Archive of Our Own

Six months into being Fire Lord, I have discovered that ruling a country involves significantly less fire than I expected.

It mostly involves paper.

There are stacks of it everywhere. Reports on villages damaged during the war, proposals for rebuilding roads and ports, arguments over the colonies, military restructuring plans, requests from the Earth Kingdom, requests from the Southern Water Tribe, requests from people within my own government who apparently cannot make a single decision without first asking me to approve it. There are budgets I barely understand, petitions from citizens I will never meet, and disputes that began before I was born and have somehow become my responsibility simply because I am the one sitting behind this desk now.

I finish reading a report about grain shipments to the western islands and set it aside, only to discover another scroll underneath it.

Of course there is.

I rub both hands over my face and lean back in my chair.

Six months.

It has only been six months since the war ended.

Some days, it feels much longer. Other days, I wake up and still expect to find myself aboard my ship, chasing the Avatar across the world with no idea that within a year I will be sitting in my father's office trying to decide how much money the Fire Nation can afford to spend repairing an Earth Kingdom road that my grandfather's army destroyed.

I glance around the room.

My father's office.

I still think of it that way sometimes.

I hate that.

I straighten and reach for the next scroll.

A knock sounds against the door.

"Come in."

The door opens just enough for Zari to slip through before she closes it quietly behind her.

I lower the scroll.

She's carrying something, but I don't pay much attention to it yet. Seeing her is enough to make some of the tension in my shoulders loosen.

Zari has been my fiancée for three months now, which still feels strange to think about. Not bad. Just strange. There are moments when I look at the ring on her hand and remember that we are supposed to get married, and somehow that seems more unbelievable than the fact that I am Fire Lord.

She starts toward my desk.

I always like when she does this.

It reminds me of my ship.

Back then, I would be hunched over maps in my quarters, angry about the Avatar or Zhao or whatever new disaster had consumed my entire world that day, and sooner or later Zari would slip through my door to check on me. Sometimes she brought food. Sometimes she had information. Sometimes she just sat there while I complained.

Everything around us has changed since then.

The ship is gone. The war is over. I'm Fire Lord, she's my fiancée, and instead of chasing the Avatar, I have a desk covered in budgets and reconstruction reports.

But Zari still slips through my door.

I think some part of me will always be relieved when she does.

Zari is carrying a scroll.

"This came in today," she says, stopping on the other side of my desk. "I think you should read it."

I glance at the scroll, then at her. "What is it?"

"One of the personal ones."

That explains why she's the one holding it. Since the end of the war, thousands of people have decided to write directly to me. Some thank me. Some hate me. Some want money, land, answers, pardons, jobs, justice, or an explanation for something the Fire Nation did decades before I was born. There are even people who apparently just want to tell the Fire Lord about their lives.

I tried reading everything at first.

That lasted about four days.

Now most of the unofficial correspondence is sorted by palace staff and passed along to whoever can actually do something about it. Zari still goes through some of the personal scrolls herself, though, and every so often she finds one she thinks shouldn't disappear into some government office.

"You read it?" I ask.

She nods. "I did."

"And?"

Her expression changes slightly.

"I think you need to read it yourself."

I hold out my hand.

She places the scroll in it, and I immediately notice how different it looks from everything surrounding me. The paper is cheap and slightly rough beneath my fingers, wrapped around a plain wooden roller instead of anything polished or decorated. Even the writing on the outside is uneven, the characters wobbling across the paper.

I remember the child who wrote this.

I glance at Zari once more before loosening the string and unrolling the scroll.

Then I begin to read.

Dear Zuko,

I heard you are the Fire Lord now. I didn't believe it at first because when you were here you didn't look like you could be. You are not old. But then everyone kept saying it was Prince Zuko with the scar who helped the Avatar beat the old Fire Lord, so I guess I believe it now.

I'm glad the war is over.

My dad Gansu also left not long after you, but he came home. Mom, Sela, cried a lot when she saw him again. Things are getting a little better here now. There aren't soldiers coming around anymore and Dad says maybe the next harvest will be better because we can keep everything we grow and help our pigs get fatter.

I hope things get better everywhere too.

I still hate the Fire Nation. I know you're the Fire Lord of it now, so maybe you don't like me saying that, but I do. They hurt a lot of people here. They hurt my family too. I don't think I can stop hating them just because the war is over.

But I don't think I hate you anymore. But I don't like you.

I'm glad you helped the Avatar stop the war. Mom says maybe things will be different now because there is a different Fire Lord. I hope she's right.

My brother Sensu never came home.

You remember? His group of soldiers got captured by the Fire Nation. We don't know where Sensu is now. Mom still thinks he's alive. Dad says he doesn't know, but I think he hopes so too.

Sometimes I wonder if Sensu knows the war is over. Maybe he's trying to come home and it just takes a long time because he is really far away. Or maybe he doesn't know where to find us. I don't know.

I hope he comes home someday.

And if he doesn't, I hope he didn't give up without a fight.

From Lee

I stare at the last line.

I hope he didn't give up without a fight.

For a moment, the office disappears. I can see the dagger in Lee's hands again, the pearl handle almost too fine for a farm boy who had been so excited to have it.

"Zuko?"

I realize Zari has been watching me.

"What happened with him?" she asks.

I roll the scroll a little tighter between my fingers. "His family let me stay with them when I was traveling alone. They didn't know who I was."

"And Lee?"

"He liked me." I hesitate, because saying it aloud makes what came afterward sound worse. "I showed him a few things with swords. I gave him a dagger Uncle gave me when I was a kid."

Zari's eyes flick briefly toward the scroll. She knows enough about Uncle to understand that I wouldn't have given something like that away casually.

"Then some Earth Kingdom soldiers took him," I continue. "They were supposed to be protecting the village, but they were using the war as an excuse to do whatever they wanted. I went after him."

"You got him back."

"Yeah."

I look down at Lee's handwriting again.

"I had to firebend to do it. Everyone found out who I was."

Zari is quiet for a moment. "What happened after?"

"I tried to give him the dagger back."

I can still see Lee standing there, staring at me with an anger that hadn't existed an hour earlier.

"He wouldn't take it." My thumb brushes absently over the edge of the scroll. "He told me he hated me."

Zari doesn't rush to say anything, and I'm grateful for that.

I look down at the final line again.

Without a fight.

He remembered the dagger.

After all this time, Lee remembered.

I look back down at Lee's scroll.

Sensu's battalion was captured; that means there is a chance he's still alive.

One of the first things I did after taking the throne was order the release of prisoners who had been held for fighting against us or resisting Fire Nation occupation. At the time, issuing the order had felt enormous.

It turned out to be the easy part, but getting them home has been much harder. There are thousands of people who got scattered across prisons, military installations, colonies, and territories the Fire Nation occupied during the war. Some have been gone for years. Records are missing or wrong. Roads were destroyed, ports damaged, and entire villages don't exist anymore. Some former prisoners don't even know whether their families are still where they left them.

We've been housing them since their release, providing food, medical care, and an allowance while officials figure out where they need to go and how to get them there. Six months later, there are still thousands waiting.

I've seen their numbers in reports so many times that they have started to feel like exactly that; numbers.

I look at the name written in Lee's uneven hand.

Sensu.

Maybe one of those numbers has a little brother waiting for him.

"Can you leave me alone for a little while?"

Zari looks at me, then at the scroll still open between my hands. I can tell she knows I'm thinking about something, but she doesn't ask what it is.

"Of course."

She walks around the desk and leans down to kiss me. I close my eyes for the brief moment her lips meet mine, and when she pulls away, her hand brushes my shoulder before she heads for the door.

"I'll be in our room," she says.

I nod. "Okay."

The door closes quietly behind her.

For a while, I don't move.

Then I look down and read the last line again.

And if he doesn't, I hope he didn't give up without a fight.

I don't know whether Sensu is alive. I don't know whether his name is buried somewhere in the thousands of records I've been staring at for months, or whether Lee's family has been waiting for someone who isn't coming home.

But I can find out.

I set Lee's scroll carefully to the side and pull a fresh sheet of paper toward me. The paper I use is almost embarrassingly fine beside the rough sheet Lee sent across the world.

I dip my brush into the ink.

Then I stare at the blank page.

I've written to kings, chiefs, generals, governors, and ambassadors since taking the throne. Somehow, none of that helps me figure out how I'm supposed to write to a little boy who once looked me in the face and told me he hated me.

I hold the brush there for another moment.

Then I lower it to the paper and begin.

"Hang on tight, Lee!"

The pig is really mad at me. I don't know why; I've ridden him before.

I wrap both arms around his neck as he charges across the yard, squealing so loudly that I can barely hear myself laughing. His hooves kick up dirt behind us while he twists and bucks, trying as hard as he can to throw me off.

"Hold on!" Dad calls.

"I'm trying!"

That only makes Dad laugh harder.

The pig makes a sharp turn beside the fence, and I nearly slide off his side before grabbing hold again. Dad is leaning against one of the posts, laughing so hard that he isn't even pretending he might help me.

"Lee!" Mom's voice comes from the house.

I look over, which is a mistake because the pig immediately takes advantage of it and throws me into the dirt.

Dad laughs even harder.

I sit up and spit dirt out of my mouth. "I'm okay!"

Mom doesn't seem interested in whether I'm okay. She's standing outside the house holding something, and she has a strange look on her face.

"Lee, come inside."

"Why?"

"Something came for you."

I get to my feet and brush the dirt from my clothes. "For me?"

Mom nods, still looking confused. "For you."

Nobody sends things to us, and especially not me.

I follow her inside with Dad coming behind us, still chuckling about the pig. The moment I step through the door, though, I forget about being thrown into the dirt.

There is a box sitting on our table; it doesn't belong there.

Everything in our house is old or worn or repaired somewhere. Our table has scratches all over it, one of the chairs wobbles, and Mom has patched our clothes so many times that I don't remember what they looked like before. The box sitting in the middle of all of it is so polished that the light from the window shines across the wood.

I walk closer.

There are little designs carved along the edges, and on the front is a symbol I recognize immediately.

The Fire Nation.

Not just the Fire Nation; the royal seal.

A scroll rests across the top of the box, rolled around polished wooden rods and tied with a silk cord that probably costs more than anything I'm wearing.

I stare at it. Mom stares at me. Dad stares at me too.

"Lee," Mom says slowly, "why did the Fire Lord send you a box?"

I scratch the back of my neck.

"I might've written to him."

Dad's eyebrows go up. "You wrote to the Fire Lord?"

"We know him."

Mom gives me a look.

"Well, sort of."

Neither of them says anything.

I look back at the scroll.

When I sent mine, I didn't really think Zuko would read it. I definitely didn't think he would answer.

Carefully, I reach for the silk cord and open the scroll.

Dear Lee,

It was good to hear from you.

I have thought about you and your family many times since I left your village. I remember how kind your family was to me when I needed somewhere to stay and food in my belly, even though you didn't know who I really was. I remember teaching you how to use my swords, and I remember what happened when you found out that I was from the Fire Nation.

I understand why you still hate the Fire Nation.

I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't. The Fire Nation brought the war to your home. We hurt people who had done nothing to us, took people away from their families, and caused suffering that doesn't disappear just because the war is over now.

I am sorry, Lee.

I am sorry for what the Fire Nation did to your family, your village, and the rest of the world.

I can't change what my father or the Fire Lords before them did. I wish I could, but I can't. What I can do is decide what the Fire Nation does now, and I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to make sure that we become something better than what we were.

There is something I think you should know.

When the war ended, I ordered the release of prisoners who had been held because they fought against the Fire Nation or resisted us. Once there was peace, there was no reason for us to keep them imprisoned.

Letting everyone out was the easy part. Getting everyone home has been much harder.

There are thousands of people who need to go to thousands of different places. Some of them have been away from home for years. A lot of roads, ships, ports, and towns were damaged during the war, and sometimes we don't even know if the place someone came from is still there.

While they wait, we have been giving them safe places to stay, food to eat, and medical care if they need it. We are trying to find everyone's families and arrange a way for each person to get home.

It is taking too long. I know that, but we are working through every name.

After I read your letter, I asked my officials to look for one name in particular: Sensu.

You wrote that if Sensu didn't come home, you hoped he didn't give up without a fight.

From everything my officials were able to learn, your brother endured what happened to him and survived long enough to see the war end.

So I can answer that question for you.

Sensu never gave up.

Lee, your brother is alive.

He survived his captivity and was released after the war ended. He has been staying with other former Earth Kingdom prisoners while waiting for transportation home. He has been given food, shelter, and medical care, and I have been told that he is healthy and fit to travel.

He isn't going to have to wait anymore.

I have personally ordered that his return be moved ahead. By the time you are reading this, arrangements are already being made to bring Sensu back to your family.

There is one more thing I want to tell you.

I hope he will be home with you very soon.

There are a few things in the box for you and your family. I hope you will accept them.

And I'm glad you don't hate me anymore, even if you still don't like me.

Fire Lord Zuko

For a while, I forget about the box.

I read the part about Sensu again, then I read it one more time because the words still don't seem real.

Lee, your brother is alive.

Mom is crying. Dad has taken the scroll from me and is reading it himself now, his hand shaking a little as he holds it.

That's when I remember the last part of Zuko's letter.

There are things in the box.

I turn back toward it and lift the lid.

The first thing I see is candy; a lot of candy.

I blink down at it because I was expecting something important. Something Fire Lord-ish. Instead, the entire top of the box is packed with brightly wrapped sweets.

"Is that candy?" I ask.

Mom laughs through her tears. "It looks like it."

I pick through them, finding little fruit candies in colors I've never seen before, sticky-looking squares dusted with sugar, tiny cakes wrapped in red paper, and several dark pieces that smell like chocolate. Some of the wrappers have little flames painted on them.

I unwrap one of the chocolates and pop it into my mouth before Mom can tell me not to eat something when I don't know what it is.

At first, it's sweet, like really sweet. Then something warm prickles across my tongue.

My eyes widen.

There's something spicy inside the chocolate, little flakes that leave a mild heat behind after the sweetness melts away. It's strange, but it's also probably the best thing I've ever eaten.

Dad looks up from the scroll. "Good?"

I grab another one.

"Really good."

I stare down at all the bright wrappers filling the box.

I've spent my whole life knowing things from the Fire Nation as things to be afraid of.

I never knew they had good candy.

I eat another chocolate while I start moving the candy around to see what else Zuko put in the box.

There is something underneath it.

I push aside a few of the little cakes and find a cloth pouch tucked beneath them. When I grab it, I'm surprised by how heavy it is, and it makes a loud clunk against the side of the box when I pull it free.

I set it on the table and loosen the cord.

Gold.

I stare down into the pouch.

I've seen gold pieces before, but usually only one or two at a time. There are so many in here that when I stick my fingers into the pouch, they disappear between them.

"Whoa."

Dad looks over; his face changes.

Mom notices too, and she comes closer. "What is that?"

I turn the pouch so they can see inside.

Neither of them says anything.

I don't really know how much money it is. I know it's a lot, but grown-ups understand money better than I do, and the way Mom suddenly covers her mouth tells me it's probably more than just a lot.

Dad reaches into the pouch and lifts one of the pieces. He stares at it, then looks into the bag again.

"Spirits," he whispers.

"How much is it?" I ask.

He doesn't answer right away.

Mom sits down.

That's when I know it's really a lot.

I look at the gold again, then slide the whole pouch across the table toward them without thinking about it.

Dad catches it before it reaches the edge.

"For you guys."

Mom looks at me. "Lee..."

"What?"

She makes a strange sound that is almost a laugh and almost another cry.

Dad is still staring into the pouch.

I know we need things. Everybody in the village does. Our roof leaks when it rains hard, one side of the barn needs fixing, and Mom worries whenever the harvest isn't good. There are things we lost during the war that we just learned to live without because replacing them costs money we don't have.

Apparently, now we do.

There isn't another note with the gold. There aren't instructions telling Dad what he's supposed to spend it on or anything saying we owe the Fire Nation something because we took it.

Zuko just put it in the box.

I reach for another chocolate while Mom and Dad keep staring at the money.

I think I'm starting to like Zuko a little bit.

I think that's everything until I reach into the box for another piece of candy and notice something beneath where the bag of gold was sitting.

It's wrapped in cloth. I pull it out, expecting another gift, but before I even finish unwrapping it, I recognize the shape.

My hands slow.

I peel back the last fold of cloth. The pearl handle appears first.

I stop moving.

I remember how excited I was when Zuko gave it to me. Back then, he was just the strange traveler who stayed with us, taught me a little about swords, and gave me something finer than anything I'd ever owned.

Then I found out who he really was. I remember telling him I hated him.

But Sensu is alive.

The war is over.

I still hate what the Fire Nation did to us. I think I always will.

But the strange traveler I hated is the Fire Lord now.

And Sensu never gave up.

I close my hand around the pearl handle.

The black sheath is exactly how I remember it, with gold along the sides and a golden circle where it meets the handle. I pick it up carefully, wrapping my fingers around the pearl.

Then I draw the blade.

For a moment, I just look at it before turning it in my hands until I find the words engraved into the metal.

Never give up without a fight.