool and were convinced a spirit lived inside it. You carried it everywhere for three days. You even tried to feed it bits of rice at dinner.”
Zuko’s breath hitched.
“Azula said it wasn’t,” Zuko whispered.
Lu Ten nodded. “She told you it was a sea-vulture egg, abandoned by its parents because it was too weak. You started crying, but you wouldn’t leave it. You didn’t want it to be abandoned and unloved.”
Zuko sank to his knees.
Lu Ten continued, “I sat with you on the veranda for hours. I told you all you had to do was put the shell back and his parents would find him. That—”
“They’d love it anyway, even if he’d gone missing,” Zuko said brokenly. “You told me that having a big heart in our family is like carrying a torch in a windstorm.”
“It's hard to keep lit, but it’s the only thing that keeps you warm,” Lu Ten finished.
Zuko’s chin dropped to his chest, tears glittering green in the bilious light. His hair hung around his face, obscuring his scar.
Lu Ten reached out towards Zuko’s scar. “What happened to you, Zuko?”
Zuko’s chest hitched with a quiet sob. He buried his head in his hands, curling over his knees.
Lu Ten turned to Aang. “Who are you? Are you my cousin’s friend? What happened?”
“I–” Aang started. “We aren’t exactly friends. We’re looking for my friend, Appa. He’s a sky bison. Do you know where he is?”
“I started hearing bellowing a few weeks ago, further down the passage.” Lu Ten pointed. “We’ll help. Come on, Zuzu.”
Zuko looked up at Lu Ten's hand, tears still streaming down his face. “Uncle and I would’ve come if we’d known. We wouldn’t have left you here.”
“I know, cuz. Come on, get up. We gotta help your little buddy find his friend.” He looked over at Aang. “What did you say your name was?”
“It’s—Aang.”
“We gotta help your buddy Aang find Appa.”
Zuko unfolded himself from the floor and climbed to his feet, face still stricken and pale. He was taller than Lu Ten remembered, the last of his boyhood softness burned away. He wore plain, dark clothes—nothing royal, nothing Fire Nation about him. His hair hung shaggy around his face, unevenly cut. And the scar…
Lu Ten’s breath caught.
“Did grandfather—did Fire Lord Azulon do this to you?”
Zuko’s eyes widened, his jaw wobbling. “Grandfather is dead. My father is Fire Lord.”
“Is Dad–”
“He’s alive. He’s here with me in Ba Sing Se.”
“Aang! Where are you?” His friends came wheeling around the corner. Katara’s hand was at her side, and Sokka’s boomerang was already in his grip. Their steps slowed when they saw Zuko—and the gaunt prisoner—standing beside Aang.
Katara snapped into a fighting stance, water coiling at her wrist. “Aang. Get away from him.”
Sokka stepped forward, his eyes darting between the gaunt man and Zuko, who looked more vulnerable than Sokka had ever seen him.
“Katara, wait,” Aang said. “He was helping me find Appa. We found someone else first.”
Sokka squinted at the skeletal man in the tattered tunic. “Who?”
Who could possibly be down here that Zuko would care about?
Sokka expected Zuko to bristle, but he just looked very sad and young.
“I’m Lu Ten,” the man said, leaning heavily against the cavern wall. He looked ghastly in the green light. “Zuzu here is my cousin.”
“Oh great, another royal pain in the–”
“Uncle’s son?” Toph asked, stepping forward. If it was a lie, it was a good one. Azula was a great liar. Zuko was not.
“You know my dad?”
“Uh, we kinda all do, bub,” Sokka said.
“Listen, can we sort this out later? He said he heard Appa down here. We have to be close!” Aang interrupted.
Toph felt through the earth. “Up ahead, on the left.”
Sokka jogged past Zuko, glancing over at the other boy. The usual anger was gone, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes and tracking down the right side of his face. He barely came up to Lu Ten’s chest, but together they were managing a slow walk.
“Come on– if the Dai Li catch us, we’re never getting out of here,” Sokka said, slowing his step. He couldn’t stand the guy, but after seeing the room full of Joo Dees, he wasn’t sure he could wish that on anyone.
“We should–leave.” Zuko said. “I have to get my cousin back to Uncle.”
Sokka stopped. Lu Ten was more skeleton than man, his eyes a burnished gold—more like Iroh’s than Zuko’s. And Zuko himself was thinner than Sokka remembered.
Sighing, he moved to Lu Ten’s other side. “Appa is the best way out of here. Come on. We’ll get you both back.”
It was weird being so close to a firebender and not attacking.
Katara threw a look over her shoulder, her eyes catching Zuko’s. “If you move against any of us–” Katara said, not raising her voice.
“Zuko,” Lu Ten whispered, “it doesn’t sound like you’ve been making friends.”
“No,” Zuko agreed. “A lot has changed since…back then.”
Ahead of them, Toph stomped and the earth slid open, revealing a large chamber. Inside, Appa roared. Katara froze the chains, and they splintered under the cold. “Come on! Get up!”
Just as Katara shattered the final ice-bound chain, the green crystals lining the chamber flared with an unnatural, sickly brilliance.
"The ground!" Toph yelled, slamming her foot down. "They're here!"
From the shadows of the high stone pillars, six Dai Li agents slid forward as if the floor were made of ice. They moved with terrifying, synchronized silence. With a flick of their wrists, stone gloves flew through the air.
One shattered the stone inches from Lu Ten’s head.
Zuko reacted on instinct, spinning and kicking a lash of fire that turned the stone to glowing slag.
"Firebender!" one of the agents hissed, his voice echoing in the chamber.
"They've got the prince!” Another hissed.
The chamber became a chaotic swirl of elements. Katara whipped water from the bison’s drinking trough, slicing through the stone projectiles, while Toph buckled the ground under the agents.
Zuko stood over Lu Ten, a whirlwind of flame and blades, refusing to give ground.
A stone glove tore past his shoulder, close enough to spin him half around. He caught himself on instinct, breath already ragged—and still didn’t move away from his cousin.
“Come on, we have to go!” Sokka shouted, catching his boomerang as it rebounded.
“Avatar—help my cousin up!” Zuko barked, blocking another wall of rock. “He can’t get on your bison. He doesn’t have the strength!”
He shattered a stone fist mid-air—but missed the next.
The blow caught him high on the temple. There was a wet crack and a flash of white as he went down hard, blood splattering across the stone.
“Avatar?” Lu Ten echoed, twisting to look back. “The Avatar?”
Then the ground surged. A stone pillar launched Lu Ten upward, and a cushion of air caught him, carrying him into the sky bison’s saddle.
Aang—an airbender, the Avatar, no more than a child—looked back and met Lu Ten’s eyes.
Zuko was still fighting.
Not with the rigid palace forms Lu Ten remembered, but with something rougher—learned the hard way, scarred into muscle and bone. Fire curved around twin blades. The boy he had known was gone.
He was good.
He was outnumbered.
“You can’t leave him,” Lu Ten said, his voice breaking.
“Get out of here!” Zuko shouted. He kicked, a wall of fire tearing outward.
“Come on, we have to go!” Sokka said from next to him.
Stone crashed into his ribs—harder this time. Zuko’s knees buckled.
He caught himself on one hand, breath ripping in and out of his chest. Fire sputtered at his feet, uneven and furious.
He pushed up anyway.
Another stone fist slammed into his shoulder, spinning him sideways. He hit the ground hard, blood splattering the stone.
He still tried to rise.
Lu Ten saw Zuko reached for the floor and not find the strength to stand. He pushed himself to his knees, using his sword to prop him up.
Another fist knocked him down again.
Aang jumped from Appa’s head and swung his staff, blasting the Dai Li back. Appa roared, sweeping a handful of them aside with his tail.
Aang scooped Zuko up, dropped him on the saddle, and grabbed the reins.
“Toph, get us out of here!”
The girl stamped and a giant hole tore open in the ceiling, daylight flooding in.
With another stamp, she launched herself from the ground and into the saddle.
“Yip yip!” Aang commanded, and the bison shot toward the opening in the sky.
Appa burst through the ceiling, the transition from the subterranean gloom to the blinding sun of Ba Sing Se feeling like a physical blow. As the bison leveled out over the Upper Ring, the group collapsed into the saddle, the adrenaline finally crashing into reality.
Zuko lay sprawled against the back of the saddle, a jagged cut above his left temple trailing blood into his good eye. He was barely conscious, his breathing ragged. Lu Ten, despite his own profound weakness, dragged himself toward his cousin.
"Zuko," he wheezed, his voice thick with a decade of grief and a second of hope. He pulled Zuko’s head into his lap, his thin fingers trembling as they brushed the hair away from the wound.
"Is he... is he okay?" Aang asked, looking back from the reins. His gray eyes were wide with a mix of guilt and confusion. He had spent months seeing Zuko as a monster, but the boy currently bleeding in the saddle looked remarkably human.
"He's alive," Katara said, her voice tight. She moved toward them, water already hovering between her palms. Zuko stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The moment he saw the glowing water in Katara's hand, he flinched, his body tensing for a fight.
“Stay still, Zuko,” Katara commanded, the edge gone from her voice, replaced by something colder and more focused. “I’m helping.”
As the cool water touched his brow, Zuko’s tension bled away. He looked up at Lu Ten, then at the sky, then back at Lu Ten.
"We’re out," Zuko whispered.
"We're out, Zuzu," Lu Ten replied, tears tracking through the grime on his face.
Zuko pushed himself up and looked woozily over the group of kids. His head throbbed; the vision in his good eye was blurry.
He was sitting in a saddle with the people he’d spent the last year hunting—next to his dead cousin.
He leaned over the side of the saddle and vomited.
Lu Ten placed a bony hand on the small of his back. “Whoa there, little cousin.”
Zuko swiveled to stare at him in the light of the sun. His skin was sallow, his eyes slightly sunken. But beneath the matted hair and pronounced cheekbones, Zuko could still see him. Zuko felt his chest tighten as tears sprang into his eye again. He wrapped his arms around Lu Ten and buried his head in his chest.
“We missed you so much.”
Lu Ten glanced over Zuko's shoulder at the children, who were studiously pretending not to watch.
Lu Ten ran his finger through Zuko’s cropped hair. “Oh, cuz. What happened?”
“Everything is broken, Lu Ten,” Zuko whispered. “All of it.”