Chapter Text
"Katara, look what I can do!" Aang calls out from across the field, his voice a bright, excited chirp that carries easily on the breeze.
You look up from the irrigation channel you're digging, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. The Avatar is standing on the banks of the small stream, a look of intense concentration on his young face. You watch, along with the rest of the group, as Aang twists his foot and points outwards, just as you taught him. A neat row of holes in the ground appears in a line, perfect for seedlings.
You clap your hands in applause, Katara joining in with a smile. "That's great, Aang!" you shout. "Your form is much better. You're really getting it."
"Yeah, good job, Aang," Sokka says from where he's 'supervising' from the shade of a nearby tree. "The Fire Nation won't stand a chance against your... earth... hole... thing."
"It's called furrowing, Sokka," you tell him for the third time that day. You stand up, brushing the dirt from your knees. "And it's a fundamental technique for planting."
"Right, right. Furrowing," Sokka repeats with a dismissive wave. "I'm just saying, it's not very flashy. Where are the giant earth pillars? The ground-shattering fists? The... you know, bending?"
"Not all bending is about fighting, Sokka," Aang says, his smile dimming a little as he hops down from the bank. "The monks used to say that the most powerful bending is the kind that helps things grow."
"Well, the monks aren't here," Sokka grumbles. "And we are. We need to be training to fight. Not taking dirt moving lessons from the local farm girl."
"Sokka," Katara chides, throwing a pebble at him that he dodges with an indignant squawk. "That's not nice. She's our friend."
You try to smile, but Sokka's words sting a little, more than you'd like to admit. You know you're not a warrior. You know your bending is good for crops and irrigation and building shelter. But it still hurts to be dismissed, especially when you're doing the best you can to help.
Aang seems to pick up on your discomfort, and he glances at you with an apologetic frown. "It is helpful, what you're teaching me. It's a different kind of bending, but it's still important."
"It's fine, Aang," you assure him. You force a wider grin. "He's right. My earthbending isn't very impressive. It's just... practical."
"Practical is good," Katara says, giving Sokka a pointed glare. "Practical is what's helping these villagers rebuild."
"Exactly," you agree, turning back to your half-finished channel. A recent Fire Nation raid on this small Earth Kingdom farming community had left the fields scorched and the irrigation system destroyed. The villagers were struggling to repair the damage before the planting season ended, and you had volunteered your services. It was the least you could do. But you hadn't expected to be teaching the Avatar how to dig a ditch. "Let's get back to it. If we can finish this today, they can start seeding tomorrow."
As you all turn back to your tasks, you can't help but feel a small seed of discontent sprouting in your chest. You've been with the group for a couple weeks now, ever since you met them on the road outside of Omashu. They were heading to the North Pole, and you were heading nowhere in particular, so you decided to travel with them for a while. It's been... an adjustment. You're used to being on your own, relying on your own skills, and being useful. Here, you often feel like an extra wheel, a tag-along whose talents are better suited for quiet fields than epic battles.
You're just finishing up the last stretch of the channel when you hear a commotion from the village, a growing clamor of shouts and startled cries. The four of you exchange a look, and Aang is already on his glider, soaring up into the air to get a better look. You hurry after Katara and Sokka toward the village center, your heart pounding in your chest.
When you arrive, the reason for the panic is immediately clear. A small group of Fire Nation soldiers, maybe ten in all, are moving through the streets, their red armor a grim splash of color against the green and brown of the village. They're not attacking, not yet. They're just... taking. One soldier is holding a struggling chicken under his arm, another is kicking over a cart of vegetables, scattering cabbages into the dirt.
The villagers are watching, their faces pale with fear, but no one is fighting back. You can't blame them. These are farmers and craftsmen, not soldiers. They're trying to survive, and fighting the Fire Nation is a surefire way to get killed.
Sokka grabs your arm and hauls you back behind a well, pulling Katara with him. "Okay, new plan," he whispers, drawing his boomerang from its strap on his back. "Let's go be impractical."
Katara draws water from a nearby well and nods. "Agreed."
"Wait." Aang lands beside you, his face grim. "There's more of them coming up the road. We have to be careful."
You look at your friends, at their ready stances and determined faces. You've seen them fight before, have fought beside them. You know what they're capable of. And you know you're the weak link here. Your bending is good for a lot of things, but a direct confrontation with a firebender? You're not ready for that.
"I'll stay back and cover the villagers," you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "You guys draw them away from the main square. I'll make sure everyone gets to safety."
Aang looks like he wants to argue, but Katara puts a hand on his shoulder. "She's right. We need to make sure no one gets hurt."
You nod, grateful for her support, and the three of them move off, slipping into the shadows to flank the patrol. As soon as they're out of sight, you push yourself to your feet and rush toward the group of villagers, who are still watching in stunned silence.
"Get to the town hall!" you shout as the sounds of the fighting starts, waving your arms. "Quickly! Get inside and bar the doors!"
Your voice seems to break the spell, and the villagers start to move, a panicked herd scrambling for the large stone building at the center of the square. You usher them along, counting heads as they pass, helping those who stumble. The process isn't as fast as it should be. They're scared and disorganized, and your heart hammers against your ribs with every distant shout, every familiar whoosh of Aang's airbending as it retreats into the forest. They're leading the soldiers away, drawing them out, and you know you have to get everyone inside before the fight circles back to the village.
A cry reaches your ears, and you turn to see a little boy, no older than six, standing frozen in the middle of the square. He's clutching a small toy cart, his eyes wide and fixed on the chaos at the edge of the village. You break from the group and run to him, your feet pounding on the hard-packed earth.
"Hey, kid, it's okay!" you call, reaching out for him. "Come on, we need to get inside."
He just stares at you, his lower lip trembling. And then, he turns and runs. Away from you, away from the safety of the town hall, and deeper into the village.
"Spirits," you curse under your breath, and you take off after him. He's fast for such a little thing, darting through alleys and between houses with a familiarity that you don't have. You lose sight of him for a second, and panic claws at your throat. "Where are you going?" you shout, rounding a corner and nearly tripping over a pile of discarded pottery. "This way isn't safe!"
You find him in the small community garden, the one you'd been admiring just yesterday for its neat rows of root vegetables. He's huddled next to a small shed, his back to you, his shoulders shaking with silent tears.
You approach him slowly, crouching down to his level. "Hey," you say, your voice soft. "It's alright. You're safe now. Let's go back to the others."
"My cabbages," he whimpers, and he points to a small overturned planter box. The dirt has been spilled, and the tiny seedlings are trampled into the mud. "The bad men... they stepped on them."
You look at the destroyed seedlings, and you feel a surge of anger that takes you by surprise. It's such a small thing, a meaningless act of destruction in the midst of a larger chaos. But it's also everything. It's the future harvest, the food this family would have relied on. It's hope, crushed under a careless boot. You know that feeling all too well.
You swallow the anger down and reach out to touch the boy's shoulder. "I know. It’s not fair," you whisper. "But it's okay. We can plant more. I can show you how. But we have to go now."
The boy finally looks up, his eyes wide and swimming with tears. His mouth opens, a small whimper escaping, but the sound catches in his throat as his gaze drifts past you, toward the garden's entrance.
You follow his line of sight, and the blood freezes in your veins. Standing framed in the narrow alleyway is a figure in the unmistakable red armor of a Fire Nation soldier. But this one is different. He wears no helmet, his dark hair pulled back into a severe high tail. A scar, puckered and angry red, mars the left side of his face, and his eyes, a piercing gold, are fixed on you with a burning intensity that makes your skin prickle. He looks younger than the others, barely older than you, but there's a cold, dangerous air about him that sets your teeth on edge.
This is not some common soldier. You know who this is, from the stories whispered in the refugee camps and wartorn villages. Sokka has certainly told you enough about him. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, the banished prince, the Fire Lord's son, the boy obsessed with capturing the Avatar. And you, a lowly earthbender, are standing directly in his path.
Your hand tightens on the little boy's shoulder, and you silently will him to stay quiet. You slowly rise to your feet, placing yourself between him and the prince. Your mind races, trying to formulate a plan, but you come up empty. Your bending is slow, defensive. You're no match for a firebender, let alone a member of the royal family. Aang and the others are gone, drawn too far away by the chase. You're on your own.
But as the prince steps into the light, his expression isn't what you expect. There's no rage, no battle cry. Instead, he just looks... annoyed. His gaze flicks from you to the crying boy at your side, and he lets out a frustrated sound.
"Don't move," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Stay where you are."
The boy whimpers and clings to your leg, burying his face in your trousers. You instinctively put a protective hand on his head, your eyes never leaving the prince's face. You can feel the heat radiating from him, even from this distance, a barely contained power that hums in the air between you.
"What do you want?" you ask, forcing your voice to remain calm. You're proud of how stead it sounds, even as your heart is trying to batter its way out of your chest. "We're just farmers. We're not worth your time."
The prince takes another step closer, and you see his gaze fall on the overturned planter, the crushed seedlings. His jaw tightens, and he looks back to you.
"Where is the Avatar?" he demands.
"I don't know," you answer. It's not a lie. You have no idea where Aang, Katara, and Sokka are, or if they're safe. Your mind is occupied with the very immediate problem of not getting yourself and this child killed.
His eyes narrow, and you see a small flame flicker to life in his palm. "Don't lie to me."
"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," you snap back, surprising yourself with your own audacity. Your fear is being pushed aside by a hot, reckless anger. This boy and his people have taken everything from you. They've burned your home, destroyed your life, and now they're here, terrorizing these innocent people who just want to grow their food in peace. You're not going to cower in front of him. "They're not here. So just... leave us alone."
He stares at you, and the flame in his hand grows, the light dancing in his furious eyes. He looks like he's about to do exactly what Sokka always said he would—attack first, ask questions later. You brace yourself, curling your body around the boy, ready to take the hit for him. You're no warrior, but you can be a shield. You've done it before.
But the attack never comes. Instead, Zuko closes his fist, extinguishing the flame, and lets out a low growl. He looks from you, to the boy, to the garden, and back again.
"This is a waste of time," he mutters to himself. He turns his sharp gaze back on you. "Get the kid and get out of here. My men are coming this way."
You stare at him, completely baffled. "What?"
"Go!" he barks, pointing back toward the town hall. "Now! Before I change my mind."
You don't need to be told twice. You scoop the boy up into your arms, and you run, your legs pumping as you race back toward the safety of the stone building. You don't look back, don't stop until you're barreling through the doors and slamming them shut behind you. The villagers are all there, huddled together in the dark, and they all stare with wide eyes as you collapse against the door, the boy still clinging to your neck.
You did it. You got them all to safety. You're not sure how, or why the prince let you go, but you did it. And as you catch your breath, your heart still pounding, you realize you feel different. You feel like you did something. Something practical and important. And it feels good.
Later, when the fighting is over and the sun has set, the Avatar and his friends return. You stand with them on the edge of the village, looking out at the darkened forest where the Fire Nation patrol has retreated. Sokka is boasting about his boomerang, Katara is shaking pine needles from her braid, and Aang is just staring quietly into the trees.
"What happened with you?" Sokka asks, nudging your shoulder with his own. "You just vanished."
You tell them everything. About the boy and his crushed seedlings, the way you'd chased him into the garden, and most importantly, about the prince. You describe the scarred face, the intense golden eyes, the flame that flickered to life in his palm. You leave out the part about your own anger, and the way it had burned hotter than his fire for a moment. That's yours to keep. They listen in stunned silence, and when you're finished, the three of them exchange a stunned look.
"I don't understand," Katara says, shaking her head. "Why would he just let you go?"
"Maybe he's not as bad as we thought," Aang suggests, but his tone is doubtful. "Maybe he has some honor, deep down."
"Or maybe he just didn't want to fight a helpless farm girl and a toddler," Sokka says with a snort. "Not much glory in that. No offense."
You wave off his comment. You don't know why Zuko did what he did. Maybe he was in a hurry. Maybe he didn't want to waste his energy. Or maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the angry boy and fearsome enemy in the stories. You don't know. And maybe you never will. He's gone, and you're still here, and that's all that matters.
"Let's just go make camp," you say, and you turn away from the forest. "I'm tired. And I want to get an early start on rebuilding those irrigation channels tomorrow."
The others agree, and you all head for the edge of the village, your shadows long and dark in the moonlight. The playful energy from earlier is subdued, weighed down by the heaviness of exhaustion from the fight and your own confusion about what happened today. Aang tries to start a conversation a few times, but you all end up lapsing back into silence.
It's not until you're sitting around a small fire, chewing on some dried fish, that Aang speaks again. He's poking at the fire with a stick, his face thoughtful. "I'm glad you were here today."
You look up, surprised. "Me? Why? I didn't do anything."
"You saved that kid," he replies, his grey eyes meeting yours. "And you got everyone else to safety. That was brave. It was really... earthbender-y of you."
You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, focusing on your fish. "It was just the practical thing to do."
"That's what I mean," Aang insists, his smile widening. "You're practical. And you care. That's a good kind of bending to have."
"Better than some other kinds," Sokka adds, glancing at the dark trees. "Some people just use their power to burn stuff down."
Katara nods in agreement. "We're lucky to have you with us."
You stare at the fire, your chest feeling tight. They're all smiling at you, their faces warm and sincere in the flickering light. They're not looking at you like you're just some stray they picked up on the road. They're looking at you like you belong. And for the first time in a very long time, you feel like you do. You're not just a farm girl. You're their friend, their ally. You're a part of their team. And that feeling, that sense of belonging, is worth more than all the fancy firebending in the world.
"Thanks," you mumble, your voice thick. “But I’m still making you all help me dig tomorrow.”
Sokka groans, and Aang and Katara laugh, and the firelight dances in their eyes. And you decide, right then and there, that you're going to stick around for a while. See where this path leads. It might not be flashy, and it might not be easy, but it feels right. It feels like a good harvest, a long time coming.
You finish your dinner and lay down to sleep, the crackle of the fire lulling you into a restless slumber. And as you drift off, you can't help but wonder about the prince, and the choice he made. It was a small thing, really. A single moment of mercy in the middle of a war. But you have a feeling you'll never forget it. And you wonder, as sleep takes you, if maybe he won't either.