Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mai is the one who finds him. She’s says it’s lucky that she does.  

Uncle says there is no such thing as luck, that Mai finding him at that moment was predestined.  

Aang says it was the spirits, leading Mai in the right direction.  

Zuko doesn’t think any of it really matters. It’s all just semantics.  

And no matter what, he knows everything is going exactly as Azula planned.  

*** 

“They call him Ren,” Mai whispers to him quietly. They’re standing together in the doorway of the hospital ward, staring intently at the sleeping little boy in the room’s only occupied bed. “But they don’t know his real name. He won’t say a word, hasn’t spoken at all since the matron found him passed out on their doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago.”  

They think the boy is six years old, possibly older if he’s been consistently malnourished. His ragged black hair falls to his collar bone, now spread across the pillow like a halo as he sleeps. Zuko’s been told the boy’s eyes are a pretty gold.  

He’s also been told the boy’s hands and feet are patterned with tiny burn scars, both old and new. When he’s awake, his hands apparently tremor so violently he can’t hold a glass of water himself. And his chest is covered by an achingly familiar scorch, right above his heart.  

It’s his heart now that keeps Ren in the orphanage's hospital ward.  

His broken heart, surely caused by a direct and malevolent strike of lightning, that prompted Mai to send an urgent messenger hawk to Zuko yesterday, telling him to get there as soon as possible.  

Well, that, and the boy’s incredible resemblance to portraits of a young and scar-less Zuko.  

*** 

Mai is the founder and president of the Fire Nation’s Children’s Defense Agency.  

After ending a war in which people under the age of eighteen fought the most crucial battles, Mai decided children in their nation, and across the world, could use better protecting.  

The CDA started foster and adoption systems across the nation, opened new schools and set stricter and more equitable educational guidelines. The agency created shelters in each city, where both children and adults could stay, no questions asked, if they didn’t feel safe at home.  

The CDA also built new orphanages, one for each region of the nation. Mai visits them all on the regular basis to ensure everything is up to code, and the children and employees are treated well.  

It’s during a surprise visit to the Northern Orphanage that Mai meets Ren.  

“He has to be Azula’s,” Mai whispers as she paces up and down the hall. Zuko is still in the doorway, watching Ren as he sleeps. His throat feels bone dry.  

“What, you don’t think he’s mine? He looks enough like me.” 

Mai actually snorts. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets. And you and I both know you’d never be stupid enough to cheat on me.”  

“I’d never want to cheat on you,” Zuko says softly, eyes still on the boy. Ren shakes his head suddenly, and scrunches up his nose like he’s having a nightmare. In his face, Zuko sees not only himself, but Izumi as well. He shudders quickly, and Mai finally quits her pacing to join him again at the door. She grabs his hand.  

“If he is--,” Zuko swallows thickly, unable to say his sister’s name. “Why would she ever do this to him? Why would she abandon him like this? How could she...” Zuko trails off.  

Mai squeezes his hand, rests her head on his shoulder. She sniffs. “Azula would do this if her child couldn’t bend.”  

*** 

Mai and Zuko return to the matron’s office to hear the heartbreaking tale once again from the source and gather what little information they can.  

“We found him unconscious on the back doorstep three weeks ago. It was the middle of a terrible rainstorm. I sent one of our nurses out immediately to fetch the doctor...” the matron trails off, lost in memories. She’s an old but sturdy woman, with a stern face and a soft heart. Zuko doesn’t doubt the fact the matron would burn to a crisp anyone who dared harm any of the children under her care.  

“I honestly didn’t think he’d make it through that night. He was barely breathing, his pulse was erratic, and the fever was inevitable after being out so long in the storm,” the matron sighs. “But, he did. The burns have healed, the fever finally left. The doctor comes by every few days to check on him. She’s most worried for his heart now, worried stress or exercise could cause a relapse. And he’s just so tired,” the matron looks unspeakably sad. “As I told you already, my Lady, he won’t speak. He responds to the doctor's tests, and will nod or shake his head to answer our questions of him, so we don’t believe it’s a hearing issue.  

“It’s possible the lightning may have muddled something in his brain, making it impossible to talk, but as he hasn’t visibly shown distress in attempts to speak, the doctor believes it’s a selective mutism. It’s not uncommon for children to develop while dealing with trauma.  

“One of my nurses started calling him Ren. He’s been responding to it, so that’s what we all call him now.” The matron takes another deep breath before pulling off her glasses and cleaning them on the hem of her shirt, eyeing them both shrewdly across the desk.  

“Please forgive my impertinence, my Lord and Lady, but why are you here? What do you want with Ren?” 

Zuko opens his mouth, but no words come forth, all caught and tangled in his head and throat. My sister is a monster. I haven’t seen her in fifteen years. She’s a mercenary, as far as I know. She’s been trying to steal my crown since before I got it. I think Ren is her son. I think Ren is my nephew. I think I think I think--  

“We want to adopt him,” Mai says immediately, and Zuko and the matron’s eyes both widen comically.  

Well, Zuko thinks. That works, too.  

*** 

“Mai, are you sure about this?”  

“Yes.”  

“Are you absolutely, positively sure about--,” 

“Yes.”  

“We don’t even know for sure that he is Azula’s, how can we--,” Mai stops stalking down the hallway, and faces Zuko, halting him in his tracks.  

“Then we’ll still be giving a child in need a good home.” Mai takes a deep breath. “He is hers though. I don’t--I can’t explain it. I know I’m not a bender, I don’t have that special connection to the spirit world and all that, but I just—I can feel it Zuko. We’re supposed to do this. We’re supposed to help him. This is how it has to be.”  

Mai has tears in her eyes.  

Zuko can’t remember the last time he saw her cry.  

“Okay,” Zuko says softly, pulling his wife into a hug. “Okay.”  

And that is that.  

*** 

“Hello,” Mai says quietly, as she takes a seat next to the boy’s bed. Zuko can hear the smile in her voice. “Do you remember me from yesterday? My name is Mai.”  

The boy nods slowly, now propped up by a mound of pillows. His golden eyes are ringed by dark circles. He looks at Mai, then up at Zuko warily, his fists clenched in the blanket covering him.  

“This is my husband, Zuko.” With deliberate slowness, Zuko takes the seat next to Mai, his hand waved awkwardly in hello. They’re both in plain robes today, and Zuko has forgone his crown.  

There’s no recognition in the boy’s eyes at Zuko’s name.  

“If you don’t mind, we have a few questions for you, Ren.” Mai tilts her head. “I suppose that’s the first question. Do you want us to call you Ren? Is there another name you prefer? We can get ink and paper, you could show us if--,”  

The boy shrugs, eyes down. Mai’s mouth tightens. “Well, Ren is a lovely name, so I’ll keep using it. But if you ever want to be called something else, you let us know, understand?”  

Ren nods.  

“Ren, do you know a woman named Azula?”  

Ren flinches so hard the bed shifts, Mai turns to Zuko with absolute murder in her eyes, and Zuko has his answer. Ren clutches his hand to his heart as he takes in gasping breaths. Mai hesitates before resting a soft hand on his shoulder.  

He doesn’t flinch this time.  

“I’m sorry,” Zuko croaks, “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” he tilts his head to the boy’s chest; Ren’s still holding his hand there tightly as he winces.  

He nods then, eyes filled with tears.  

There’s always been part of Zuko that felt desperately sad for Azula. Their father damaged her as much as he did Zuko; her scars just weren’t the visible kind. And Ursa had always favored Zuko, always sought to protect him from Azula and the rest of the world.  

When Zuko got away, Azula remained, growing more warped and twisted and sick each day, all while their father nurtured those feelings, that sense of absolute righteousness and divine power. Zuko escaped, though it hadn’t felt like it at the time, and left his little sister behind in the belly of corruption and greed. 

Zuko’s always felt guilty and sad and angry for his sister, for the life she was forced to live, the person she became as a result.   

Any pity, any mercy Zuko once felt for Azula ends swiftly and absolutely with Ren’s quiet tears.  

Slowly, Zuko loosens the tie on his robe, dragging the silk away from his chest to show this child the scar they now share. Ren’s golden eyes widen at the sight, and he picks at the bandages over his own chest with a shaking hand.  

“She hurt me, too, Ren.” Zuko says softly. Almost unconsciously, Ren’s free hand rises up reaches out, before he seems to realize himself and snatch it back to his chest.  

Unfazed, Zuko takes a breath before standing up and gently sitting himself on the edge of Ren’s bed, his scar still visible. Ren takes the motion as permission, and reaches forward once again, using a tiny, trembling finger to trace the puckered skin over Zuko’s heart.  

“I know it hurts. But we know how to fix it, too, Ren. We can help you, if you’ll let us. Will you let us help you?”  

Ren looks up at Mai, her slim hand still gentle but firm on his shoulder. He looks at Zuko, at the scar on his heart, and seems to notice the odd little circle they make.  

“We would never hurt you,” Mai says, her voice soft in a way Zuko hasn’t heard since Izumi was a little girl. “We won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”  

And slowly, Ren nods.  

*** 

The doctor comes that afternoon and informs them Ren should be fine for travel as long he doesn’t have to exert himself.  

The matron and one of the nurses packs Ren a little bag, filled with his clothes that could be salvaged from the night her arrived, an extra set of robes, and a quilt that had been on the end of his bed in the hospital ward.  

A little bag and a borrowed name encompass this boy’s worldly possessions.  

Zuko sends messenger hawks off to Republic City and the Capital, idly wondering whether his airship or Appa will make it to the palace first tomorrow.  

And Mai sits with Ren, speaks quietly with him all afternoon as Zuko signs the papers, writes the letters, sends his guards off to gather supplies from the village. Mai holds Ren’s hand when the doctor changes his bandages, and helps him dress in warm robes for the journey.  

Late that evening, Zuko scoops a sleeping Ren into his arms, and winces at just how light the boy is.  

And then, they leave. They board the airship on the outskirts of the little village and bow to the matron and the sweet nurses and the doctor and leave the orphanage behind with a whole other tiny and entirely unexpected person in tow.  

“This is not how I imagined today was going to go,” Zuko whispers, as he and Mai tuck Ren into the cot in the captain’s quarters of the airship.  

Mai shrugs. “Izumi did always want a sibling.” She leans down and brushes Ren’s hair lightly off his forehead.  

This is a far cry from the terror and elation of Izumi’s birth nearly eighteen years ago. But Zuko still felt it today, that moment when Ren stuck his head in the crook of Zuko’s neck, and his scarred little fingers dug into the front of Zuko’s robes as he slept on. There was a familiar tug in his heart and a click in his brain and Zuko knows, without a shadow of doubt, that Mai is right.  

This was always supposed to happen.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Be gentle with the flames, my child,” Uncle chides, adjusting the angle of Izumi’s hand on the teapot. “I wish to have a pot of tea with you, not breathe in the vapors.” 

Izumi shakes her head and sighs, letting go of the flame and settling the teapot on the table before them. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I’m just worried about Mom and Dad. That letter was so vague, and now Katara is here, and I have no idea what to think.” 

Uncle pours them each a cup of tea before patting her hand. “Life is full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises, dear Izumi. If you want for trouble, it will no doubt find you. But, if you look for the beauty in all you are given, you shall find peace.”  

Izumi repeats the new bit of wisdom in her head, making a note to add it to her ever-growing journal of Iroh-isms. She’s not exactly sure what she’ll do with the book, but she knows one day she’ll be grateful to have it.  

“But what do you think they meant by a surprise?”  

“Patience is the greatest virtue, Niece.”  

“Uncle--,” she whines. Which, of course, is the moment Dad turns the corner and enters the garden. Uncle turns to Izumi and smirks, before they both stand and make perfunctory bows. Dad waves them off immediately, and Izumi rushes forward to greet him.  

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dad says, kissing her cheek before pulling her into a hug.  

“So, what’s the surprise?” Izumi asks quickly. “What’s so urgent Mom made you fly up?”  

Dad’s face is curiously impassive. “Do you remember a few years ago, when you asked me about having siblings?”  

*** 

So, it turns out Mom isn’t pregnant.  

Izumi isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved by the news. Her thoughts on that really don’t matter though, when Dad quietly tells them about her cousin.  

The silent and suffering son of the enigmatic Aunt Azula.  

Azula hasn’t been seen or heard from for years, not since her last coup attempt when Izumi was just a toddler. Apparently, she and her band of mercenaries tried to kidnap Izumi.  

As she doesn’t remember any of it, Izumi assumes they didn’t make it very far.  

But Azula hasn’t been mentioned regularly in the palace since. Izumi knows Dad has operatives consistently on the lookout for his wayward sister, but this is the first time in fifteen years there’s been any lead.  

Izumi sincerely wishes this breakthrough didn’t have to be at the expense of a child.  

“Ren’s with Mom and Katara now,” Dad finishes, his eyes unspeakably sad. Uncle is crying quietly. “We’re hoping she can heal most of the damage to his heart, let him live a normal life.”  

“Here with us?” Izumi asks, finally able to shake herself out of her creeping horror. “Ren’s going to stay with us, right?”  

Dad takes a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, he’ll live with us.”  

“Good.”  

Izumi has always secretly wished for a little brother.  

*** 

It occurs to Izumi, moments before meeting Ren at breakfast the next morning, that she has very little experience with small children.  

Truly, Izumi hasn’t been around small children since she herself was a small child, and Mom always said she was unfortunately mature from a very young age.  

So, palms sweating and knees a bit weak, Izumi stands with Uncle and Dad to greet Ren and Mom as they enter the room, hand in hand.  

And Ren is tiny and sweet, robes a bit too long and hair brushed and pulled back in a high ponytail. It’s easy to see why they think he’s Azula’s; his resemblance to Dad is uncanny.  

Well, besides the scar.   

They all sit down for breakfast as a family, Ren cuddled up to Mom across the table from Izumi, Uncle to Izumi’s left and Dad to her right. Katara has gone into the city this morning, shopping for Kya’s birthday presents. Izumi has a feeling it’s a calculated absence to keep the atmosphere less crowded, in the hopes of getting Ren to open up a bit.  

So far, it isn’t working.  

But breakfast isn’t quiet, not with Uncle to keep the conversation flowing. For once, Izumi doesn’t listen to him.  

Instead, she watches Ren.  

The boy is silently working at his chopsticks, hands a bit shaky as he picks at the rice and fish. Mom asks him quietly once if he’d like something else to eat, but Ren shakes his head quickly and stuffs the rice in his mouth.  

He looks tired and sad and much too old for a child so small.  

It’s time to change that.  

“Dad,” Izumi says suddenly, pointing across the room as she squints her eyes. “Dad, that portrait is crooked.”  

“Which one?” As Dad turns to follow her finger, Izumi subtly pulls Dad’s bowl of cherries closer to her. Ren looks up at her with wide eyes. She holds a finger up to her lips and smiles.  

“The one of Aunt Illah and Lu Ten. Can’t you see it, the frame is off center.” Dad looks back at her, confusion evident. Izumi drops her finger and keeps her face carefully composed as she shrugs.  

“Perhaps your eyes are going bad, maybe you need glasses.”  

“I don’t need glasses,” Dad stands, walking toward the portrait. Izumi watches him go before leaning forward and pilfering all the good bits off his plate. She stuffs red bean buns in her robe’s flowy sleeves, dumps the bowl of cherries straight in her pocket, and pops a piece of fish in her mouth for good measure before looking up at Ren with a wry grin and winking.  

The boy’s eyes are wide in shock, mouth open in wonder as he watches Izumi slide back in her seat just as Dad turns back and approaches the table.  

“My eyes are absolutely fine, and that portrait is completely level, I don’t know what you’re--where’s my breakfast?” Dad asks, looking rather pitiful as he stares down at his now empty plate.  

“You must be going mad, Daddy. You ate it already, remember?” Izumi says sweetly, standing up and patting Dad on the shoulder before leaning around to kiss his cheek.  

And suddenly, miraculously, Ren giggles. It’s a bit croaky and hoarse, but undeniably joyous and gratifying. For a moment, Izumi can do nothing but beam. 

While Dad is distracted, wide-eyed and slack-jawed from the foreign sound, Izumi uses her free hand to slide the crown out of his hair and slips it into her cherry-free pocket. Ren laughs even louder. Mom is smiling down at him like he’s the rising sun. Uncle might be crying.  

“C’mon, Ren,” Izumi says happily, holding out her hand to the little boy. “Let’s go have a picnic with the turtleducks.”  

And Ren, whose laughter has turned into a shy, sweet smile, takes Izumi’s hand and stands.  

“What the hell just happened?” she hears Dad whisper behind them.  

“Progress, Nephew,” Uncle says with a watery chuckle. “Progress.”  

***

Chapter Text

“I meant you no disrespect! I am your loyal son.”  

“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!  

“I won’t fight you.”  

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”  

“NO!”  

“No. No, no, no, no, NO--,” 

“Zuko!” He wakes to a rough shove to his shoulder, and turns over to see Mai’s worried gray eyes. “Zuko?” she asks, her voice softer. Her slim hand cups the side of his face, and it takes everything in Zuko not to flinch.  

“Bad dream,” he finally mutters, and Mai pulls back her hand immediately. She grips his wrist comfortingly instead. For a few minutes they both lay there quietly, Mai running her thumb over the arch of his wrist, Zuko gulping down his breaths until they resemble something close to normal.  

“Wanna talk about it?” she finally asks.  

“Not really.” Slowly, Zuko extricates his arm from his wife’s firm grip and slides out of bed, gripping his silk robe from the hook and hastily pulling it on. 

“Want me to come with you?”  

“Not tonight.” Zuko leans back across the bed to kiss Mai. “Thanks,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers.  

Mai shrugs as she runs her fingers down his back, brushing his hair. “They pay me pretty well to stick around,” she says wryly, and Zuko can’t help but smile.  

“Let them know you deserve a raise.” 

“Every day, sweetheart.” 

Zuko laughs. 

*** 

It’s been years since Zuko’s last had that dream. He’s always figured the arrival of Izumi brought along so many new fears and worries that his brain didn’t have the capacity to keep the memory in the forefront of his nightmares like it did in his youth.  

Obviously, he’s wrong. 

Nonplussed at the realization, and suddenly wide awake, Zuko leaves his and Mai’s chambers, tying the robe around himself as he walks swiftly down the halls. His intended destination is the kitchen, and a calming pot of chamomile, but the view out the window to the turtleduck pond stops Zuko in his tracks.  

Katara is sitting on top of the little pond, the water clear as glass surrounding her. Above her head, water droplets and snowflakes, ice pellets and sleet, weave intricate patterns through a delicate mist now surrounding the whole courtyard. Only the full moon above cuts through the cloying fog, settling on Katara like a spotlight where she sways lightly as she sits, eyes closed and head raised to the light above.  

Zuko enters the garden silently, and takes a seat underneath the tree by the pond, completely entranced. 

He forgets sometimes, just how masterful Katara really is. He’s always known her to be ruthlessly efficient and prodigiously talented, but her quiet grace, the raw spirituality of her connection to her element, is too easily lost in the rush of everyday life.  

Not tonight, though. Zuko feels like he’s watching magic.  

For a few moments, all is silent, and Katara continues her art, weaving the water through the mist, until finally it all falls still. Katara pulls both hands to her chest, and the precipitation falls. She drops her hands to the surface of the water, palms up, then pushes them forward, and the water below her creaks and crackles as it turns to solid ice, patterned with the snowflakes that had been flying around their heads just seconds before.  

“Couldn’t sleep?” Katara asks, breaking the spell. Zuko blinks a few times before nodding. Katara rises and walks across the ice before joining him to sit underneath the tree. The ice melts in her wake.  

“I don’t sleep well during full moons,” she answers Zuko’s unasked question thoughtfully, pulling her knees to her chest to rest her chin. “It feels like a humming under my skin all night long. Have to get all the energy out.”  

“You could have gone to the bay.” Katara shrugs a bit, looking out to the now normal pond.  

“This works. I can see why you always loved it here. It’s very peaceful.” 

Zuko looks out, around the tiny courtyard. He remembers afternoons in the sun with Mom, feeding the turtleducks bread from the day before. He remembers games with Mai and Ty Lee, teas with Iroh and Lu Ten. Watching Izumi take her first steps on the grass underneath this very tree.  

“It’s always been home.” 

Katara nods, and they sit in silence for a bit. “I think after tomorrow’s session, Ren won’t need me anymore. He’s progressing well, and his heart is nearly completely healed. His energy levels are definitely up, and he got mad at Mai yesterday for making him take a nap, which is always a good sign--,” 

“Will he ever talk to us?” Zuko interrupts quietly. It’s been two weeks, and they have yet to hear the boy’s voice, besides his joyous but infrequent laughter with Izumi.  

Katara sighs. “That’s up to him. There’s nothing physically to keep him from talking.” 

“What else can we do?” Zuko asks helplessly. Katara turns to look at him, mouth pulled in a thoughtful frown.  

“What did you want after your father burned you? Once it stopped hurting so much and you could actually get through the day, what did you need?”  

Zuko breath catches as he looks into Katara’s wide blue eyes, the dream that had woken him up so violently that very night again echoing tortuously through his head. He’d wanted redemption then, as he watched the horizon from the bow of his exiled ship, imagining the home he longed for so desperately. He’d wanted his honor. He’d wanted the hideous scar to be gone. He’d wanted-- 

“To be loved,” Zuko finally admits softly. Katara’s eyes grow bright, and she grips his hand. “I just wanted to know my father loved me.” 

But he hadn’t. Father never loved him the way he should have.  

His uncle is the one who does.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Not so tightly, Ren, keep your grip loose. Let the blade rest, that’s it. Then flick your wrist, yes, just like that.” Izumi peeks around the corner to the training rooms, watching in avid interest as Mom gives Ren the first of surely many lessons in throwing knives. “Act like you’re swinging a hammer into the wall, that’s what my father told me when I was young. Keep your wrist in a straight line, your thumb should be pointing forward...”  

With a deep breath, Ren follows Mom’s instructions and lets the knife fly a few feet toward the wooden board resting against the wall. The knife clacks against the edge of the target before unceremoniously sliding to the ground.  

Ren’s breath starts to quicken and his golden eyes widen as he stares upon his failure. He’s afraid, Izumi realizes suddenly, and her heart aches with the sight of it.  

Mom must notice it as well, because she bends down to Ren’s height, and avoids touching him as she leans in with a happy smile. “That was a wonderful first try, Ren. You’ll get it in time sweetheart, it just takes practice. We all have to start somewhere. I didn’t even hit the board when I first threw a knife.” 

Ren stiffens with the encouragement, as though he can’t quite believe Mom is being honest. As though he’s waiting for the inevitable blow to fall.  

“Uncle Iroh always says the only true failure is that from which you do not learn,” Izumi adds, finally emerging from her hiding spot in the doorway and joining them in the training room. “Did you learn anything, Ren?” 

Ren looks up at her with a small grin, before tilting his head to the side thoughtfully and nodding. He runs for the target and picks up the little throwing knife from the floor.  

“Don’t touch the pointy end, and don’t run with the knife,” Mom reminds him firmly, and Ren complies. He settles himself beside Mom and grips the knife carefully, placing his foot forward and falling into a throwing stance.  

He looks up at Mom, who nods her approval, and, with another deep breath, Ren lets the knife fly.  

This time, it sticks.  

“Good work, Ren,” Mom says calmly, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulder as Izumi’s loud cheers echo through the high ceilings. “That was excellent.” 

Ren’s smile is like the rising sun.  

Later that afternoon, as they’re sitting down to tea, waiting for Dad to arrive and watching Uncle teach Ren how to play Pai Sho, Izumi finally gets the chance to ask her mother the question that’s been on her mind since she first entered the training room.  

“Why are you teaching him to throw a knife now? He’s so little. You wouldn’t even let me hold yours until I was eight.”  

Instead of answering, Mom leans forward and tucks an errant strand of Izumi’s hair behind her ear. Izumi leans her head out of the way in annoyance and Mom smirks, before picking up her cup of tea.  

“When you were his age, we were more worried about you accidentally burning down the palace,” Mom says drily, and Izumi feels herself flush.  

“That was one time--,” Izumi whines, and Mom interrupts her with a laugh, before she looks at Ren and cups underneath her chin thoughtfully.  

“Ren needs to feel safe. A large part of safety, and one that’s difficult to think about with someone his age, is the idea of being able to protect oneself. He needs to understand that there are other types of power and protection besides firebending.” Mom take a shuddering breath. “I’ve known Azula to do horrible things, I’ve witnessed her doing unspeakable things...” she trails off. “We’ll keep Ren safe. He will feel safe here with us, in all ways.”  

Izumi nods and scoots herself a bit closer to Mom, as they sit back and watch Ren laugh as Uncle pulls Pai Sho tiles out from behind his ears.  

*** 

“I think I should postpone enlisting in the Navy,” Izumi says, as she barges into Dad’s office without ceremony. “I still want to join, that hasn’t changed, but Ren needs me here and next month is not a good time to leave. He’d miss me, I’d miss him, it would be a whole thing. We can start up Fire Lord lessons again until then if you think I’m being too idle, or I can start tutoring Ren, we’re really not quite sure if he can read yet, and--,” 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Dad interrupts, relief evident in his voice as he sags back in his chair. “Your mother and I wanted to ask if you would postpone, but we didn’t know how, and obviously you’re nearly an adult now, and we know you’re looking forward to it, but Ren’s changed many things, you know, and he would miss you so much, of course we all would, and we can start Fire Lord lessons if you want, we don’t have to, we’re also thinking about bringing back Yuko for Ren and--,” 

Izumi holds up a hand to quiet Dad, and bites her lip to hold back her startled snort.  

Apparently nervous rambling is a genetic trait.  

“A year?” Izumi says questioningly, and Dad nods in agreement.  

“One year.”  

The Fire Navy will still be there waiting for her when she’s eighteen, after all. Ren needs her now.  

*** 

The next morning at dawn, Izumi wakes with the sun and drags Dad with her to the training rooms. It’s been far too long since they sparred one another, and as Crown Princess and a loyal citizen of the Fire Nation, it’s her duty to ensure the Fire Lord is prepared for any and all threats.  

(It’s also ridiculously fun making her dad eat the dirt, but that is obviously a secondary consideration.) 

“You’ve been practicing,” Dad says with a grin as he watches Izumi jump and tumble into a back layout to avoid his flames.  

“And you haven’t!” Izumi shouts gleefully, before falling to her hands and kicking her legs in a circle, yellow flames exploding from her feet in an arc as she moves. Dad disperses the arc with his own flames before squatting down and punching his fists forward.  

“Sometimes, basics are best, my dear.” And Dad leans his head back and whooshes his breath outward, expelling flames like the ancient dragons their ancestors first learned from.  

Izumi could do many things to counter. She could simply side-step and avoid the forward motion. She could jump up at the last moment and watch the flames pass under her. She could shield with her own fire, she could meet Dad’s fire in the middle of the training room, hell she could just duck.  

But, at that second, a young, unfamiliar, and frankly terrified voice shrieks from the now opened doorway.  

“IZUMI!” 

And Izumi looks because it’s Ren. It is little Ren and his face is red and his eyes are tearful and wide and frightened and he just said her name--  

“AHH!” Izumi shouts as the fire swipes her side and against her back. It’s been years since she’s been burned like this, years since she’s been caught off-guard so completely, but training kicks in and she drops to the floor and rolls.  

Once she’s sure the flames are out, Izumi turns and lays on her stomach, breaths shuddering in and out as she fights her body to still. It hurts, fuck, it burns and she’s pretty sure the cool, tiled floor is exactly where she wants to stay the entire rest of the day.  

“Izumi,” Dad whispers beside her, his voice a choked rasp as he slides to his knees, hands hovering but careful not to touch the new burns. “Shit, shit. Get the healer!” He calls out to the guards by the door. Izumi swallows thickly and makes to sit up.  

“Don’t move,” Dad says emphatically, pushing her shoulders gently but firmly down.  

“I’m okay, Dad,” Izumi argues as she stares at him from the floor. Because she is, really. It hurt horribly at first, but the sting is already beginning to settle into a dull but consistent pain. She’d been shocked by it more than anything, the flames really just swiped her in the end. It could have been so much worse.  

But Dad is sitting there holding her shoulders, tears in his eyes, face crestfallen and hung low like he’s the absolute worst person in the world.  

Her silly dad. It’s not like he did it on pur-- 

Oh. Oh.  

Oh damn.  

Izumi reaches up and grips his hand. “I’m fine.” She says firmly. “They’ll put on the salve and bandage it. It probably won’t even scar. It’s not your fault.” Dad bites his lip and shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Izumi beats him to it.  

“It’s not, Daddy. I wasn’t paying attention. Ren surprised me is all. Shit,” Izumi jumps at the thought, and turns her head to look at the empty doorway. “Where’s Ren?” 

Dad lets out a shaking breath. “I don’t know. He shouted your name then he ran. He didn’t want me to hurt you.” Dad chuckles darkly. “Ironic.” 

Izumi slaps his wrist and finally sits up with a groan. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I’m fine. We have to find Ren.” 

“You need a healer.” 

“Fine, I’ll stay here, you find Ren.” 

“Izumi--,” 

“Dad.” Dad sighs.  

“I’ll find Ren.”  

Izumi smiles prettily at him as he gets up, swiping back her hair gently and apologizing profusely, and finally leaves when the healer arrives. She waits until he’s out the door and around the corner to let out her next painful groan.  

*** 

An hour later, Izumi hobbles down the corridors, torso bandaged and clothes changed, trying and failing to find the rest of her family.  

They’re not in the gardens, not in the breakfast room. Not in the kitchens or the turtleduck pond or Dad’s office.  

She’s finally back nearly where she began her search, in the family wing when she hears voices behind Ren’s door.  

Izumi enters the room to find Mom and Dad sitting cross-legged on the floor before the wardrobe, speaking insistently to the door.  

“Ren, please come out.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you, honey.”  

“Can you open the door?” 

“Why aren’t you opening it?” Izumi mouths to her parents. Dad shrugs helplessly. Mom mimes a key in a lock. Izumi looks at the closet and raises her eyebrows in confusion.  

The door doesn’t have any visible locks.  

“Ren,” Izumi calls out loud, stepping forward between her parents to knock on the wardrobe. “Can I come in?”  

Silence. 

“C’mon, at least respond, Ren. I know you can. You said my name this morning. I want to hear your nice voice again--,” 

“No!”  

Izumi can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. “No, you won’t open the door, or no, you won’t talk to me? You didn’t really specify, buddy, that’s something you’ll have to--,” 

There’s a thump and the wardrobe door creaks forward. A tiny hand whips through the air and snatches Izumi’s wrist, pulling her inside. She falls to the floor with a startled yelp, hugging her free arm around her torso to her back protectively as the door shuts and all goes black.  

“Are you hurt?” Ren whispers in her, his voice high and worried and so, so sweet. Izumi reaches forward blindly and pulls him into her lap. “He hurted you.” 

“He didn’t mean to, Ren,” Izumi says softly. “I know it looked scary, but we were just practicing together. It was an accident. Dad would never hurt me on purpose.” 

“Are you sure?” Ren lisps his R’s; each one feels like a wave hello, a glimpse into the little boy beside her.  

“Positively positive.” Izumi breathes deeply before hugging Ren closer still and taking a calculated risk. She sticks her hand forward, as far away from Ren as she can, and lights a tiniest lick of fire in her palm.  

Ren flinches violently, and only settles when Izumi holds her place and doesn’t move her hand, shushing lightly in his ear. “I know fire seems scary, Ren, especially to you. It’s very powerful and very dangerous. 

“But it’s also good. It’s light and warmth. It cooks our food and warms our houses. It brings a little piece of sunlight to even the darkest times.  

“Fire is life.” 

*** 

Izumi and Ren finally emerge from the wardrobe a few minutes later. Dad squats down and apologizes to Ren for scaring him, before hugging him tightly. Mom runs her fingers through Ren’s hair and wraps a gentle arm around Izumi, already careful of the burn. And Izumi is numb and tired, but in a good way. Wrung out, yet whole and clean.  

“Can we have breakfast now?” Ren asks quietly, once Dad finally lets him go.  

Mom of all people starts crying first. 

*** 

*** 

*** 

“One more story?” Ren asks, his golden eyes round and bright. “Please, Uncle? Please, please--,” 

Zuko rolls his eyes fondly, and leans down to press a kiss to the top of Ren’s head, tucking the blankets tightly around him. “It is time for all the good little princes to go to sleep.”  

The words fall from his mouth thoughtlessly, a long-forgotten admonition of his mother’s that she’d said to him every night before bed. Ren stiffens at the words and tilts his head in confusion.  

“Am I a prince?”  

“Well, yes,” Zuko says, as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re our family, and we’re the royal family so...yes.” 

Ren hums thoughtfully. “Is my mommy a princess like Izumi?”  

Zuko fights valiantly to keep his face even. “Yes, she is.” Then he grimaces, and leans down to kiss Ren’s hair again to hide it. “Goodnight, Ren. I love you.”  

Ren stiffens again, and Zuko pulls back immediately, only to watch in horror as silent tears fall down the little boy’s cheeks. Zuko sits down on the bed and reaches forward to brush them gently away.  

“Ren--,” 

“Mommy always said you were bad,” Ren croaks, then sniffles distressingly. “She said you would hate me.”  

Unable to swallow around the lump in his throat, Zuko turns and leans back against the headboard, wrapping an arm around his nephew’s slim shoulders. Ren leans his head against Zuko’s arm and shudders with his tears.  

“One more story?” Zuko finally asks softly. He feels Ren nods beside him. “Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony...” 

Chapter Text

*** 

“My Lord, if we were given the opportunity to question the boy--,” 

“Absolutely not,” Dad interrupts immediately, his golden eyes flashing.  

Izumi remembers Ren’s hysterical shrieks after the earthquake in the early hours of this morning, looks across the council table at Mom’s empty chair, and silently agrees.  

“I beg you reconsider, My Lord,” Councilor Iko says calmly, hands held up in peace. “I understand the boy is young and his upbringing has been difficult, but any information he can provide us on your sister and her whereabouts would be invaluable. We haven’t had a lead like this since...” The councilor trails off. He doesn’t need to finish.  

It seems only Izumi has forgotten her infamous abduction by Azula fifteen years earlier.  

“The boy’s name is Prince Ren, Councilor. I suggest you use it, or ‘His Royal Highness’, really whatever suits your fancy.”  

Properly chastised, the man face flushes red and he takes his seat.  

Dad takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything else I should know?”  

The Chief Fire Sage clears his throat and stands.  

“I believe it prudent for us all to discuss the implications Prince Ren’s appearance has created for the line of succession.”  

Izumi knows the confused frown on her face matches that of her father’s exactly.  

“In claiming Prince Ren as your blood and raising him as your own, you are acknowledging Azula’s bloodline, my Lord. You are indirectly recognizing her continued right of inheritance.” 

Izumi chokes on her spit, and hastily covers it with a cough. To her right, Uncle pats her back before he stands.  

“Princess Azula lost the Agni Kai between herself and Fire Lord Zuko. She has henceforth forfeited her right to any future challenge for the throne.” 

“She has forfeited any further challenge to Lord Zuko’s throne.” The Chief Fire Sage concedes. “But the inclusion of Prince Ren in the line of succession reaffirms Azula’s relevance in the bloodline.” 

“My sister is wanted for kidnapping, child abuse, treason and murder, and you believe she still has a right to rule this country?” Dad asks, voice dangerously soft. 

“She has the blood, my Lord.” The Chief Fire Sage states it simply, as though reminding them of the obvious. The sky is blue, grass is green, your psychopathic family members are still, unfortunately, family and can legally steal your crown and country, et cetera. “In two weeks, Princess Izumi achieves the age of majority. When you die, your daughter will rule without the need for a regent. And, because you have legitimized your nephew, Azula now has the right to directly challenge your daughter for the throne. Princess Izumi’s claim will not be secure until she has married and produced heirs of her own.” 

 “You cannot be suggesting Izumi get married now,” General Sakura says with a scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”  

Izumi has always liked her best of Dad’s council members.  

The Chief Fire Sage shakes his head, his long white beard rustling with the movement. “It is not for me to say. I simply study the traditions and safeguard the laws of our nation. As it is written, Azula now has a path to the throne. Should she challenge and defeat Princess Izumi in an Agni Kai, Azula would be the rightful heir, even before Prince Ren.”  

“Nobody would follow her. That’s rhino-bullshit, she’s--,” General Sakura counters, but the Fire Sage interrupts.  

“There are enough traditionalists and hidden sympathizers left in court that a civil war would most likely begin as a result.” The Chief Fire Sage sighs and turns to look at Dad, who is a statue beside her. “It was no accident, your nephew turning up now, my Lord. Azula knows the laws as well as the rest of us. She’s found her loophole.” 

“And she knew you would never turn away a broken child in need of a home, my Lord. Even hers.” 

***  

Uncle finds her first after the meeting, puking in a flower pot in an abandoned courtyard. He stands silently beside her, gently patting her back as she retches.  

“Finished?” he asks quietly, when Izumi finally stands up and wipes her mouth with a shaking hand. Izumi nods, and Uncle grips her arm firmly, guiding her out of the courtyard and down the corridor, toward the kitchen. “Tea, I think.” 

Izumi nods wordlessly, and allows Uncle to take the lead. 

Once they reach the kitchen, Uncle, to Izumi’s everlasting shock, simply peeks his head through the door and asks Nan to please bring them peppermint tea in the east garden. By the time Izumi has recovered from her surprise at Uncle handing off his favorite pastime, they are both settled on a bench under the tree, and Uncle looks at her worriedly. 

“Sorry?” Izumi asks, assuming he’d been speaking to her and she missed it.  

Uncle smiles grimly. “It is all right, my dear. I was just telling you there is no reason to fret.”  

Izumi snorts and buries her face in her hands. “I believe there are many reasons to fret, Uncle. The main one being my crazy aunt is most likely going to roll into town on my birthday and murder me in my sleep.” 

“Azula would not inherit anything if she murdered you,” Uncle says, his voice maddeningly serene. “She only has the right to challenge your inheritance. And that will not matter unless something were to happen to your father. Nothing will happen to your father, Izumi. I would never allow it.”  

Izumi bites her lip and looks out into the garden, away from the calm assurance of her Uncle’s face that for the first time gives her no comfort. Uncle is not Agni. He cannot stop the bad, just because he wills it so.  

The proof is written on her father’s face.  

“Ty Lee told me Azula’s a tactical genius. She said Azula was a firebending prodigy, and by the time she was twelve her fire ran so hot it turned blue. She said...” Izumi swallows thickly. “She said Dad would have died during their Agni Kai if Katara wasn’t his second.”  

“Azula broke the Agni Kai when she first tried to attack Katara. Your father saved her life, then Katara finished the fight. But yes, the rest is—yes.”  

 “I’m doomed,” Izumi moans pitifully, her head falling to her knees as she pulls at her hair.  

Uncle pulls her back up immediately and holds her shoulders, looking her hard in the eye. “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. You must not live in fear, my child. Be the mountain. Show all of us the majesty and grace and ferocity I have known to live in you since the day you were born. 

“You have our love. You have your country’s love, my dear one. Now is the time to earn their respect. Do not bow to fear, you are a princess of the Fire Nation.”  

“But Uncle,” Izumi says helplessly, her eyes blurry with tears. “So is she.” 

*** 

*** 

*** 

Zuko watches Uncle run to follow Izumi after the meeting concludes and promptly flees in the other direction.  

He can’t face her. Not now. Not like this.  

Zuko has never claimed not to be a coward.  

He rushes to the family wing, to Ren’s room, and stops short when he finds it empty.  

“They’re in your room, my Lord,” the guard answers his unspoken question quietly. Zuko makes to about-face, before noticing Ren’s quilt hanging haphazardly off the end of the still rumpled bed. He snatches it up and nods to the guard before turning to his and Mai’s rooms.  

He finds Mai in the sunroom that, once upon a time, had been Izumi’s nursery. She’s facing the large windows, slumped in the rocking chair neither of them could bear to part with, a soundly sleeping six-year-old drooling on her shoulder.  

Zuko approaches quietly, and wordlessly opens up the quilt in his hands, scooping Ren from Mai’s lap and carrying him over to the divan. He gets a pillow underneath Ren’s head and tucks him up under the quilt before beckoning Mai to join him in their bedroom.  

Mai rubs both hands down her face tiredly as she sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what to do, Zuko. I know the earthquake scared him last night, but he hasn’t slept through the night for at least a week. He keeps crying about the monsters in his closet and screaming at every flash of light he sees, and I can’t--,” Mai pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s not ready for Yuko. But I can’t keep missing things, either. I’m so behind with the CDA, and I can’t skip another council meeting...How’d that go, by the way?” 

Zuko barely hears her, as he recalls waking abruptly the night before to the earth attempting to tear itself apart. Earthquakes were a common occurrence in Caldera City, the unfortunate side-effect of living on top of a volcano.  

“There is a cost to everything in life, Prince Zuko,” Uncle had told him once as a young child, after he’d found Zuko hiding away after an earthquake. “A give and a take. The earth shakes beneath us to remind us of the fertile soil she has given us, the good food and beautiful plants. We must remember that our harvest, our very home comes from her, and be good and gentle to the earth in kind.”  

He hasn’t forgotten, but Zuko still makes note to have Toph check out the structural integrity of the city in the very near future.  

“Zuko?” Mai asks again, “How did the council meeting go?”  

He thinks again about the earthquake last night, the one that left them all frightened and panicked, running for Ren’s room as he screamed bloody murder, and nearly laughs.  

Zuko should’ve known then, should’ve seen it as the sign it was meant to be.  

His world is falling apart.  

“Badly.” Zuko finally responds, “Very, very badly.”  

*** 

“Change the law,” Mai says immediately after Zuko’s recap, jumping to her feet, all previous exhaustion forgotten. “Change the law. You’re the fucking Fire Lord you can--,” 

“I can’t--,” 

“You can,” Mai repeats emphatically, her eyes wild. “Azula can’t do this, she can’t hurt Izumi we can’t--you have to change it, Zuko. Azula’s wanted for fucking treason, how could she--,” 

“So was I,” Zuko interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. He buries his face in his hands. “Mai, I was wanted for treason. I was banished from the country. The only reason I could challenge Azula is because of the current succession laws. Any change I make now would call my reign into question.”  

Zuko feels as Mai sits on the bed beside him, as she slumps down on his shoulder and buries her head there. They’re both silent for a minute, sitting with the violent and earthshaking truth.  

“Izumi knows?”  

“She was in the meeting.” Mai’s breath shakes.  

“And now--,” 

“Uncle followed her.”  

Mai nods, before stiffening beside him, straightening her back in resolve.  

“Azula has hurt us enough. She’s taken away enough. She’s doesn’t get Izumi.” Mai’s voice is quiet, but firm. “She doesn’t get our daughter. Not again.”  

Zuko’s heart starts to race, his stomach twisting and churning, palms sweating like they always do, like they always will whenever he thinks about those awful days Izumi had been gone. It doesn’t matter how many years pass; just the thought elicits a visceral terror Zuko has never quite learned to control.  

“How? What do we do, Mai? If Izumi doesn’t fight, she loses the crown. And if she does...” Zuko trails off, the thought unfathomable.  

Mai grips his hand.  

“We call on the only other person we know who’s been the underdog in a predestined fight with a firebending psychopath.” 

*** 

“What’s wrong?” Aang shouts as he lands Appa directly in the front courtyard, flipping off the bison with a yelp. His robes are half-on and rumpled, gray eyes wide and wild, staff brandished like he’s waiting for an ambush. He flies up the steps and meets Zuko. “What happened? Your note said it was a Code Melon Lord, you  never  send Code Melon Lord--,” 

Zuko reaches forward and grips Aang’s arms. “Take a breath. It’s not immediate, we have some time. But thank you for coming so quickly.”  

Aang shrugs his shoulders like that’s the stupidest thing he’s heard all day. “You said Code Melon Lord, Zuko, of course I came. I would’ve come this fast for just a Code Cactus Juice, you know that. What happened?” 

Zuko can already feel himself slumping in relief. Aang is here. His friend is here. He will know what to do.  

Aang can help her.  

“Azula. She's coming to Izumi’s birthday party this year.”  

Aang swears so violently that Zuko nearly grins.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

Izumi hears her door creak open and she groans.  

“Go away! Let me wallow in my depressing thoughts for one day you—oh.” She stops.  

Because Ren is standing next to her bed, having padding silently across the room as she shouted. And he looks confused and sad and that just won’t do, so she scoops him up to lay on the bed beside her and covers both their heads with the silk sheet.  

“What’d you do that for?” Ren asks.  

“They can’t find us in here. It’s magic.”  

Ren giggles, just as she knew he would.  

“Why’re you so sad, Zuzu?” Ren asks, reaching up his tiny hand to pat her cheek. “Why is everyone so sad? Did somethin’ bad happen?”  

Izumi decides it’s in everyone’s best interest not to mention to Ren his mother is coming to kill Izumi in the very near future.  

Instead, she bites her lip and says, “I’m just afraid, Ren. I’m not sure—I don’t know if I’m strong enough, if I’m good enough. And if I’m not, then I don’t deserve...” she trails off.  

Ren reaches down and grabs Izumi’s hand. “You’re enough for me, Zuzu.”  

And Izumi’s not crying, she’s not, there’s just fluff from the pillows in her eyes really. She pounces on Ren, tickling him until he shrieks with laughter to make it even.  

How on earth did Aunt Azula create someone so good? 

*** 

“Sweetheart,” Izumi hears someone whisper, as they gently shake her awake. “Izumi, wake up.”  

“Whassgoinon,” Izumi mumbles tiredly, swiping her hair out of her eyes as she turns over. Dad is standing beside her bed in the darkness, illuminated only by a bright yellow flame cupped in his palm. His scar looks longer and deeper in the shadows of the night.  

He looks exhausted.  

“Get dressed, we’re going on a trip.”  

Izumi rolls out of bed, careful not to jostle the still sleeping Ren, grabs a robe, slips on some shoes, and hastily pulls her hair back in a ponytail before rushing out the door next to Dad, struggling to keep up with his long strides as she finishes pulling her hair into place.  

“Dad, what is this? Are we having a weird Fire Lord lesson? Are we going on the lam? Can you—Aang?” Izumi asks, stopping short as they round the corner to the front courtyard.  

For the Avatar is there, leaned lazily against Appa as he munches on a piece of fruit. He looks up and waves happily at his name.  

“Izumi!” Aang says as they approach, pulling her into a hug, “Great to see you! Awful circumstances, obviously, but always great to see you.” Izumi hugs him back and marvels at his good cheer. “Your dad filled you in yet?”  

Izumi shakes her head. “Not one bit.” 

Aang smiles and gives Dad a friendly slap to the shoulder. “Well, I certainly don’t want to be the one to spoil the surprise. Sifu Hotman?”  

Dad rolls his eyes fondly before finally turning to Izumi. “We’re going on a field trip. If you’re going to beat Azula, you need a lesson from the masters.”  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“That’s a—Dad, that’s a dragon! Those are dragons.” Izumi shouts as the serpentine bodies fly and twist around them, scales shining brilliantly with the sun setting beyond the mountains. “Dragons!”  

Zuko can picture the delighted smile on his daughter’s face and wishes he could turn around to experience it. Instead, he stands back to back with Izumi at the top of the mountain, swallowing his ever-growing awe at the magnificent beings surrounding them, circling closer and closer as he grins.  

“Do you remember the Dancing Dragon?” Zuko asks, raising his voice to be heard over the flapping wind circling them. He can feel the movement as Izumi nods at his back, before she steps forward, gliding effortlessly into the turns of the new form. Zuko mimics her exactly, both breathing hard when they meet at the end of their circle, double fists brought together.  

And the dragons stop moving.  

“What now?” Izumi whispers, her voice shaking. Zuko reaches over and grabs her hand.  

“Now Ran and Shaw decide if we are worthy to learn the truth.” He says it simply, standing shoulder to shoulder with Izumi. Her grip is beginning to cut off the circulation in his hand.  

“Dad,” Izumi croaks, as Ran turns to face her, his menacing mouth mere feet away from Izumi’s trembling form. Zuko nods solemnly to Shaw before him and squeezes his daughter's hand.  

And then, there is light.  

“Oh,” Izumi whispers, and Zuko tears his eyes away from the majesty before him to stare down into the colors he doesn’t have names for reflected in his daughter eyes.  “Oh.”   

She’s crying.  

Eventually, the flames die down and the world returns to the hazy, orange sunset of before. The dragons hover in front of them, and Zuko swears he sees Ran’s eyes light up in a smile when Izumi bows to him, then turns to Shaw and does the same.  

“Thank you for this gift, O Great Masters,” she says, before wiping her eyes and finally turning to Zuko.  

“I understand now,” Izumi murmurs as they make their way down the long staircase. “I can’t be afraid. I cannot fight not to lose. I have to want to win—I want to win.” Izumi corrects herself. “My spark comes from good and happiness and love because that’s what I have. That’s why I fight. I will win because I have something worth fighting for.”  

They reach the bottom of the stairs to find a beaming Aang and an even larger crowd of Sun Warriors waiting for them.  

“So, what did the masters teach you?” Aang asks, and Izumi smiles before punching her fist forward.  

Bright, multi-colored flames—flames that match the dragon’s breath they’ve just left behind, high on the mountain with Ran and Shaw, burst forth from her hands, and the crowd before them gasps.  

The Sun Warriors fall to their knees, heads to the ground in supplication. After a long moment of silence, the chief finally raises his head.  

“Long have we waited for you, Gift of Agni. For just as Agni blessed the dragons, so too has He blessed you. A gift for the Great Redeemer.”  

Zuko remembers, for the first time in years, those visits with his father on the Summer Solstice. His fear of uprisings, because of the silly fairy tales from his youth.  

For there were stories in the Fire Nation of the magic of the summer solstice. Stories of babies being blessed by a dragon’s breath, of Agni’s favored completing tasks of superhuman strength and speed, creating flames taller than the highest mountains.   

Tales of a chosen one, the Great Redeemer, being gifted the most powerful spark ever witnessed on the highest and longest day of the year. They are fables of old, legends with no heart in truth.   

Or, so Zuko had once thought.  

“I’m not—I can’t be the Great Redeemer!” Izumi sputters, shaking her head as she steps back from the chief. He nods his head in agreement.  

“You are not. You are the Spark. He is the Great Redeemer,” and the chief of the Sun Warriors turns directly to Zuko, looks him hard in the eye.  

Zuko, Aang and Izumi stand speechless as the chief clicks his fingers, his right hand coming forward, familiar golden egg in his grasp.  

“As you have redeemed your family and your country, so too shall you save Agni’s blessed. Redemption for the dragons begins with you, Lord Zuko.” The man holds for the golden egg, and for a moment, Zuko can’t breathe.  

A dragon.  

They’re giving him a dragon.   

*** 

“I can’t believe they gave you a dragon!”  Aang shouts for the fifth time, as Appa carries them away from the ruins. “A dragon! Have you ever ridden a dragon? I mean, I’ve only ever done it in dreams with Roku, but wow, it’s something else. You’re so lucky.”  

Beside him, Izumi reaches out a hesitant hand, brushing it against the side of the egg settled in Zuko’s lap.  

“It feels alive,” Izumi whispers, grinning for the first time in days.  

And Zuko grins back, his terror and hopelessness that had been growing ever since that awful council meeting finally tempered. Because he’s apparently the legendary Great Redeemer, and his daughter literally has the most powerful spark ever known. He’s best friends with the Avatar, and now he’s got a fucking dragon of all things.  

How can Azula ever compete with that? 

*** 

Mai and Uncle are there to meet them when they land in the palace’s front courtyard a few hours later. Their faces are grim; both look like they’ve spent a great deal of time crying.  

“Ren’s gone,” Mai whispers once they’re close enough to hear. “He disappeared last night. We don’t know who took him.”  

But they do, of course they do.  

Everything is going exactly as Azula planned. 

*** 

Chapter Text

*** 

Ren is five when he meets Mommy for the first time.  

It’s his birthday, and Daddy bakes him a pretty cake, and he comes home early from his work in the village to pick Ren up from old lady Biyu’s house so they can celebrate his special day together.  

“Make a wish, little one,” Daddy says with a big smile, and Ren is about to blow out the five candles topping his pretty cake when there’s a knock on the door.  

Daddy’s smile disappears.  

They are not used to visitors.  

Daddy rises slowly from the rickety table, hands clenched in fists and out at the ready as he opens the front door.  

“Hello Li Wei,” the voice at the door says. It’s a woman’s voice, smooth as silk, yet somehow hard as a rock at the same time. “It’s been too long.”  

“Why are you here?” Daddy asks immediately, his voice barbed. His large body blocks the doorway completely, but the woman still finds a way to slip inside.  

She’s very pretty, but different from the women Ren’s seen before in his life, with her skinny frame, pale face, and long black hair. She turns to Ren and smiles suddenly. Her teeth are shiny and sharp, like the dolphin-shark's teeth Ren sometimes finds with Daddy when they walk on the beach.  

Her eyes are gold.  

Just like his.  

“A mother can’t visit her own child on his birthday?” The woman asks, taking a seat at the table directly across from Ren. She leans her head on her fists lazily and smiles again in Ren’s direction. The candles’ flames on his birthday cake turn blue.  

“Ren,” Daddy says quietly, “I need you to go outside and feed the chickens.”  

“But, Daddy--,” 

“Now, Ren.” And Daddy’s voice isn’t a yell, Daddy never yells at Ren. But it’s low and solemn, very nearly scared, and Ren doesn’t want to know what will happen if he talks back again so he scurries away from his mysterious mother and the still lit birthday cake to go feed the chickens.  

Before he’s out the door, Daddy reaches out and brushes a large hand through his hair. He leans down and kisses the top of Ren’s head.  

“Once you hit the chicken coop, run to Biyu’s house,” Daddy whispers, and it’s so quiet Ren isn’t even sure it’s real. But Daddy’s eyes are green and wide and honest when Ren looks up, and he nods his head, so Ren thinks it can’t be make-believe. He runs out the door, which slams shut behind him.  

And Ren’s about to do what Daddy says, really, he is, but then Daddy starts raising his voice, and the woman, his mother, screams back and there are odd thumps and scary bangs and then the window to the kitchen explodes and Ren hears:  

“You can’t have him Azula!”  

And his mother, Azula, she just laughs and laughs. “Watch me.”  

Then everything gets hot hot hot and the world turns blue like his birthday candles and Ren tries to run away like Daddy said, but it’s too late now.  

Everything goes dark.  

*** 

Ren wakes to an odd swaying motion and feels immediately sick.  

“Daddy,” Ren moans, because if he’s sick, Daddy always takes care of him. He makes him soup and brings him ginger and cool rags and-- 

“You’re going to live with me now,” the smooth, hard voice says to his left, and Ren turns over on the little swaying cot to find his mother there, sitting on a chair next to him. Her eye is blackened, and there are flecks of dried blood underneath her nose. “Your father and I decided it’s what’s best.”  

“Where’d Daddy go?” Ren asks, suddenly and completely terrified. He’s never been without Daddy before, not ever in his life, not that he can remember. He’s never even left their little village, never gone beyond the beach where he and Daddy hunt for seashells and dolphin-shark teeth and-- 

“He had to leave, Ren. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” Mommy says. She pats his head awkwardly before standing up and limping out the door.  

Mommy is gone so quickly she misses Ren crying himself to sleep.  

*** 

Mommy lives on a ship. She’s the captain of a rather odd, sometimes scary crew of people who are ‘trying to make the world right again’, according to Mommy. Most of the crew are from the Fire Nation, half of which are firebenders, with a few earthbenders, in the mix. The earthbenders wear funny green armor that matches the set Ren found once in the back of Daddy’s closet during a game of hide-and-go-seek.  

There’s one waterbender on the ship, a girl named Skye. She’s funny and kind, and always talks to Ren when she sees him passing by, trailing awkwardly behind Mommy because he doesn’t know what else to do. Mommy yells at him when he gets distracted or touches something he shouldn’t, and Ren doesn’t like it when Mommy yells.  

Sometimes, when Mommy isn’t watching closely, Ren slips away to sit with Skye at the bow of the ship and watch her bend the water around them.  

“Why are you here?” Ren asks her one day, because she doesn’t fit. She’s nice and happy and she’s the only person from the Water Tribe around. Skye just shrugs. “Your mother wanted a healer. I wanted a ticket to get me around the world, it worked out in the end. I make good money, and I don’t have to do the dirty work.”  

“Dirty work?”  

Skye winces. “It’s not your problem yet, kiddo. Don’t worry about it.”  

Ren tries to follow Skye’s advice, but still, he worries.  

*** 

Living on Mommy’s ship isn’t always bad. Sure, he misses the grass and the dirt and the sand between his toes. He misses Biyu and his chickens and the rickety table with the birthday cake.  

And Daddy. He really, really misses Daddy.  

But Mommy isn’t terrible, not always. She comes in to tell him goodnight, she makes sure he eats all his vegetables at dinner. She gives him exercises to do during the day, squats and runs and hops that Ren does his best to turn into games.  

Sometimes, she even tells him stories.  

“So, because Sozin was the smartest of them all, he waited patiently for the comet to arrive, knowing it was the optimal moment to strike the heart of his enemies and finally defeat them for good. And he did. The end.” Mommy turns to him. “What did you learn from the story, Ren?”  

That Sozin was super scary, and he was really mean to the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nomads for no real reason.  

“That patience is rewarded.”  

Mommy beams at him.  

*** 

Living on Mommy’s ship isn’t always bad.  

But sometimes, it is.  

“Ow, ow, ow, owowow, stop it, Skye, STOP!” Ren shrieks and shrieks as Skye shushes him, running her water up and down the new burns on his feet.  

“Hush, Renny, hush, kiddo you gotta stop moving, I can’t--,” Skye huffs, her blue eyes worried as she struggles to hold him down. Mommy surprised him again, jumping out from behind the corner and lighting the floorboard under his bare feet with her blue flames.  

She glowered at him before turning away when all Ren did was shout.  

“No fucking better than Zuko, dirty, worthless little bastard, can’t even give me smoke, what the fuck am I supposed to--,” Ren had heard her grumble, before the door to her quarters slammed shut.  

Ren finally settles enough for Skye’s water to reach the burns; he moans in relief at the cool sensation and lays his head back on the floor, closing his eyes.  

“Mommy wants me to be a firebender, but I don’t think I am, Skye. I don’t think I’m anything, and that makes her mad. Daddy didn’t care, but Mommy...” Ren trails off, his throat too thick to continue.  

The water on his feet stops as the pain finally all fades away.  

Skye picks up his hand in hers. Ren opens his eyes to watch her tracing the old scars she hadn’t been able to make disappear.  

Mommy’s been wanting him to burst into flames for a while.  

“Your mother is planning something,” Skye finally says, her voice soft. “It’ll get you off the ship, away from here. Away from her. But I have to leave soon for it to work. She’s going to hurt you Ren,” Skye’s voice cracks. “And it will probably be very scary. I need you to trust me. Trust that I'll take care of you, okay?”  

And Ren says okay, because Skye’s always been nice and helped him and made him feel better. Ever since Daddy, she’s the best person he knows.  

*** 

That night, Mommy is really nice. She climbs into bed next to him and wraps him up in her arms like Daddy always did. She kisses the top of his head and tells him that she’s so sorry, that he’s her wonderful, her perfect little boy, and she loves him very much.  

Instead of the scary stories about Sozin and Azulon and Ozai, Mommy tells him a nice story, about an ugly turtleduckling. It makes him laugh and smile, and Mommy smiles too, and for a moment Ren forgets about the throbbing that’s begun again in his feet.  

“Goodnight, sweet boy. I love you,” Mommy says as she kisses his head, standing up to leave the room. Her voice is silky smooth and lovely, but there’s a hard edge at the bottom that never seems to leave, no matter what she says.  

It makes it sound like a lie.  

*** 

The next morning, Skye is gone from the ship, and Mommy takes Ren into her office for the first time to tell him about her new plan.  

It’s a small room, with a little desk and chest of drawers. The walls are covered in papers, maps of lots of little islands, portraits of golden-eyed people, and diagrams of a grand palace, resting precariously on top of a mountain filled with little tunnels.  

Mommy snaps her fingers to get Ren’s attention, then tells him a new story, explaining that once upon a time she was a princess in the Fire Nation. A powerful, beautiful, intelligent princess whose father had decreed that she would rule the Fire Nation in his stead.  

And she was going to, she was meant to, until the day of her coronation, when her evil, traitorous older brother came in and stole the crown from under her nose.  

“But why would he do that?” Ren asks, enraptured by the story. “Why would he take it away if it was yours?”  

“He’s always hated me, Ren,” Mommy says, her voice grave. “Zuko has always been very jealous of me and my abilities. He made powerful friends, and worked together with them to overthrow me. But now,” Mommy adds, with a small smile at him, “I can get it back. I can stop Zuko once and for all, and we can finally go home, Ren.  

“And it all begins with you.”  

*** 

There are a few weeks of planning before they can actually begin. Ren spends his days in Mommy’s office, being continuously quizzed on people and places, the layout of the palace, the secret passages underneath and the special markers of everyone and everything in between.  

“Zuko is easiest to remember, he’s got the big ugly scar up the side of his face.” Mommy hands him the portrait from the wall. One half of the man’s face is smooth and solemn; he looks a lot like Mommy on that side. The other is jagged and red and monstrous and-- 

“I have to go live with them?” Ren asks, his voice a whisper. “But, but why? I don’t understand how this will help you, Mommy. You said they’ll hate me. Why would they want me? What are you--,” Ren stops asking questions when Mommy kneels before him, resting her hands lightly on his cheeks.  

Her hands are warm. Too warm. Ren wants to squirm away, but fear holds him still.  

“I don’t need you to understand, Ren. I just need you to trust me, and to be very brave. I’ll come back for you; I promise I will. You just have to hold on until then. Everything will be right in the end.”  

*** 

Finally, the departure day arrives. Ren finds himself oddly excited at the prospect; besides stops for supplies, he hasn’t left Mommy’s ship in over a year. He’s missed the earth.  

They land in the Northern region of the Fire Nation, near a small village where Skye has been working as a nurse since she left. She meets them just after the sun has set, on the outskirts of the town. Thunder rumbles in the distance, before lighting flashes in the north.  

A storm is coming.  

Skye is wearing an odd dress and a funny white cap now, and her face is pulled into a tight frown as she watches Mommy and Ren approach, hand in hand.  

“Are you prepared?” Mommy asks, nodding to the heavy pack slung over Skye’s shoulder. Skye’s grimace deepens.  

“You don’t have to do this, Azula. Just give him to me. Ren won’t say anything, I know he won’t. The orphanage is expecting a visit from Lady Mai any day now and--,” 

“Don’t question me, Skye.” Mommy answers, her voice sharp. “You don’t know them the way I do. If he goes in as a victim, they’ll never have the heart to question him. And this will solidify his identity. They all think it’s my calling card.” Mommy rolls her eyes.  

“What if I can’t--,” 

“He will be fine. ” Mommy stresses. “You’re here to take care of him. He will be absolutely fine. Won’t you, my sweet boy?” Mommy finally turns to him and squeezes his hand still held in hers.  

“Yes, Mommy,” Ren responds quietly, but he’s really not very sure that it’s true. Daddy always wanted him to be honest; Mommy wants to hear that she’s right.  

It’s been a difficult adjustment for Ren.  

“Of course you will,” Mommy says firmly, before crouching down and facing Ren. Her face is blank, but there’s something bright, nearly wild in her wide golden eyes, and they twitch oddly and blink twice and Ren realizes-- 

Mommy is sad.  

Quick as it’s there, it’s gone again, and Mommy pulls him forward into a tight hug.  

“Remember, you don’t know Skye, you’ve never heard of Zuko or Mai or any of them before. Don’t give it away, don’t even talk unless you have to, that will probably be easiest. You can do this, Ren.” Mommy pulls back and looks him hard in the eye. “You can. Then, I’ll get my crown back and we’ll be happy together and home again. All will be right in the world.”  

Ren bites his lip. “Yes, Mommy.”  

Mommy kisses the top of his head and nods again, before directing him to walk toward a bush about thirty paces away.  

“When I count to three,” Mommy commands, once Ren has reached the bush. “You turn around. Not before, not after. And don’t move a muscle after you turn. Do you understand?” Ren nods and closes his eyes. In the distance, the thunder is rumbling again.  

“One...Two....THREE!” 

Ren turns and plants his feet hard into the ground like a rock, and opens his eyes to the world turning a sickening, crackling blue.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

“I know it hurts. But we know how to fix it, too, Ren. We can help you, if you’ll let us. Will you let us help you?”   

*** 

“We would never hurt you. We won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” 

*** 

“C’mon, Ren. Let’s go have a picnic with the turtleducks.”   

*** 

“Good work, Ren. That was excellent.” 

*** 

“I know fire seems scary, Ren, especially to you. It’s very powerful and very dangerous. But it’s also good. It’s light and warmth. It cooks our food and warms our houses. It brings a little piece of sunlight to even the darkest times. Fire is life.” 

*** 

“Goodnight, Ren. I love you.”   

*** 

“They can’t find us in here. It’s magic.” 

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

*** 

“When will Uncle Zuko and Zuzu be back?” Ren whines as Aunt Mai tucks him into bed with a smile.  

“The faster you fall asleep, the faster they’ll be back,” Aunt Mai says, and Ren huffs.  

“That’s not an answer!”  

Aunt Mai laughs. He likes her laugh. It’s bright and happy and kind of croaky and sounds just like Aunt Mai. She reminds him of Daddy sometimes, hard and sharp on the outside, but sweet and soft in the middle.  

“Well, that’s all I can give you, kiddo.” Mai brushes back his bangs and kisses his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Ren. I love you.”  

“I love you, too, Aunt Mai.”  

As Mai walks away from the bed, she opens up the wardrobe and gives a quick scan, pushes back the silk robes to check. “No monsters tonight?” 

“Not tonight.” Mai smiles again and shuts the closet door, before exiting the room, muttering something softly to the guard as she leaves.  

*** 

Ren wakes abruptly a few hours later to a rumble below his bed. They’re here.  

They’re here.   

And he absolutely doesn’t want to leave.  

For a moment Ren tries. He tries to summon the strength from a few nights ago, when he last felt the movement beneath him, in the tunnels from the diagrams Mommy made him study so long ago. He wills himself to shake the ground, to raise up the stone from the floor of his closet, to keep the Dai Li agents away. But tonight, he is frightened, terrified instead of surprised, and the earth does not respond to him.  

Something bangs behind his wardrobe, and Ren whimpers before running in the opposite direction, toward the mirror beside his bed. Izumi showed him that secret passageway his second night in the palace, told Ren if he was ever afraid, just keep running through the secret tunnel ‘til he reached Aunt Mai and Uncle Zuko’s rooms.  

Aunt Mai will protect him, with her sharp knives and sharper wit. She’ll keep him safe.  

Fast as he can, Ren reaches forward and presses his thumb to the dragon’s eye on the gilded mirror’s frame, just like Izumi showed him. The reflective glass slides left and opens to... 

“Hello, sweet boy. Did you miss me?”  

*** 

Chapter Text

“Thank you all for arriving so quickly,” General Sakura announces from her place at the opposite end of the council table.  

Simultaneously, Toph, Sokka, and Suki all say, “Code Melon Lord,” and shrug. General Sakura blinks at them twice, mouth slightly agape, before shaking her head and continuing.  

In any other circumstances, Zuko would be laughing his ass off.  

His heart just isn’t in it today.  

“As we’ve already informed the Avatar and Lady Katara, Fire Navy ships are searching all nearby ports, both in the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom for Prince Ren. We doubt Azula and the Prince would have reached Republic City by now unless they have access to an airship, but we’ve coordinated with Chief Beifong and Republic City police for that eventuality.” 

“My guys are ready and waiting, General. Azula doesn’t stand a chance,” Toph says, resting her feet up on the table and cracking her knuckles menacingly. 

The General nods; Zuko notices the moment she remembers Toph is blind, and watches her face color slightly before replying. “Yes. We’ve sent our own troops both north and south of the city to search, and the Fire Lord’s personal guard has taken up the task of searching the city. The Republican Council, along with the heads of state for all major countries and territories in the known world have been informed of the prince’s disappearance. The Republic Forces have begun patrolling the waters outside the Fire Nation’s jurisdiction to aid in the search.” 

The search had been coordinated quickly and immediately by Mai shortly before Zuko, Izumi and Aang had arrived back at the palace the night before. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the Fire Nation is extraordinarily prepared for any and all attacks on members of the royal family.  

“Our only lead so far as to Prince Ren’s likely whereabouts was discovered last night. A teenage girl wearing traditional Northern water tribe attire was found floating in the bay with a knife in her stomach, still alive and muttering about letting ‘Renny’ go. The patrol that recovered her sent her immediately to the palace. The girl is in the infirmary now and was healed by Lady Katara in the early hours of this morning.”  

Katara nods. “She hasn’t woken up yet, but I believe she will within the hour, and I expect her to make a full recovery. Izumi is sitting with her for now, and there are guards stationed outside the door.”  

“Who’s covered the mountains?” Sokka asks with a frown, his gaze on the large world map filling the table, covered in markers as a visual of the General’s description. The map had to be pulled from storage last night; it hasn’t been used much since the last Fire Lord’s war campaigns. “This girl could have floated down to the bay straight from the river in the mountains,” he adds, standing and tracing his finger down the thin line from the range directly west of their caldera.  

Zuko swallows thickly and looks at Sokka. “That’s why you’re here,” he says quietly to the room at large. Under the table, Mai squeezes his hand. “The mountains are treacherous, and nearly impossible to traverse. We can’t send our armies through to search, so we’ll have to depend on individuals,” he finishes, looking pointedly at Toph. 

Toph nods. “You think that’s where she’s taken him.” 

“It’s the only conceivable option,” Mai replies. “It’s the only place she’d be able to hide out until the solstice and never be found, assuming they didn’t make it off the island. And there have always been rumors of tunnels through the mountains--,” 

“Rumors?” Toph interrupts, face puzzled. “There are definitely tunnels through the mountains. There are at least six that start from here in the palace and go straight into the range.”  

The room is silent.  Zuko’s mouth goes very, very dry.  

“What?”    

*** 

*** 

*** 

Here’s the thing: being the only child of parents who have a country to run leaves said only child with a lot of time to herself.  

That’s not to say Izumi was ignored or neglected growing up, not at all. Izumi’s knows how desperately her parents love her and understands just how much effort they put into being present and attentive to her. And of course, she always had Yuko, her tutors, her guards, and friends to visit. She wasn’t alone.  

But, no matter how hard her parents tried, there were the inevitable council meetings. There were foreign missions and assassination attempts, urgent trade disputes and the like that kept Izumi out of the loop and away from her family as a child.  

Rather than making her sad or angry, Izumi chose from a young age to see the moments of isolation for what they truly were: opportunities.  

“Not much further,” Izumi calls behind her as they crawl, only the small flame in her hands to light the way through the darkened abyss of a tunnel.  

“You said that half an hour ago,” Skye pants. Izumi looks back for a moment to see the waterbender clutching her side, her pretty face pulled back in a grimace. Guilt floods Izumi at the expression, and she stops short, curling up in a ball on the side of the tunnel to face the girl. Her flames bathe them both in light and shadows, making Skye look even more sickly.  

“Let’s take a break and check the map,” Izumi concedes, pulling the scroll from her belt and unrolling it between them. Skye leans back against the wall with a relieved sigh, before tipping her head to observe the map.  

Late last night, the young waterbender had been found floating in the bay, unconscious with a knife in her gut, mumbling incoherently about saving ‘Renny’.  

Izumi had volunteered to sit watch at the girl’s bedside once she’d heard the story, and Mom and Dad had, for once, not questioned Izumi’s uncharacteristically passive behavior; she was being helpful and kept out of danger, and they had other more important things on their minds.  

So, Izumi was alone with the waterbender when she finally woke.  

Just as she’d hoped.  

“My name is Izumi. I can get you out of the palace. I need you to help me save Ren,” Izumi had whispered, upon seeing the girl’s bright blue eyes finally open.  

“I’m Skye,” she’d rasped, nodding her head. She’d allowed Izumi to quietly help her wrap the wound, before slinging an arm around her waist and leading her to the statue of her great-great grandfather in the corner of the infirmary. Izumi had lit a small flame and held it up to the statue’s outstretched hand. After a moment there was a soft click, and the statue rolled slowly to the side, revealing a tunnel.  

Skye’s eyes had widened, but the girl said nothing. She’d followed Izumi into the unknown without question, only the promise of saving Ren to bind them.  

Izumi has a feeling she’s made a lovely new friend. 

“You really mapped all this out yourself?” Skye asks for the third time, grudging respect evident in her voice behind the shrinking disbelief.  

Izumi shrugs. “My friend Bumi helped with some of it when we were little. But yeah, the rest...yeah.” she finishes awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand as they both stare at the worn and yellowed scroll spread on the ground between them.  

Izumi was five when Dad showed her the secret passage behind the mirror in her room for the first time, the one that would lead her up the corridor to Mom and Dad’s bedroom, or down into the heart of the Caldera, to the panic rooms. He’d said it was very important to remember where the escape routes were, but to also recognize that the tunnels were old and dark and dangerous, and should only ever be used in case of an emergency.  

Five-year-old Izumi had categorized boredom as a terrible emergency, and her new hobby was born the next day.  

There had been no reason to fear the dark after she learned how to firebend.  

Dad and Mom don’t know about the absolute labyrinth of secret tunnels hidden beneath the Caldera, snaking their way below the city to the east, crisscrossing the plains to the north and south, even diving under the river to the west, leading up into the mountains behind their volcano. Nobody does, aside from Bumi, because there are no maps in the library, no blueprints of the palace in the stacks of scrolls, no record of the tunnels’ existence unless you see them yourself. 

There weren’t, at least, until Izumi created her own.  

She figures there isn’t another person alive who understands the intricate passageways throughout the palace as she does, besides perhaps Toph, who for reasons unknown keeps knowledge them to herself. Even then, some of older tunnels Izumi’s found are lined with metal and wood, surely in the hopes of throwing invading earthbenders off the trail.  

No, nobody knows the secret tunnels of the Fire Nation’s palace like Izumi does.   

Except, apparently, Aunt Azula.  

“If I’m right, we’re about two hundred yards away from this tunnel’s entrance in the mountains,” Izumi explains, as Skye pulls out a water pouch and takes a long drag. She offers it to Izumi, who shakes her head. Skye shrugs, and floats some of the water out of her pouch, holding it gingerly against the half-healed wound in her side as she lifts the wraps. Izumi winces, the half-healed burn on her side twinging in sympathy.  

“Azula made her camp about hundred yards beyond that, due north. It’s next to a little waterfall, and--,”  

“The stone bridge?” Skye nods at Izumi’s interruption. “Wait did...did Azula stab you, then throw you off the bridge?”  

Silence.  

“Holy shit, Skye, why the fuck did you ever work for her?” Izumi gasps. Skye’s eyes harden.  

“Look, I’m not an idiot, I know she’s a bad person. But my parents were arranging a marriage for me with a frankly awful, much older man, and Azula’s boat was there and it just—she was the lesser of two evils are the time.”  

Skye looks about the same age as Izumi, if not a bit younger. And, based on her stories of Ren, she’s been working for Azula at least a year. Izumi shudders, and thanks Agni for her own parents. Her understanding, progressive, and kind parents, who are probably currently losing their minds because she’s disappeared without a trace from a locked and guarded room less than two days after Ren did the same thing.  

With a shake of her head, Izumi rolls up the map and tucks it carefully in her belt. Before she can lean forward and continue crawling, Skye grabs her wrist.  

“Princess, what’s the plan? I know where Ren is, but obviously I wasn’t able to get him out. Azula needs him as a hostage to have the Agni Kai with you, she won’t let him out of her sight. What chance do we have of saving him without reinforcements?”  

Izumi closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I think.... I think Azula will make a trade.” 

“Ah.” Skye swallows thickly. “So, this is why we’ve been sneaking.” 

“Go back and tell them if you want, you won’t have time to stop it from happening,” Izumi explains, voice matter-of-fact, digging into her confidence reserves. “I had hoped you could get Ren back through the tunnels, maybe down the river if Azula blocks this path but--,” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.” Skye’s voice is quiet. “You don’t know her though, you don’t--,” she licks her lips, “You don’t know what Azula is capable of.” 

“I’ve seen Ren’s scars. I’ve seen my father’s scars, even the Avatar’s scars. I know that woman gives my mother nightmares to this day. I’m perfectly aware what she’s capable of.” 

“Awareness and experience are very different things, Izumi.” 

“Better I experience it than him.” At that, Skye looks her hard in the eye, before nodding. She lets go of Izumi’s wrist, as though she’d forgotten latching onto it in the first place.  

“I can’t argue with that. Lead on, Princess.”  

And, heart in her throat, Izumi does.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Why the hell have you never told me about the secret tunnels, Toph! Is there some reason you think I wouldn’t like to know about the maze running underneath my city?” Zuko shouts.  

Toph lifts her chin and tilts her head, eyes hard. “You know the tunnels to the panic rooms, I figured you’d at least know the rest of them exist. Besides, it’s your home, Zuko. Why should I know more about it than you?”  

Zuko takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. She certainly has a point. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”  

Toph blows her bangs out of her face and lifts her feet off the table. “I didn’t think it was something you wanted to discuss openly, figured it would be a security breach. If I thought you didn’t know, I would have told you, Sparky.”  

“What about after Izumi was taken, when we were reviewing all of our security? Why didn’t you bring up the tunnels then?” Mai asks. Toph scowls, and turns to the table at large.  

“These idiots didn’t tell me shit about Izumi going missing because I’d just gone into labor with Lin. I didn’t know what happened until after Lin was born, and by then Izumi was home--,” 

“You were literally having a baby,” Sokka mutters, unapologetic.  

“Fuck you, I’m still bitter about it. You should’ve fucking told me my favorite kid in the world was missing. I didn’t hang out with any of you for a few months because I was so pissed.” 

“You were at home, taking care of your baby,” Katara whispers under her breath. The ground rumbles, and Aang stands.  

“Enough,” Aang says firmly. “The past is written. Let’s learn from it to face the problems of the present.” 

“Well said,” Uncle says, titling his head to the avatar. “I recall finding a few passages as a boy that ran from the palace into the city, but to my knowledge there is no comprehensive map of them all. Could you describe them to us, Toph?” 

Toph makes a face like she wants desperately to snort with derisive laughter, but holds it back only because of her respect for Uncle. Instead, she coughs and says, “No, Uncle, I can’t. I’d have better luck painting you a picture of the sunset. There are just too many, and there’s nothing uniform about them. If you took me to the tunnels, I could guide you, but even then, they’re filled and lined with wood and metal at very random intervals. And magma. A lot of magma moats. It might be faster for me to approach the mountains from the outside.”  

“But if we do, Azula will know we’re coming. And who knows what she’ll do then,” Zuko sighs, head in his hands. He sits up and rubs his temples. “Perhaps now is the time to check on the waterbender. She might know which tunnels Azula--,” 

Suddenly, the doors to the council room burst open, a harried guard entering, his breaths heaving. “The princess and the waterbender are gone, my Lord and Lady, and I don’t know how we—we never even opened the door, it was locked sir, I swear it was--,” 

“I believe,” Sokka interrupts quietly, voice grave, “We may have found an entrance to the secret tunnel we’re looking for.”  

*** 

Izumi stops short of the little camp Azula has made in the heart of the mountains, listening intently.  

“’My, my! Your feathers are the whitest I have ever seen. How they gleam in the sun!’ The tortoise-swan exclaimed to the ugly turtleduckling. Confused, the ugly turtleduckling wandered to the water and peered at his reflection. Much to his surprise, he was not an ugly turtleducking, for he was not a turtleduck at all!” The woman’s tone jumps at all the right places, her voice sharp and clear in the cool night air.  

“He was a beautiful white tortoise-swan!” a child exclaims, finishing the familiar story, and Izumi nearly gasps.  

It’s Ren.  

“Yes, sweet boy, he was.” Izumi gathers enough nerve to peek around the corner of the mound of rocks before her, revealing a sight that she is sure won’t leave her memories for the rest of her days.  

A lithe woman with long dark hair is laid back languidly against the side of the hill, Ren tucked up against her side. He’s leaning against her shoulder, staring into the small campfire before them with a slight but genuine grin on his face. The woman has her arm around him, hand brushing idly through his hair.  

Izumi pauses for longer than she’s proud to admit, simply watching the scene before her in disbelief. Azula is supposed to be evil. A monster. She hurt Ren. She hurt Dad and Uncle and Mom and everyone. How can she be sitting here, patiently telling her son the story Izumi herself demanded to hear from her parents every night during her childhood? How can she be gentle and sweet and kind with the little boy she’s already scarred so badly? How-- 

Izumi loses her footing then, kicking a few pebbles down the edge beside her as she rights herself. Azula jumps to her feet at the soft noise, stepping forward to block Ren from her view.  

“Who’s there?” Azula demands immediately, blue flames already licking up and down her forearms. Izumi takes a long breath before finally walking out from the shadows.  

“Zuzu!” Ren cries happily as she steps into the light of the little fire, attempting to run toward her; Azula extinguishes the flames on one arm and holds him back.  

“Hi kiddo,” Izumi calls back softly, her golden eyes drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired, and is still wearing the pajamas he’d been taken in, the red silk now rumpled and dirty. Beyond the dark circles under his eyes, he seems unharmed, and Izumi offers up a quick prayer to Agni for that before turning to the woman now smiling menacingly before her.  

She looks so much like Dad it makes Izumi’s heart ache.  

“Zuzu, is it?” Azula simpers, and then she can’t help but scowl.  

“You can call me Princess Izumi, or Your Royal Highness, really whatever suits your fancy,” Izumi says drily, injecting a confidence into the words she doesn’t yet feel.  

Azula smiles sharpens.  

“And to what do we owe this pleasure, Zuzu?” she asks, her voice sickeningly sweet.  

Izumi straightens her back, lifts her chin high. “I’m here for Ren. I’m here to take him home.”  

“I told you, Mommy!” Ren says happily, tugging on Azula’s sleeve. “I said Uncle Zuko and Aunt Mai were nice, I told you how much I love Izumi and Uncle Iroh and—and—and we don’t need your plan anymore, Mommy! We can just go home now, like you said from the start, and be a family, and play with turtleducks and--,” 

“Quiet,” Azula snaps, gripping Ren’s arm tightly. Ren winces and fails to pull away; Izumi steps forward, pink flames licking up her arms.  

“Let him go,” Izumi growls. Azula’s smirk simply widens in response. As the flames in Izumi’s fists grow, sparking like dragon’s breath and emitting more colors than Izumi has names for, Azula’s familiar golden eyes widen. She drops Ren’s arm with a startled huff.  

“Interesting,” Azula says with a tilted head, stepping forward to inspect Izumi’s flames. Heart thundering in her chest, Izumi stays her ground.  

She watches out of the corner eye with bated breath as (slowly, so slowly) long tentacles of water slither and wrap around Ren’s mouth and waist from the river below.  

“Let him go, Azula,” Izumi repeats, her voice even. “I’ll stay with you ‘til the solstice. Then we can return to the palace and have our Agni Kai. Let Ren go home now. He doesn’t need to be here.”  

Something ominous flashes in the depths of Azula’s eyes, and Izumi knows immediately she’s said the wrong thing.  

“My son is home. Wherever I am is his home. I am his family, I am his mother,” Azula stresses, and she takes another step forward. “He needs me.”  

“Ren needs stability. He needs to be safe--,” Izumi begins.  

And the switch flips.  

“He needs to be loved! And I love him! ME! I DO, I ALWAYS HAVE, YOU IGNORANT, SELFISH LITTLE BITCH! YOU THINK YOU’RE LUCKY, WELL I WAS BORN LUCKY, YOU STUPID CHILD--,” Azula screams, her words becoming incoherent the longer she raves. She strides even closer to Izumi, sparks flickering, jumping between her open palms and-- 

Agni. Oh Agni. This is—oh, no.  

Terrified, Izumi looks beyond her aunt, toward the river and Ren’s retreating form. He’s almost there. Skye's done it, she’s saved him and Izumi takes a deep breath to center herself, spreads to her arms to attempt a feat she’s only ever heard in stories, because this is worth it.  

Ren is worth it.  

Ren is worth everything.  

The moment she thinks it, the earth begins to rumble. Izumi glances around quickly, settling herself in a crouch, preparing for one of Azula’s famed Dai Li agents to jump from the shadows.  

Instead, Ren starts screaming.  

“ZUZU!” he shrieks. “RUN, ZUZU, RUN!”  

Azula turns to face the screams, to face her tiny son and the young waterbender attempting to sneak him to freedom down the dark river below. Izumi sees the hideous snarl grow on her aunt’s discomfortingly familiar face, watches the lightning swell and strain against Azula’s tenuous hold, and she knows, immediately and exactly, what is about to happen.  

So, she changes it.  

“GO!” Izumi yells to into the dark, flickering ether, hoping Skye hears her over the cackle of Azula’s lightning and Ren’s continued wails. Then, she leaps, jumping onto the unsuspecting Azula’s back, interlocking her arms across Azula’s chest and pinning her glowing hands to her sides.  

And everything is pain.   

The ground continues to shake.  

The world turns a terrifying shade of white.  

Azula shouts.  

Izumi screams.  

And everything finally, finally goes dark.  

Chapter Text

He finds Ren in the temple, staring up at the dragon egg on its golden pedestal. His nephew seems mesmerized by the multi-colored flames crackling merrily in the ring surrounding it. Wordlessly, Zuko settles on his knees beside him.  

Ren leans his head against Zuko’s shoulder immediately, wrinkling the white silk on both their robes. Zuko grabs Ren’s hand and squeezes it gently, his throat too tight for words. Ren squeezes back and stands, finally tearing his eyes away from the dragon egg to meet Zuko’s. His cheeks are blotchy with tears, eyes red-rimmed. When Zuko rises to his feet, Ren hesitates, then sticks up both his arms.  

Zuko scoops the little boy up and settles him on his hip. Ren rests his head against Zuko’s shoulder again and shudders. His robe quickly grows wet with Ren’s tears.  

Zuko runs a shaking hand up and down Ren’s back as he descends the steps of the temple, into the courtyard below. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Zuko finally looks up and meets Mai’s gaze; she’s standing in the middle of the courtyard where the golden dais has been erected, face stone and eyes breaking glass, surrounded by their friends. Ty Lee is holding her hand, quietly weeping. At her opposite shoulder, Uncle has linked his arm through Mai’s; Zuko isn’t sure which of them is holding up the other.  

Uncle looks like he’s aged ten years in the last week alone.   

When he sees Zuko descending the stairs from the temple, the wizened Chief Fire Sage rises from his chair. Zuko walks forward, inserting himself between Mai and Uncle. Mai steps on her tip toes and presses a kiss to Ren’s forehead before grabbing his hand. Zuko reaches for the familiar callouses of Uncle’s hand, gripping it tightly. A few tears slip out of Zuko’s eyes when Uncle squeezes back, his thumb running absentmindedly up and down Zuko’s wrist.  

With a nod from Zuko, the Chief Fire Sage stands himself in front of the golden coffin and begins.  

“Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation. You were mother of Ren, daughter of Ursa (now passed), sister of Zuko, niece of Iroh, aunt of Izumi. We lay you to rest.”  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Idiot,” Izumi hears a voice grumble as she floats toward consciousness. “You dull-witted waste of air. I cannot believe we share the same bloodline. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me from Zuko’s spawn, but I must say I expected better of Mai’s. Open your eyes this instant.” A pebble is pelted into the side of Izumi’s chest, and she groans.   

Agni, it hurts. Everything hurts.   

Izumi opens her eyes to darkness, and panics for a moment before making to lift up her palm and--  

“Don’t,” the voice says sharply. Izumi raises her head the inch her body allows and sees the outline of a darkened figure, lying on their stomach as few feet to her left. “No fire. We don’t know how oxygen is getting into this space. We could suffocate ourselves if we light a fire.”  

Izumi swallows thickly, trying and failing to buildup saliva in her desert of a mouth. “’m I dead?” Izumi blinks her eyes a few times in an attempt to focus on the figure to her left. The voice snorts derisively.   

“You best not be, or I’ll bring you back to kill you again myself.”   

“Azula?” Izumi whispers, finally recognizing the voice.   

“Unfortunately.”   

“Thought,” Izumi swallows again, “Thought you wanted me dead.”   

Azula hums, considering. “Not now. Not like this. You dying now would ruin absolutely all of my plans; my sincerest congratulations to you, you conniving little brat, because no one has ever managed to do that before. Stay awake!” she finishes with a grunt, and another pebble hits Izumi’s stomach. She groans again. “I’m sure Zuzu will have the cavalry sent after you soon enough, we shouldn’t have to wait long.”   

It’s quiet for a bit, besides their panting breaths in the dark space. Izumi should be panicking, on a normal day she definitely would be panicking, trapped in some kind of dark cave with no fire, only her murderous aunt for company. But today she just—she aches. Everything hurts, and her head is a clouded mess and nothing feels particularly real.   

So, she breathes. Until--  

“Zuzu?” she asks, finally comprehending the words. “You call my dad Zuzu?”   

“You obviously have severe brain damage. I did no such thing,” Azula replies, her voice haughty.   

But Izumi grins thinly.   

Because if there’s one thing Dad thought to share about his mysterious sister, it’s this:   

Azula always lies.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

When the speeches have finally ended and the rites have all been said, Zuko presses a kiss to the top of Ren’s head and hands him off to Mai. He leads Uncle gently into position on the side of the coffin nearest to them, before circling the dais and taking the position opposite.  

Zuko can’t help but look inside the golden box as he makes his way around it, cannot help but stare at the golden and scarlet-shrouded body that once housed the spirit of Azula.  

It’s a tiny body, outlined under the silk, skinny and frail. The shape seems much too small to have ever held his larger than life sister.  

Suddenly overcome, Zuko steps to the coffin and gently pulls back the shroud from Azula’s face, revealing her pale porcelain features, her red lips, the beginnings of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes that Zuko never had the chance to watch grow.  

There are golden coins covering her eyes, payment for her passage to the Spirit World. With her face finally relaxed, Zuko is reminded viscerally of a sleeping Izumi, of a silent Ren, of the right side of his own face when he looks in the mirror.  

He’s reminded most of all of their mother.  

Something like a sob bubbles up in Zuko’s throat, and he stifles it hastily. He wants to hug his sister; he wants to punch her in the face and scream. He wants to thank her, he wants to hate her, he wants to ask her why?  

Why, why, why?   

Instead, Zuko leans down and brushes an errant hair away from his sister’s face. He presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers in her ear:  

“Goodbye, Azula.”  

Then, Zuko brings the shroud up to cover his sister’s face forever from the world. He takes his place opposite Uncle, and with a nod, they burn the body.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Which tunnel through the mountains did you take to reach us?” Azula asks after a long silence.   

Izumi closes her eyes, trying to remember. Her head is pounding mercilessly; all she wants is to sleep. “The infirmary tunnel. Behind the statue of Healer Tomisin.”   

Azula hums tonelessly. “When did you figure out the entrance?”   

Izumi opens her eyes and turns her head toward the woman. Azula is still lying on her stomach, head turned to Izumi a few feet away. Her features are hidden completely by the shadows. “Found it from behind when I was—twelve, I think. Found the scorch marks and the vents through the lines of his palm the next day and realized the heat from the flames rotates the wooden fans that turn the pulley system. Works with a candle, too, I checked,” she explains tiredly.   

Azula hums again. “I was eleven.” Izumi chooses not to reply.   

“That’s how you got Skye out of the palace.” Izumi nods. She’s not sure if her aunt can see it.   

“Stupid of you to dump Skye in the river after you stabbed her, she’s a fucking waterbender,” Izumi adds suddenly, thoughtlessly. Her heart rises up in her throat until she hears Azula’s snort.   

“You’re assuming I wanted her dead.”   

“Didn’t you?”   

“No. I just needed her out of the way.”   

“Is that what happened with Ren? You just needed him out of the way, too?”   

Everything is quiet for a long moment, Izumi’s panting breaths the only noise in their small pocket of the earth.   

“I didn’t realize how much it hurt.” Azula’s voice is soft. Something within it shakes for the first time, and Izumi shivers at how hollow she suddenly sounds. Azula hasn’t moved from the position flat on the ground in all the time Izumi has been awake.   

“What, being stabbed?” Izumi asks derisively.   

“The lightning. I didn’t--I didn’t realize how much it hurts.”   

It’s quiet for a long while after that.   

*** 

*** 

*** 

There’s a light luncheon after the service, in the family breakfast room, doors open wide to the turtleduck pond in the outer courtyard. Their friends and family have sprawled themselves tiredly across the room and courtyard, nibbling half-heartedly off the spread of food on the table and taking turns approaching the couch Mai and Zuko have claimed for themselves to offer condolences.  

Ty Lee sits forlornly with Sokka and Suki at the edge of the turtleduck pond, looking despondent as she feeds her lunch to the birds flocking her. Su, Lin, and Kya have found a table in the corner, and are murmuring quietly to one another over their lunches.  

Katara and Uncle have found a Pai Sho board and spread it unceremoniously across the floor to play; Tenzin is sidled up to his mother’s side, watching the game carefully.  

Toph has Ren on her lap, sat on cushions in the window seat. The two have become fast and fierce friends since they first met, after Ren and Skye had burst into the palace five days ago, wet and weeping and injured, to inform them all that Izumi was dead.  

Toph had told Ren not to count his chicken-pigs before they hatched. When she’d returned hours later with Izumi, breathing, whole, and alive in tow, Ren had his newest hero.  

[And Toph had her newest pupil, after she’d informed Zuko privately that Ren was one of the most innately powerful earthbenders she’d ever encountered. Zuko, tired, high-strung and desperate, had actually laughed in her face at the absurdity of it all.] 

“How’s Izumi?” Aang asks, as he sinks into the chair before their couch. Zuko feels Mai’s shoulders stiffen then shrug from underneath his arm.  

“Better,” she replies finally, and Aang hums thoughtfully, eyes soft.  

“And you?” he asks, locking his gray eyes with Mai, before turning pointedly to Zuko. It’s Zuko’s turn to shrug.  

“Not sure yet,” he answers honestly, and Mai nods her head in agreement, before resting it on Zuko’s shoulder and picking up his free hand to trace the lines along his palm. “I don’t know how to feel.”  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“Azula,” Izumi gasps out when the silence becomes too stifling. “Azula!”   

“What?” her aunt’s voice snarls from somewhere around her hip. Izumi can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes her.   

“Thought--thought you fell asleep.”   

“Obviously not.” Izumi can picture Azula rolling her golden eyes. She still on the ground, her stomach to the stone beneath them from what Izumi can see.   

“Are you hurt?” There’s a short silence, before Azula barks out a laugh.   

“You think I’m lying in this dirt for the pleasure of it?” The ‘you idiot’ at the end of her question seems to be implied at this point.   

“Where are you hurt? Are you bleeding?” Izumi asks. Her voice is shaking, stuttering around all the things she wants to say.   

The silence is longer this time. “I don’t know.”   

[Azula always lies.]  

“Can you turn over? Maybe I can give us a bit of light for--,”  

“Don’t.”   

“Why not?” Izumi can’t keep the unfortunate whine out of her voice.   

“I--I don’t want to see it.”   

“Azula--,”  

“I can’t feel it, alright? I can’t feel anything below my chest.” Something in Izumi’s own chest stutters at the revelation. She spreads her own fingers and toes, wiggles them lightly, suddenly very glad for the stabbing pains she feels within her joints.   

“Ah.”   

“Yes.”   

Izumi can hear water dripping somewhere in their little cave. “Tell me a story.”   

Azula snorts. “Aren’t you an adult?”   

“Not for another two weeks. You owe me. Tell me a story, Auntie.” Azula huffs out a laugh at the name.   

“Which one do you want to hear?”   

“Tell me the story of how you stole me away all those years ago.”  

And Azula does.   

*** 

*** 

*** 

About an hour into the quiet luncheon, Ren leaves the circle of Toph’s arms and climbs up on the couch, squishing himself between Zuko and Mai. Mai spends the rest of the meal brushing Ren’s hair back with her long fingers, whispering to him quietly every time she notices his eyes welling up with tears.  

Zuko pushes his plate over to Ren, already stacked high with Ren’s favorite foods; Zuko knew from the beginning he’d never have the stomach to eat today. Might as well not let the food go to waste.  

As time goes by, Ren’s head grows ever heavier on Zuko’s shoulder, until finally it settles in Zuko’s lap. He offers a thin smile as he scoops the child into his arms.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he tells Mai as he rises from the couch. “I’m going to check on Izumi, too.” Mai nods in understanding, and Ty Lee comes over to take Zuko’s place on the couch as he leaves.  

“We gonna see Zuzu?” Ren whispers against Zuko’s neck, his whole body lax with near sleep.  

“Nap first,” Zuko says quietly. On any other day, Ren’s lack of protests would concern him. Instead, he hugs the sleeping little boy closer to him and carries him through the long, elegant hallways to the family wing of the palace. He doesn’t stop until he hears a conversation occurring through Izumi’s ajar door.  

“I should have been there,” he hears Izumi mutter. “I would have died after the rockslide without her to keep me awake. And she’s Ren’s mother, she’s family, no matter what she’s done, I--,”  

“My dear one,” Uncle’s voice says softly, his voice grave. Zuko wonders how he missed Iroh slipping out of the breakfast room. “You need to rest,” he adds emphatically. Zuko pictures Uncle tucking the blankets arround his daughter and smiles. “Besides, if I have learned one thing in my many years about life and death, it is this—funerals are for the living, Izumi. They are meant to provide closure for those of us left behind, to come to terms with the life that has ended, the person who is now gone.  

“I will not pretend to know everything that transpired between yourself and Azula in the mountains, but I do know this: in the moment of her end, Azula was not alone. You were with her, Izumi, and no matter what she may have told you, your presence surely brought great comfort and relief. You did not need to be at the funeral today, because you were already there for your aunt at her greatest moment of need.” 

A few sniffles and shuddering breaths, the pats of a hug and the rustle of sheets.  

“Thank you, Uncle,” Izumi says finally, her voice thick. “In the end she wasn’t--Azula wasn’t so...terrible, I suppose. I expected this absolute villain, and I know she’s done monstrous things in her life, I know that, and one good act toward me can’t excuse the rest but—she was...” 

 “She was human,” Uncle says sadly. He sniffs, then blows his nose. “If we search for reason, for motivation and hurt in all villains we encounter, we’ll not find villains at all. Only people, victims of life just like the rest of us, who have made poor decisions as a result of their worst experiences.”  

The two sit in thoughtful silence for a bit, and Zuko makes to slowly edge away from the door, praying Ren doesn’t wake and catch him eavesdropping when: 

“Could you hand me my journal, Uncle, the one on the nightstand? A pen, too, please.”  

A rustle of parchment, the clink of an inkwell.  

“What are you writing?”  

“I write down all the wise thing you say. This is my journal of Iroh-isms.”  

There’s a shocked silence, before a watery chuckle can be heard through the door. “You leave me wondering often what good I must have done to be blessed with such sweetness and love in these twilight years, my dear one.”  

Zuko finally backs away from the door, and makes his way to Ren’s bedroom across the hall.  

“Stay,” Ren commands, after Zuko lays him down in bed and tucks the sheets around him. “Stay, Uncle.” His voice is imperious, nearly a whine, and his chin juts out as he sits up, little hands reaching for the sleeve of Zuko’s white mourning robes, and Zuko can’t hold back his tears.  

Ren sounds like Azula.   

Tiny Azula, before Mom was gone and bending tore them apart. Sweet, little Azula who actually enjoyed feeding the turtleducks, who always wheedled one extra bedtime story for them out of their mother, who went on secret missions with him to the kitchens to steal extra dessert on a regular basis. 

The Azula he loved most. The Azula he’s always missed.  

But it was all Azula, wasn’t it? No matter how old she was, where she went or what outrageous or cruel thing she did, she was always his Azula. Always his family, always his little sister.  

Always and forevermore, Azula had his love.  

And now, so does Ren.  

“Alright,” Zuko finally says, slipping out of his boots and gingerly climbing on top of the covers. Ren cuddles up to his side, wraps his arms around Zuko’s chest like an octopus-ray.  

When Zuko wakes, the sun is rising on a new day.  

*** 

*** 

*** 

“They’re coming,” Izumi says, when she feels the ground grumbling beneath her. “It must be Toph, maybe Aang as well. They're coming, Azula.”   

Azula hums, noncommittal.   

“You--you’re still part of the royal family, you have—I mean, it’s not like Dad’s  gonna  throw you in prison immediately--,”  

“That’s what he did to our father,” she interrupts, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Took away his bending, too.”   

Izumi shivers at the thought. She can’t imagine life without the fire inside her chest, doesn’t want to imagine life without it ever.   

“Ozai was a monster though, everyone said--,”  

“And what do they say about me, Izumi?”   

Izumi doesn’t know how to respond, so she doesn’t.   

“Dad misses you,” she finally says, voice a croak. “He doesn’t say it aloud, but I can read between the lines. He’s always worried about you--,”  

“He’s worried about what I’ll do,” Azula corrects in barely a whisper. She still manages to make it sound snide. “He’s worried about my plans, my secrets and connections.”  

“What’s the point of it all?” Izumi asks honestly. “What’s your goal, Azula? Do you really want to be Fire Lord? What then? Start a new hundred-year war, kill the Avatar and his twelve-year-old son? Infiltrate Ba Sing Se again and make it your own? Why? What do you actually want?”   

“I wanted to go home!” Azula snaps, voice loud and raw and shocked. Izumi’s eyes sting in the corners. She takes a deep breath.   

“And where is home? What is home to you? Is it war and fire and destruction? Or is it...is it my dad? And Mom and Ty Lee? Is it the turtleduck pond with the pink cherry trees, and Pai Sho games with Uncle during afternoon teas? Is it tucking your son into bed every evening, telling him stories about finding good in the world and beauty within?”  

“Stop--,”  

“Is it Ren? Is it watching him grow up happy and safe and loved? Because that can be your home, Azula. We can make that happen. I can make that  happen,  I will fight for you--,”  

“Stop.” Azula’s voice is barely a rasp. Izumi can feel the rumbles up and down the ridges of her spine, hear the echoes of shouting in the distance.   

“Tell Zuko he won. He’ll like that, he finally beat me.” Something in Izumi’s heart freezes at the words. She can barely hear them over the shaking of the rocks around them.   

“He doesn’t want to win,” Izumi gasps, feeling the words, the truth of them deep in her bones. “He just wants peace, Azula. That’s all he wants.”   

“Then tell him I found that. Tell him I’m at peace.”   

“Dad says you always lie.” Something like a laugh, or maybe a sob, echoes through their little pocket of the world.   

“Take care of Ren. Please. Tell him—tell him I’m sorry. I loved him the only way I knew how, but it wasn’t--it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.” Azula’s voice cracks. There’s a sliver of light coming through the rocks now, and Izumi sees red and black and red red  red  across Azula’s face and her clothes and the rocks around her and--  

“Azula?” she whispers, reaching out her hand, grunting as she tries to slide herself toward the woman. “Azula? Azula, wake up. They’re coming, they’re here! C’mon, it’s time to go, we have to move. Azula!”   

But Princess Azula does not move again.   

*** 

*** 

***