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Wooden Dragons & Water Tears
The Royal Caldera Palace was a place of towering columns, heavy silk tapestries, and adults who always seemed to be walking too fast. To four-year-old Prince Kuzon, the world was mostly made up of kneecaps, sweeping robes, and strict schedules.
His father, the Fire Lord, was the busiest man in the world. Papa had a warm smile and golden eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed, but his heavy crown always seemed to cast a long shadow over his face.
"Be good for your Auntie today, Kuzon," Papa said one bright morning, adjusting the small, golden pin on Kuzon’s tunic. His hands were warm, but he was already looking toward the massive oak doors of the council chamber. "Papa has to meet with the Earth Kingdom ambassadors. No chasing the turtle-ducks into the pond, understand?"
"I'm a big Prince, Papa," Kuzon promised, puffing out his chest.
Uncle Aang visited the palace sometimes. Kuzon liked Uncle Aang. He wore bright orange and yellow robes that swooshed when he walked, and he had bright blue arrows painted on his head and arms.
"Hey Kuzon, want to see a trick?" Uncle Aang asked later that afternoon in the courtyard. The Avatar grinned, pulling a polished stone marble from his pocket. He spun his hands in a circle, and suddenly the marble was floating, whizzing around in a sphere of compressed air. "Whoosh! Bet your dragons can't fly like that!"
Kuzon giggled, reaching up to try and catch the spinning stone, but the gust of wind from Uncle Aang’s trick knocked over the elaborate tower of wooden blocks Kuzon had spent the last hour building. The Avatar apologized quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, but Kuzon frowned at the scattered pieces.
That evening, sitting in the center of his massive bedroom, Kuzon lined up his two favorite toys: a carved red wooden dragon and a golden one. He crossed his legs and leaned in close to conduct the Dragon’s Council.
"Uncle Aang is funny," Kuzon whispered seriously to the wooden toys, "but he knocked over our block tower with his wind today. Next time, gold dragon, you have to roar at him so he's careful. We have to protect the castle."
While Papa was busy and Uncle Aang was clumsy, Auntie Zula was perfect.
Auntie Zula was the most beautiful, terrifying, and wonderful person in the whole Caldera. The palace guards were afraid of her, standing stiff as statues when she walked by, but Kuzon wasn't. To him, she was a fierce protector who smelled like cinnamon and sweet ash.
After dinner, Kuzon sat on the plush rug by the hearth in Auntie’s private chambers. The fire popped and crackled merrily. Auntie Zula sat on the floor with him, her sharp edges entirely softened, making low, rumbling noises as she manipulated a carved wooden dragon for the boy. She wasn't wearing her heavy armor or her tight hairpins. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she smiled as she took the gold wooden dragon from Kuzon’s hands.
"The gold dragon protects the mountain, little spark," Auntie Zula murmured.
"And the red one breathes fire!" Kuzon shouted, zooming his red dragon through the air and crashing it into the gold one. "Whoosh! Take that, bad guys!"
Auntie Zula laughed, a rare, bright sound that made Kuzon’s chest feel warm. "No one gets past the red dragon," she agreed softly.
The heat of the hearth made Kuzon’s eyes heavy. He leaned his head against Auntie Zula’s silk-covered knee, and without thinking, he slipped his thumb into his mouth.
Instantly, Auntie Zula’s cool, pale fingers gently grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. "Princes of the Fire Nation do not suck their thumbs, little spark," she chided gently, her golden eyes strict but fond. "The red dragon wouldn't be afraid of the dark, would he?"
"No," Kuzon mumbled sleepily, clutching the red dragon to his chest. "He's brave."
"Then so are you," she promised.
As the months passed, the adults started acting strangely. The palace felt tighter, like a string pulled until it was ready to snap. Kuzon didn't understand the heavy words the adults used, but he noticed how the shadows in the palace seemed to grow longer.
It started eight months ago, in the dead of night.
Kuzon woke up with a dry throat. He rubbed his eyes and padded across the cold floor of his bedroom to get a drink of water from the pitcher on his table. As he poured the water, a bright, flashing blue light outside his massive window caught his eye.
He pressed his face against the cool glass, looking down into the abandoned royal training courtyards. Auntie Zula was there. She was moving incredibly fast, kicking and punching the air, sending massive, roaring arcs of blue fire into the dark. Kuzon pressed his nose to the glass in awe.
But then, a huge wall of wind slammed into the flames, putting them out with a loud hiss of steam.
Uncle Aang stepped out of the shadows. He wasn't wearing his orange shirt, and his blue arrows glowed in the moonlight. He looked angry.
"You're out of control," Uncle Aang said, his voice carrying up to the window on the night breeze. "You're going to wake the entire palace."
Auntie Zula got into a scary fighting stance, fire sparking at her fingertips. "And what do you care, Avatar?" she snapped back. "Go back to your guest wing."
Kuzon gasped. They were fighting. He watched, terrified, as Auntie Zula jumped at Uncle Aang with her blue fire. But Uncle Aang didn't use fire; he used his wind to dance around her. Finally, Uncle Aang grabbed her wrists and spun her around, pinning her back against his chest. He held her tight, squishing her against him.
"Stop," Uncle Aang commanded. "You're done. Just stop."
Kuzon blinked. Auntie Zula stopped fighting. She just leaned back against him. Then, Uncle Aang squished his face against hers.
Kuzon didn't understand. He ran back to his bed, pulling the heavy crimson blankets all the way up to his chin. He pulled his red and gold dragons from under his pillow and held them tight.
"Uncle Aang is playing rough with Auntie," Kuzon whispered in the dark to the Dragon's Council. "Why is he squishing her? Gold dragon, you should bite his ankles next time he comes over. That's a mean wrestling game."
Two months later, the shadows grew scarier.
Kuzon was supposed to be practicing his calligraphy, but his tutors were boring, so he ran away. He slipped deep into the Caldera's royal archives. It was his favorite hiding spot. The heavy scent of old parchment and dust motes danced in the slanted shafts of afternoon sunlight. It was perfectly quiet.
Until he heard the breathing.
It was loud, heavy, and ragged. Kuzon clapped a hand over his mouth, thinking a real dragon was loose in the library. He crept forward on his tiptoes and peeked around a towering bookshelf in the restricted section.
It wasn't a dragon. It was Uncle Aang and Auntie Zula.
Uncle Aang had Auntie pinned flush against the bookshelf, his hands tangled in her loose dark hair. They were squishing their faces together again, but this time it looked frantic.
"They're patrolling right outside..." Uncle Aang whispered, his voice breathless and shaky. "If Zuko finds us..."
"Then let him find us," Auntie Zula whispered back.
Kuzon backed away, his heart hammering in his chest. Auntie Zula’s face was flushed, her lips swollen, and her eyes looked strange. She looked exhausted. She looked like she did when she had a fever.
Kuzon ran all the way back to his room. He shoved his hand into his pocket, his small fingers wrapping tightly around the carved ridges of his red dragon.
"Red dragon," Kuzon muttered to his pocket, "Uncle Aang is really bad at hide-and-seek. He breathes too loud. And Auntie looks sick. We won't play with him anymore, okay?"
But Uncle Aang kept coming around.
Three months ago, the whole family went to Ember Island. Papa said they had to inspect the old, abandoned vacation homes for structural damage after a tsunami warning. Kuzon was just happy to play in the sand.
He was building a massive sandcastle fortress for his turtle-crab when he saw movement near the old, dusty houses. He dropped his wooden shovel and trotted over. He saw Uncle Aang. But Uncle Aang wasn't looking at the roof or the walls. He was climbing through an open window into a dusty bedroom. And Kuzon saw Auntie Zula inside waiting for him.
Kuzon felt a hot spike of indignation. They were playing a secret game inside without him!
He sprinted back down the beach to where Papa was standing with several architects, looking over a long, rolled-out map. Kuzon tugged fiercely on the hem of Papa’s robes.
"Papa! Papa!" Kuzon whined. "Uncle Aang isn't fixing the roof! He's playing a secret game inside with Auntie Zula! They're not sharing!"
Papa sighed, running a hand over his face. He didn't even look up from the map. "Kuzon, Uncle Aang is just inspecting the foundations for the tsunami warning. It's not a game. Go play with your turtle-crab."
Kuzon huffed, his cheeks puffing out in anger. He stomped back to his sandcastle and plopped down in the sand. He set his red and gold dragons in front of him, crossing his small arms.
"Papa doesn't listen," Kuzon grumbled to his toys. "But we saw them, didn't we? They're being selfish."
The morning the world broke was gloomy and gray. The palace maids were whispering in the hallways, shooting nervous glances at the closed doors. Kuzon heard the name "Chan" over and over again. He didn't know who the "Chan man" was, but the name made Auntie Zula look pale and incredibly sad.
Wanting to fix her sad face, Kuzon grabbed his red and gold dragons and marched to her private chambers.
The room was warm. Auntie Zula was sitting on the floor with him, her sharp edges entirely softened, making low, rumbling noises as she manipulated a carved wooden dragon for the boy. For a few minutes, everything was perfect. The shadows were gone.
Then, the balcony doors flew open.
Uncle Aang slipped through her balcony doors. He didn't knock. He didn't announce himself. Kuzon looked up, ready to yell at him for ruining their game, but the words died in his throat.
Uncle Aang looked terrifying. He was shaking, and his gray eyes were wild and furious. He completely ignored the child sitting on the rug.
"You cannot marry him," Uncle Aang demanded, his voice shaking with a desperate, possessive rage. "Azula, he is a politician who just wants your bloodline. He doesn't see you. I won't let you do it."
Kuzon shrank back against the foot of the bed. Auntie Zula had frozen. She gently placed the wooden dragon on the rug, her face draining of all warmth as she stood up. She positioned herself slightly in front of Kuzon, an instinctive, protective barrier between her nephew and the volatile Avatar.
"The secret is over, Avatar," Auntie Zula said. Her voice was trembling. Her golden eyes were wide. "I am doing my duty. I am securing an alliance for my brother to prevent a rebellion in the colonies. I am choosing my nation. It is over."
Suddenly, Uncle Aang lunged forward. He grabbed Auntie Zula's arms just above the elbows, his fingers digging into the silk of her robe.
Kuzon screamed, but the adults couldn't hear him.
"No! I will leave the Temples! I will step down! You can't do this, Azula. You are mine!" Uncle Aang screamed, his face twisted in absolute fury.
"I am no one's!" Auntie Zula screamed back. The absolute agony in her voice made Kuzon burst into tears.
A localized wave of blue fire sparked from her skin, shoving Uncle Aang backward. She pointed a trembling finger toward the balcony. Water tears—real, wet tears—spilled over her eyelashes and cut hot paths down her pale cheeks.
"Get out! Go back to your wife, Avatar! Go back to your perfect life and leave me alone!"
Uncle Aang stared at her in horror, and then he turned and fled. He ran from the room like a coward.
Kuzon sat trembling on the rug. He had crushed his wooden toys against his chest so hard they hurt his ribs. He squeezed his eyes shut, whispering frantically to his toys.
"Breathe fire, red dragon!" Kuzon sobbed, a terrifying, suffocating panic crushing his lungs. "Make the bad Avatar go away! Protect Auntie!"
Kuzon didn't stay in the room. He scrambled to his feet and ran.
He ran through the dark, labyrinthine corridors of the palace, his little boots slapping against the stone. His royal topknot was entirely askew, his small face flushed red, and fat, heavy tears were rolling down his cheeks.
He burst through the heavy, ornate oak doors of the palace courtyard. The doors flew open with a violent crack that echoed like a gunshot across the gardens.
The bright afternoon sun blinded him for a second. He bypassed Suki completely, ignoring the Kyoshi Warrior's startled reach, and threw his small body directly into Papa's chest.
"Whoa, slow down, little spark," Papa said, his golden eyes filled with immediate, gentle concern. Papa dropped to his knees, catching Kuzon and holding him tight. "What's the matter? Did the turtle-ducks steal your snacks again?"
Kuzon shook his head violently, his small hands curling into tight fists in the fabric of his father's robes. He buried his face in Zuko's neck for a second, letting out a loud, shuddering sob, before pulling back.
He turned his head. His dark golden eyes scanned the picnic blanket until they locked onto the man sitting on the edge of it.
Uncle Aang.
Kuzon raised a dramatically accusatory, trembling finger, pointing it straight at the Avatar.
"Papa, you have to banish the Avatar! Make him go 'way!" Kuzon shrieked.
The garden fell into a sudden, suffocating silence. Papa forced a light, entirely bewildered laugh. "Banish Uncle Aang?" Zuko asked softly, brushing a stray hair from his son's tear-streaked face. "Why on earth would I do that, Kuzon?"
"Because he's a bad man!" Kuzon declared, his lower lip trembling with genuine distress and righteous toddler fury. "He made Auntie Zula cry water tears!"
Auntie Katara leaned forward, her blue eyes wide with shock. "Sweetie," she coaxed gently. "Auntie Azula was crying? How? What happened?"
Kuzon sniffled loudly, wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his expensive red silk tunic. He had to make them understand. He had to protect his Auntie.
"Me and Auntie were playing dragons in her room. The red one and the gold one! But then the Avatar comed in. He didn't even knock! He looked real mad and yelled at Auntie. He said no marrying the Chan man!" Kuzon recounted, his high voice wavering.
The adults were as frozen as the stone statues in the courtyard.
"And Auntie stood up," Kuzon pushed on, tears spilling over his cheeks again. "She stood in front of me to keep me safe. She told him to go 'way. She said... she said 'the secret is all done'!"
Uncle Sokka's jaw dropped. Kuzon didn't care. He pointed his finger harder at the bad man on the blanket.
"But he wouldn't let her go!" Kuzon cried, his distress amplifying as he remembered his aunt's pain. "He grabbed her arms real tight and he looked scary, Papa! He yelled, 'You are mine!' And Auntie made a bad blue fire-spark and pushed him! She yelled 'Go to your wife!'"
A ceramic teacup shattered loudly across the grass. Kuzon flinched, burying his face back into Zuko's robes, his small shoulders shaking with sobs.
"He made her cry, Papa. Then he runned away. Auntie Zula isn't his!" Kuzon shrieked, his voice cracking violently into a raw, territorial sob. "She's ours! My Auntie! Banish him!"
Suddenly, Uncle Sokka was screaming. "Are you out of your mind?!" he yelled at Uncle Aang. "She is your wife!"
The garden exploded into terrifying adult noise. Papa was yelling. Auntie Katara was crying worse than Auntie Zula had been. Kuzon covered his ears.
"Suki," Papa said, his voice deathly quiet.
Suki stepped forward instantly. She gently scooped the sobbing toddler up into her armored arms, pressing his face to her shoulder.
"I've got him, Fire Lord," Suki said. She turned and sprinted toward the palace doors, taking him away from the screaming.
As Suki ran, Kuzon’s grip loosened. The gold carved dragon slipped from his small, trembling fingers. It bounced off Suki’s armor and clattered onto the stone path behind them.
Kuzon reached out over Suki's armored shoulder, sobbing wildly. "No, my gold dragon! He has to stay! He has to guard Papa from the bad man!"
But Suki didn't stop, and the heavy palace doors slammed shut behind them, sealing the garden away forever.
Days passed. The terrible, howling storm that had battered the Caldera finally broke, but the palace did not feel peaceful. It felt empty. The massive Water Tribe ship was gone from the harbor. Uncle Aang was gone. Auntie Katara and baby Bumi were gone.
And Auntie Zula was gone.
Kuzon sat alone on the plush rug in Auntie Zula’s private chambers. The hearth was cold. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and sweet ash, but the scent was fading.
He was surrounded by scattered pieces of parchment and sticks of black charcoal. He was meticulously drawing a picture of Auntie Zula. He pressed the charcoal hard against the paper, making sure to give her a fierce, sharp smile. Around her stick-figure body, he drew messy, blooming flowers and giant, roaring dragons with jagged teeth.
Papa had come into his room the night after the bad spark. Papa had looked so tired, his eyes red and shadowed. Papa had sat on the edge of Kuzon’s bed and told him a story so he would stop crying.
"Auntie Zula had to leave, little spark," Papa had whispered, his voice thick with a strange, heavy grief. "She went on a very important quest. She went to find you a real dragon."
"Like the red one?" Kuzon had sniffled, clutching his toy.
"Just like the red one. But real dragons are very hard to find. It might take a very, very long time before she comes back."
Kuzon finished drawing a jagged burst of blue flame near his drawing of Azula's hand. He set the charcoal down. His hands were smudged with black dust.
He picked up the single carved wooden toy he had left: the red dragon. The gold one had been lost in the garden the day the world broke. He placed the red dragon on the rug and made it slowly walk across the parchment toward his drawing of his aunt.
"Papa says she's looking for your real brother," Kuzon whispered to the wooden toy, his high voice echoing slightly in the vast, empty room. "It's taking a long time. But I'm a big Prince now. I can wait."
Kuzon nodded to himself with absolute, childish resolve. "And if she doesn't come back soon enough, that's okay. I have a sword. I can go find her with my own dragons. We'll fly and find her."
He set the red dragon down near the edge of the paper. He laid down on the soft rug, pulling his knees up tightly to his chest. The silence of the room was heavy.
Kuzon closed his eyes. Sometimes, he tried to remember Mama, but he couldn't. Whenever he tried to think of a mother's warmth, the face was just a blank shadow. In Kuzon's world, there had always only been Papa, and there had always only been Auntie Zula. And now, half of his world was missing.
His heart hurt. It was a dull, heavy ache right behind his ribs.
Slowly, instinctively, Kuzon raised his hand. His thumb brushed his lower lip.
Princes of the Fire Nation do not suck their thumbs, little spark. Auntie Zula’s voice echoed in his memory, strict but warm.
Kuzon hesitated. He looked at the red dragon sitting guard on the parchment.
"Auntie Zula says no thumbs," Kuzon mumbled sleepily, tucking the toy under his chin. "But... since she is far, far away now..."
He slipped his thumb into his mouth.
"Just this one time," he whispered around it.
Kuzon curled into a tight ball, pressing the charcoal drawing of his fierce, dragon-taming aunt tightly to his chest, and fell asleep on the cold floor, waiting for a woman who would never come home.