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Zuko tosses and turns in his sleep during his first night back home at the Royal Palace. The sense of familiarity and comfort of the luxury he grew up with, soothed him to sleep after the countless nights not laying on a proper mattress. But hours later, something was bothering him inside so much that his body was waking him up, to his own annoyance. He blinks his eyes open, to the darkness in his room, and assumes it's just the foreignness of what used to be normal to him before being gone for years keeping him awake. He shut his eyes again, and laid there for a while more, but falling back asleep proved to be difficult somehow.
Restless, Zuko angrily grabs at the blanket covering him, rips it off his body, and swings his legs over so his feet are planted on the floor. With a frustrated exhale, he gets up out of bed entirely and walks over to the door to his balcony. He opens it and steps outside, walking up to the railing, and holding onto it with his head down.
While only wearing his sleep pants, Zuko feels the cool night air graze against his upper body, and through the long strands of his hair that cover his eyes and frame his face. He lifts his head and gazes up at the moon, shining brightly down at him from the sky above. Slowly, his thoughts wander back to the nights he spent as the Blue Spirit protecting those who needed to be safe from danger, being his only way to help the citizens of Lower Ring while keeping his identity a secret. His mind then flashes back to the image of the Painted Lady, who also dawned a disguise with her red dress flowing swiftly with her movements, the thin veil that covered her face, and the red stripes of paint across her cheeks and her lips… She shared his same motivation to help others, but by healing wounds and aiding the sick.
"When I saw the Dai Li attack you, I didn't think. I just helped."
He already knew who she was, and yet he helped regardless. For some reason, that didn't matter to him. Why didn't it matter to him?
In the present, he couldn't help but notice how they made an effective team fighting alongside each other. Katara's hand-to-hand combat was impressive, and he couldn't deny his fascination for how much more skilled her waterbending has gotten since the last time they fought, back in the North. He had assumed she learned from a master at that point, but now it's become clear when she fought against him in Ba Sing Se, she's now become one herself.
"I thought you were good, I-"
"I'm trying…"
Being alone with his thoughts this way allowed for the very things Zuko actively pushed to the side to resurface on their own in these late hours of the night. He had felt incredibly, emotionally numb on the way back home, and now his feelings are suddenly demanding to be felt, seeping through the cracks of his hardened demeanor.
Anxiously, his heartbeat began to increase, as more of the words that were exchanged deep in the crystal catacombs with Katara begin to echo inside his mind.
"No matter how much you hate this face, Katara… I- hate it- more."
A type of vulnerability Zuko's never felt with anyone else before presented itself with this confession, as well as a sort of safety with someone who isn't a stranger to him, nor a friend either. Yet, she now knows the painful truths he desperately tries to run away from — the hatred toward himself, the reason for his scar, and his mom no longer being in his life in a similar way she lost hers.
“…I see someone in pain. Someone who needs healing.”
These words of Katara's slip back into the forefront of his mind. The girl whom he always saw as the enemy, as she did with him, looked past the constant reminder of what he felt like he deserved, and saw more than the physical scar. It shocked Zuko that Katara acknowledged how much the impact and the pain cut deep into his soul; something no one else bothered to ever do by just looking at him.
Recalling her offer to heal the permanent burn on his face, Zuko remembers feeling the tinge of sudden hope he never thought he'd ever have. In that moment, he wasn't all that sure it would actually work. But the fact that she even wanted to try was a sort of kindness he never expected her to give him, after all that he's done.
He dares to reimagine her blue eyes looking up at him, while he stood close enough to notice them reflect the glimmer of the green crystals that surrounded them. Those eyes held and gave him a sliver of hope that he's never felt before to rid the very thing he's most ashamed of.
Zuko's hand graces against his scar, sensing the ghost of the waterbender's fingertips gently pressed onto it. He wonders why he didn't feel the need to step away, or rip Katara's hand away from his face right then. He would have done that with anyone… why was it so different with her?
“I wonder if this was the reason I was given this spirit water in the first place, because it was meant for you.”
He huffs in more disbelief than before as he remembers those words, amused that he was simply kidding himself to have ever thought it could work. It's not like she can heal the depth of what scarred him inside his core, for life. He now believes his tangible scar is what was necessary to remind him of who he really is.
So, he stands firm with what he said to her; he doesn’t deserve it, because he doesn’t need it. He needs to be the Prince of the Fire Nation that he was born to be. The heir to the throne of the most powerful nation in the world. He reminds himself that must be his true destiny, not endlessly scouring the world for the Avatar.
“I thought you had changed!”
“I have changed."
The person he was for 3 years out at sea, was so weak and insecure. So desperate to regain his honor, prove his worth, continuously fueled by rage. Since leaving the North, and becoming a fugitive hiding in the Earth Kingdom, Zuko was beyond exhausted… not just physically. He was so fed up with things going wrong for him, drained by the endless conflict within himself to know what's right and wrong. He was most of all sick of feeling so damn lost.
He recalls the crossroads he stood in the middle of, in silent defense against Aang, Katara, and Azula, while his adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and the familiar anger rising within him. He wanted to prove he isn’t that weak, young kid anymore, nor the wounded boy scarred by his own father's doing… and he did so by siding with his sister in that battle.
Azula provided a clear path to victory on a silver platter for him, to share the glory of conquering Ba Sing Se and the chance to come back home. Although he was banished, he still feels it’s the only place where he truly belongs. How could he pass all of that up?
A big motivator was doing it for their mother, who Azula reminded him how she had told them to stay together no matter what happens, right before she was taken away. This is the way Zuko believes his actions can be justified as the eldest sibling. He needed to do this for his little sister, for the benefit of his family. He felt obligated to keep that promise to honor their mother's wish, doing whatever it took to do so.
Zuko's thoughts shift to the other person he betrayed that day, Uncle Iroh. He remembers the way his Uncle didn’t look at him for more than a second when he was taken by the Dai Li, passing by him without a single word. The one person that has been there for him throughout his life in ways his real father wasn't, Zuko simply didn’t have any words to say to that traitor. He had felt a pang of guilt linger inside him in that moment, but he didn’t let it fester for too long.
He now recalls how Uncle wanted him to become his own person, and here he was, having made the first choice he’s made by himself, for himself. And Uncle made his own choice as well to protect and side with the enemy… the Avatar, and Katara.
Unknowingly, Zuko's grasp on the railing tightened to the point of nearly burning his hands on it, making him let go abruptly and wince in slight pain. He retreats his hands to his sides, and shakes his head deliberately as if it would actually help to rid the thoughts that wracked his brain. With a deep sigh, he takes one last look at the moon, and returns back inside. He slips under the covers of his bed, attempting his best to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep.
He affirms to himself that he's made his choice, that it has to have been the right one, and there's no going back on it. He buries all doubt within himself. He must let it be, or else he never will.