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Chapter Text

Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things, did not know how to react. This was an unusual state of things, considering that he was a Knowledge Spirit of the highest order and the keeper of the largest library in the Mortal and Spirit Worlds.

"What is this?" he asked, staring down at the quivering lump of flesh and cloth at his feet.

The Knowledge Seeker shifted a bit from paw to paw, its tail taking a fast dive between its legs.

Sometimes Wan Shi Tong wished he had hands so he could shake some sense into his Seekers.

"You found it near the shore, by Ba Sing Se? Why did you bring it here? Humans are, after all, banned."

The Seeker shuffled around a bit and pawed behind its ear.

"You felt like it?" Wan Shi Tong could really use those hands now. Strangling would feel so good right now. "You're copying scrolls for the next five millennia."

The Seeker drooped a bit, but flicked its tail.

"It is not your concern anymore. Go."

The Seeker slinked into the darkness between the shelves and Wan Shi Tong turned his attention back towards the lump.

It was a small mortal in ragged clothes. Thirteen summers of age, give or take a year or two, based on the anatomy scrolls. Male, based on the same sources. Probably Earth Kingdom in origin, based on the location.

"Get up," Wan Shi Tong ordered the lump.

The lump shifted, slowly and painfully, into a kneeling position, either not having the strength or daring to get up any further. Wan Shi Tong wasn't overly concerned, it gave him more things to observe.

He was met with a pale, sweating face, half covered in bandages. Long, black hair hung in a tangled mess around the boy's shoulders. A single, scared, golden eye stared up at him.

Fire Nation, then.

Wan Shi Tong did not like that.

"Do you know who I am, mortal?" he asked.

The boy licked his lips and rasped out, "A Spirit."

Wan Shi Tong liked this less and less. "A Spirit?" he asked disbelievingly. He had expected a bit more of a reaction.

The boy flushed, whether due to embarrassment or fever, Wan Shi Tong was not overly concerned.

"I... was only taught about Agni," the boy whispered, dropping his gaze.

Wan Shi Tong scoffed but chose not to berate the boy for his lack of knowledge. That was the failure of his teachers, and children did not always know to ask for more information.

"I am Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things, and this is my library, my domain," he answered instead, "Who are you, mortal?"

The boy hesitated but answered, "I... was Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. My... the Fire Lord has banished me, with no recourse to return." The boy's voice got wobblier by the end of the answer.

"Why were you by Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko shrugged helplessly, "For fath- for the Fire Lord to... get me out of the way, I think."

Wan Shi Tong knew what that meant; the boy's father had hoped his enemies would kill him. And that would be a fine excuse for the Fire Nation to attack again.

Just like humans, everything was about war and advantages.

"And what is your plan?"

Zuko looked even more lost. "Nothing. I... I have nothing. No place to return to, no place I would be welcome in, no one to miss me. Except maybe Uncle," he said reflexively, but there was doubt there.

Wan Shi Tong prized knowledge above everything. The boy did not know much of anything, that was clear. He was a blank slate with no place in the world. And Wan Shi Tong had vacancies that needed filling.

"Some years ago," he started and the boy looked up from his contemplation, "a man of your Nation came to my library. He read and read, I was delighted to have someone interested in the knowledge," Wan Shi Tong leant closer to the boy, pulling the shadows in, "But he was looking for weaknesses of the other Nations. And upon leaving, he burned large parts of my collection. Since then, humans have been banned."

The boy was silent and evidently scared. And not getting it.

"You will be filling up the Fire Nation section of my library again."

"Me? But–" the boy's voice picked up an octave, "but I didn't do anything! And I don't know anywhere near enough to do that!"

"The man was from your Nation," Wan Shi Tong said bluntly, "He is certainly never welcome in my library again, but I can make an exception for you. You have no ostrichorse in the race of this war. You will be here for the knowledge only."

The boy gulped, "But–"

"My Knowledge Seekers will help you in your duties. You will be given room and food, and you're free to read anything... as long as you keep fulfilling your duties. If you refuse..."

"When will I start?"

Chapter Text

The hardest thing to get used to was the darkness. It filled the vast halls and lurked between the shelves and snuck into his mind in quiet moments.

It felt oppressive.

Zuko had not been exactly… conscious, when he was taken to the library, so it had taken him a few days to realize – especially with the eerie glow from the... Spirit lamps? – that the building was literally buried in the Si Wong desert. The suffocating weight of that realization had him stumbling out of the musty room the Knowledge Seekers had found for him, and half-run, half-stumble towards the faintest feeling of sunlight in the sprawling, cavernous halls.

The moment Zuko reached the hall he remembered having his first meeting with Wan Shi Tong in, he collapsed on the floor and just breathed. He could feel the trickle of sunlight caressing his back and slowly the weight eased in his chest and his head stopped spinning.

"Why–" came a cold voice from the darkness somewhere behind him and Zuko would have screamed had he had the energy, "did one of my Seekers feel the need to fetch me?"

"I'm sorry," Zuko stammered and straightened a little, but stayed on the floor. Wan Shi Tong was a Spirit and Spirits dealt with Spirit matters. Zuko did not dare to think what annoying a Spirit would do to him.

"That does not answer my question."

Zuko wavered. What could he say? The truth? The Knowledge Spirit might see it as an insult. He looked uncertainly up at the enormous owl Spirit and directly into its piercing, fathomless eyes. There was no warmth, no anything in them. Not even the coldness he was used to seeing in fath- the Fire Lord's eyes.

Wan Shi Tong stared back and after a moment...

"Answer, mortal."

Zuko flinched and scrunched his eye closed, trying to ignore the pulling feeling it caused in his... face. "I... the... the sun," he finally blurted out.

"The sun?"

"I'm a... I'm a firebender. I just... realized that your library... is underground..."

"Ah," Wan Shi Tong intoned.

Zuko couldn't bring himself to look up at the Spirit. The silence hung heavy around them.

"All the bending happens in here, this main hall," Wan Shi Tong said then and Zuko stared up in shock. "At least one hour of sunlight a day, though more is recommended. Limit the books and scrolls you bring here, some of them are too fragile for sunlight."

"I... yes sir," Zuko choked out.

Wan Shi Tong observed him, appearing... thoughtful? Though Zuko did not dare to presume what any Spirit was thinking of at any moment. Especially not one who had so much control over him at the moment.

"Your wound?" the Spirit asked then.

"My wound?"

"Yes. Is it receiving treatment?"

Wan Shi Tong was... concerned about Zuko's health? That was... weird. Zuko had always been under the impression that Spirits did not much care for the matters or wellbeing of humans. Unless they cursed or blessed someone.

The Spirit tilted his head and Zuko hurried to answer.

"Ah, no...?"

Wan Shi Tong sighed, deeply, in a frustrated manner Zuko was used to seeing from his tutors when he failed to pick up on the kata. He tensed.

But instead of scolding him, Wan Shi Tong turned towards the direction Zuko had ran into the hall from. A Knowledge Seeker slinked into view, its ears turned back.

"Have you at least fed him?" Wan Shi Tong asked the Spirit, "Or have you failed in your human studies so badly that you have forgotten what constitute as necessities for survival?"

The Seeker shuffled a little, twitching its tail.

"Bandages mean injuries, it is not a fashion statement. Or did you miss the fever too?"

The Seeker did another random movement.

Wan Shi Tong sighed again.

Zuko had absolutely no clue how Wan Shi Tong understood the Knowledge Seekers. He wondered if he would ever learn to understand them, or if the owl Spirit would be his only chance of discussion for the next however long he lived here.

"Go, you clearly can't be trusted beyond food."

The Seeker slinked off into the darkness and for a moment Zuko thought he heard... giggling? Did the other Seekers find their – friend's? colleague's? sibling's? – scolding funny?

"As for you..." and suddenly Zuko found himself at the center of the Spirit's attention again – it was not a terribly pleasant place to be.

The owl extended his wing and Zuko flinched as he felt the huge feathers brush over his face, wondering if this was how he would die. But no, instead his face felt fresher and the crummy bandages that had been on his face since the moment the Fire Navy ship dropped him off at the east coast of Earth Kingdom, were gone, replaced by clean linen.

"Th-thank you," he said uncertainly. That bandage change had been a lot less painful than any of the cursory ones he received on the ship.

"I can't have you die of infection," Wan Shi Tong stated bluntly, "It would be unsightly, and a waste of a perfectly good debt payer."

Zuko felt a rush of resentment towards both the Spirit and the Fire Nation man who had incurred the debt in the first place. What kind of idiot would piss a Spirit off on purpose?

"If the Seekers fail to change your bandages, come find me," Wan Shi Tong ordered him and Zuko nodded. He did not know how he would find the Spirit. The library was enormous, Zuko did not even dare to wonder how many floors it was, he could make out at least ten with more disappearing down into darkness if he peered over the railing.

The railings and the walkways would be a nightmare when he got around to practicing firebending again. He liked the more acrobatic moves but he would not dare to try any out for a while. Especially while lacking depth perception.

When he looked around again, the Knowledge Spirit had disappeared, leaving Zuko alone in the hall. He decided not to worry about finding his room yet and instead settled down to meditate in the center of the walkways. He closed his eyes and just breathing, taking in meager sunlight that trickled down from the high-up windows.

He did not know how long he sat there, in the quiet. Distantly, he wondered, if this would be the most sunlight he would receive in the coming years. He hoped not but wouldn't dare to say anything on the subject. Not until he figured out more about his situation.

It was pretty peaceful, anyway. And... his face didn't even hurt that much? Maybe Wan Shi Tong used some Spiritual pain reducing method?

He wasn't sure he wanted to have Spirit magic used on him.

Something nudged him. His eye snapped open and he flinched away.

The Knowledge Seeker snuffled – uncertainly? – and tilted its head, staring at Zuko.

"Hi?" Zuko said uncertainly.

The Knowledge Seeker tilted its head in the other direction.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, feeling supremely stupid, "I don't understand you, you know," he felt necessary to add.

The Seeker rolled its eyes.

"Hey!"

Zuko scowled at the Seeker who ignored the glare and trotted towards the darkness. At the end of the walkway it stopped and turned to stare back at Zuko. The thing clearly wanted him to follow it. 

They stared at each other for the moment, until Zuko gave a deep, frustrated sight and scrambled upright. He followed after the Seeker, looking around curiously as he went. He had been pretty much bedbound until he realized he was underground and he hadn't really looked around.

The long, winding corridors between the bookshelves seemed to disappear into abyss, barely illuminated by the eerie, greenish glow from the wall sconces. Occasionally he would spot a Knowledge Seeker or two darting between the shelves, with scrolls in protective casings or books in their mouths. He could smell the dust and old paper in the air. The only way to navigate were the tiny plaques at the ends of the shelving units and there was no immediate way to figure out where each of the sections was in relation to the main hall – or Zuko's own bedroom. He was pretty sure they hadn't moved a level, but otherwise he was completely lost.

He really hoped there was a map somewhere.

An unclear time later they came upon a staircase and the Knowledge Seeker headed directly down the stairs, after shooting a look at Zuko over its shoulder. He tried to keep count on how many levels they went down but he found himself unable to do so. Whether that was due to Spirit shenanigans or something else, he wasn't sure.

He did know that he didn't like it.

They moved away from the stairs, between the shelves.

However, at this point the likelihood of him escaping the Spirit Library was very small, and certainly not while still recovering. And even if he did leave, where would he go? Uncle had claimed that he would follow Zuko from the Fire Nation after he "took care of some affairs" but if Zuko was honest… he couldn't think of a reason why anyone would bother to do that, much less Uncle. Not with Zuko being who he was and his inexistent luck. He forced the thought away.

He couldn't afford to ponder on the impossible.

Whatever the case, he was essentially stuck in the Library for the foreseeable future.

"Where are we going?" he asked some minutes past the point he was well and truly lost.

The Seeker ignored him and because Zuko wasn't going to stay here alone, he had no other choice but to follow along. Soon after that, the smell in the air changed. It gained a smoky, stuffy quality to it and suddenly Zuko knew exactly where they were.

At the section of the Library that had been burned by the idiot who angered Wan Shi Tong.

They turned a corner.

Zuko stared in disbelief.

"I really want to kill that guy."

Chapter Text

Zuko had been half tempted to poke around the huge, ashy mess – very carefully not thinking about how burnt paper fortunately smelled nothing like burnt hair or flesh – but the Knowledge Seeker had grabbed him by the hem of his tunic and dragged him away from the mess.

"What?" Zuko demanded, "Isn't it my job to somehow... fix that?" he waved his hand at the mess, uncertain how to describe it. Because the mess was absolutely enormous and all over the place. He was pretty sure he would never clear it up completely.

He was going to find the section on curses and curse the guy who did this, somehow. Just watch him.

The Seeker huffed a little and looked at Zuko like he was stupid. He felt pretty stupid and did not like it at all.

"What?" he repeated, more grumpily.

The Seeker sighed through the cloth in its mouth and tugged again.

Zuko pursed his lips but followed. He knew the Seekers were Spirits as well – hello, context – but they were minor Spirits and they were nowhere near as scary as Wan Shi Tong.

They were actually kind of cute, but that was beside the point.

Despite their minor status, he was not going to piss them off or outright disobey. Although he was getting a bit tired after the long trek so his politeness was slowly but steadily drifting away. Not good.

Zuko hoped the Seeker would drag him back to his room.

It was Zuko's first stroke of luck since he was about ten years old, because after a long time of wandering the library, they finally came upon a familiar looking stretch of wall. Zuko sighed in relief and all but slumped against the doorway of the small chamber he had been convalescing in since being brought into the library.

From what he could tell, the chamber hadn't been meant for human habitation, in so much as occasional human use. If he had to guess, he would say that it had been used as a private study space at some point in the past; there was a table, a chair, shelves, creepy Spirit lamp right above the table, with another two by the door, and a box full of dusty writing utensils, that had probably lain there, unused, for centuries. The Knowledge Seekers had produced a futon mattress from – somewhere – and wedged it along one of the room edges, so that Zuko's legs were under the table when he was laying down.

It was simultaneously derelict, cozy and depressing.

And it was going to be his room.

Zuko sighed again.

The Knowledge Seeker playing his guide visibly drooped.

And Zuko panicked.

"Ah, no, it's a nice chamber, ju-just a bit drab?" he said weakly, "It doesn't really... really feel that homey yet? I just need to... decorate it somehow!"

He wasn't sure what constituted as "homey," but it had to be better than this greenish cave. He had only lived in palaces that had always felt a bit stuffy, so he didn't even have proper experience in homey things. The Ember Island vacation house was probably the closest he had ever experienced and even that was a bit stuffy.

Living underground would be bad enough without his own room looking like a literal cave.

The Seeker tilted its head, appearing thoughtful. It was probably planning to drag him off to somewhere again.

"Not now, obviously. I'm too tired and my..." he hesitated, hut plunged on, "my scar's starting to hurt. But later? Tomorrow maybe?"

The Seeker was already nodding as it bustled into the chamber, took a hold of Zuko's blanket and looked at him meaningfully.

Zuko had to stare.

"Are you... planning to tuck me in?" he asked, disbelievingly. The last time he had been tucked in, it was Mother who had done it. He... wasn't quite sure he felt about being tucked in a by a Spirit.

At least it wasn't Wan Shi Tong.

The Seeker gave him another meaningful look and Zuko figured he better obey. It was a bit of a production, the fox Spirit huffing and shuffling, its snout full of cloth that it desperately tried to tug on him properly. When it finally succeeded, it stepped back with a proud look in its eyes.

Zuko really did not know what to do.

"Uh... thank you? Good night?"

The Seeker shuffled, nudging Zuko's shoulder, and then pounded out of the room and into the darkness of the library.

Zuko slept surprisingly well.

Recovering from a disfiguring facial burn was not fun and it was an experience Zuko would never recommend to anyone. Although technically, not recovering would mean dying from it, so maybe he had to recommend it if the situation required it. Beyond the semantics, however, it sucked. It was painful, uncomfortable, and disgusting with all the bandage changes. Unfortunately the Knowledge Seekers couldn't just randomly wave their paws to change them, like Wan Shi Tong could.

Not that Zuko was going to go out on his way to find the Spirit for a painless bandage change. He at least liked to think of himself as somewhat intelligent.

So he dealt with Knowledge Seekers and their paws, which were surprisingly agile for being, well, paws. It seemed that as long as the Seekers didn't need to walk at the same time, they could stand on two back legs and use their front paws as hands.

(Unless he found the kitchen himself, and learnt to cook, he would spend the rest of his life on boxed meals because that was the only way the Seekers could transport them.)

There was also the fact that Zuko did not dare to touch his face. Or look at it, but for that he would have needed a mirror. So for now, he was content to pretend that he couldn't see anything out of his own choice, and that his face was still normal.

Being fussed over by the Seekers was surprisingly pleasant. There were moments when they reminded him of the servants at the palace, and others when they were nothing like it. The Seekers were more than willing to deal with his... injury, and food. But for washing and dressing, they simply showed him a long forgotten but recently washed bathroom, and piles of clothes in another room acquired from... somewhere.

After his comment about the drapness of his chamber, they had also been quick to bring him to another random room with furniture, textiles, and a collection of random knick knacks.

The amount of stuff in the library – that was not actually books or scrolls – was mind staggering.

"Are you hoarding?" he asked the Seeker babysitting him in the knick knack room.

The Seeker looked a bit embarrassed at the question.

"Oh, you just don't want to admit it."

Honestly, in hindsight, Uncle probably had the same problem.

Well, it was lucky for him, if nothing else. At least he could do something about his chamber, room, whatever. Nook?

"Please help me with this chest, I'll stuff it full of clothes from the other room."

Zuko was going to start with the necessities, what did he need to live here. He had a bed, food delivery, and a bathroom. Which meant he needed clothes and comfort but clothes were more important for now.

The clothing room had to have some kind of Spirit magic holding it together. There were clothes from all Nations and he had seen some of the Fire Nation styles only in history books. Despite the sheer amount of stuff, he couldn't afford to be too picky. Not everything was in his size, let alone in a practical style.

There was no way he was wearing the furs. He would die from the heat.

And the very idea of wearing the orange and yellow robes made him... uneasy. He wasn't interested in wearing the clothes of the Nation whose army had stolen the very air their lungs generations ago. And the Nation his great-grandfather had ordered wiped out for their crimes.

So he was left mixing and matching mostly red, green and brown clothes, with a few blue items thrown in for variety. Not that he was terribly keen on the clothes of dirt eaters who crushed people alive underground, and pirate savages who attacked Fire Nation ships in the night.

The end result was unique if nothing else.

Fortunately everyone seemed to favor clothes that closed at the front and he didn't have any cloth rubbing against his face. His hair was troublesome enough on that front that he had been tempted to cut it all off. He was never going back anyway, might as well make the break clean and traditional.

He couldn't bring himself to do that, however. Not when the last thing he remembered if his Mother was a dreamlike moment of her pressing her cheek against his hair.

"No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."

He wasn't sure how that would work out here, hidden beneath the sands of Si Wong desert, in the shadowed halls of Wan Shi Tong's Spirit Library, away from the Fire Nation and even the sun.

Zuko couldn't really see how he could remain himself in these circumstances.

Chapter Text

Zuko's first several weeks in the library consisted of languishing in his room, sitting in the middle of the walkways of the central hall in the meager sunlight, digging around in the hoard rooms, and, best of all, haunting the section on theatre scrolls from across all Nations throughout the entire history of the world. Things were finallylooking up for him. No one seemed to expect him to tackle the burned Fire Nation section of the library yet, so he tried to find whatever light in the darkness that he could.

Zuko prided himself in his work ethic – he completed every task he was given to the best of his abilities, sometimes trying to go even beyond the requirements. This hadn't worked out for him that often – whenever he tried to over extend himself, he tended to fail at some crucial point – and he knew that when the time came, he would be stuck at that one section by is own work ethic if nothing else.

He still hadn't completely ruled out the possibility that Wan Shi Tong would do something to him.

So given... everything... he was very happy to have some time to himself that he could spend reading plays. He had never had a chance to read most of these – they simply didn't exist anymore at all, or they hadn't been collected to the Fire Nation palace's library.

The endless row of Earth Kingdom's King plays could not be as interesting as they purported themselves to be. There must be at least some duds, right?

The Air Legion seemed to favor philosophical think pieces and... comedies? Zuko stared in bafflement at the short abstract of a play called How To Have A Laugh, in which the jokes did not seem to be about the gruesome ways one can use air to kill people.

He shook his head and peeked into the Water Tribe play section. As he perused the scrolls, he was astounded to discover detailed instructions on hand signals or even dance steps preceding many plays, as well as dotting the pages between lines of dialogue and narraion. It was... mostly shadow puppetry and dancing, from what he could tell. Would he even be able to get the full experience of the story if he just read it out?

Zuko's gaze darted around the various sections, not knowing how to tackle any of it. He would leave them for later... or never.

The Fire Nation romances had always, embarrassingly, been more his speed anyway. He was excited beyond measure to find a copy of Romance of the Temple, a play that had been lost generations ago, and of which only fragments survived of.

It was the play Mother had most wished to read or see, if she could bring back a lost play.

It was a thrilling epic a Fire Sage who fell in love with the princess, and it had bandits and broken promises and at the end, the princess faked her death in order to marry the young Sage. It was beautiful and tragic and had firebending fights. And it also had the main characters rebelling against the Fire Lord.

Which no Fire Lord who Zuko had ever known would have liked.

It made him suspect that the Royal Family had banned the play at some point – the surviving fragments and mentions of the play alluded to that but it wasn't stated explicitly anywhere. It was a pity because the play was really good, especially the princess's soliloquy on duty to oneself, with a flame used as a metaphor.

Although that part was vaguely familiar, he was pretty sure there had been a similar metaphor in the history play Light of Sozin about the Nation being a flame that needed to be fed.

The Romance of the Temple's soliloquy on viewing oneself as a flame that needed to be fed so that it could continue to provide light and warmth to others was much more refined. And beautiful in a way that it gripped Zuko's heart with indescribable sorrow.

"I did not take you for a friend of the theatre."

Zuko's heart just about jumped out through his chest with fright at Wan Shi Tong's voice. He scrambled upright, clutching the play scroll against his chest, staring up at the owl Spirit.

"A... am I not supposed to read them?" he asked weakly.

Wan Shi Tong shook his head, "No, you're free to read whatever you please," he tilted his head and Zuko shifted uneasily, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Very much, sir," Zuko answered, "Especially the princess's soliloquy."

"Ah, yes," Wan Shi Tong mused, gliding down the corridor little ways, peering along the titles in the shelves, "Wung Lo indeed had a way with the words, a very masterful touch. There are twelve other plays by her."

"There are?!" Zuko forgot all about his fear and unease as he skidded to a stop next to Wan Shi Tong, his eye roving fast and curious for the mentioned plays.

Wan Shi Tong gave him a sort of... baffled? look, and motioned with his wing. "Yes, right here."

Zuko took the pile of books and scrolls reverently from the shelf, "I've never even heard of these," he breathed out in awe, "Romance in the Temple had at least some surviving fragments but these..."

He must be first human to read them in generations. Zuko couldn't wait to read these lost masterpieces, feel the emotions they're meant to evoke. There was something very humbling about that realization. He felt a stab of sadness at not being able to see them performed on stage. He ruthlessly showed aside the hope of that happening in some distant future.

"It warms my heart to see people enjoy reading."

Zuko flinched in surprise at the voice and peeked up at Wan Shi Tong again. He had all but forgotten about his... guardian's? employer's? presence.

"Yeah. Reading is... nice."

What was he supposed to say? How did one talk about readingwith a Spirit?!

"You're reading only Fire Nation plays?"

"Uhh... yes. I... don't really get the others," Zuko answered, "Earth Kingdom doesn't seem to have... a lot of variety."

Wan Shi Tong hmm'ed, "There are quite a few more rows of Earth Kingdom plays. But yes, King plays are the most prevalent. They do have their value, however, despite the lack of... variety."

Zuko flushed a little but didn't refute the Spirit. He had just shared his impression that he had got wandering around the place. It wasn't his fault he hadn't encountered anything besides King plays.

He had read some similar plays, exclusively about Fire Lords and they had been so boring. So much backstabbing and politics. Some were good, but those that were only politics would have worked as sleeping aids.

"What value does a play have if not the interesting story and beautiful language?" Zuko asked instead.

"In the case of the King plays," Wan Shi Tong started, taking on a lecturing tone, "they describe many historical events – with some embellishments, granted, – but they also describe the social and cultural structures of Earth Kingdom. They especially describe the court life and its intricacies, the belief systems the Earth King learns. Similarly, the philosophical monologues by the Air Nomads can tell a reader much about their spiritual beliefs, what aspects of air cause schisms between the different Temples. The very nature of material available on the Water Tribes on the other hand, tells much about their way of life. It's harsh on the Poles, and the resources are scarce. Due to this, verbal storytelling has a much more prominent role than plays, and plays itself are mostly shadow puppetry, or dancing – things, that do not require extra resources that could be used for something else."

Wan Shi Tong gave a mournful sigh at this, "For a librarian, it's infuriating. The Water Tribes so rarely write anything down – only the most important things – and then they use it until it has all but disintegrated. Or they recycletheir parchment; scratch away the old text and write something new instead. And their other materials are hard to archive; I have a beautifully embroidered wall hanging, depicting the Moon and Ocean meeting for the first time. But I only have so many walls. The carved bone calendars are near impossible to keep in order..."

That devolved into a muttered complaints that Zuko couldn't make out anymore. But it did sound interesting, put like that, and a part of him was itching to take another tome or two for a read. Except his arms were full of Wung Lo's plays that hadn't been read for hundreds of years, by anyone. He wondered what Fire Nation plays told of his country by their very existence, because he had never had a reason to wonder about it.

"I... guess so, sir," he muttered.

Wan Shi Tong was still muttering to himself and didn't hear a word. Zuko stood for a moment before giving a mental shrug, a slight bow, and slinking into the darkness, towards his own room. He had his reading material and he would return to the play section again at a later date.

He could still hear Wan Shi Tong muttering to himself.

Chapter Text

The longer Zuko spent in the library, the more he relaxed. He knew what his status was and what was expected of him, and he was learning new things. After a month the Seekers had started dragging him to both the kitchen – usually armed with a cookbook fetched from the cooking section – and to the laundry, both for the express purpose of him learning to do things himself.

He did not like it and had, at first, firmly refused to touch a pail of water full of clothes. Zuko and the Seeker babysitting him had had a staring contest – which Zuko lost because he had only one usable eye. Then the Seeker had flounced smugly out.

Rebelliously, Zuko had still refused to touch the pail and had gone back to his theatre scrolls. He might have been banished, but he was a prince.

Wan Shi Tong had been unsympathetic: "The Seekers have better things to do than chores for you. Swallow your pride and learn."

The battle of wills had lasted until Zuko ran out of clean clothes, after which he had been forced to wash all of his clothes. It hadn't been done particularly well but for his second wash a Seeker showed him how to do it properly. The help the Seekers could give him was very much limited by the gestures and vague expressions they could make – as they could not speak, being foxes. Spirit Owls seemed to be able to talk though...

But clothes washing managed to fold itself into his routine rather seamlessly eventually.

The washing room also had the distinction of being one of the places Wan Shi Tong spoke to him the most.

Zuko had been minding his own business, elbow-deep in the sudsy water, washing his sheets and under-layers, when he suddenly felt a presence in the doorway. He looked slowly up at intimidating figure of the Knowledge Spirit, set down his washing and leant back in his kneeling position on the floor. Paying attention when being spoken to, tended to mitigate at least some of the irritation people generally felt towards him.

"It seems like you've been put to work," Wan Shi Tong remarked while observing him with his expressionless, black owl eyes.

"Ah... yes, sir," Zuko said, feeling uncomfortable, "It is... it's growing on me." He was lying but he figured being truthful wouldn't help his situation

"I see," Wan Shi Tong said.

Zuko returned to the scrubbing, trying to ignore the potentially judging eyes of his guardian? warden? employer? or whatever Wan Shi Tong was to him at the moment. He worked in silence for a moment or two, waiting for Wan Shi Tong to tell him what he wanted. He stopped immediately when the Owl Spirit began to speak.

"You've been here for two months. It is time to take off the bandages."

It felt as if Zuko's stomach made a little flip. He was not comfortable with that idea at all. For the past two months he had gotten used to the fact that he had a limited vision and that there were bandages all over his face at all times.

He didn't want to know what was beneath the bandages. There was no way it would be pretty, not after–

He shook the thought away.

"Now?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as weak as he felt.

"I suppose you can finish your chore," Wan Shi Tong mused, not seeming terribly invested, "I have gathered some writings on burn care," the owl motioned towards the small, rickety table by the doorway, that now had several scrolls and a lonely book placed on it."

"Thank you, sir," Zuko said, eyeing the pile with certain dread.

"You should be able to handle any further treatment yourself in the future," Wan Shi Tong continued, as if he hadn't heard, "The Seekers have reported that your face is healing well enough, and the threat of infection is minimal."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep in mind that if you fail to treat your burn appropriately, there may be complications. In which caseI will be required to step in."

There was a certain feeling of threat in that statement and Zuko resolved to take care of his own face, no matter how unpleasant it would turn out to be.  He nodded nervously at the order. Wan Shi Tong returned the nod and then disappeared into the shadows.

The scrolls and the book laid on the table like a looming ghost, waiting for Zuko to finish his washing. He took his time, carefully scrubbing at even the smallest and most insignificant stains. He hung his clothes and sheets carefully, making sure not to leave any creases anywhere. He preferred to skip ironing if at all possible, finding that the presence of heated metal made him nervous.

Which was shameful for a firebender and a prince.

So he did his very best to do his washing and hanging without making any further work for himself whenever possible. In this case, it also bought him some time to avoid the awaiting burn care.

But finally he had nothing left to do. Reluctantly, he gathered up the healing manuals and started heading back to his room.  Slowly, he wandered through the winding corridors of the library, hoping to see something to distract him from his task for just a moment longer. Zuko spotted only a few lonely Seekers lurking between the shelves, carrying their burdens. He kept a vague eye on the labels at the end of each shelving unit, hoping to spot a new topic to read, but nothing jumped at him. He had walked this particular route enough times to know that he was not interested enough in the agriculture of any of the four nations to read up on it.

He still remembered the required agriculture reading he had had to do as a prince. So many notes on weather.

Finally he arrived back in his room and settled down to sit on his futon. He pulled the box of healing supplies the Seekers had produced from somewhere out from the lowest shelf and just stared at it for a moment. His stomach was churning uncomfortably.

Zuko forced his gaze away and unrolled the nearest scroll, focusing on the instructions. His scar needed air and protection from sunlight – easy, considering he was underground, although he would need to figure out some sort of temporary covering for his required one hour of sunlight a day – and that there was a risk of his scar drying out and cracking. He would need to apply burn cream for the foreseeable future, maybe even for the rest of his life, and stretch the scar to keep it malleable.

The other manual said basically the same things – although at least one included some sort of dancing ritual and prayers for Agni's mercy – so he soon ran out of things to do in order to avoid the actual treatment part.

Zuko opened the box of healing supplies and surveyed the contents. The ointments were clearly labeled and he reluctantly picked out the correct one, and then just sat there, on his bed. Hoping for something to happen so that he wouldn't have to do this.

He closed his eye, resigned and started unwinding the bandages around his head. He wasn't sure what condition his actual eye was in, but eyes closed he would at least pretend his inability to see was by choice.

He hoped he would be able to see out of his eye. Depth perception would be incredibly useful if he ever wanted to firebend or use his swords again. Actually, it would also prevent him from running into the occasional column and bookshelf in here.

Finally the bandages were pooled in his lap and his head was bare. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to run his fingers gently over the edge of the scar, barely holding in a flinch at the sensation.

Just for a second, the smell of burning hair and flesh tickled his nose and he held in the urge to vomit.

The scar was dry, bumpy, and leathery. It reminded him of lizardviper skin.

Zuko let his fingers wander over his eye socked, noting the lack of eyebrow and eyelashes, and that the eyelid itself felt warped. His left ear reminded him of a dried, shriveled fruit.

He considered applying the ointment without opening  his eyes but dismissed the idea. He would need to open his eyes sooner or later, and he had never been a quitter. Slowly, he blinked his eyes.

The eyelid was definitely warped, it pulled uncomfortably at the scar tissue around it. But he could see. Not as clearly as used to, but it wasn't a total foggy mess he was greeted with. He felt his shoulders relaxing just a tad at that realization. And if he was lucky, maybe part of the fogginess was caused by keeping the eye closed for two months and it would clear up a bit.

He tried not to hope for that too fervently.

Resolutely he picked up the small vat of ointment and started to rub it all over his scar, trying not to think about the things he could feel and how he would look for the rest of his life.

He was just grateful that there were no mirrors anywhere he could see.

Chapter Text

The sunlight felt wonderful.

Zuko was sitting in the middle of the highest crossroad of walkways beneath the only spot that let sunlight in, eyes closed, just breathing. Part of him wanted to slump his shoulders in relaxation, but years of strict tutoring kept his posture perfect and straight. He had already sat there for over and hour, pretty content with his lot in life.

He was less likely to think on what was not well in his life, if he was meditating or reading.

But after weeks of reading Fire Nation plays, still not quite daring to venture into other Nations, he had decided to take a break by sitting in the sun as long as he pleased.

Which would still not be quite enough, what with the stupid architecture of the library. He had thought that the Palace library had ridiculously few windows, but this took the cake.

But despite the sorry amount of light, Zuko had obeyed the medical advice in Wan Shi Tong's scrolls. He had fashioned a lopsided eye-patch of sorts to protect his scar from the nearly nonexistent sunrays.

A shadow fell over him and his eyes snapped open. Wan Shi Tong loomed over him, his head tilted to the side.

"Good day, sir," Zuko said quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Wan Shi Tong was not one for courtesies.

"Well, thank you."

Wan Shi Tong nodded slowly, "Good. Then I believe it's time to brief you on your duties."

Zuko's stomach flopped uncomfortably, remembering the blackened section of the library, still smelling of smoke.

"Yes sir," he answered.

Wan Shi Tong glided through the corridors at a gentle pace and Zuko had no trouble keeping up. He pulled his eye-patch off as he walked, hanging the decorative rope tying his robe closed. Soon they arrived at that blackened section, which had had new Spirit lamps brought to it sometime during the past month.

Zuko stopped, uncertain. Wan Shi Tong waved his wing over an empty nook by the mess and it lit up with a new Spirit lamp and the small shelves and compartments on its walls filled with scrolls, books, brushes and ink stones. A chair had appeared from out of nowhere as well.

"Your main duty," Wan Shi Tong started, "will be to copy books and scrolls from the Fire Nation. This section used to be filled by extra copies of the originals but such things do not exist of old books or documents anymore. My Seekers used to simply fetch extra copies from officials, archives, libraries, bookbinders, bookshops... They can still do it with newer material and they will be doing so. But the older material... as for those, the Seekers will be borrowing an official copy from somewhere. And you will make an exact copy of it for my collection, after which the Seekers shall return the borrowed copy. Do you understand?"

Zuko nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed and not daring to say anything. He was just relived that he wouldn't need to remember anything by heart. He was also, suddenly, extremely grateful that he had actually done rather well at his art classes. Because judging by his instructions, he would need to copy those too.

"The tomes will be brought to you as the Seekers find them. In some cases, it has been centuries since they had to get them, so finding exact locations may take time. If you have any knowledge due to your status, do tell the Seekers. It'll make both of your jobs much easier," Wan Shi Tong continued, "Fortunately my library catalogue–" a wave of the wing brought an absolutely enormous tome on a stand into existence right by the desk nook "–is fully intact. As you finish, file the books and scrolls according to it. If any bookbinding is necessary, mark it, and leave it for the Seekers."

Zuko couldn't help but wonder if block printing all of this would be easier but didn't dare to say it. His hand was going to be killing him.

Instead he eyed the library catalogue with dread. It was nowhere big enough to contain information on the entire Spirit Library, but it was still the biggest book he had ever seen in his life. He definitely wouldn't have able to lift it from its stand.

Wan Shi Tong gave a dark look at the burned history, politics, military, and geography section, before he glided off to do... owly things.

Zuko observed his work nook; it appeared to have everything necessary – except for colored inks, he thought with a frown, as he shifted through the ink stones. None of them had a color name stamped to the side, which meant he would be in trouble when it came time to do any illustrations.

He would need to ask for some, but to do it now or later, when he actually needed them?

Better do it now.

He cleared his throat uncertainly, "Uuhhh, excuse me?"

A Seeker slinked out of the shadows immediately and came to a stop by his feet, its ears flickering curiously.

Zuko really wanted to pet it, but refrained.

"I need colored ink stones," he told it, "Máudep branded, from–" he hesitated for a moment, trying to remember the name of the island, "Hofunamishi. Every color you can legally get," he was pretty sure some of the hoard was literally stolen, but if he was lucky, they would have some of the rarer pigments already and he wouldn't be stealing from his people, "or already have here."

The Seeker huffed, but bobbed its head and ran off. Zuko gave a tired sigh and slumped into his new work chair, wiggling a little to find a comfortable position. The shelves on the right side of the nook seemed to have a few scrolls in... tubes? waiting to be copied, while on the left, empty shelves awaited.

He pulled a tube out, on which he now spotted the text – Unification Treaty of the Isles under Fire Lord Kazunori : Royal Library, closed section, row 5, shelf 3, cubicle 87– and promptly choked. Zuko stared down at the tube and couldn't believehe was holding such an important document in his hands. It was... unbelievable! They didn't let anyone see, let alone hold, documents this old.

And a Seeker had just borrowed it and brought it halfway across the world.

How was Zuko supposed to even open or read this? Let alone copy?!

He heard steps behind him and whirled around, eyes wide. The Seeker from before was padding over to him, carrying a basket that appeared to be filled to the prim with ink stones.

"How do I do this?!" Zuko asked in a panicked whisper, "I'm scared to open this!"

His impulse was to wave the tube around but the fear of damaging the scroll inside stayed his hand.

The Seeker seemed to sigh, placed to the basket beneath the table and nosed open a drawer. It seemed to be full of, Zuko frowned, junk. There were several pillows, some sort beaded rope and even gloves, as well as some sort of wooden contraption made up of board and sticks. The Seeker rose to its two back feet and started bringing things out of the drawer, most notably the board and the beaded rope.

Then, before Zuko could think to stop it, it snatched the tube right form his hands, screwed it open and unrolled the first part of the scroll on the board. It tried to roll itself back up, but the rope was draped over the edges of the paper, apparently weighing it down.

"Oh," Zuko said, feeling a bit stupid. He suddenly had a very vague recollection of one of the Sages who used to tutor him, doing something similar.

"Thank you," he told the fox spirit, now daring to relax back into his chair. The Seeker huffed, nudged his knee, and disappeared to do Seeker things.

For a moment, he just stared at the... 643 year old piece of Fire Nation history. He considered the gloves for a moment, before pulling a pair on his hands and leaning closer to peer at the document, drinking in the words like a man drowning. This was the piece of paper that had raised his family to the Dragon Throne, that had united the warring islands under a single ruler.

On the 45th year of the Earth Avatar Xun...

Zuko was so concentrated on reading the treaty and how Avatar Xun had ordered Fire Nation to organize themselves under a single ruler that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be copying the scroll. He kept glancing at the text, sounding out the older Temple symbols that had fallen out of use and into purely symbolic use, as he ground the ink stone into the tray.

After selecting a scroll and a brush, he started carefully copying the text in his neatest handwriting, hoping that he remembered the order of strokes in some of the rarer symbols.

... under a single ruler... purchase of grain and goods... monsoon season... raiders on the Earth Kingdom coast...

Zuko stopped, frowning down at the words he had just written, and at the original document on it's stand. That was not a wording he was familiar with. The islands had been united to make buying grain easier when the floods took their crop, yes, but what was this about raiders? It looked as if... the people of the islands who lost their crops and homes, took to raiding Earth Kingdom after monsoon season to make up for the losses.

But that didn't make any sense! Zuko had never heard of such a thing.

Still frowning, he continued copying more slowly, really taking the time to read what he was actually writing down. Lord Kazunori had been chosen as the single ruler, because he was the Lord of the biggest island and had the most resources to buy food for the people.

Zuko had been under the impression that Lord Kazunori had been chosen because he was the most devout follower of Agni, as the High Fire Sage of the islands. His wealth hadn't even generally come up, he was just described the same as any other lord – except for the devotion.

This was really confusing. Was the Treaty lying... or had his tutors been the ones doing the lying?

Chapter Text

A gently tickling but deceptively strong Eastern wind blew over the deck of the ship, ruffling Iroh's beard. He stroked it into order, distracted as he was, frowning towards the Earth Kingdom coast gliding by in the distance on their starboard side.

It had taken him longer than he had planned to gather a crew and acquire a ship. He had been days late on his initial plan by the time he departed from the Fire Nation, hopefully without ruffling his brother's feathers too much.

But clearly it hadn't been enough.

Iroh had planned to visit Zuko in the Palace infirmary, only for the boy to remain unconscious the entire time. He had wished to give boy instructions... that Iroh would pick him up from Earth Kingdom, as soon as possible. But Zuko hadn't been awake to hear it.

Iroh had ended up leaving a note hidden in the boy's sock. It either hadn't been noticed or...

Or Zuko was lost, dead or imprisoned somewhere in the Eastern Earth Kingdom.

The boy hadn't been at the spot Iroh had mentioned in the note, nor anywhere nearby. In fact, there had been no signs of anyone having been anywhere near that area in a long time. There had been only some paw prints from animals Iroh had never quite learned to recognize.

He hadn't given up entirely yet. Instead he had delayed his initial plan just a bit and ordered Lieutenant Jee to have the ship follow the coastline Southwards, away from the ever looming walls of the Earth Kingdom capital. 

Part of him was hoping for the familiar figure of his Nephew to stumble out of the woods and into the shore, so that he could be picked up. But it hadn't happened yet and there were parts of the coast Iroh didn't dare to check, not with how close they were to Ba Sing Se.

Which was probably the main reason Zuko had been left here in the first place. They had already successfully killed one Fire Prince three years ago, why would they fail to do so again? Especially when the prince in question was a thirteen year old boy.

Iroh tried his best not to imagine the worst.

He was failing.

They would soon run out of shore to check, they were almost too far from the spot Zuko had been dropped off at for him to have walked this far. Iroh didn't think it likely that they would find him.

He gripped tightly at the ship railing, wanting to spew out fire and destruction for failing to keep his Nephew safe. For failing to reach him.

There was nothing he could have done at the Agni Kai – he tried to desperately convince himself of that, even if in the dark moments of the night he sometimes imagined himself standing up and stopping his brother before he mutilated his own son.

But what to do now?

Zuko's treatment at his father's hand had caused an uproar in surprisingly large circles. Not only the mutilation – that could almost just be passed for strict parenting in the Royal Family, as sick as that though made Iroh – but the exile, with no quest, no chance at all to return home. That had been the part that made the hackles of the lesser nobles rise. They could never imagine treating their main heir like that, no matter how seemingly incompetent or disliked they were. And for the Crown Prince to be cast aside in that manner...

If Zuko had been given a quest, only the peasants and the merchants – who he had defended by standing up for the 41st – would have protested. Or not even protested, grumbled quietly and feared for their lives, more likely. Nothing of consequence would really have happened, not politically. Nobles would just have concentrated on getting into Ozai's, Azula's or Iroh's good graces. But now even good graces couldn't be trusted, if the bonds of family failed.

A rebellion was brewing in the Fire Nation.

And Iroh had to be there, to steer the direction. The world was out of balance, there was no Avatar, and Sozin's Comet was only three years away. That would be used to eradicate the Earth Kingdom, of that Iroh had no doubts.

He couldn't let it happen. Not the deaths and losses. And he couldn't let the world get even more out of balance. Something had to be done.

The rebellion may indeed be the best chance to bring Fire Nation closer to peace, and appear more palatable to the other nations.

Iroh could only hope.

True balance and peace would require the Avatar, but he couldn't think of a single place that they hadn't looked for already. Sozin scoured the world for what remained of Air Nomads, and Azulon all but decimated the Southern Water Tribe.

The Northern Water Tribe and some strongholds in Earth Kingdom were the only places that hadn't been looked through.

Could the Avatar still be somewhere?

He fiddled with the White Lotus piece in his pocket, thinking. If he returned to the Fire Nation, to work the rebellion, maybe he could ask some of his friends to look one more time for the missing Master of Four Elements...

Chapter Text

It didn't take Zuko long to get into the rhythm of the work. The actual copying part was generally pretty relaxing – the grinding of the ink stone, the delicate strokes of the brush – while unrolling the original scrolls was the most stressful part. He was perpetually afraid one of them would disintegrate into a pile of dust in his hands.

The most headache-inducing part was either the still healing facial burn, or the contradictions to the history he had learned before.

Nothing seemed to make sense, and everything seemed to have some sort of extra aspect to it that he had never heard of before. Like Fire Lord Kazunori's wealth being an important factor in why he was chosen to lead the Fire Nation, like how the Peasant's Revolt before Fire Lord Zarle's reign stemmed not only from the long war preceding it but also the taxes and that the power games in court played a part in it.

If nothing else, it left him even more convinced about the fact that Fire Lord Zigmun had been a dick. Azula and... Father... had generally regarded Fire Lord Zigmun as a great Fire Lord, if not for his "short reign and unfortunate choice of bride."

Not that Fire Lord Zarle was that great either. He mostly just used the peasants and the revolt for his own ends. And while Zuko could see the political aspects of it, he couldn't say that he necessarily agreed with all of it, no matter how worried Fire Lord Zarle had been about Fire Lord Zigmun being married to Chin the Conqueror's niece.

Zuko's head was really starting to hurt. Most of the things he knew about the Peasant's Revolt was based on a play that, in hindsight, had been very pro Fire Lord Zarle and hadn't talked terribly much about the peasants themselves.

He sighed heavily and cleaned his brush. He couldn't focus, it was getting hard to keep track of all the important people and events.

Lunch and sunlight, after that he would feel better when he got back to the scrolls.

Zuko fetched a tray from the kitchen and made his way to the walkways. He wrapped the makeshift eye-patch around his face before stepping into the light and slumped to sit down into the patch of warmed stone.

It was leftovers from his breakfast and he noted distantly that he was getting better at seasoning his food. Being forced to cook his own meals hadn't necessarily been fun but it was educational. And a bit boring when it came to his breakfast and lunch selections but he knew he didn't have the energy or the focus to cook three unique meals each day, not if he wanted to actually get his job done.

He was truly learning to appreciate leftovers and things that lasted long. The chefs at the palace would have been fired if they ever dared to serve such things but if there was only one person eating, then foods like that were like blessings from the Great Spirits.

After he had all but licked his rice bowl clean, he slumped to lay down on his back. He didn't feel like sitting properly on his break, not with the sleepy, numbing feeling of nothingness that seemed to fill the library whenever he wasn't focusing on a scroll.

He was getting a bit bored of all the reading. His job was all about reading and he didn't really have any other options for his free time either. He was just... existing among all of these dusty scrolls and books. He wanted to movebut there really wasn't any space to do so. Firebending sets – even without a flame – were a bit too mobile for the walkways and the corridors.

And if he ever felt ready to bend again... he shuddered. 

He didn't even have swords and those had the same space issue.

Zuko gave a long, annoyed groan as he stretched in the sun, feeling vaguely like a pygmypuma.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, eyes closed, just drinking in the sunlight, when his employer decided to pay him a visit.

"Excellent, you're taking care of your health."

Zuko opened his right eye, feeling too lazy to actually sit up. He probably should but... Wan Shi Tong didn't seem to mind about anything he did, as long as he took care of himself and the books.

"Yes, sir," Zuko answered instead, "Is there any other spot with sun in the library? The walkway is a bit..."

Public, even though there really was no one but Spirits to see it.

"No," Wan Shi Tong answered, "Everything else but the tallest spire is underground."

Zuko sighed with disappointment and rolled up into a sitting position. He considered asking for space to move but dismissed the thought. He would ask one of the Seekers, they were more likely to help without questions.

"How is your work?"

"Rather well, sir. It's just," Zuko hesitated, "a lot of the historical records don't match up with what I've been taught. I was a prince! I had the best education Fire Nation could offer but..." he shook his head in confusion.

"Ah," Wan Shi Tong mused and seemed to... shrink? roost?... nevertheless, he settled into a tad lower position on the walkway, as if sitting down with Zuko, "that would be because of the historical national narrative."

"Historical national narrative?" Zuko lizardparroted back.

"Indeed," Wan Shi Tong's voice took to a tone reminiscent of Zuko's old tutors, "Historical national narrative is the official order of historical events and what they mean to a nation. For example, let's say a nation has been built with the ideal of," the owl Spirit seemed to stop and consider for a moment, before continuing. Zuko was left with the impression that he had been planning to say something else, "with the ideal of strength and diversity. The historical national narrative would downplay aspects that do not fit that ideal and focus on the aspects that do strengthen it. Earth Kingdom is nominally only one kingdom, but in truth made up of many smaller kingdoms, that do bow to the authority of the High Earth King in Ba Sing Se. The different cultures and ways of life are encouraged, something to be proud... outside of Ba Sing Se. Ba Sing Se is about unity and strength, it's the center of Earth Kingdom, the untouchable symbol of the might and steadiness of Earth. So can it afford to be diverse on the inside?"

Zuko shook his head slowly. The Schooling and Culture minister was very particular about the education system and what was being taught. Education was always one of the first things that was brought to a new colony, because they had to teach how unity was better than separation. And that worked better through schools. Fire Nation was so strong because it had a strong education system for everyone who would fight under its banner. Earth Kingdom outnumbered Fire Nation, they couldn't win if there were a dozen different systems and schools of thought.

"This is why the cultural authority of Ba Sing Se, the Dai Li, are so important. They are in charge of keeping Ba Sing Se strong by keeping the diverse thoughts and peoples out," Wan Shi Tong continued, "But that isn't really talked about outside of Ba Sing Se, because Earth Kingdom as a whole and Ba Sing Se have different narratives. The outside thrives on their diversity and view people like Chin the Conqueror with scorn – except for few select places, because they would have thrived with his rule – and do well in battle because every part of the Earth Kingdom has a different bending style and a different battle strategy."

That was true, adapting to the different tactics at different parts of the Earth Kingdom had been a constant headache for the War Minister.

"That is, of course, the historical national narrative of Earth Kingdom," Wan Shi Tong said, "There are moments that do not fit the narrative and are thus not talked about. Chin the Conqueror is, again, an exception because he grew powerful enough that he cannot just be skipped over. But Kyoshi Island is another example, they are too diverse and separate from the general Earth Kingdom narrative, so their role in Earth Kingdom history books is generally relegated to 'Avatar Kyoshi retired to her home island, the main export of which is fish.' And after that, they're out of the official narrative as they've remained neutral in everything since then."

Wan Shi Tong leant closer to Zuko, and he felt like those bottomless black eyes were going to swallow him whole.

"In historical national narrative, people, events, and details that do not fit, are not talked about. Every nation wants to look their best and feel their best about themselves, and this is only possible by building a national narrative which enables it. They are not necessarily a bad thing, as long as one thinks critically about them. It is impossible to teach everything ever, especially correctly, as things have been forgotten or lost, or the connections aren't obvious. There are so many variables that historians can dedicate their entire lives to researching a single event from different viewpoints. You have been taught the Fire Nation's historical national narrative your whole life. This is a chance to think on it critically."

Then Wan Shi Tong swept out of the hall, disappearing into the shadows.

"Yes, sir," Zuko muttered into the empty air, feeling overwhelmed, and unexpectedly chilled.

He would need to do a lot of thinking. What did the narrative he had learned leave out?

Chapter Text

"How far are we going?"

This was getting ridiculous, Zuko had been following one of the Seekers into the depths of the library for ages, and still they hadn't reached their destination. He had just asked for a spot to practice sets in his free time, where there wouldn't be a risk of him knocking stuff over or... He had cut the thought off there with a mental growl.

He was fine, and he was going to bend again someday soon.

The Seeker had observed him for a while, judging, before sighing, and leading him off to the deeper levels.

The Seeker ignored his question, but picked up pace.

Finally, after what seemed like a set of more identical corridors and bookshelves, they arrived  at a wall, lined with doorways. The Seeker nosed them open one by one, allowing both of them to peek in. One of them was a huge, high ceilinged chamber with seemingly random pillars and perched dotting the floor and the walls. Another seemed to be full of piles of dirt, sand, and rocks. The thirds one had something that looked like a decorative pool that had long since dried out. And he only figured it was a pool, because it looked vaguely like the washing room and laundry many levels above them. The fourth room seemed to a simple, empty chamber, if one ignored buckets full of sand lining the walls.

It looked like a traditional training room, except for the fact that it was dark as a tomb, with no sunlight anywhere. It would have been ideal for firebending practice, if not for that.

"Wow," he whispered as he stepped further in. Traditional training rooms were pretty rare, because volcanic islands, with earthquakes, monsoons seasons and associated flooding and mudslides, meant that a lot of old stone structures were destroyed over time. Even the Fire Palace didn't have any fully traditional training rooms anymore, because they had been modified into open air courtyards and...

The Agni Kai arena, but Zuko pushed that thought out of his mind.

The Seeker made a yipping sound and Zuko turned in surprise. The Fox Spirit was sitting beneath what appeared to be some sort of lever in the wall. The Seeker tilted its head at the lever and Zuko walked over uncertainly, his hand hovering over the lever.

"I need to pull on this?" he asked and the Seeker nodded, looking smug.

Zuko hesitated for a moment, but couldn't resist his curiosity and pulled.

Brightness filled the room and Zuko slammed his eyes closed with a yelp as he stumbled against the wall. His eyes stung and wetness rose into his right one while the left remained uncomfortably dry. He could distantly hear concerned yipping as he slid down, knocking over a bucket of sand.

"What is the meaning of this?" a voice thundered somewhere over his head and Zuko could do nothing but whimper.

The Seeker let out a weird wuffling sound, Wan Shi Tong sighed heavily, and the brightness seemed to dim. Zuko dared to slowly open his eyes, trying to blink away the brightness that seemed to linger over everything.

The room was back to its normal semi-darkness, illuminated only by greenish spirit lamps. Wan Shi Tong loomed in the doorway, his wing still resting over the lever that had caused the whole mess. The Seeker was cowering in the middle of the room, hackles raised and ears flat.

Zuko scrambled into a kneeling position, white lights still flashing in his vision.

"Please don't punish it, sir!" he rasped out, "It just asked for space to practice sets. I pulled the lever and–"

Wan Shi Tong shifted and Zuko's mouth snapped shut. He was shivering, he felt inexplicably cold.

" – you must promise not to speak. These old folks are a bit sensitive, you know?"

Zuko choked on nothing, staring down at the stone floor, feeling the weight of Wan Shi Tong's gaze upon his neck. Why couldn't he learn? Why did he always have to speak up?

It never resulted in anything good.

"I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!"

He could see his hands shaking.

"I... it... it was an... accident," Zuko choked out past the bile he could taste in his mouth. What would it be like, to be punished by a Spirit? Would he be cast out again? Where would he go? What would he do?

"I meant you no disrespect."

The library might not be the most homely or welcoming place but... Zuko had started to feel like it could be a home to him.

He didn't want to leave.

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."

The words echoed in his ears, he was going to vomit or pass out soon. He hoped it would be over quickly. And that the Seeker would be okay.

He couldn't breathe.

"Breathe," the voice sounded distant as darkness fell upon him. Zuko could feel feathers tickling over parts of his face. The darkness pulsed around him and he forced his breaths to match it.

As Zuko calmed down, the darkness withdrew and he realized he had been hidden under Wan Shi Tong's wings. Zuko fought down the slight fear and nausea as he peered  upwards to meet his black eyes.

"Good," Wan Shi Tong said, straightening, "What happened?"

Zuko cleared his throat, "I asked for space to practice sets and was led to this room. I pulled the lever and then... it was just too bright."

Wan Shi Tong regarded him for a moment before nodding. "I see. I would suggest pulling the lever in increments in the future, to make the light level comfortable."

Zuko nodded.

"As for you..." Wan Shi Tong looked at the Seeker, who appeared even more miserable at the center of the chamber. "No punishment this time. But an order. Think, he's a human and cannot handle everything you and your brethren can."

The Seeker snuffled.

"Begone," Wan Shi Tong waved his wing dismissively and the Seeker slunk out of the room, leaving Zuko alone with the Owl Spirit.

Zuko stayed in his kneeling position as he observed Wan Shi Tong warily. A part of him still expected to be punished for his weakness. But instead of saying anything to him, Wan Shi Tong reached out for the lever and pulled at it.

Zuko flinched as a light turned on, his eyes slamming closed. But the head-splitting brightness didn't come and slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes. It was nowhere near as bright as before, in fact, he would at most compare it to a late, late afternoon in Fire Nation.

The lever moved again, and now the room was more akin to regular afternoon. At the next setting it was noon, and after that, late morning.

The lever was in its most pulled position.

Zuko breathed out, his shoulders slumping in relief. The light was okay. Not exactly sunlight, but a good facsimile – the light was there, but none of the warmth or energy. He stood up and walked further into room and breathed in deeply, falling into a familiar firebending stance.

He started to move, shifting from one stance to the next, stopping and fixing each stance as he moved through them. They felt shaky, uncertain. It had been literal months since the last time he had firebended, or gone through the sets associated with it.

He didn't even dare to thinking about bringing fire to the equation, not after what happened just moments ago.

"Turn your left leg by five degrees."

Zuko stumbled to stop on his front, his chin hitting the stone floor hard.

"Owww," he groaned, rubbing at it. He had forgotten all about Wan Shi Tong. He looked warily towards the door.

The Owl Spirit hadn't moved and instead his head was tilted at an uncomfortably steep angle only possible for owls.

"Sorry?" he asked weakly.

Wan Shi Tong sighed, in a manner reminiscent of his tutors or Uncle when he failed to pick up a simple concept. He held in the instinctive flinch. Wan Shi Tong encouraged questions, which was still a bit of a novel concept.

"Your stance," Wan Shi Tong repeated, "needed a bit of fixing."

"Oh," Zuko said weakly.

"Start over, I shall offer corrections," Wan Shi Tong said brusquely.

Zuko decided not to question the order. He wasn't sure how practical having an owl tutoring him in bending forms would be – considering he probably couldn't bend per say – but on the other hand there werelarge sections on each bending style in the library. But considering Zuko wasn't exactly good at bending, he had decided not to venture into them yet.

Because he would bend again someday. He just wasn't sure when.

But he did know that the longer it took, the more of a failure he would be.

So instead of saying anything, he returned back to the first stance, and started over, taking in Wan Shi Tong's corrections when they were offered. The ones on posture were useful, but Zuko ignored every instruction regarding his chi and soon Wan Shi Tong stopped making suggestions about it.

He didn't want to chance one single flame yet.

Chapter Text

"The entire Fire Nation Royal Lineage? Are they serious?" Zuko moaned as he stared at the enormous tome that had appeared on top of his work desk at some point during the night.

He was in so much trouble with this.

Fire Nation Royal Lineage was a unique book, only one full copy existed in the Dragonbone Catacombs and every time someone in the royal family died, was born, or married, it was added to. It had everyone in the royal family since the reign of Fire Lord Kazunori, as well as short summaries of the lineage of anyone who married into the royal family.

No one in the royal family was even allowed to touch itin order to preserve its integrity, because Fire Lord Kazue had tried to edit out her affair and a child born out of wedlock from the lineage about 550 years ago. Only Fire Sages were allowed to handle it and add to it, and only if they had the integrity training of a historian.

Zuko should definitely not be handling the Lineage.

He stared down at the faded silk cover of the tome and then promptly turned on his heel. He was not dealing with this now, at eight o'clock in the morning.

As soon as Zuko arrived the walkways, he ripped his eye-patch from his belt, wrapped it around his head and plonked down in the middle of the crossways, eyes closed, trying to calm both his breathing and heartbeat. He was enough of a disappointment and failure without going out of his way to actually break sacred laws. He had no clue how he was going to avoid that and still manage to do his job.

Because his staying in the Library was depended on him doing his job and considering the hoarding and law breaking tendencies of Spirits, he didn't think sacred laws were going to fly with them.

He was doomed.

Zuko could barely feel the weak morning sun, which only darkened his mood. He didn't sit there for terribly long, he didn't think, before he stood up, scowling darkly. He ripped his eye-patch off and stalked towards the training room in the lower levels. He wanted just something to go his way today, it didn't even matter what. Work was out, meditation was out, there was no way he could focus enough to read anything for fun... but maybe training would help.

Maybe.

Zuko was well-used to handling the light lever in the training room and he barely even stopped to look at it as he ripped off the green durumagi. He stalked to the middle of the room and for a second, just breathed.

He exploded into motion, sliding from one bending stance to another. There were no thoughts in his head as he focused solely on the movement

Then there was a flame.

Zuko stumbled to a halt, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. He... hadn't actually meant to bend. And while he was tempted to panic at the open flame he had produced, the flame had come out wrong.

He gritted his teeth and roared, punching out another sputtery bit of flame. He launched into another set of moves, the fire only coming out in random, smoky puffs and only igniting his rage further.

He didn't even have the state of mind to feel scared of the fire.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"WHAT'S THE POINT?!" Zuko roared, whirling around, spewing a few stray sparks.

Wan Shi Tong loomed at the doorway like the overgrown feather duster he was and not reacting. Zuko wanted him to do something, just to free him from the constant tension and misery.

"To right the wrong your countryman committed."

Zuko roared and punched fire at the owl, only for the flame to sputter out on the way, "THERE'S NO POINT! I'M BROKEN AND I CAN NEVER GO HOME!"

Wan Shi Tong just watched him, not reacting. Why wasn't he reacting?!

"I... I can't even bend right," Zuko rasped out, his fingernails digging into his palms, "Or do my job.  Or be any good to anyone. What's the point?" his voice fell into a whisper.

"What issue do you have with your work?" Wan Shi Tong asked.

Zuko wanted to keep railing and screaming but he had run out of energy. What was the point in doing that either? "The Fire Nation Royal Lineage," he hissed, "by Fire Nation law, I have no right to touch it."

"Then one of my Seekers will just turn the pages for you," Wan Shi Tong stated like it was no big deal, like that somehow fixed everything, "Then you can do your job with no issues. As for you being broken..."

The Owl Spirit glided forward, flitting around Zuko's slumped form, somehow draping the durumagi over his shoulders like a blanket.

"... that is nonsense. You have lost your focus and the essence of firebending within your soul is at turmoil, and you have been taught the wrong forms. And those are the faults of your past and teachers," Wan Shi Tong came to a stop before Zuko and their eyes met, "Now get off the floor and get back to work. We shall work on your firebending at a later date."

And then he was out of the room, like a draft.

Zuko felt cold and bereft. Just like when fa... when he used to dismiss him.

Except... Wan Shi Tong had offered actual solutions.

When Zuko returned to his work desk, a lovely Knowledge Seeker was lingering nearby with a broom, brushing old ashes away. It stopped the work and let out a soft yip at Zuko, who couldn't resist a weak smile.

"You here to be my page turner?" he asked.

The Seeker shuffled over to the desk, seeming to pull a stool with a pillow out of nowhere. Zuko sighed and followed along as they set up the coping station so that there was no way Zuko could even accidentally brush against the book.

After they had a system set up, Zuko even managed to forget what he was copying. There were so many fascinating details, many that he had already learned over the years, but equally many he had never heard of.

Trying to copy the old, at times faded and forgotten signs took some work. The Seeker had brought out a magnifying glass for that, and sometimes Zuko even had to force himself not to touch the book. He would always, fortunately, remember himself. He might not be a prince anymore but he was not going to give up everything he learned.

Or maybe he was just desperately trying to keep up some vague hope of returning to the Fire Nation someday, and somehow not be dishonored while doing so.

It was a vain hope but it was there, nonetheless.

Sometimes he wished he could forget everything.

Working on the Fire Nation Royal Lineage took ages. Zuko didn't even dare to keep count of the pages as he passed over Fire Lord after Fire Lord, spouse after spouse, child after child. When he got to Fire Lord Sozin, he felt as if all breath had escaped him. His writing slowed down as he noted down Sozin's first wife, Shri, who had a string of miscarriages before passing away in her early sixties. Then finally the second, much younger wife Azara, who first gave birth to Azulon, and then – Zuko almost had to redo a page when he almost spilled ink out of shock – a set of twin girls, out of wedlock.

Li and Lo were his great-aunts?!

That had been hidden very well in court because Zuko couldn't recall a single instance of anyone ever even insinuating that. He didremember Grandfather Azulon being very close to both of them. He shook his head in disbelief and continued on. Azulon's page, Li and Lo's, Grandmother Ilah and the summary of her lineage... and then they were on Uncle Iroh, and Fa... Father.

Zuko found himself speeding through that one, trying to ignore the glaring sentence at the end. "... on the third year of his reign, Fire Lord Ozai disfigured and exiled his son Prince Zuko with no recourse to return, for minor disrespect."

The Seeker flipped the page to Aunt Hina, whom Zuko had never even met, and at Lu Ten he had to stop. Zuko's breath shuddered a little as he forced himself to calm down, to write his dead cousin's page out with care.

The next page was his mother's.

"Avatar Roku...?" he whispered in shock as he stared down at the lineage. He was descended from the last Fire Nation Avatar? That was... it actually explained why a daughter from a minor noble house had married so far above her supposed station. It was said that strong bending passed down family lines.

Although apparently Azula had inherited all of that supposed talent and strength.

Zuko shook his head and went back to his copying. He could think more on all of these revelations later, when he wasn't in the middle of working. He had already touched each and every spot of the copy he was working on, he could return to it whenever he wanted, as it was staying right here in the library. He didn't even want to think about the original book after he was done with it.

He tried not to think about the fact that he might need to update the copy at some point in the coming years. Zuko did not want to think about his family's lives going forward while he was the prisoner of this library forever.

Chapter Text

Zuko was relieved when the Seekers spirited away both the original Lineage and the copy he himself had made. He did not look forward to the day he would need to note down his Uncle's, and his Father's deaths, nor Azula's eventual marriage, children, and ascension to the throne.

His own page would forever remain unfinished... unless he chose to make his own addition to it. He shuddered a bit at the thought. He didn't think he would dare to do so, and while Wan Shi Tong was all about the knowledge, would he even appreciate an addition that was not in the original document?

Probably not. Wan Shi Tong would probably prefer for Zuko to write a whole different document, and leave it up to the luck of some future researcher to make the connection between Zuko of Fire Nation, and Zuko, the Clerk of the Spirit Library.

He threw himself into his work, trying to forget all about the Lineage, and managed to copy a set of strategic military treatises in a record time. Zuko had almost managed to reach an okay frame of mind, until he came upon the bait plan General Bujing had outlined for the 41st division. In a strategic treatise originally outlined in Sozin's time.

Zuko had honestly believed that the plan had been a new invention by Bujing, and against Fire Nation ideals. To find out it was nearly a hundred years old and had seen very few modifications in that time... It made him feel queasy and shaky.

He had had to give up on military material for a while after that.

Instead Zuko started to spend more time in the training room, actually trying to bend instead of just going through the move sets to deal with the restless feeling that had always been his constant companion. No Spirits bothered him; he wasn't sure if Wan Shi Tong was just busy, or feeling awkward after their last... interaction.

Zuko really couldn't call himself shouting at a Spirit discussion.

The bending wasn't coming to him easily. His flame remained as weak and intermittent puffs no matter how hard he tried to focus, even trying to recall anything Wan Shi Tong had ever said to him about bending. Nothing he tried to remember about his tutors in the Palace helped even that much.

And he didn't want to ask anything from the Spirits. He still felt like he had asked for too much when he said he couldn't touch the Lineage.

At least Zuko was getting used to the fire, little by little. The cooking and laundry fires and occasional candles had already helped a lot, even if he had had to learn how to light them with spark rocks. The first time Zuko had needed to light a candle to make sure he got the color of the colored inks right, he had flinched when he leaned in too close to the manuscript after forgetting the candle was there.

After another unsuccessful attempt at firebending he groaned and flopped down on the floor of the training room on his back, scowling darkly up at the ceiling. Wasn't there anything he could do, without having to actually ask for more again? If only there were tips somewhere–

He was an idiot.

Zuko literally lived in a library.

The most comprehensive library in the spirit and mortal worlds.

Zuko scrambled upright, wiping the drying sweat from his brow as he shot between the stacks. Where was the firebending section? Who would have written the most helpful tome on the subject? Should he go for the moves–? No, he needed the philosophy.

The firebending section had many, many scrolls on the philosophy and the deepest nature of bending, written by generations of scholars, Fire Sages, and Avatars. Zuko's gaze flickered over the endless rows of scrolls and books. The possibilities were endless and how could he even figure out where to start? He ended up picking scrolls at random, flicking through them for inspiration.

Fire Sage Sheng wrote a lot about the trust and faith in Agni and how faith brought power and focus. That might work for some people, but Zuko personally could not see how faith could help. He had already believed in Fire Nation and its people, only for his faith to fall short.

An anthropological study on the different bending styles across home islands was another dud, he had no volcano, or lava field, or even geysir to focus on here in the Si Wong desert. Even the sun was in short supply due to him being underground.

The long essays on willpower and life were confusing. How could fire be any of that and how did it help with bending it? Zuko growled; this was probably what Wan Shi Tong had meant when he referred to wrong focus and essence. It had changed enough for Zuko to not understand it, because the scholars and Fire Sages wrote about the essence of firebending like it was obvious, even though it wasn't anymore.

How could he go about figuring out a totally foreign bending philosophy?

He gazed over the shelves lazily, hoping something would catch his eye. His eyes locked on a title and he sat slowly straighter, staring at it.

Of the Nature of the Elements and Nations as written by Avatar Luang in the 3352th Year After the Union of Earth Kingdom.

It was a thick scroll, covered in dust. It felt a bit brittle so it had probably been written on reed paper and that might fall apart after too long. He would need to note it down for restoration or a new copy.

Zuko found the nearest studying chamber with weights and a scroll stand. He settled down and unrolled the scroll greedily but carefully. Maybe an Avatar's viewpoint was just what he needed.

From childhood we're told that our world is comprised of the Four Elements - Fire, Air, Water and Earth – and the Four Nations that follow their principles. All of the Elements and all of the Nations are unique in their own way while at the same time intricately, indiscriminately, the same. As the Avatar I'm in a situation that is specially suited for this realisation and thus very few – except for those with the strongest of Spiritual connections – realise this. So even though lesson personally learnt sticks better, I feel it is my duty to write it down nevertheless, if for no other reason than to make sure this lesson is not forgotten and that those Avatars, who do not learn it for themselves, can still learn of it.

This manuscript is but a stream of consciousness, thoughts and stories I've encountered in my years, first as a student of bending and later as the emissary of balance. However, I feel that my thoughts are close to truth, based on what I know of the Peoples of our world and the Spirits of the world beyond.

The world is made up of the Four Elements: the Air we breathe, the Water we drink, the Earth that grants us our sustenance and the Fire that grants us our very life. All Four are necessary for life: we cannot live without Air for we will suffocate, without Water there's no growth, without Earth there's no shelter and without Fire there's no life or light. All Four are needed for balance, without one, the world will fall into disorder and darkness of unimagined consequences.

Traditionally Fire is viewed as the first Element due the influence of the First Avatar, Wan, so that's the one I shall start with.

Fire is the Element of power and passion .

The People of Fire get their power from the Sun's Great Spirit Agni, whose dragon Tairyu taught them to bend under the watchful eye of his wife, the phoenix Zaihu. The forms of their bending are quick like airbending, forceful like earthbending but at the same time adaptable like waterbending. In spite of being elemental opposites, these two disciplines are in truth quite similar with their flowing and dynamic movements. Fire shares the most with Air and Earth, for both can provide fuel for the flames. Also Fire behaves very much like Air when bended while the bender still needs the determination and forcefulness of Earth for the flames to obey. Flames are not meant to run free, despite their wilfulness.

Fire differs from other disciplines in the way that firebenders do not need find their element to bend, for they can summon it from inside themselves. Because of this they burn through chi faster and thus prefer quick and powerful moves when bending. This is the only way they can avoid being overpowered for in a long fight, firebender is always at a disadvantage. They can use the fire that surrounds them from cook fires, for example, to conserve their chi. Additionally they can use the flames of their peers, steal it from their control but this takes even more chi than regular firebending so it's generally not done.

Firebending ties to the willpower and goals of the bender but it also ties much closer to the actual emotions of the bender, which is why the People of Fire are considered to be the most volatile of all. Firebending requires positive jing.

Their powers are heavily influenced by celestial movements and especially the Sun; solar eclipses are the only times they’re completely without their power. However, they get huge boosts from some other celestial movements such as comets.

Power and passion, chi, willpower, control, life... Sun and warmth, balance between power and control...

Zuko gnawed in his knuckle, staring down at words. He thought he understood what Avatar Luang was trying to say. It wasn't about emotions and rage, so much as about strength of mind and will, goals. But did he even have any goals?

Not really. He was alone, in a prison of sorts, from which there was no escape. He had a job but it wasn't very complimentary with firebending as an art form. As the jerk who had created this job opening in the first place had proven.

Zuko still had a lot of reading and thinking to do. And meditating. So much meditating.

Chapter Text

Zuko was the flame. 

Air flowed into his lungs and through his body. The air fed the flame, and it flickered, grew and shrunk in rhythm, like a small heartbeat. 

It had taken some time but Zuko had learned how to sense his chi or inner flame or whatever the scrolls called it. It was always there, and when meditating, he could connect to it, bring it into the same rhythm as his own breathing, slowing it down from its regular heartbeat paced flickering. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to bend it out. 

Zuko opened his eyes and stared at the regular, controlled movement of the flame on the candle, sitting on the floor before him, and sighed. The flame danced and then returned to its own, natural rhythm, out of Zuko's control. 

He stretched as he stood up from the training room floor, flicking his hand and extinguishing the flame, his shoulders immediately relaxing. He held in a growl of frustration and stalked off. Why was he still so tense around fire? Why couldn't he bend properly? He was pretty sure he had figured out the theory and technicalities behind the style that preceded Sozin's but the actual flames still evaded him.

At least Zuko was having some success; the same couldn't be said for Sozin's style, which he had laboured with before his banishment.

Sozin's style was logical for war purposes, it focused very much on power, offensiveness, and relied heavily on the strong emotions of the bender. It was ideal for an attacker and went a long way in explaining Fire Nation's success in the decades of war. But while Zuko could be angry, it didn't really help him bend, so he had been quite happy once he figured out the willpower aspect of the old style somewhat. 

It was nowhere near what Azula had been able to pull off years ago, but it was more than he himself had managed, as far as confidence in his own skills went.

At least his control of small, external flames is getting a workout. Wung Lo's lost play Woodcutter's Widow had shortly mentioned a technique that used fire to carve into wood, Zuko could vaguely remember seeing products like that, but he had never tried it out himself. He had taken a longer break one day with a random bit of broken furniture he had nicked from one of the hoard rooms and tried it out. It was more about the heat than flame anyway.

He had burned his fingertips and spent the next hour cursing under his breath, the fingers jammed into his mouth. 

The end result hadn't been particularly pretty, but he continued experimenting, until he got the heat, his chi, into a thin enough and hot enough point that he could actually do something semi-presentable with it. 

It took ages and today he hadn't bothered with it.

Zuko slipped into the kitchen and lit the fire in the hearth. He added a few logs and checked that the inset pan was clean before he gathered his ingredients; rice, vegetables, meat, and an assortment of spices he had learned to appreciate through his experimenting. Most of his cooking skewed towards stir fry and jook just because of how easy they were, and didn't require him to pay attention to a lot of pots at once. 

He might have been working like a scribe, and learning household chores here in the library, but he was a prince by birth. Not a chef. 

Zuko ate his meal quickly and cleaned up. He should get back to work.

But even that didn't go well. He tried to concentrate on copying the provincial summary of resources from before Sozin's time, noting absently how the old metal artisans had disappeared in favor of weapon factories. After making too many typos to count, Zuko finally gave up and wandered to the random corner that somehow had a breezy draft and flopped down onto the blanket he had stashed there ages ago.

The air never really moved in the Library; it was underground, packed in by sand on all sides. Logically speaking there should be no draft anywhere. But somehow this one, tiny, forgotten corner had one and Zuko escaped to it whenever he wanted a change in atmosphere. His best guess was that there was either an underground cave or Spirit shenanigans.

If it was the latter, he didn't want to know.

But even laying in the only part of the library where the air moved and offered even a slight relief in its coolness, was useless. Soon Zuko was back to wandering the halls like a restless spirit, vaguely wondering if that would end up being his fate when he eventually died. 

He supposed that it didn’t really matter in the end. He was just a small, flickering flame of a life in the world, a spark that really had no greater meaning. He might have, had he stayed in the Fire Nation, but his life had led to him disappearing into shadows, to insignificance, forgotten by the larger world.

Even the books and scrolls couldn’t quite hold his attention. When Zuko wandered by the theatre section, nothing caught his interest. Same with the philosophy of bending, not to mention the enormous fiction section sorted by genre. 

When he had felt like this in the Caldera, he had practised his swordplay. But that was impossible, as he hadn’t found any swords in any of the hoard rooms. Whatever Spirit enchantments kept clothes and other things in the hoard rooms usable would have probably kept the blades sharp. 

For a moment he fantasised about a set of blades that never dulled, and always struck true, before shaking the thought away. He couldn’t even bend and that would be at least vaguely useful for lighting fires here.

Swordplay was even more useless in the library.

Something moved in the corner of his eye and he whirled to look.

There was nothing there.

“Hello?” Zuko asked uncertainly.

Only silence answered him. There didn’t seem to be even any Seekers anywhere near him. Only a lonely Spirit lamp flickered eerily in the corridor, throwing twisting, green tinted shadows across the shelves and floors.

He hesitated, looking around, before stepping between the bookshelves, where he had seen the movement.

And now he saw it again.

A figure had stepped into the same corridor as him, long ways down, and dressed in muted greens, with long, dark hair tied into a tail that laid on their shoulder.

As Zuko stepped closer, the figure copied him.

“Hello?” Zuko tried again and got no answer.

It took several steps more for him to realise that there was a mirror at the end of the corridor. The figure he saw was himself .

Zuko’s hands clenched slowly into fists, his spine straightening into a posture that would have made his royal tutors proud, and strode forward. He might be having problems, he might be banished, but he was not scared of his own reflection, Agni damn it. 

Then he saw it.

The scar.

Zuko froze.

The scar spread across his face like an ugly rash, stretching from the bridge of his nose to his left ear. It crawled across his bare forehead and thin cheek like veins or tentacles, turning his stomach. His eye was warped and squinty, like a pygmypuma’s. 

He had felt the changes everyday as he rubbed his healing ointments into the scar, but he had never before seen it. He had almost become used to the sensation of it, but actually seeing it was different. It was the sort of disfigurement, that only a mother could love the person behind it, if even her.

His Mother probably wouldn’t even recognise him.

If she was even alive.

Zuko wanted to vomit but his throat was as dry as the desert above.

Slowly, he stepped right up to the mirror, examining the mark his father had left on his face. 

No father should do that. 

And as he had already made it very clear that Zuko was not his son…

“I have no father,” Zuko said softly, “I’m Zuko, Son of Ursa, the Clerk of the Spirit Library, and I have no father .”

The feeling of saying those words out loud was indescribable. Warm and cold, full and empty at the same time. As if he had reached a sort of resolution that had been missing before. As if he had let go of a burden that had been pressing down on him like a ton of rocks.

Now it felt as if lava bubbled in his chest, looking for a way out, to erupt . Zuko’s eyes narrowed and he growled, punching the mirror into pieces, causing slivers of glass and sparks, flickers of flame just barely there,  to rain down on him.

Zuko breathed deeply, calming his heartbeat. Slowly, he brought up his hand and flicked it, opening his eyes.

A small, wavering flame sat on his palm, like cricketmouse shivering in the cold.

Chapter Text

Zuko, the firstborn son of Ozai, the second born son of Fire Lord Azulon and Ilah, and Ursa, the daughter of Jinzuk, the magistrate of Hira'a, and Rina.

Prince Zuko was born fourth in line to the throne, on a full moon night, on the 14th of Zi, on the 65th year of Fire Lord Azulon's reign. The birth took fourteen hours and Prince Ozai remained absent for the most of it, leaving Princess Ursa in the care of the Palace physicians.  Prince Zuko was an average sized and healthy baby in all ways, and there were no complications of note. Prince Ozai, on his visit the next morning, expressed dissatisfaction at Prince Zuko's lacking energy, which the physicians informed him was normal, as well as at the young Prince's birth at midwinter.

Prince Zuko's early development was physically average, but he started speaking a bit late. Prince Ozai generally expressed disappointment in everything Prince Zuko achieved, deeming that the young Prince was not exceptional enough for a Prince. Princess Ursa was much more involved in the young Prince's development and raising than was ordinary in the Royal Family. 

Prince Zuko's younger sister, Princess Azula, was born when the prince was aged one year and six months. Young Prince Zuko seemed to be very fascinated by his younger sister and enjoyed dangling colourful ribbons for her to grasp. The children were very close until Princess Azula started bending at the age of four, and Prince Ozai started to focus on her growth and development. Prince Zuko seemed to grow even closer to Princess Ursa after this, following along with her to visit hospitals and schools in the Caldera and the Home Islands. The population found the young Prince to be courteous and sympathetic, willing to listen to their stories. 

On growing more distant from his sister, the young Prince started to idolise and follow his older cousin, Crown Prince Iroh's firstborn and only son Prince Lu Ten, around the Palace. Prince Lu Ten seemed to be willing to indulge his young cousin. As a nonbender himself, Prince Lu Ten trained young Prince Zuko in the very basics of hand to hand combat and the use of blades.

Prince Zuko was a happy and intelligent child. On starting his schooling, Prince Zuko excelled in cultural studies; his penmanship was exquisite and he painted very well. He did very well in memorising poetry and historical plays. In tactical training he did somewhat poorly, as he did not show any particular aptitude for the military, not unlike his father Prince Ozai. 

Young Prince Zuko started bending at the age of seven, which was later than on average, but not extraordinarily so. Prince Ozai was very disappointed at the late start, especially when comparing Prince Zuko's average to slightly slower pace of development to his sister's, young Princess Azula's, faster than average development in the same areas. Prince Zuko was inconsistent in producing flames but when focusing on movements only, he did well. 

When Prince Zuko turned nine years old, there were talks of an arranged marriage between him and a number of candidates. None were officially settled upon, but Princess Azula's favoured playmates Ty Lee, the sixth daughter of Chang Wo, the magistrate of Fu'yui, and Liina; and Mai, the firstborn daughter of Ukano, the magistrate of Caldera Port, and Michi, seem to be the most likely candidates.

At the age of ten Prince Zuko became the Crown Prince, after the passing of his exalted Grandfather, Fire Lord Azulon, who, on his deathbed, passed his firstborn son's, Prince Iroh's, birthright, on to his second born son, Prince Ozai. This happened in the aftermath of Prince Lu Ten's death at the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Princess Ursa disappeared for unknown reasons the same night. This historian fears that something unseemly has happened, but as there is no proof, this notation shall remain only speculation. 

(In a different handwriting, there's a side note in the margin that stated , "Speculation is unseemly for a historian but shall remain in record as a depiction of the attitudes at the time of the event.")

Crown Prince Zuko grew to be a dutiful young man, eager to learn everything he could, to, by his own words, do the best he can for his people and nation, as was his duty. Crown Prince Zuko was generally well regarded by the population; he has continued the visits he started with his mother, Princess Ursa. At this point in time, Crown Prince Zuko was the most liked member of the Royal Family among the peasants. Crown Prince Zuko has campaigned for more hospitals for the returning veterans, and for more training for the younger recruits.

On the 1st of Yin, on the third year of Fire Lord Ozai's reign, Crown Prince Zuko took part in an Agni Kai against Fire Lord Ozai. Crown Prince Zuko had spoken up in a war meeting three days prior in the defence of young military recruits, as has been his continued stance in political matters. This minor act of disrespect escalated into the Agni Kai, in which the Crown Prince refused to fight his father, the Fire Lord, begging for mercy. Fire Lord Ozai permanently disfigured Crown Prince Zuko's face, and exiled him from the Fire Nation, with no recourse to return.

Crown Prince Zuko has not been seen since, but the peasants are calling for his reinstatement into the line of inheritance, and recall to the Fire Nation. 

Chapter Text

Zuko let out a yelp of surprise at the huge plume of flame he managed to bend after weeks of pathetic puffs. He fell onto his backside, scowling as his heart raced way too fast for something so simple. He still wasn't quite getting it, despite the writings and essays and even inordinately old bending scrolls. Something was just missing.

He had thought finally coming to terms with what his fath– the Fire Lord had done would have solved his problems. And it had, a little. Zuko could produce at least some sort of flames now, most of the time.

Even if they were small and pathetic. 

He was still also too afraid of the fire, which fed the flickers of shame inside of him.

"You seem to be doing a tad better," Wan Shi Tong's voice remarked from the doorway of the training room.

Zuko didn't even flinch this time. The Owl Spirit was disinclined to harm or threaten him.

"But I still keep messing it up," Zuko answered and pulled a little distractedly at the low hanging ponytail he had adopted after he realised that the phoenix plume pulled uncomfortably at his then still healing skin. Now his face didn’t really ache anymore, but the ponytail hung on the scarred side of his face, making him feel a little better.

Not that anyone was there to see it, but hiding the scar made him feel safer for some reason.

He fought down a frustrated huff of air. More issues. If he was still in the Fire Nation, Azula could probably frighten him to death with a small ‘boo!’

"You're afraid of the flame."

"You try not to be afraid of it after half of your face has been burned off."

Wan Shi Tong sighed, and glided forward. He settled down onto the floor across from Zuko, and with a wave of wing, brought a candle into existence. Its flame flickered in a nonexistent wind before settling, stretching towards the ceiling like a flower looking for the sun.

“What is the worst thing about fire, in your view?”

Zuko hesitated, staring at the candle, “The… unpredictability, I guess,” he said finally.

“Unpredictability?”

“Yes. You can never actually know what a flame does, you can guess at the temperature based on the colour, and on the intensity based on the sound and movement, and all sorts of things but…”

“But if you bend it, it’s not unpredictable.”

Zuko growled, tugging at his ponytail, “That’s not the point .”

Wan Shi Tong regarded him quietly, his dark eyes unfathomable, “Maybe the unpredictability is more about the bender, then?”

Zuko slumped a bit but didn’t deny the suggestion.

It was true, after all. A wild fire was unpredictable. 

But so was another bender.

"Fire is life," Wan Shi Tong started, "It's the light of the sun that feeds the plants, the warmth of the hearth that cooks the food, it keeps away the dark and the cold. It is a necessity of life that cannot always be controlled in its most natural forms. But for a firebender it is something that needs to be controlled. It is your inner light and warmth that keeps you going, keeps you alive. And if you don't control it, it turns on you and burns you."

Zuko nodded, staring at the small flame that had flickered and changed shape, brightened and dimmed with no visible explanation, at Wan Shi Tong's words. He knew all of this.

"You have been burned, and that has taught you to be wary. But despite that, you must be decisive," the flame flashed and grew beyond the candle, Zuko had to force himself to stay still, " Control it, bend it."

“I’m trying you overgrown feather duster,” he muttered under his breath, scowling down at his latest copying project.

Zuko chewed at the end of his brush, trying to make out one of the smudged characters on the page. He made a face as lacquer on the brush handle cracked and brushed his mouth with his sleeve, grimacing in disgust. 

He returned his attention to the report. The report itself was either about the true cost of military affairs in Batreh province of the colonies, or the true cost of the garrison there. Zuko squinted at the character, flipped it upside down, and scowled deeper. No clear answer, and the first paragraph was all about the province itself.

With a defeated sigh, he cleaned his brush and set it aside; he would need to read more of the document itself before he dared to copy it. 

Nothing was going to plan today; not bending, not copying, and not even his latest iteration of stir fry, which had both fallen victim to sugar and burning. That would be the last time he read theatre scrolls in the kitchen because clearly he couldn’t be trusted to do chores while distracted. 

Zuko groaned and slumped down in his dedicated sunning spot. The stone walkway was cool against his back as he stared up at the ceiling and the windows there. His mind was simultaneously empty and full of thoughts skittering around like cockroaches.

He had been in the Library for seven or eight months by his own count. He was a bit fuzzy on the exact count because he had spent at least some of that time caught up in fever dreams that fortunately hadn’t developed into an infection. 

If that had happened, he was pretty sure he would have died, or been caught in an even worse Spirit deal if Wan Shi Tong had decided to go out on his way to save Zuko’s life.

But that hadn’t been necessary and Zuko was, physically, as recovered as he could be. The scar on his face would probably fade a little over years and years and years , but it wasn’t like that actually mattered here.

Zuko had grown used to the drone of the endlessly similar days, the quiet and shadowed corridors, the boundless amounts of knowledge at his fingertips.

Of course he was still mostly reading the works he was copying, as well as theatre scrolls, and bending scrolls and philosophy. But occasionally he found himself wandering elsewhere in the Library, contemplating the prose section, and even the history sections.

He had clearly been taught a very skewed view of history and the world, and that made him wonder what everyone else had been taught. What did the Earth Kingdom say about the ancient treaties between them and the Fire Nation? What had the Air Legion and their horrific armies truly been like? How did the Water Tribes even survive in their lands of eternal ice and snow?

Zuko would probably die if he ever had to visit them.

Suddenly, a furry face appeared before his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked tiredly.

The Seeker yipped questioningly, tilting its head.

“I’m fine, just listless,” he answered, “Nothing is working out.”

Another yip answered him.

“Well, I just want to see actual, literal progress in something .”

Another head tilt.

“Don’t say anything about the books. I won’t feel like I’ve made progress with those until I’ve filled a shelving unit or two and I’m nowhere near that.”

Another Seeker showed up with a sort of mrowly sound.

“Yeah I’m fucking scared of fire, you gonna laugh about it?”

Headshakes.

“I just… feel like a failure. That happens pretty often and it gets really frustrating.”

A yip from the newcomer.

“It’s just really tiring to try when you’re met with failure at every opportunity.”

Sympathetic yowls.

“...Do I actually understand you, or am I just losing my mind?”

More yips.

Zuko stood in the middle of the practice room, his eyes closed, his muscles relaxed. He was trying to call up his inner flame. It kept flickering like embers in his chest, liable to go out any moment, no matter how much he tried to call up from his stomach through his carefully regulated breathing. 

When the flicker felt as steady as it was going to be, he moved , slowly and steadily, into a kata he knew like the back of his hand.

He flowed through the movements, fanning the flames inside.

Zuko knew himself; he was weak and had come to accept that. 

He was banished, and unloved, and had come to accept that as well. 

He had been the Crown Prince. Now he was the Clerk and he was fine with that.

Zuko wasn’t quite fine with spending the rest of his life underground but he had learnt to accept that as well.

He didn’t have any friends. He had never had any friends, so it really didn’t matter.

The Seekers were fine enough. 

He was safe and cared for. 

He received support and advice when he asked for help.

No one looked down on him here . Wan Shi Tong didn’t care enough about the things that Zuko could be looked down on and thus didn’t bother.

It was a freeing feeling, just being himself, and having no one who would judge him for it.

He remembered Wan Shi Tong’s words.

‘Control it, bend it.’

And Zuko did .

Chapter Text

What finally brought Zuko’s temper – having now been banked for months, like embers of  a campfire – to the forefront, was a report from the raids conducted during Sozin’s Comet. 

Zuko stared down at the document, feeling sick to his stomach, his gaze running down the page, taking in the words, desperately hoping they would change .

Air Legion hideout… hanging temples… following in pursuit of the Legionnaires…  children camped in the hidden rooms… indoctrinated to Air Legion at young age… communal child rearing… no weapons… eliminated to prevent revenge… throwing our soldiers off the platforms… minimal resistance from the children… casualties to our side minimal…

The word that kept jumping up at him was children but he also found himself unable to ignore the lack of weapons, and minimal casualties suffered by the Fire Nation.

“No way,” he growled, pushing back his work chair hard enough for it to fall over behind him. He wasn’t going to keep reading this ; there had to be something wrong. Killing children – indoctrinated or not – was cruel, they could have been reformed or something with time! 

He wavered by his table, glaring at the scroll, so tempted to set it on fire but knowing that if he did that, then he actually would be in trouble with Wan Shi Tong.

Zuko tugged on his ponytail, growling to himself. He couldn’t stay here reading this… this… this rubbish . 

His breath was sparking and he huffed a plume of smoke from his nostrils, stalking away from his workstation.

Stupid, unfair, monstrous, wrong . The report had to be wrong.

But he couldn’t quite convince himself of that, not with the war strategies employed by the Fire Nation that he had already copied from other books and scrolls. Strategies that had been signed off on by generals and commanders Zuko recognised by name from recent state functions.

So was it actually wrong?

Well, yes, killing children was always wrong, but was the actual report wrong about the things it was reporting on. Zuko could hope that but he wasn’t terribly hopeful.

Being hopeful didn’t tend to go well for him. If anything, that was something he had learned. 

Zuko sighed and tugged on his ponytail again, looking around the library, feeling vaguely forlorn. He would need to factcheck.

And that was going to be a miserable undertaking. 

“What is all this?”

Slowly, Zuko looked up from the two scrolls he was desperately trying to cross reference with each other without having them roll in on themselves at an inopportune moment. 

That had happened way too many times and Zuko had been forced to employ any and all meditation techniques he knew, just so he wouldn’t set his entire research project on fire and thus create more work for himself.

Although to be fair, he was pretty sure he would actually get killed if he did that, so meditation it was.

Wan Shi Tong stared down at the mess of scrolls and books spread across one of the crossroads between aisles of bookshelves. Some of the book piles were teetering at uncomfortable heights, just one wrong movement away from toppling over and burying Zuko alive, probably never to be found. A mess of papers full of his messiest, most hurried handwriting, covered the floor for several metres along each corridor.

Zuko was well aware it looked like a hurricane had made its way through.

“Research,” he answered.

Wan Shi Tong stared at him in a manner that felt deadpan.

“And you couldn’t use one of the actual cubicles for this?”

Zuko considered the question seriously for a moment, “Maybe.”

Wan Shi Tong sighed heavily. 

It sounded kinda like how Mom used to sigh when she thought Zuko was being especially convoluted with the way he did things.

That recognition  made him feel surprisingly warm.

“What are you researching?” Wan Shi Tong asked instead.

“The Air Legion.”

“...The Air Legion?”

Zuko nodded, “Yes.”

“You’re in the wrong section for that,” Wan Shi Tong said, motioning at the stacks of history books around them, “In fact, you’re in the wrong millennium .”

Zuko stared up at him, confused, “...What?”

Wan Shi Tong sighed heavily, “Air Legion ceased to be a term used to describe the nation of airbenders a hundred or so human generations ago. If you wish to find recent information on them, I would like to recommend the historical study by the Historical Department of Ba Sing Se university, published 150 years ago–”

“150 years is recent?” Zuko whispered in vague horror.

Wan Shi Tong ignored him.

“–although the latest primary sources are the memoirs of Kang Li, who, after serving as the Commander of the Northern Fleet, spent the rest of his life imprisoned by the Earth Kingdom in the caves of Omashu.”

“Ummm…” Zuko said slowly, “That all sounds very interesting–” and it did, it just wasn’t what he was looking for right now and he needed to do that first if he actually wanted to do his job “–I was actually looking into the history of Fire Nation wiping out the airbenders almost a hundred years ago.”

“Ah, so you just had the wrong keyword. You’re looking for information on Air Nomads ,” Wan Shi Tong mused, “You’ll find  relevant information, that wasn’t burned by that human, five corridors that way,” he motioned to the left.

Zuko shot to his feet, already ready to run and check out if the information, confirmation , he needed was there or not, when–

“Do clean this up first.”

Zuko held in a sigh, “Yes sir.”

The Air Nomad section of the library contained a lot of philosophy, and Zuko found himself glancing through them only enough to realise that yeah, they really wouldn’t have had weapons and why literally the only thing they had done to protect themselves had been throwing people off the cliffs – and some of them even probably by accident because Air Nomad threw themselves off the cliffs for fun.

The very thought of his ancestors, and the army of his country killing children seemed even less palatable after that.

There were, surprisingly, some Air Nomad documents that described the carnage. Some Nomads had managed to initially flee and took great care to write down everything there was to know about Air Nomads, their culture and their end. Some had apparently lived for years in hiding among the populace of the Earth Kingdom, living out their lives as slightly weird hermits and the like.

Totally cut off from their people and culture.

That was something Zuko himself had become far too familiar with, even if the reasons for the separation and loneliness were different. 

His people weren’t dead after all.

At times, reading the memoirs of these people, Zuko found himself wondering if he even had the right to feel as he did about his own situation. Being banished and trapped underground sometimes felt insignificant, compared to losing one’s entire people and culture.

But then he would read of the few survivors’ longing for the free skies, the wind, the smells of the sea and far off lands  they would never be able to reach again, and breath would catch in his throat because Zuko knew he would never reach them again either.

His family, his Nation, had done that. They had ripped the Air Nomads home, culture and identity from them, leaving them adrift in the world.

And they had done the same to Zuko, almost a hundred years later.

They had hurt another child. They had left another child without a home to go back to.

And they continued to do it, to the Earth Kingdom, and to the Water Tribes.

Zuko buried his face in his hands, forcing his breathing to calm. He felt sick and dizzy, on the verge of vomiting his lunch, that suddenly felt way too close, despite having been literal hours ago.

How had he not known this? Was he the only one who didn’t? He couldn’t be, everyone always talked about how eliminating the Air Legion had been justified, and the only way to ensure the survival of the Fire Nation, especially after the failure of an Avatar Roku had been, had died.

According to Zuko’s history lessons, the Fire Nation had been on tenterhooks, waiting for the new Air Avatar to come and wipe them all out.

But was even that true? The answer would have been on the history section but that was still a burned husk, and Zuko certainly hadn’t copied anything of the like yet. Where else could he find answers…?

The section with the old school books.

Zuko shot to his feet and all but flew down the corridors, and several flights of stairs. He vaguely remembered that the section he was looking for was in the depths of the library, hidden in the shadows near on the back walls, like some sort of shameful secret.

Zuko stumbled as he reached the right floor, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Instead he righted himself fast and kept going, running faster than before.

He needed to find the right books, and the truth. 

Chapter Text

Zuko growled under his breath, pushing out another wave of stuttering flames. 

His bending was fucked up again.

He had spent several days hiding in the education section of the library, comparing school books from the last two hundred years to each other, and quickly coming to a conclusion that the way the Air Nomads were portrayed had changed. Slowly, as if creeping in, but it was there since Sozin’s grandfather had been the Fire Lord. 

First it was things like disturbing the peace on the marketplace with careless use of airbending – which Zuko actually didn’t have trouble believing, there had been a scroll by an Air Nomad complaining how Fire Nation people were all stuck up sticklers for rules, and his own life had been all about rules – then disturbing cloud formations and thus the rainy season, which messed up farmers schedules and the crops, causing problems with people’s livelihoods and taxation.

The stories kept escalating in the books published between every twenty or so years. And then in the end the books started going on about how the Air Legion’s non-bending children were killed by being pushed off the cliffs, and the communal raising was used to indoctrinate the children into being uncaring of the people who weren’t airbenders, but ‘barbaric meateaters, caged by the chains of the earth and the material’ and how the next airbender Avatar would try to make the world in his own image.

It was honestly horrifying to read. 

Because Zuko also had no trouble seeing the reverse being told about the Fire Nation and its goals regarding world domination.

Zuko had lost his appetite for a few days after that, as well as any interest in reading more.

Going back to his actual job also hadn’t helped. He had been relaxing reading agricultural scrolls, which had led him to a weaselrabbithole of firebending techniques he hadn’t learned, or that had been forgotten, or deemed unimportant over time. Daavanaal Island's wildfire techniques for example calmed and controlled wildfires in order to increase the fertility of the land. That scroll had actually mostly been about how the crop yield had fallen because all the strongest firebenders were recruited into the army and the techniques couldn't be used anymore for their intended purpose, increasing wildfire damages.

He had also come across the technique in a military report from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, where it had been used to devastate a village just inside the outermost wall of the walled city. There had been no survivors, not among the people, animals, or houses after the blaze that lasted ten hours at an even, unbearably hot temperature.

Uncle's seal on the report had given his blessing for the carnage.

Zuko breathed deeply, forcing buffs of smoke out through his nostrils, starting to finally feel more in control.

He pushed the thoughts of what he had learnt from his mind as he shifted into the next stance, his arms moving slowly and steadily. He could feel the strain in his muscles as he maintained the stance and the pace, imagining the blazing inferno that wouldn't move beyond the mental line he had drawn for it. 

After he finished the set, he felt like a limp, overcooked noodle as he flopped down onto the floor, staring up at the artificial light of the training room. He felt pretty good, all things considered, for a change.

He hadn't expected to feel terribly good on his fourteenth birthday, ten and half months after being burned and banished.

Zuko laid on the floor for a while, just breathing. He had started the morning with an intense copying spree, painting a highly detailed map of the Fire Nation from before Sozin's reign, noting the differences. Some forests had shifted or disappeared completely, canals had been dug, new towns and villages had been founded while some old ones had disappeared in the intervening decades. The number of temples had been much higher in the past as well and Zuko tried very hard not to think of all the implications the map had. 

Finally he had been forced to escape into the training room for something else to concentrate on. 

But now he was resting and his mind was calmer, so the thoughts snuck back in. They had been niggling in the back of his mind for a while now, but he hadn't really wanted to admit it. Who would? It didn't fit with what he had been raised to believe and that was part of the problem, as Wan Shi Tong had pointed out. But he couldn't really deny it anymore. What was the use, anyway? He was stuck in the Spirit Library and had all the proof and sources at his fingertips that he could ever want, and ignoring it all was becoming more of a hassle the longer he stayed.

The War was not what he had been taught.

He turned on the floor, flopping down on his stomach, peering towards the shadowed doorway. He felt the sweat drying on his back.

His great-grandfather had ordered the eradication of the Air Legion, no, the Air Nomads , partly as a preventative measure against the Avatar and partly because they had the potential to be greatest threats to the Fire Nation and its benders. If they hadn't all been pacifists for the last two and a half thousand years. 

That had led Zuko on a research quest that had basically boiled down to 'Air Nomads figured that them being pacifists was honestly the best choice for all Nations involved.' And that the things that led to that realisation had been a big basis for most of Sozin’s reign’s  Fire Nation propaganda, because somehow the memory of the time Air Nomads had not been pacifists had lingered in the Fire Nation. 

Granted, as far as Zuko could tell based on the documents and writings from the Earth Kingdom, the memory had lingered there as well for a few hundred years before being reduced to legends and horror stories no one had taken seriously. Maybe the deep seated, lingering fear of violent airbenders led back to the importance of breath to the firebending.

Water Tribes had had zero interest or memory on the matter, apparently, because they didn't have anything that had interested the Air Legion of over two thousand years previous. And it had actually been a Legion at that point, and not a trumped up propaganda claim to justify genocide.

“Well fuck,” Zuko sighed tiredly into the empty room and got up from the floor.

He had gone right back to the dark thoughts which he really didn’t need . 

A curious yip by the door had him looking up and he gave a tired grin to the Seeker.

“Nothing, just tired,” he lied.

The Seeker gave him a dubious look but didn’t push. Instead it ambled into the room, ears perked and the tail lashing excitedly.

Zuko was instantly suspicious.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

The Seeker ignored the question and instead tugged at Zuko’s pant leg with its teeth, clearly intent on taking Zuko somewhere.

For lack of anything better to do, Zuko complied.

Fifteen minutes later, when they reached their destination, he was beyond astounded.

“What… is this?” he asked weakly, eyes wide despite the vague pained throbbing on the left side of his face.

It was one of the larger chambers with numerous chairs and tables – probably a lecture hall from the past when the Spirit Library had been more accessible and not halfway buried in the sands of the Si Wong Desert – but instead of the echoing emptiness, it was full of life.

More Seekers than he had ever seen at one time were gathered around the tables and chairs, clutching cups between both paws, and eating treats from a veritable banquet spread piled high. 

And near the middle of the hall sat–

“I believe humans call it a birthday party,” Wan Shi Tong answered in his unflappable manner, taking a sip from a tea cup clutched in his talons.

“For me?”

“You are the only human here.”

“Ummm…”

The Seeker tugged at his pant leg again, and Zuko followed, feeling numb.

This had to be the weirdest birthday party in the history of the world. 

“Thank you,” Zuko said instead, feeling suddenly shy as he shuffled to take a free seat placed on the same table as Wan Shi Tong. The Seeker who had lead him there immediately brought him a tray with a teacup and an assortment of treats.

Treats that by just their look made Zuko feel choked up. 

They were Fire Nation treats; fireflakes, hot sweet buns, rice taffy, fruits, green tea cake…

He had been sure he would never get to eat any of them again.

“Thank you,” he repeated, now a bit firmer as he took a bite of a bun. 

It melted in his mouth, just like the ones made in the Palace kitchens.

“Happy Birthday,” Wan Shi Tong said nonchalantly and took a rice taffy.

Zuko had to hold in his laughter when the taffy glued the Knowledge Spirit’s beak shut, inciting some panic among the Seekers. He got the impression Wan Shi Tong was threatening them with more copying.

At his employer’s dark look, he hid his smile behind his tea cup.

Maybe this wasn’t as bad of a birthday as he had thought.

Chapter Text

Zuko skidded to a stop on the smooth stone floor, the flames flickering out around him. As he straightened from the crouch, he stretched out his arms and wandered back towards the Knowledge Seeker sitting beside a firebending scroll. 

"What?" he asked the Seeker, "Don't look so surprised, you know that I try out new bending forms given the chance.”

He had to, because otherwise he would never become a bending master. He had been half convinced he would never become one due to his past… issues with fire and because he was obviously the only human here. 

Except he also had Wan Shi Tong who was literally the closest thing to Avatar the world still had, especially without being able to actually bend. 

The Seeker shuffled a bit, shaking its head.

"Yeah, it takes me away from work but I need to move, " Zuko protested, "I'm going to loose my mind down here, just sitting in the dark copying dusty scrolls.”

The Seeker scoffed.

"Well it's not my fault I’m a human and not a spirit,” Zuko ignored any further commentary and peered down at the scroll. It was old and a bit cracked in places from repeated unrollings. He had had to bring out an extra pillow and the super soft weight to keep it open for inspection. 

It also had a lot of moves he had never seen before, which made him suspect it preceded Sozin's style considerably. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had never been taught these moves. They were so intuitive and simple one would think them to be some of the lower level intermediary katas, right after lessons like ‘how to breathe,’ ‘how to start a fire,’ ‘how to put out a fire,’ ‘how to not set your friends and surrounding on fire,’ and ‘how to move with fire without falling on your face.’ 

He wondered where the scroll had originally been acquired from. He really didn’t feel like checking the provenance of the scroll from its end because he was still in the middle of perusing it, and he was still vaguely terrified of having one of the old scrolls turn to dust in his hands. 

Zuko would need to mark it down for a renewal, which was fortunately not his job. Some poor Knowledge Seeker would end up with the job.

He tried the move set again, with better results. His bending as a whole had gotten a lot better after he had recovered from the burn and he had gotten through the old, and deeply theoretical bending scrolls.

But his bending wasn’t perfect, far from it. Granted, it had never been perfect, but he felt like he was on the cusp of some realisation, that was hiding just beyond his imagination, which would bring his bending to a whole new level.

Maybe even to a level better than Azula’s.

“Ugh, there’s something I’m still missing,” Zuko scowled down at the scroll half an hour later, careful not to drip any sweat on it. 

That would be a nightmare on a whole other level.

The Seeker, who had set up what appeared to be a loom in the corner of the room – first of all why, and second of all how ? – yipped.

Zuko frowned at it, “‘Remember what the dragons said?’ They’ve never said anything , and besides, they’re all extinct.” 

The Seeker stared at him for a moment, before slapping its face with its paw and running off. 

Fifteen minutes later, when Zuko finally had the energy to try again, the Seeker returned, carrying another book. This time on dragons.

Zuko stared first at the book and then at the Seeker, before relenting and opening the book at the Spirit’s insistent nudging. He turned the pages slowly, one by one, before the Seeker slapped its paw down on the page titled Fire .

Dragons, as the Children of Agni, are beings that are the closest to the Sun. Without Sun, there’s no fire that gives Dragons their breaths of fire. 

For Dragons, the fire represents their chi, their life energy, for without it, they’re dead. Fire is Dragon’s life, their soul, their reason for existing, which they tend to like a campfire simply by living as Dragons should.

“Fire is… life…” Zuko whispered. Slowly he looked at the movements on the scroll, which suddenly appeared sinuous and serpentine, like dragons. 

Zuko took a deep breath as he set the scroll back down, moving to the centre of the room. For a moment, he stood there, his eyes closed. Then, he moved.

Flames burst out along his arms, but instead of their regular yellows, oranges, and even reds, there were hues of green, violet, and even blue mixed in.

Zuko’s breath caught in wonder at such a sight, and he came to a stop. He summoned a flame to his hand, and it was strong and steady, shifting through a myriad of colours. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

The Seeker gave a smugg sniff, nudged his knee, and returned to its carpet weaving.

Zuko's breaks took a new life after he figured out what he had started to call in his mind the ‘Secret of Fire.’ Instead of reading plays for fun, or firebending philosophy to break his bending block, he started reading it out of interest. He spent more time studying old forms that had either been forgotten, or were deemed unimportant by the changing times. 

Another change that was brought to his breaks was the fact that one of the Seekers decided to steal something else besides books or scrolls.

“Why,” Wan Shi Tong asked in a tone that tried to be mysterious, but Zuko had come to recognise as long-suffering, “did you steal a pair of Dao swords from the Fire Nation?”

The Seeker yipped.

“They’re mine?”

“They’re Zuko’s?” there was surprise in the Knowledge Spirit’s tone as he glanced at his clerk, who had just happened to be passing by with a pile of books on his arms.

The Seeker nodded.

Wan Shi Tong sighed heavily.

“Fine, he gets to keep them.”

Zuko just about dropped the priceless tomes in excitement and his face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you so much!” he just about squealed.

He hadn’t even noticed how much he missed his swords or sword practice, until the possibility of having them again was brought to his attention. The swords weren’t useful to his current life at all, but the very thought of them brought comfort, because they were unquestionably his , and not just random stuff borrowed from the Seekers’ hoards. 

“Take the books away, you’ll find your swords in your training room.”

“Of course! Thank you, Master Wan Shi Tong!”

And Zuko was gone, because it had been almost a  year since he had had a chance to practice his swordsmanship, which had been one of the only things he had been confident in and had brought him comfort since his Mother disappeared. Having it again was like having an unimaginable, impossible dream fulfilled. 

Now, if he could only go outside and feel the actual sun on his face, everything would be almost perfect. 

“You fiendish Spirit, I shall make you free me from this mortal form!” Zuko thundered in his best impression of the Dragon Emperor in the form of Noren, holding a single long sword dramatically a loft. 

He was personally of the opinion his Dragon Emperor voice was a lot better than anything the Ember Island Players had ever put on, but sadly no one would ever have a chance to agree with him on the matter.

He swiftly switched the long sword for a pair of Dao, pulling on the mask of the Dark Water Spirit he had found in one of the hoards, as he moved to stand opposite of his previous position.

“Oh, you shall never see your Heavenly Halls and Sunlit Gardens again, Dragon Emperor!” Zuko hissed because that’s what the Dark Water Spirit sounded like, “You shall remain in a mortal form until it’s your time to DIE!”

And he rushed forward, into the best bit of fight choreography in the entire play, slashing and twirling like a hurricane, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. 

“I did not know a community theatre had taken refuge in my library,” a dry voice commented and Zuko just about died of fright.

“AAAAAH! Ehehehe,” he turned around to meet Wan Shi Tong’s gaze, ineffectually hiding the swords behind his back like a naughty child, “I was… ummm… taking a break?”

“I see,” Wan Shi Tong said, rising a feathery eyebrow, “Your delivery is very good.”

“I like that part of the play,” Zuko answered.

“And that’s fine. I also have favourite parts in different plays. What do you like about it?”

Zuko hesitated, no one had asked about why he liked plays since Mom but… “The mystery, really. Why the Dark Water Spirit does what he does, because he isn’t actually doing it in order to be evil, because he’s clearly very invested in the romance between the Emperor and the Empress, and just…” Zuko waved his hands uncertainly, failing to describe his point.

Wan Shi Tong hmm’ed, “Indeed. According to the early versions of the play, the Dark Water Spirit was actually the Dragon Empress’s sworn brother, which was his motive for the play.”

Zuko gasped in surprise, “No way?! That makes so much sense! I wonder why it isn’t included anymore? Maybe–”

And he was off on a muttered ramble, as he walked around the room in a circle. Wan Shi Tong shook his head in amusement and left, wondering if he could find more uses for his clerk’s skills…

Chapter Text

At this point, Zuko knew very well that he was avoiding his work. Had been for a while now, ever since he figured out that most of the things he had ever learnt had been lies, and since he realised that reading what his family had done, had allowed to happen… hurt . 

So he tried to not think about it whenever possible and instead spent his time bending and familiarising himself with his swords. As things stood, they would never be more than a hobby, but he wanted to take as much joy from them as he could. 

At this point, he was pretty sure he knew the most firebending moves in the widest variety of styles compared to any other living firebender. A totally useless achievement for the human clerk of the Spirit Library but what can you do.

Maybe he would start studying other sword forms next.

Or bending forms.

He stopped in the middle of a sword swing, considering. Would that be a stupid idea? Maybe, but he wouldn’t know until he tried.

It would certainly offer him another excuse to avoid his work.

He had actually been wondering why Wan Shi Tong hadn’t shown up like a creepy shadow and demanded him to do his work. But it would happen sooner or later, so Zuko might as well try to mitigate the situation. Wan Shi Tong was always less grumpy if Zuko used his free time to study and read in the Library. 

So Zuko hung up his swords and headed off to look for the scroll that had explained the philosophy behind firebending better than any other book in the Library. 

Of the Nature of the Elements and Nations as written by Avatar Luang in the 3352th Year After the Union of Earth Kingdom .

He found it in the firebending section where he had left it all those months prior. Now the scroll was less dusty and less brittle, and there was a notation that this was a new copy, copied in the 97th year After the Purge of the Air Nomads. 

Zuko’s mouth went dry at the notation but he pulled the scroll from the shelf nonetheless, and headed to the small chamber he had used last time. He unrolled the scroll, past the familiar section of firebending, and landed on the next element in the Avatar Cycle, Avatar Luang’s own element, Air. 

Air is the Element of freedom and spirituality.

The People of Air get their power from the Great Spirits of the Four Principal Winds, Bei Ziwei of Freezing Northern Winds, Dong Qinghua of the Wily Eastern Winds, Nan Changsheng of the Stormy Southern Winds and Tai Tianhuang the Gentle Western Winds . They gave the sky bison the power to bend air and then they in turn taught us. Our forms are quick like fire, evading like water and they can be as full of weight as earth. Air and Earth, as Elemental opposites, do not share many similarities, not like Fire and Water. Air shares the most similarities with Fire and Water, both of which are much freer of constraints than Earth. The three Elements all require a certain flow in their forms, for they're alive and moving in a way the Earth isn't. This lack of constraint in the Air also means, People of Air must make a choice to care, for otherwise the freedom might sweep them away, but if they become too tied down by the weight of life, they loose their freedom. 

Air is everywhere in abundance so in a way you could say that airbenders  are the freest of benders, as they are not constricted so much by their chi like Fire nor can their Element be taken away from them, like Water and Earth can. Neither is it weakened by the celestial positions in the way Water and Fire are affected by the moon and the sun respectively. There is always Air, for without it there would be no need and no one to bend it or any other Element. This makes the People of Air potentially the most dangerous and powerful of all benders. 

The overabundance of Air has made the People of Air decide to take the route of spirituality and pacifism, because, as we have seen in the past, airbenders have the potential to become the most horrific tyrants of all. This we learnt from Dengung the Stormbringer’s teachings. Since his time, airbending has been made into a discipline that utilises negative jing.

Dengung the Stormbringer had been the spiritual leader of the Air Legion, and having spent time reading about them, Zuko couldn’t help but agree with Avatar Luang’s assessment. They had been a wise person and Zuko personally though it a pity that they had been murdered. 

Honestly, reading about the Avatar Cycle and the past lives of the Avatar was rather depressing as a whole. He wasn’t sure if he should be sad or grateful that no one would ever know anything about the Avatar that preceded Avatar Luang – the Fire Nation Avatar who, based on the dates of their predecessor and successor, had died at the age of seven. 

But using airbending in firebending… it should be possible. Maybe. With some work.  Avatar Luang had stated there were similarities in form and if Zuko wanted to start splitting hairs, firebending was literally just moving hot air around.

Not that he would ever say that aloud. He had a feeling all of his Royal Tutors would spontaneously manifest out of thin air to hit him over the head with a pointer if he did so. 

Actually modifying airbending forms for firebending was harder in practice.

Zuko was swearing up a storm, trying in vain to tamp out his tangzhuang, which he had managed to set on fire. Fucking freedom of movement and following the air flow. This was why firebending was all about control, and airbending had been built up to be its spiritual opposite when it came to jing and relationship with control. 

He couldn’t even imagine how frustrated airbenders must be trying to learn fire. Actually, that might be why fire was the last element in the Cycle for someone who started at air. Granted, it was equally infuriating to start from fire and then move to air as far as he was concerned, but maybe that was about immediately taking a new mindset making it easier to learn later–

Whatever the case, it didn’t really matter to Zuko terribly much because he was not an Avatar, and was mostly doing this as an academic experiment.

That no one would or maybe even could ever replicate but whatever. He needed some content in his life that wasn’t just copying books and documents.

“What are you doing?”

Zuko just about jumped out of skin in surprise. He should be used to Wan Shi Tong’s sneakiness by now but clearly the Owl Spirit was using some sort of spirit bullshit to freak him out. 

Maybe he was bored too.

“Umm…” Zuko hesitated, “Trying to modify airbending forms to work with firebending?”

Wan Shi Tong stared down at him dubiously.

“Are you asking, or answering?”

“Answering.”

“And what have you learned?”

“That firebending and airbending are philosophic opposites and rely on different mindsets,” Zuko recited dutifully.

“Resulting in…?”

“...Accidental fires.”

Wan Shi Tong sighed, and raised his wing in front of his face. Was he trying to facepalm?

Some days Zuko honestly couldn’t believe he could be this flippant about an authority figure even in his thoughts.

“Please refrain from starting fires in the future. This is a library.”

“...Yes sir.”

Black feathers swept silently along the stone floor, as a dark shadow glided along the edges of the hall, occasionally glancing  at the small human meditating on the bridge in the few morsels of sunlight that made their way into the depths of the Spirit Library. 

Wan Shi Tong needed to do something about his charge. The boy had an overabundance of energy he had hoped to quell with the swords, ineffectively. The boy was even wilder than before, and was clearly losing his effectiveness as a clerk. 

The boy was avoiding his work, most likely due to finding the contents unpleasant – Wan Shi Tong might keep his beak out of the world’s business but that didn’t mean he didn’t keep an eye on it. So much knowledge was being discovered and lost all the time…

But how to up the boy’s effectiveness? He clearly needed to come to some sort of terms with the state of the world and the goals of the Fire Nation, but what better way to do that than books?

Wan Shi Tong came to a stop.

Reality. 

That was the answer. 

The boy needed to see the world, travel a bit, see the people and places he had only ever read and heard about. And while doing that, he needed to accept the unfortunate state of the world enough, so as to do his job.

Wan Shi Tong sighed. Now he would need to figure out a good retrieval mission for the boy. It wouldn’t do for him to take this as a chance to leave for good.

‘I have nothing. No place to return to, no place I would be welcome in, no one to miss me.’

Not that the boy had anywhere to go to.

Chapter Text

Dark desolation

Chaos, fear, unrest, despair

Dawn arrives at last

– Fire Sage Yoshito, 59th Year of Sozin’s Reign

Azula gave a theatrical sigh and dropped the scroll of haikus she was supposed to be studying for her cultural studies – ugh – on the floor in disinterest. Yoshito had clearly been properly scared of Fire Lord Sozin and she could only hope her own Fire Sages would respect her accordingly.

Pity she probably wouldn’t get a change to do feats as great as her forefathers. She would have to try to talk Father into giving her a mission in the mainland. Maybe she could conquer Ba Sing Se, unlike some failures in the family.

Azula sometimes wondered what happened to Zuzu. Not often, never, but sometimes , in moments that some would class as weak if they were to know of them. 

Azula preferred to class them as bored moments, because there truly was no other reason – beyond ultimate boredom – to ponder the fate of her erstwhile, dum-dum of an older brother. It had been well over a year after all, since anyone had seen a hide or hair of him. 

Or a burn scar, as the case may be.

She stretched a bit, staring up at the canopy of her bed, feeling unusually lethargic. Ugh, even Mai and Ty Lee had abandoned her to her boredom, and Father had said to take a break from bothering the servants because they were having trouble hiring new ones.

They should be honoured and prompt to even be allowed to serve them. 

But no, a little fire and they went scurrying off like lizard-mice. 

She pouted up at the ceiling. She couldn’t even bother Zuko , who had been her constant source of amusement since childhood. 

He was probably dead, all things considered. The only mystery was, why no one from the Earth Kingdom had gleefully announced it, just so Father could tell them there was a better version waiting to show the world the supremacy of the Fire Nation. 

Although if no one in the Earth Kingdom knew Zuko was dead, then they wouldn’t be able to try to gloat about it.

After all, it would be just like Zuko, to die in a ditch and dry into an unrecognisable skeleton, and deny Father and Azula the satisfaction of knowing his fate. Stupid Uncle still held onto vain hope and kept scouring Earth Kingdom shores like the useless lump he was. 

Well, whatever, at least it kept him out of the Fire Nation and the Palace. He had never quite fit the decor anyway, and life was so much easier for everyone when Azula didn’t need to dodge ‘courteous’ invites to tea and Pai Sho, and there was no one to question Father. 

Uncle certainly had no right to do so. He had given up his right to the throne, so he should very well know to keep his nose out of the Fire Lord’s business.

Honestly, this might be the only situation where Zuzu was actually useful. And all the better, without even being present. 

If Azula was a Fire Lord, she would banish Uncle too. Father, for some unfathomable reason, was pacifying his older generals by allowing Uncle to roam around. Waste of time and resources, and a potential nest of traitors, if someone were to ask Azula.

But no one did, because she was a child .

Ugh.

In her opinion she was more than old enough to be taking part in the war meetings at the very least. And she wouldn’t spend her time offering inane protests like Zuko. The generals and peasants were clearly questioning her competency, not wanting her to partake, some even demanding to have Zuko back.

Stupid peasants. Traitors, just waiting to be exiled, imprisoned, or sent to the front lines.

Or just killed, then they wouldn’t be causing trouble for anyone. What did they even see in Zuko? It wasn’t like he had actually ever done anything for them. Visiting some stupid hospitals certainly didn’t count, Azula had better things to do with her time than play nice with some peasants and useless wastes of resources who couldn’t even fight in the war anymore.

But no, somehow wasting time on people like that made you likeable. Just like Zuko to waste time on people like that. Zuko probably just tried to find people who were as useless as he himself. 

“Princess Azula, it’s time for your firebending training,” Li or Lo called from the corridor.

Ugh.

“Coming,” she said instead.

At least firebending was useful. 

Chapter Text

Zuko stared up at Wan Shi Tong, who had accosted him in the training room where he had – once again – been avoiding his duties.

“A new assignment?” he asked, uncertainly. 

“Yes,” Wan Shi Tong answered, expressionlessly.

“...What kind of assignment?”

He had to ask because Zuko wasn’t sure if he wanted one. It was bound to be in some way upsetting and he had got somewhat used to his new avoidance – physical exercise and reading theatre scrolls was a much more pleasurable way to spend his time than read about how his Father, Uncle, Grandfather, and Great-Grandfather had gone out of their way to cause suffering.

He knew that pretending not to see any of it didn’t undo the deeds but it did make him feel vaguely better. Because if he kept reading those reports and books, and scrolls, he also had to ask himself if there was something wrong with him for not finding the deeds righteous. 

And if he should be sorry or grateful that he felt that way.

He shook the thought away as Wan Shi Tong spoke, “You shall travel, disguised, around this continent and fetch the scrolls and books in need of copying yourself. One of the Knowledge Seekers will take over copying in the meantime.”

“I get to go outside ?”

Zuko had never expected that to happen. He had spent well over a year underground by now and had long ago given up all hope of feeling the wind on his face, touching grass, or walking amongst the humans of the world.

“That is a prerequisite for travelling, yes,” Wan Shi Tong said dryly, “You will be expected back here in three months with these materials.”

A wave of a midnight black wing summoned a small scroll into existence right in Zuko’s hands. A short glance through the list revealed names – none of which he could bring himself to memorise – of recent reports on the war and the colonies, located in said colonies or strongholds located between them.

“Please remember to pack enough clothes, money, and other supplies for the journey. The storage rooms are open to you,” Wan Shi Tong finished, already turning to sweep out of the room, “A ladder will be waiting for you in the main hall.”

“Yes sir,” Zuko said, still staring down at the list with trepidation, “I won’t let you down.”

Two hours later found Zuko standing under the open skies for the first time in fifteen months. For a moment or several, he froze, staring over the endless dunes of sand disappearing into the distance like waves of the sea, feeling the slight, dry wind tickling his skin.

The flying sand particles felt unpleasant against his scarred cheek.

His hand snapped to press against his scar, his gaze darting towards the sun that was steadily disappearing beyond the horizon on his right. Burn scars shouldn’t be exposed to sunlight, and now he would need to remember that much better.

It would hardly do much and there was really no other human to see his discoloured face – had been no other human, he realised with a start, this trip just might change that – but he himself preferred the idea of not discolouring it further with sun exposure.

At least he had packed his makeshift eyepatch fashioned out of a rag. Not that he would need it right at that moment.

Night-time was approaching.

Slowly, he turned towards the setting sun, breathing deeply. All the Fire Nation towns and strongholds were on the West coast of the continent. Despite numerous attempt over the decades, he knew that no colony or stronghold had ever been successfully erected in the East coast, near Ba Sing Se. His Uncle had come the closest and even he had failed in the end. 

So, for the foreseeable future, he would be following the setting sun, like some sort of macabre analogy of his own life.

Zuko adjusted his pack, and started moving.

Zuko’s only previous experience with travelling were the luxurious palanquins, Royal Family’s private cruise ships, beast-drawn carriages in the mountains – and a fevered, pained trip across the sea to be abandoned in the Earth Kingdom, which was rather more like a nightmare than an experience.

This, trekking through endless sands, then equally endless plains, mountain paths, and forests, was as far from that as could be. For one thing, he was alone, and he was actually expected to do stuff.

Well, not so much expected as needed because otherwise he would die.

Zuko sucked at fishing and hunting, which he took the time to try because he had read enough to realise that his food would run out sooner or later. However, he did try to make his rice, flatbreads, and jerky – smoking a skill learnt  on a particular sleepless night early in his quest to regain his firebending and being only able to produce smoke – last to the best of his ability. He was grateful the Seekers had made him learn skills like cooking and washing because he was pretty sure he would have died otherwise.

He travelled mostly by night, firstly because that was the only smart way to travel the Si Wong desert, and secondly because it was just easier.

After months of missing the sun, he hadn’t expected himself to become such a creature of the night and shadows. 

It also meant that he was two weeks into his journey before he encountered other humans.

“Wake up!”

Zuko startled awake on his bedroll, and was about to sit up, when he felt something cold and sharp against his neck. He froze, and slowly, squinted up at the shadowy figure looming over him, holding a knife to his throat. 

A raggedy man in dusty clothes crouched over him, his face drawn and thin, some expression Zuko couldn’t quite read shining in his eyes.

He would be easy to beat, if he just–

Something shifted on his bad side and he felt his pack shifting by his head.

“Don’t move,” the knife-holder snarled, “My friend’s just lightening your load.”

“Why?” Zuko asked, his voice rough from sleep. 

Maybe not so easy after all, not with two opponents.

The knife-holder sneered, shifting the knife closer to Zuko’s jugular, “None of your business. Just stay still.”

Zuko obeyed and waited as the unseen person went through his pack. He heard his coins clinking as the money pouch was removed. But that wasn’t the only thing being stolen, not with all the shifting and shuffling sounds.

If Zuko had to guess, they were stealing his food. 

Soon, the knife-holder started to withdraw further away from him, knife still pointed right at him, and Zuko’s hand shot to where his swords should be.

They weren’t there.

Blast it.

The thief joined his friend, carrying his swords and food rations. He was handling the sword like he didn’t know how to use it, which was a relief, but Zuko didn’t dare to attack. 

He was outnumbered, sleepy, and his opponents were alert and holding all the weapons. It would be better to let them go, then follow and get his stuff back later.

“We’re just gonna go,” the knife-holder said, waving it threateningly, “You better not come after us!”

As if.

As soon as the sounds of the robbers had faded into the distance, Zuko drove for his back, shifting through it for what was missing. The food was gone, but much to his shock, his money wasn’t.

He stared at the still full money pouch, sitting innocently among him rumbled spare shirts, right next to his half-empty waterskin. 

Why hadn’t they stolen his money?

Tracking down the thieves hadn’t been as easy as Zuko had assumed. The ground  – packed down from generations of feet making their way over it – was hard as a rock and every step raised a cloud of dust that had him coughing. 

Somewhere, in the far distance, he could smell smoke. Far too much smoke to be from a campfire.

He tried not to think about what had caused the smoke. 

Because there was no smoke without fire.

Zuko’s eyes swept the sparse underbrush for any signs of the thieves, quietly despairing that he should have spent some more time reading up on hunting practices and tracking because this was impossib–

There was a freshly broken branch.

The only reason he knew it was freshly broken, was because the wood inside the bark was as pale as that one tree in the Palace Gardens, which he had fallen out of when he was seven, accidentally breaking a branch. He immediately switched directions, crouching down and quieting his steps as best as he could. 

Now he came across more signs of life, trampled vegetation, broken branches, even something that might have been footprints. Not quite fresh, but more like a vague footpath that had been worn into the ground over a longer period of time.

Or maybe Zuko was imagining that.

Whatever the case, he needed to get his food, and swords back. He was on a mission for a literal Spirit and he was really not interested to find out how a failure would be received.

This was his first time overground in well over a year; he was not giving up his outdoor privileges just because he was robbed .

Chapter Text

Zuko didn’t know how long he had stalked through the forest – following signs of passage he could only barely make out in places, and making wild guesses the rest of the way – before he could make out the flickering firelight between the trees. He immediately slowed his approach, and started to circle to the side; it wouldn’t do to be noticed immediately, not if he wanted to avoid the ‘unarmed and outnumbered’ problem he had had before.

He came upon a rock face that appeared to grow higher and steeper the closer it got to the firelight. He hesitated for a moment, before scaling up the wall and using one of the dangerously narrow ledges to make his way closer to the fire and the thieves apparently sharing a meal from his provisions . 

Soon Zuko came to hover over the small campfire, carefully peering down at the pair of thieves. At a distance and without the hazing effects of adrenaline, they appeared even more bedraggled than before; clothes dusty and ragged, the green dyes barely visible from years upon years of wear and tear. Their faces were thin and weather-beaten, brown from the sun. Zuko couldn’t quite tell their ages, he was willing to bet anywhere between thirty and sixty, and they had definitely seen better days. 

The thieves also, fortunately, seemed to be disinclined to look up, and instead concentrated on wolfing down servings of Zuko’s rice. They clearly expected no one to sneak up on them. 

Poor judgement of them but a lucky break for Zuko.

“Rice shouldn’t taste this good,” one of the thieves mumbled, his cheeks bulging as he shovelled the food into his mouth.

“Mmmm,” the other agreed, “Don’t eat so fast.”

“Killjoy.”

“And we need to save some for home.”

The first thief sighed and slowed his eating speed to a more reasonable level.

Zuko stared down at the duo, feeling perplexed. They had truly only been after the food? They hadn’t just forgotten his money by mistake? Why would they do that? It just didn’t make any sense at all. The most logical choice would have been to steal both the food and the money – or just the money – whereas stealing just the food made absolutely no sense. 

Money would have been the most logical target, yet it hadn’t even entered the equation, apparently. 

Or maybe it had.

“We should have taken the money too.”

The speaker was the hungrier of the two thieves, his dark hair hanging around his face in a lank manner. 

“Don’t start,” the other objected, chasing a grain of rice around his nearly empty bowl with his chopsticks. 

“No, seriously, it would have helped us in the future.”

“ Food helps us.”

“Yeah, as long as we have it, but none of this is going to last us and our families long. And you know it as well as I do.”

A sigh. 

“Would you stop yammering about that every time?! We’re not monsters like the Fire Nation!”

Zuko’s breath caught. 

Monsters? He wanted to protest but… he could see the point, after everything he had read. Especially after everything he had read about the military higher-ups and the Royal Family, but they weren’t monsters .

They were people.

People who did horrible things but still just people . 

Just like people from all the other Nations.

And that went doubly for everyone else, the soldiers and civilians.

“We’re not gonna leave a kid helpless with no food and money like they do!”

…even if some of them did horrible things as well, they were still just people .

Zuko had to believe that.

“You’re too soft-hearted.”

“Fuck you. I’m not killing a kid by negligence. We left the money, he can still buy more food at whatever place he stops at next. Travellers buy food all the time! No one’s going to find anything suspicious about that. Whereas us? Everyone knows we can’t get shit because Fire Nation keeps confiscating everything. With food we can at least pretend that we’re somehow stretching our supplies. No possibility of doing that with fucking money.”

“I fucking know that, don’t ya start lecturing me.”

“Well you keep asking stupid shit.”

“ You’re stupid shit.”

The thieves sulked quietly around their campfire.

Finally, the second thief sighed heavily, “I know you’re right. I’m just so fucking frustrated by everything.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to your stupid shit.”

“Fuck you. No one should get used to this.”

“Take that up with the occupying forces, and hope they won’t burn you to a crisp.”

“So supportive.”

“If you wanted supportive, you should have recruited your wife for this.”

At last, with some more bickering about who had the softer stone for a pillow, the thieves settled down to sleep the rest of the night away. That left Zuko alone, his thoughts racing like a priced racing eel-hound from the Royal Stables. 

And while his thoughts raced, he wasn’t quite sure what to think. After finding the thieves, a large part of him had expected them to start bragging about their score or – more accurately – start fighting and kill each other for actually failing to take his money too. Because what kind of thieves didn’t steal the money? He had always thought that was the main motive for robbing travellers on the road.

Instead he got a mild disagreement and a desperate attempt to keep a hold of some manner of morals, even while stealing.

Neither theatre scrolls or municipal or provincial police reports had prepared him for this.

The reports on the war, on the other hand, kind of had . 

Granted, they didn’t call it ‘stealing’. Rather it was ‘resource and equipment acquisition’ which Zuko had assumed meant they requested more supplies from the closest base or the home islands.

Apparently, he was wrong about that too, like so many other things. 

He should have figured out ages ago that it wouldn’t be something so simple. After all, there had been reports of raiding Earth Kingdom military camps and supply convoys, as well as reports of Earth Kingdom forces doing the same. 

There had also been old reports of Earth Kingdom forces raiding the colonies. Decades old reports, before the Fire Nation had managed to build up their buffer zone and consolidated their power and position on the Western Coast of the Earth Kingdom.

Sometimes Zuko felt really stupid, and like he had more than earned Azula’s comments about being a dummy. 

Even if Father had ever favoured him for the position, Zuko would have always been too stupid to be the Fire Lord.

And too soft-hearted. But in the light of everything he had learnt since he had been exiled, Zuko really couldn’t bring himself to regret that . 

He tried not to think about the 41st Division.

Instead he brought his focus back to the present, staring down at the duo of sleeping thieves, their ill begotten goods, and the remains of their faintly smoking campfire. He sighed heavily.

The next morning the thieves awoke, still in possession of their ill begotten food, but without the pair of dao swords.

It had been another week since he had run into the thieves, and now he had arrived at the first stop of his illicit document collecting journey. 

Jing Gu was one of the most South-Eastern Fire Nation bases, located some ways North from Hanliao River, near Gaipan. It was a relatively quiet area for now, but in a few years the main push further into Earth Kingdom would push through there. It was also a central location for reports coming in from further East.

That was probably why Wan Shi Tong wanted him to check these reports out now. 

But how to get in?

The minimum enlistment age was sixteen – or seventeen, if you counted the one year of mandatory training required after enlistment – and Zuko was a tad too young to pass for that yet. He also had an… unfortunately easily identifiable face.

And he wasn’t Spirit, and thus couldn’t employ whatever Spirit Shenanigans the Knowledge Seekers used to get around without notice. 

Maybe Wan Shi Tong had forgotten that?

And he couldn’t just bail on his task and run off, the Owl Spirit would be sure to track him down and punish him somehow. Besides, there was nowhere for him to run to . He was well and truly screwed, with an impossible task ahead of him, and no spiritual boons or favours to call in. 

He rather doubted even praying would work with his track record. And he certainly couldn’t think of any Spirits he would be willingly indebted to in addition to Wan Shi Tong. If only there was something…

In an act of desperation, he started to shift through his bag for any inspiration, none of which seemed to be forthcoming. He was kind of tempted to throw the entire bag into the underbrush, until his hand came into contact with a hard shape.

He froze. 

He had brought it along in a bout of childish nostalgia – and maybe even a distant hope of protection – but maybe…

His hold of the object tightened.

Maybe he had a Spirit he could use, after all.

Chapter Text

The night had fallen, the darkness deep but for the twinkling torches of Jing Gu Camp, several miles down the road.

Zuko crouched on a branch above the road, quiet as a shadow amongst the branches. He had changed his dusty green robes into something darker and more form fitting, stashing his bag ways away. With him, he only carried an empty sack, his swords, and a mask. 

His fingers fidgeted over the mask, hesitating. He didn’t really have any better options, but was he  really going to do this? 

He glanced down at the mask. Its empty eyes and eerie grin stared back up at him.

Zuko sighed heavily.

Slowly, he tied the mask onto his face, adjusting the straps to keep it from slipping. 

After all, it wouldn’t do for the missing, exiled Prince to show up out of nowhere and steal classified documents for Spirits.

Zuko did his best to melt into the shadows against the walls of the tents and occasional buildings dotting the camp, more often than not feeling terribly exposed. Several times he was half-certain someone had spotted him and was about to call out an alarm, but it never happened.

Somehow, no one seemed to notice him despite how obvious he felt in his ratty, dark clothes, and the wooden theatre mask depicting the Dark Water Spirit.

He couldn’t look more suspicious if he tried. By all logic, someone should have noticed him by now.

For just a second he considered if he was being favoured after all, before dismissing the thought. The likelihood of any Spirit – much less a fictional one – favouring him was abysmal. Maybe he was just lucky for once?

“Azula was born lucky, you were lucky to be born.”

That thought he shook determinedly away. If anything, he was making his own luck.

Or, as he failed to consider, maybe he was being favoured by the Mightiest of the Knowledge Spirits, Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things. 

And that was an event that hadn’t happened in centuries, for Wan Shi Tong hadn’t been given a reason to favour anyone. Scholars regularly asked for his blessings when looking for knowledge in archives and universities around the world, but why would he heed such calls? He already, most likely, possessed the knowledge the humans were looking for, and if they were worthy, if their archive and library was properly maintained, they would find the information they looked for. His blessings wouldn’t do anything.

But for a human who worked directly for him, was doing his bidding, and was practically his ward… that was someone he could favour, even without being asked.

It was for the sake of knowledge he didn’t have yet, after all.

“Remind me again why we need to make these bloody rounds so often?” a voice yawned mightily in the middle of the question, right around the corner of the house Zuko was pressed against. 

“In case someone unauthorised makes it in, dingus.”

A scoff, “As if that would ever happen.”

“Your arrogance is astounding. The mudbenders could sneak in at any point and crush our hands.”

“Your paranoia is astounding.”

“You don’t even know what astounding means.”

“Well fuck you.”

“Well fuck you sidew–”

The talker stopped and turned to frown at the house beside them.

“Korie?”

“Nothing. Just thought I saw something.”

“I was right,” the voice was victorious, “the constant rounds are stupid and you need more sleep before your paranoia goes overboard.”

A thud.

“Seriously, fuck you , Moli.”

The pair of guards turned the corner, passing through another empty stretch of half natural, half official alleyways and paths criss-crossing through the camp. As they disappeared around the next corner, a shadowy figure dropped down from the roof of the wooden house, quiet as an actual shadow. 

Zuko glanced after the pair of guards, shaking his head in quiet dismay. 

The best military in the world, indeed.

He continued on his way, ducking into the shadows, wall crevices, and spaces between the folds of tents, as if he had never even been there.

The archives of the camp were in a wooden building near the main command tent. It looked more like a repurposed shed than anything else, but it had probably been chosen more for its location than looks. It was utilitarian, with small, high windows, a single door, and its inside was full of organised chaos piled high on rickety shelves. Said chaos had spread on all other available corners and surfaces, as if a landslide had swept through the room.

Especially messy were the bins in the corner near the door, with a very haphazard sign for ‘Maps’ stuck on the side of one of them. Someone had clearly attempted to organise the shelf full of financial records at some point, as well as the boxes labelled as ‘Acquisitions and Resources.’ Some personnel records seemed to have been outright ransacked.

Zuko tried not to imagine why that might be, but he had a very bad feeling.

He shook the thought away, and dug Wan Shi Tong’s list out from his pocket, his gaze flickering over the list of camps and strongholds, as well as the records stored in each. From Jing Gu he needed to get…

His stomach dropped.

War Diaries. 

He really didn’t want to read any more, not after the ones he had already copied. While the final reports by general and unit commanders had generally been the most chilling war related he had read, due to the callousness shown towards human lives on both sides of the conflict, the War Diaries weren’t much better.

Because those showed what the individuals on the lowest levels chose to do, when given the chance. Because not all orders – just most – included the total destruction the Fire Nation military left in its wake. And still, sometimes… the results were the same.

Zuko steeled himself and headed deeper into the archive, looking for the section with War Diaries. It should be sizable, the camp had been established for a while and many units had made their way through the area, leaving their archives at a safer location, to be collected and then sent back to the Fire Nation for proper archival. 

Those Diaries had been being fetched by the Knowledge Seekers since the Fire Nation section of the Library had been destroyed, and Zuko had even copied some of them. 

But the most recent ones were still in the warzone, and those were the ones Zuko had been sent to get.

The War Diaries were all packed haphazardly in boxes, in some semblance of numerical and chronological order, as far as he could tell. Zuko pulled out his sack and started looking for the Diaries specified in the list. All of them were only a year or two old at most, old enough so that no one should notice them missing. 

As he was stuffing the books into his sack, he made a mistake of taking a few too many at once, causing one to fall to the ground. He leant to pick it up with a muffled curse, and froze, staring down at the words scrawled on the cover.

41st Division, 96th Year After the Purge.

Zuko felt as if he had been punched on the stomach and throat in quick succession. He couldn’t breathe or move as he stared down at the Division number and the year.

“You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?!”

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

His ears were ringing. 

Slowly, he turned to look at the box the Diary had been in. 

There was no other book marked with the Division number 41.

They had been wiped out, just like General Bujing had intended.

Zuko felt sick.

Only thudding footsteps outside the shack prompted him into moving again. He stuffed the fallen book into his sack, and tried not to think about it as he moved over to the next box and the next, the sack slowly filling up with more War Diaries, more tragedies.

So many lives and stories on so many uncared for pages, and Zuko knew if he let himself care in that very moment, he would break. Ten thousand troops to a division, along with the supporting medical staff, as well as the logistics corps. His hand spasmed around a book and he forced himself to take a slow, steady breath. 

Don’t think about it .

The enlistment and conscription age was sixteen. All of those infantrymen were barely into what was considered adulthood, and would never make it any further into it, having had their lives cut short. They had been barely older than Zuko was now, and yet, they didn’t even have the slim pickings, shadow of a life that he did.

In his sack, he held the stories of the lives lost for the sake of a Nation, who didn’t care for them, who betrayed them. 

Zuko clenched his fists and continued working.

Chapter Text

“You have been quiet since you returned,” Wan Shi Tong remarked.

His charge shifted on his seat, not looking up, as the brush slowly dripped ink back onto the inkplate made of stone. No ink had made it onto the page this time either.

The boy had returned from the World of Humans three days ago, quiet and withdrawn. He had, however, headed straight back to copying the books and scrolls he had fetched, with a totally new dedication to his duties. Wan Shi Tong would have been delighted by this turn of events, if not for the Book. 

The Book was one of the thinner tomes Zuko had retrieved from the Mortal World, and the Knowledge Spirit was yet to see the cover. 

It wasn’t being copied either. The boy would just occasionally – or regularly might even be a better word to describe the actions – bring it out, and leaf through the pages, only to usually stop at the end to stare blankly at the pages.

Afterwards, he would always be even more quiet and withdrawn, staring at the wall above his copying desk as the ink dried without ever being used.

It was worrying, and Wan Shi Tong did not like the feeling. Especially as the boy’s attitude and motivation problems should have stopped with his visit to the surface. 

But no.

The boy was infuriating, and Wan Shi Tong was reminded why he tended to avoid humans at every opportunity.

“What has brought on this mood?”

Zuko shrugged.

“Zuko.”

He flinched slightly, but did finally look up at Wan Shi Tong, “It’s just…” he hesitated, glancing at the Book, placed face down beside the book he should have been copying right at that moment, “These people… this Division, the 41st… they’re why I’m here. I tried, but I couldn’t even help them. They’re all dead.”

“Everything dies sooner or later, even Spirits.”

Not that Wan Shi Tong liked admitting it but Spirits did die whenever they had fulfilled their purpose and no one called on them anymore. The Four Principal Winds had been at a decline for nearly a century but them actually dying would take a millennia or more yet. 

The People of Air were not the only ones who called upon them, even if other Humans only called on them subconsciously; farmers wishing for rain clouds, fishermen for steady winds, bored children on sweltering summer days for a slight breeze. 

Those wishes would keep the Four Principal Winds alive even after the last of the lingering traces of the People of Air and their culture had died out. 

“Maybe so,” Zuko muttered, “I just… I failed my duties as their Prince and now I can’t do anything for anyone else either. It was just a useless gesture in the end.”

Wan Shi Tong hummed, “I see. However, you’re being a great help to me, and anyone who wishes to utilise the Fire Nation section from my Library in the future. That may not seem like much from your viewpoint, but I assure you, preserving knowledge is a worthy endeavour.”

Zuko sighed a little, letting his fingers linger over the Book, now turned the right side up, with the division number and the year on display. 

“That’s true, I’ve learned a lot of things here I never would have learned back hom– in the Fire Nation, I mean.”

Wan Shi Tong observed the boy shrewdly, “Do not be ashamed of your homesickness,” he said, “I would, however, suggest that you seek some wisdom from what Avatar Luang has written on Water.”

“Avatar Luang, sir?”

“You have been using their treatise on the Elements in your studies, no?”

“Yes, I have. I haven’t read about Water though.”

“Which is why I believe you could gain some insight on reading that section.”

“...I’ll go do that now, then.”

Zuko wasn’t sure why Wan Shi Tong would want him to read bending philosophy for this. 

Certainly, Avatar Luang’s treatise did detail the general philosophy of the people who specialised in the bending – what was the deepest tenet of their character as a nation – but why would reading about Water help him reconcile his… homesickness and feelings towards Fire?

Maybe the Owl Spirit was going senile.

Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud, but it was a concerning thought that flitted through his mind several times as he made the familiar walk to the bending section. Finding the well-worn scroll was as easy as breathing, and Zuko headed to the closest desk, where he lit a small flame in one of the green glass lamps with a snap of his fingers.

Water is the Element of change and community. 

The People of Water get their power from the Great Spirits of the Moon and Ocean, Tui and La. They were the only Great Spirits who did not teach substitutes to teach their People, but instead taught them directly. Tui, the Great Spirit of the Moon, pulled at the tides and the People of Water learnt by watching, the bending forms flowing and undulating. They are evading like air, heavy like earth and adaptable like fire. I have already touched upon the unexpected similarities between Water and Fire, even though at first they may seem the most dissimilar.

Water is however at a disadvantage when it comes to speed. All other manners of bending require only, at minimum, a push to get their Elements moving. A single rock can start an avalanche and even a starting push to a large rock will have it rushing forward for a while yet. A single blow of air can turn into a hurricane and even smaller air movements like air blasts will keep going until they've run out of power. A single spark can start a destructive fire and a fire jab will continue on even after the bender has given up their control of it. Water, however, requires a constant push, especially with delicate bending. A large tidal wave can very well sustain itself after the first push but a water whip requires constant attention. Otherwise the end result may very well be a mere splash of no consequence. 

This has resulted in waterbending forms focusing on adaptability and flowing from one move to the other, from defensive to offensive and back. Waterbending more than anything utilises a balance between negative and positive jing. Waterbenders' power rises and falls with the Moon – but only on lunar eclipses are they completely without their powers.

Water is almost as thoroughly among us as Air but it’s generally in forms that are hard or impossible to control, which can leave a waterbender at a disadvantage. Water can be found in the Air, plants and even in our very blood but it takes an extremely skilled and powerful bender to utilise and learn these possibilities. Water's presence also allows for great many possibilities in healing and of the Four Elements Water is the most well-known for its healing properties, even though all Elements carry the potential for different kinds of healing. 

…What was he supposed to be getting out of this? 

Zuko stared down at the words, his mind absolutely blank for the first time since he stole the War Diaries at Jing Gu camp. 

This was like talking to Uncle. 

He sighed heavily. 

Back to the basics. Water’s core was change and community. He didn’t have a community anymore, so it couldn’t be that. Or well, he had the Spirits of the Library, kind of. But Wan Shi Tong wouldn’t have meant that , he was too emotionally stunted for that, even if he had held a birthday party for Zuko, and had let him out for trips. 

So it had to be about change. Change, transform… adapt.  

He had been adapting to his circumstances since Father had sent him away, since he had come to the Library. So he had to adapt… more?

How? How could he adapt more? And how could he apply that to his failures as a Prince of the Fire Nation? How could he help–

Ah. 

Adapt his own definition of help to match his current abilities and resources. He couldn’t really save the lives of his people or anyone else. But… he had let the robbers keep the food they had taken from him. He had helped them, kind of. 

Maybe he could do that on his future trips outside too? Not get robbed but just… be helpful to people he directly encountered, not try to bite more he could chew. Do small things that were under his power.

And he could write. He was restoring knowledge, who said he couldn’t provide more while he was at it? He could write down the stories that would be otherwise lost, he could make sure that the truth about how this war affected small people would be known. 

Then, maybe, someday, some scholar would encounter the Library and his writings, and maybe learn something from it, learn the other side of this war. Learn what was happening beyond the troop movements and the grand national endeavours. 

He hoped that would be enough.

Chapter Text

Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai – may his reign be short, and not too disastrous to the common man of the Fire Nation – age 15, the former Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, now the only human clerk in Wan Shi Tong’s Spirit Library, had a dilemma.

He had been stuck in the rafters of a supposed-to-be random corridor in the Pohuai Stronghold for going on seven hours, and he was not pleased about this. 

Let us set the scene. 

Zuko, at this point an old hat at breaking and entering, had saved his biggest challenge yet as his last stop on his third document and book retrieval mission. That challenge being the Pohuai Stronghold, the impenetrable Fire Nation fortress, located near the ruins of Taku on the Eastern Coast of the continent. The area had been under Fire Nation control for well over seventy years and had almost no Earth Kingdom settlements remaining. Several small fishing villages persisted and as they held no strategic value, the commander of the fortress was content to gather taxes from them and let them be.

Thus, Zuko had bought some dry and energy rich snacks and extra rope from one of said villages, stashed his travel bag and regular clothes in the ruins, dressed up as the Dark Water Spirit, and went on his merry way with his book sack that, due to something Wan Shi Tong had done to it, contained an infinite amount of space and made it small and light enough to fit in Zuko’s pocket.

He had stashed himself under a carriage delivering food to the Stronghold, and had ridden in without anyone the wiser. Disembarking from the carriage had been equally easy, as it had been conveniently parked right next to open store room doors, and said store room had already been half full of equally conveniently placed wooden crates, sacks full of rice, barrels full of booze, and bins full of cabbages, offering an ample amount of hiding spots to anyone wishing to do so. Then, when the store room and the yard had emptied, he had flitted through the closest door into the main Stronghold, sneaking through the corridors and shadowed corners, looking for the archival room. 

Then, a disaster had struck.

“Spi-Spi-Spi-Spirit!” a guard screamed like he was being eaten alive.

Zuko just about jumped up into the rafters from fright as he hadn’t even noticed the guard coming up to him. His ears were ringing in a headache inducing way from the scream, and he couldn’t summon any thought beyond confusion. No way was he actually that scary, besides, he was obviously wearing a theatre mask!

It didn’t even cross his mind that some people might have never been to the theatre, much less to the specific play his mask was from. And even if everyone had been, the likelihood of them being a big enough fan to immediately recognise it was even more unlikely.

Finally Zuko recovered from his bafflement enough to knock the guard out, which was still way too late to actually be of much use. As soon as other guards reacted to the initial scream, he would have more guards to deal with, no matter what he did.

Which meant that he needed to disappear, and fast.

Except he couldn’t just leave , because he hadn’t yet finished with his book and document retrieval mission, and he was not going to ruin his so far perfect record because of a guard who happened to get lucky enough to spot him.

And scare him half to death but that was beside the point, and not being told to any Knowledge Seeker who would ask how the mission had gone.

He would be the laughing stock of the Library if he did that. And being eternally laughed at by a bunch of Spirit Foxes was not on Zuko’s list of things he was interested to experience.

A clamour of footsteps thundered somewhere off to his front right, along with vague yelling.

Zuko grimaced and sprinted to the front left, as he should have done the second he was done knocking the guard out. He had no clue if the archival room was in that direction, but it was the only one available to him where it might be. 

He had to find a hiding place, and fast.

This had left Zuko in his current hiding place in the rafters of the corridor right outside the Stronghold Commander’s office . The morning had dawned some time ago, and every one of the guards seemed to be even more alert as they searched for him.

Pros, he knew how the search for him was going at pretty much any given moment.

Cons, it had been a very busy corridor since he found his hiding place, and he was no closer to reaching the archival room than before. 

He didn’t even know where it was because he had still managed to be a competent enough document and book borrower that no one had realised what his objective was. In all actuality, pretty much all the guards were convinced he had broken in to kill the Commander of the Stronghold.

Zuko couldn’t help but contemplate the irony of being in a perfect position to do so, if it was actually his goal. 

Sadly, it wasn’t.

Or not really, Zuko had zero interest in killing anyone. Especially as he had the general impression, that the Commander was good at his job and cared for the people serving under him.

Zuko would be a horrid assassin.

Another several sets of footsteps came to a stop beneath him, apparently here to deliver another report on how they had failed to find ‘the Spirit Intruder.’

If they thought him to be a Spirit on an assassination mission, how did they even plan to stop him?

Zuko held in a sigh. 

“Sir! Sector Xuanming on the fourth floor is clear of the intruder!” one of the overly enthusiastic guards declared loudly after knocking on the door.

The Commander, looking like a platypus bear who had been shot in the behind with an arrow next question was sharp and clearly doubtful.

“Even the archival room?” 

…

No blasted way. 

Zuko was never that lucky. 

“Yes!”

The guard was also obviously lying, all the archival rooms in military installations received only a negligible amount of attention at any given moment. The Commander clearly knew it too but simply sighed in defeat and sent the guards to check another sector.

Now Zuko just needed to get up one floor and make his way North. Somehow.

Maybe he could set something on fire as a distraction on this floor?

…

Worth a try. Now, time to move.

In the end, Zuko’s heist at Pohuai Stronghold took a record amount of nine hours, involved crawling around in the pipe work and along the rafters, knocking out a total of thirteen guards, setting the kitchen on fire and then flooding it to corral the fire. It was a total mess but it did work as an effective distraction. Even the Commander showed up, demanding to know who had tried to make some illegal moonshine with fireflakes again .

That question might have been partially prompted by Zuko’s own sudden craving for fireflakes, as he had ended up stuffing several bags into his sack for later. It had been literal years since he had any, no one with any heart could blame him for that particular crime.

He had booked it up to the North side of the fourth floor and the archival room the second it became clear everyone would be distracted. Finding the necessary books had been a tad harder than normally, mostly because the archival room was considerably bigger than on any of the camps Zuko had broken into before. 

But he had prevailed and even successfully made his way out of the Stronghold. Unfortunately said escape route had been through the sewers, which had left him fearing whether the books would start to smell.

He knew he himself was a lost cause, but please, let the books and scrolls be free of any odours . 

After getting out, he had made his way to the ruins of Taku, planning to wash his clothes in the nearby river as soon as possible. While he had no other stops to pick up books on this journey, he was not willing to carry his rank smelling clothes through the wilderness, and the Si Wong Desert, only to be forced to wash them at the Library. No way . He had some pride, and pretending like everything had gone off without a hitch was his biggest goal for his return.

No one had seen Zuko, uh-huh, nope, must have been a hallucination of some sort. Especially if anyone ever asked him anything about it. 

He really hoped there would be no significant consequences of his blunder.

Of course there would be a blasted poster .

And why were they calling him the Blue Spirit of all things?

Chapter Text

Zuko stared at the announcement board with a sense of vague disbelief, pride, and regret. He knew he had been spotted while at the Pohuai Stronghold, and that he had caused quite a stir, but this was too much.

Because now his masked face adorned a wanted poster, with a somewhat hefty price attached to it. For, allegedly, ‘mockery of the Fire Nation Military, breaking and entering military installations, property damage, and impersonation of a Spirit.’

Which were all true allegations, granted, but he still felt somehow slighted. He might never be able to claim to be a Prince again, but to be instead reviled as a villain… 

Honestly, this felt like another identity crisis in the making.

And they had again failed to notice that Zuko had stolen a considerable amount of their archives. Their security and investigative skills really sucked. Zuko was even a little bit embarrassed on their behalf.

And it had taken several robberies for Fire Nation to even notice anything. Maybe Pohuai Stronghold’s reputation as the best wasn’t totally unfounded… even if the best was also pretty pathetic.

At least he was leaving the Fire Nation territory and would be free from his blunder momentarily.

“Have you heard–”

“Unbelievable–”

“Yes, the Blue Spirit–”

Zuko bravely fought against his fervent desire to bang his head against the table. 

He was taking a break from his trek back to the Library from Pohuai Stronghold. A sudden Spring rain had covered the world in its curtain, and he had sought shelter in a small Earth Kingdom village near Omashu. A small, cosy bar had offered further shelter from the rain, and Zuko had found himself drawn to the corner, and a warm bowl of pigchicken noodle soup was well on its way to warming him up.

How had that Blue Spirit nonsense made its way into an Earth Kingdom village already ? It wasn’t like they traded wanted posters with Fire Nation because the definition of a criminal in one place tended to be a hero in the other.

As appeared to be the case here as well.

“Finally the Spirits are taking revenge for the atrocious acts of the Fire Nation!”

Ah, that explained it. 

“As if,” he muttered under his breath and picked up another clump of noodles with his chopsticks..

The bar went quiet. Slowly, Zuko looked up from his soup, only to come face to face with several annoyed faces.

“Are you saying what the Fire Nation is doing isn’t atrocious, young man?” one woman demanded, looking ready to spit nails.

Zuko straightened immediately, uncomfortably reminded of Li and Lo.

“No no no,” he denied quickly, “I just meant that the likelihood of Spirits taking a direct action like that is…” he looked for a word that wouldn’t hopefully incite a riot, and couldn’t think of any, “nonexistent.”

“Are you dismissing the Spirits?!”

“ No ,” Zuko denied firmly. No way was he denying the agency and the existence of Spirits, he literally lived with a bunch of them , “I meant that Spirits in general don’t care that much for humans. If no Spirits have done anything to the Fire Nation since the war started, why would they do anything now ?”

Vague grumbling followed his statement.

“The boy is right,” one young woman sighed tiredly and slumped back to her seat the next table over, stuffing a Jiaozi into her mouth, “The Spirits abandoned us along with the Avatar a century ago.”

Not quite what Zuko had meant but it wasn’t like he could actually explain how he knew so much about how Spirits thought and regarded humans.

In the case of Wan Shi Tong, humans were annoyances and curiosities, to be studied, but in the end, no one human truly differed from another. There was no individuality in the eyes of Spirits.

Or well, maybe Zuko had kinda graduated into an individual category. He was pretty sure, at least, that he wasn’t just a ‘mere mortal’ anymore. 

“We can’t lose faith,” an old man insisted, waving his finger disapprovingly at both Zuko and the young woman, “We’re Earth, we’re steadfast, we remember and hold on, no matter the situation.”

There were scattered murmurs of agreement, and even a few grumbled protests.

“We’re losing ground to hold onto , old man,” a young man, bearing what appeared to be very fresh bandages and a vague smell of burn ointment, growled. He was ignoring the worried, fluttering hands and shushing of his companion, a woman who was probably his mother.

“Earth was, is, and will be. What is a raging Fire to Earth?” the old man declared.

“A shitload of work, suffering, and death,” the young man slammed his chopsticks down on the table.

“But which lasts longer, in the end? Earth , you stupid boy.”

The young man staggered to his feet with a snarl, “Don’t fucking lecture me! You haven’t been out there in decades at least, if ever! You don’t get to lecture me about how the War will pass! It’s been here for a century, killing our people and taking our land, and at that point philosophy does shit !”

“You of little faith, boy .”

The young soldier snarled, and staggered out into the rain, leaving his half eaten meal behind. His mother left some coins behind on the table as she hurried after him, carrying what appeared to be a standard pack of an Earth Kingdom soldier.

They could just barely make out quiet admonishments over the sound of the rain.

Zuko suddenly felt very uncomfortable and concentrated on shovelling the noodles into his mouth. The argument was fascinating to listen to – it sounded like something Avatar Luang would have written – but he also felt like an intruder, and in a way he was. 

The old man gave an imperious scoff as he leant back over his interrupted game of Pai Sho, all but slurping down his cup of lukewarm tea.

“Youth these days…” he muttered.

His opponent gave a put upon sigh, “Just play the next move and stop extending my suffering.”

“Now see here–”

As the two of them descended into an argument about their Flower Tiles, the young woman who had agreed with Zuko, sighed heavily.

“Sometimes I wish we wouldn’t be so steadfast,” she muttered under her breath – with a wary look at the old man – poking at the lonely Jiaozi on her plate.

“How so?” Zuko asked softly, not able to help himself as he leant closer to hear her answer, shooting an equally wary look at the old man.

The woman grimaced at him, “The War and the suffering caused by it would stop. We would be occupied, that’s true but… maybe the suffering would lessen. I’m tired . I have buried three older brothers, and I can’t help but think they would have been saved if they weren’t so…”

“...Earth?” Zuko offered.

“Yes.”

When Zuko returned to the Library, he was quick to hand off his latest loot to the Knowledge Seekers, before heading down to the bending section, to consult the familiar scroll.

Earth is the Element of substance and stability. 

The People of Earth get their power from the Great Spirit of Earth, Dadiqin, who taught the badgermoles to earthbend and who then taught the People. Their forms are forceful like fire, heavy like water and very unlike air. This was the Element that was the hardest for me to master, as it’s indeed my elemental opposite and I fear I've not perfectly understood all of its intricacies. Earthbending forms are sharp and direct, no flowing movements like with other Elements. Although I speculate that sandbending may involve more flowing movements, but as I have never interacted at length with a sandbender, I cannot say that for sure. 

Earth is maybe the easiest Element to take away, given the circumstances – putting an earthbender on a boat far from land is a sure way to defeat them. This however is not always feasible and thus earthbenders are often regarded as the most dangerous benders after firebenders, perhaps even mistakenly. For whereas Fire and Earth are threats that come from the outside, Air and Water are threats that can potentially lurk within a person. 

Earthbending is a force that utilises neutral jing, not being immediately either positive or negative like Fire and Air, nor flowing between the two like Water. This makes it stand apart from others and gives it stability the other Elements lack by their very nature. It has perhaps the most in common with Fire, for they both require a certain force of will that's not always necessary with other Elements. While Water at times requires force, it is however much more willing to work with the bender once in motion. Fire requires constant feeding of chi, and Earth requires stubbornness quite unlike any other Element, as it does not have inherent movements of its own.

Stubbornness indeed, Zuko mused. 

But eventually, even the highest mountain would be worn down with enough time. 

And Zuko had a feeling that the mountain that was Earth Kingdom was being worn down, slowly but steadily.

Chapter Text

Zuko had been minding his own business on his way to yet another mission. This time he had managed to avoid detection but still, somehow,  the stories of the exploits of the Blue Spirit that kept getting wilder and wilder as time went on. Even though Zuko wasn’t even doing anything. Much less anything mentioned in the stories, or even spending time on the areas in question. 

He had never gone that deep into Fire Nation controlled territory – or Earth Kingdom controlled territory – because doing so didn’t serve any purpose to his mission, and the risk of being recognised as either the Blue Spirit, or the exiled Prince Zuko, rose the more time he spent amongst Fire Nation people. The only reason he spent so much time trekking through the Earth Kingdom controlled areas was because that was the only way in and out of Si Wong Desert.

The border areas, no man’s lands, and the areas with constantly switching ruling armies were shockingly the safest place for him, and served his purposes best.

And in spite of reality, his list of crimes on his frequently updated wanted poster kept growing. Which led him to believe the Fire Nation military was either blaming him for all incidents of incompetence, or there were several copycat-pumas running around causing chaos. 

Or both.

At this point any suitably terrifying, mostly blue mask would elicit cries of ‘Blue Spirit!’

Zuko was vaguely offended by all of this but he literally had no one to complain to . He wasn’t planning to out himself to either the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom, Wan Shi Tong didn’t really care one way or another, and the Knowledge Seekers thought this was all absolutely hilarious. The cheeky spirits had even created a shrine , although fortunately Wan Shi Tong had taken it down with the sweep of his wing, scoffing about ‘false spirits.’

(Which had left a short but terrifying research binge about how one could become trapped as a Spirit, after being revered as one, and after starting out as a false spirit. Zuko was closely enough entangled in Spiritual matters, he had no desire to be dragged deeper.)

Of course everything was even worse outside the sanctuary offered by the Spirit Library, with numerous shrines in several villages Zuko had passed through. The prayers were all the same ‘protect us from the Fire Nation,’ even though the only thing Zuko did was ste– borrow documents.

It was all ridiculous.

And then, of course, Zuko had to go and make the situation even worse for himself by getting involved .

He had stopped in Si Shui village for a bowl of rice, shade, and a peaceful place to sit. Si Shui was a small, partially occupied backwater village in the Earth Kingdom most well known for textile manufacturing and weaving. While there was no active Fire Nation garrison within the village itself, there was one only half a day’s walk to the West and they regularly taxed the locals for resources, mostly food, and aforementioned textiles. 

However, this time they wanted hours of physical labour from the locals. 

Zuko had been concentrating on his meal and plans to raid the garrison archives that very night, when a commotion started on the main – and only – road of the village. 

“Let go! Let go of me!”

A voice of a girl echoed through the terrified bustle of the locals.

“Shut it, mud girl! We’ve got a job slated for you!”

“Please, let her go! She’s just a child! I can do the work!”

“Shut up! We told you the job’s for her!”

Zuko abandoned his rice bowl and walked closer to the window, pushing aside the reed curtain to peer outside. 

A Fire Nation soldier was holding a crying girl about Zuko’s age by her upper arm, while a woman – probably her mother – was on her knees before the soldier, begging him to let her go.

One of the soldiers laughed, and slapped the mother.

Zuko gritted his teeth and withdrew from the window. He all but upended the dregs of rice into his mouth, and slipped out, his gaze flicking over the awnings of the houses for a spot to hide his bag. He needed to be fast.

Master Sergeant Kushi was the third son of a small merchant family in the main islands. He had joined the Fire Nation Military at the age of sixteen, not having been terribly interested in the family business, and unlikely to ever inherit it. He had figured army was a career path as good as any, and he would have some freedom to do things as he pleased because no one actually gave a shit about the mud people. 

After a year of training, he had been sent off to fight in the Earth Kingdom. While he did spend some time on the battlefield, he never excelled enough to make it into any of the elite Divisions. Occupation and garrison work was more his speed anyway, less work, less danger, and more… free-time in the nearby villages. 

Basically, as far as he was concerned, it was a perfect career path.

“C’mon, mud girl, you’ve got work to do,” he said with a grin, pulling the girl hard enough to cause her to stumble again.

She whimpered.

He, and his comrades, laughed.

Shiiiiing.

And then, suddenly, there was a sword on his neck.

“Let the girl go,” a gruff voice rasped from behind him..

Slowly, Kushi turned his head, and paled. Behind him stood a Spirit, cloaked in fluid shadows, its empty eyes staring at him from a blue and white face. The long curving blade of a Dao was held at his neck, unnaturally steady and unmoving.

The entire village had gone quiet and taken a step back, but for the whimpers of the girl, her arms still held in Kushi’s grip

Kushi could hear his own heartbeat thumping faster than it ever had done before.

Was this what it was like to die due to Spirits? Had Agni forsaken him, and the glorious purpose of the Fire Nation?

“Bl-bl-bl-blue Sp-sp-sp-spirit!” he shrieked, let go of the girl, and bended a fireball at the threat.

The shining blade split into two, cutting his flames in half before extinguishing them.

Kushi and his comrades stumbled back. The Spirit didn’t let up. It just appeared closer to them, no visible steps taken, blades slashing.

Kushi whimpered in fear. He had never encountered any being that could just ignore the fire. 

The girl had scrambled somewhere beyond his field of vision as the Spirit attacked . Relentlessly, fluidly – it was probably a Water Spirit, with all the blue – how could Agni abandon them like this? Against an inferior Spirit from an inferior element?!

Another fireball was dissipated like it never even existed.

“Leave,” the Spirit rasped, pointing at Kushi with one of the Dao. It felt like the Spirit’s black, fathomless eyes saw right through his soul, and found him wanting,, “You’re not welcome here.”

“Yo-you have no right to order me around, foul spirit!” Kushi protested, “I’m a subject of Agni!”

The Spirit tilted its head, “Agni would be ashamed of you,” it hissed, “While he’s the Spirit of Fire, he’s also the Spirit of Light and Life , and what you’re doing is against his creed.”

Kushi gulped.

“ Leave .”

The blade flashed threateningly in the sunlight, again. 

Kushi didn’t move.

The Spirit took a step forward.

Kushi, and his comrades meep ’ed, and left, probably faster than Fire Nation military had ever left anywhere.

The silence was deafening. The Earth Kingdom villagers were frozen, as they stared after the retreating backs of the Fire Nation soldiers, and the foreboding Spirit, standing little ways before them. 

Then, the girl’s mother fell to her knees with a relieved sob, “ Thank you .”

Soon, others followed her example.

“Oh Benevolent Spirit, we’re forever in your debt!” the villagers kowtowed as the soldiers ran off.

“Blast it,” Zuko muttered and sprang on the nearest roof.

He was an idiot .

Zuko didn’t bother to stick around, instead leaping across several houses, trying to stick to the meagre shadows offered by the curling eaves and the dilapidated chimneys, until he returned to his fortunately undisturbed bag. 

He was quick to stuff the mask and the dark clothes inside, pulling on his dusty green changshan, and hoping no one had seen him.

He was such an idiot .

This was exactly what Zuko didn’t want to accomplish with his Spirit outfit but because he was an impulsive moron , he had managed to accomplish it anyway. 

Sometimes Zuko really wished he had more impulse control. He had managed it for years in the Palace. And at the Library too! 

(Zuko, of course, failed to consider the fact that his impulse control was essentially just a synonym for fear. And if he wasn’t afraid… why refrain from doing something that was right?)

By the time he made it to the next village, his bounty had shot up, and there was an actual shrine built. 

Zuko really hated his own impulsivity sometimes.

Okay, always .

Chapter Text

“I certainly did not expect you to gather devotees on your missions into the mortal world.”

Zuko groaned softly, almost burying his head in his arms – only refraining due to the latest scroll he was working on being in the way. 

(A beautifully illustrated treatise on the history of court dress, and all the meanings behind different embroidery motifs. Copying the illustrations felt like an exercise in futility – Zuko was nowhere near talented enough to pull off such delicate brush strokes to the detail and care they deserved – but he was pretty sure he was getting the main point across at least, even with subpar art. In his opinion it would have been better shelved in the cultural section, but as a court topic, it counted as political, and had thus been destroyed, which meant he had to deal with copying it.)

“It wasn’t like I meant to do that, sir,” he said, efficiently cleaning and drying his brush before turning to face Wan Shi Tong. Early on in his duties he had had trouble with ink spilling from unclean brushes, and unclean brushes being a total pain to use after they had dried into a literal clump. He had enough work to do without creating more for himself.

The Owl Spirit loomed between the nearest two shelves, like the dramatic Spirit he was. By this point Zuko was long used to dramatic looming and thought nothing of it. This attitude was helped immensely by the fact that the only person who had actively done it back in the Fire Nation had been Azula, and she had been shorter than him, and thus not terribly good at looming.

The Fire Lord had only loomed over him once, and he barely remembered it. Granted, he did have a very physical reminder of the occasion on his face but it wasn’t like he spent much time around mirrors – after he broke that one mirror in the cultural section.

So as far as he was concerned, that looming incident didn’t even exist.

“Yet, if you continue as you have, you will gain status as a minor Spirit,” Wan Shi Tong remarked wryly, “Very unbecoming of a mortal such as yourself.”

Zuko grimaced, “Is there any way to stop it?”

“Undeniable proof of humanity, or stopping and disappearing are the first ones that come to mind.”

Zuko sighed. There was no way to actually guarantee that ‘undeniable proof of humanity’ would work – he had read too much, and spoken to too many people to believe otherwise. People were willing to believe the weirdest things, even if they had direct proof of the opposite. And how would that even work? Get caught by the Fire Nation? No thanks. His life might not be terribly glamorous but he still liked being alive, and being able to go outside sometimes. He was not going to out himself to the Fire Nation just to make people stop thinking he was a Spirit.

He wasn’t any more interested in being caught by the Earth Kingdom either. The likelihood of them being okay with his real identity was very low.

Besides, neither plan accounted for the copycat-pumas, who had escalated his problem considerably. And they were also unlikely to let themselves be caught.

Especially after the Shi Hui village incident. Oh boy, that had inspired so many copycat-pumas. 

And it wasn’t like he could just stop using the mask, he still had the missions–

“Or I could change the mask,” Zuko sighed, “Spirits don’t just change how they look, not in the minds of the people. And if I keep doing the same things–”

Wan Shi Tong hummed, “Or they might think you’re a Shapeshifting Spirit, like Koh the Face-Stealer.”

“Please don’t keep crushing my hopes. And I can’t just stop , I have the missions for you, and I can’t do those with my own face,” Zuko grumbled.

“Pretending to be a Spirit is going beyond your domain, Zuko,” Wan Shi Tong said, “You’re just lucky you haven’t chosen any actual Spirit to impersonate.”

“He’s a play character, everyone should know that!”

“And not everyone knows the plays as you do. Spirits do not meddle in mortal matters, and you have managed to make considerable swathes of the population believe we do.”

“They believe you meddle anyway ,” Zuko protested, not even quite sure why he was protesting; it wasn’t like he wanted everyone to believe he was a Spirit, “There are countless stories and historical records about it.”

“Spirits only meddle in the matters of mortals, who try to meddle in the matters of Spirits,” Wan Shi Tong rebuked, “And only if the mortal goes to lengths beyond a simple wish or offering.”

Zuko scowled but didn’t protest because that was true. The stories did pretty much agree that one had to go out of their way in order to get their matters meddled with by Spirits.

Although he himself might be a bit of an exception; a Seeker had meddled with him first, and now he was up to his ears in Spirit matters.

“...Did you tell that to the Seekers when they brought me in?”

“...Get back to work.”

Zuko hid a grin as picked his brush back up. He had won an argument! Against Wan Shi Tong!

The next time Zuko was sent out, he was even more careful to remain unseen. In the instance he failed to stay unseen, he would always, loudly, proclaim that he wasn’t a Spirit. He felt a bit better every time he complained about the violent attacks because saying “be more careful, I could literally die from that because I’m not a Spirit !” made him more honest.

No one seemed to believe him though. Usually it just encouraged the attacks.

Sometimes Zuko couldn’t help but wonder if his life would have been easier in general if he hadn’t got mixed up with Spirits. The likelihood that he would be dead by now was considerably higher but he could have avoided all of this ‘perceived saviour Spirit’ nonsense, as well as the mental gymnastics required to figure out that the War was wrong. 

On so many levels, and not only due to the unbalance it caused in the world but just due to ethical reasons.

He kind of figured his life would be easier if he didn’t know the Fire Lord was a genocidal tyrant who didn’t really care for anything or anyone, beyond himself and his power and the perceived glory of the Fire Nation.

As if. 

In the times Zuko had been free to travel on his document retrieval missions, he would occasionally stop by the villages just to talk to people. The disillusioned soldiers on both sides – some missing limbs, senses, or even their very sense of self and sanity – were chilling people to encounter. Some of them would clam up and refuse to tell him anything, and some seemed to be almost unable to stop telling him about all the awful things they had seen, experienced, and even done.

He frequently tried to not think about a former firebender, who had told him of being trapped inside a mountain for almost a year, with no sun or wind to feel on her face, before being let out.

Only to still feel forever cold as her inner flame had refused to answer to her call ever since.

Or the former earthbender who had lost all of his limbs to fire, and could now only bend the smallest trace amounts of his element with his eyebrows. 

Or the young man from the Fire Nation, who had signed up for the army, young and full of patriotic spirit, only to kill so many people he couldn’t even keep count anymore – and now preferred to drown his few remaining memories and feelings in alcohol.

And even that was too much effort sometimes, just another reminder of things long lost.

“General Iroh is in Yu Dao?” 

At the words from the next table over, Zuko froze over his spicy curry. His heart was in his throat and he fought against the sudden need to make sure the eyepatch he still wore in the daytime was firmly on his face. 

(Although the likelihood of anyone recognising him was quite low, it had been years since his last official portrait and no one knew what his injury looked like. But maybe at sixteen he looked just enough like the Fire Lord to make someone suspect .)

“That’s what the Harbour Master said,” the other man answered, “Apparently he got a hawk on it, just in case the General sails South.”

It would be only a week’s sailing at most, if Zuko remembered his maps correctly. He was better at estimating travel time over land, but he was pretty sure he was right. 

He couldn’t stay here. He needed to get into the base fast and then get out of the town.

He picked up pace with his chopsticks. 

“What’s the General even doing?” the first voice asked, “He shows up here about once a year and never does anything, right?”

There was the sound of shuffling cloth, and then a more hushed whisper, “Rumour has it, he’s looking for Prince Zuko.”

Zuko almost dropped his chopsticks.

A scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no way he’s still alive.”

“Probably not, but it's nice to hope.”

“What’s there to hope for?”

“Dude, you know he always treated us peasants better than anyone else in the Royal Family. Like, he actually cared. ”

“And saying that shit is palpable to treason !” the words were hissed, clearly afraid of being overheard.

And Zuko… couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone in the Fire Nation actually wanted him back? Even if it was only colonial villagers, it was still something he had never believed could be possible.

As for why Uncle would be looking for him… he didn’t even dare to imagine the reason. 

Because he didn’t dare to hope it would be for a good reason.

Chapter Text

Zuko’s raid of the local military base had gone off without a hitch, and he had scarpered deeper inland along the river directly the next day. By this point, he was more used to being inland than by the sea – he figured it had something to do with living underground in the middle of a desert. 

It was also a good way to avoid anyone getting around by ship.

The discussion at the port town had been a shock; he had never expected to hear that anyone was looking for him, let alone his Uncle. Whether the aim of the search was to ascertain his fate – by finding out how he died or outright killing him – or something less sinister, he didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. 

After all, whenever he found out something new about his family, it tended to be negative in one way or another.

But he did start to keep an ear out for any rumours where his Uncle was sailing if only to avoid him better. It seemed that he had a fairly regular route of going around the Dìrénshēng continent, sailing East from the Main Islands, and then turning South, following along the coast and occasionally – based on stories – straying to islands and archipelagos further out in the ocean. 

And he had been sailing that route pretty much since Zuko’s banishment, and it had taken him three years to hear about it. Zuko was willing to take that as a dash of luck he was owed for never having had any in the past.

Although now that he kept his ear to the ground, he couldn’t really escape all the other rumours surrounding his Uncle’s endeavours. 

Zuko tried to concentrate on making his way through the small colonial village, bustling full of people and animals on a market day. The locals, between local gossip and haggling for the best prices, were arguing loudly about the line of succession of the Fire Nation Royal Family, and specifically Uncle’s place in it. Finally their arguments got so erroneous and misinformed that Zuko couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut any more.

“Sorry but the Dragon of the West gave up all claims and rights to the Crown six years ago when he returned from Ba Sing Se. He’ll become the Fire Lord only if the current main line is totally wiped out.”

The locals grumbled, “Figures the only decent one of the bunch has almost zero chances of taking the Crown.”

“Keep quiet, wishing the death of the Fire Lord and the Crown Princess is treason!”

“Don’t shout about it then!”

“Wasn’t there a Prince in the line of succession too?” another wondered.

Zuko didn’t look at the man as he answered, almost despite himself, “Prince Zuko was exiled, so while he’s before the Dragon of the West in the line of succession, the likelihood of anyone being able to check if he’s even alive is miniscule. And at this point he’s probably the least competent for the role, if he’s even alive.”

Saying such things hurt, even if they were true. And even if saying such things kept him safer. He was still technically, due to the terms of his Exile, not allowed to set foot in the colonial lands either, but as he had just said, the likelihood of anyone figuring out his identity was miniscule.

And this was the only way he could get out from underground, he wasn’t giving that up over technicalities no one could actually enforce.

“Maybe,” one of the locals conceded, lowering his voice as he shot a wary look around the group, “but he’s also really popular, because he tried to stop the Massacre of the 41st. There’s even been some riots on the Main Islands thanks to that. Lower Officers also question their orders more, so we’ve had less losses in the last year or two.”

Zuko’s breath caught. He hadn’t known that but now, hearing it… it made him feel like there had actually been some point to what he had done, that it hadn’t just been a total waste . That maybe, just maybe, he had managed to protect some of his people after all. 

He hadn’t burned in vain, his life had actually had some meaning to his people.

As he was walking away from the confrontation, he just barely heard the start of the next rumour: “Hey, did you hear that the Avatar in Omashu–?”

The Avatar? As if. 

Zuko ignored it, and continued on.

During Zuko’s travels for Wan Shi Tong, he had taken the time to stop at colonial towns to just talk to ordinary people, veterans, and soldiers on leave – trying to do so far enough from all of his raiding locations, so as not to stick in people’s memories. He claimed to be a student on a mission for the Caldera University – which they had a hard time believing due to his age, not to mention the proper eyepatch that made him look more like a disgraced former child soldier than a university student – and wanted to write down stories about their lives. 

And he had written down stories from people who had served in the Siege of Ba Sing Se, people who helped establish colonial towns, and what life was like under the harsh taxes, and constant uncertainty if their parents, siblings, or children would come home from the war. 

All of that was knowledge no one in the Fire Nation had actually bothered to write down. There were reports that gave some of the same facts or alluded to some of the details – and Zuko was very familiar with those, having copied many of them down for the archives of the Spirit Library – but there were no documents that put all of those things together in a way Zuko now saw, just listening to the people. 

This veteran he spoke with now, offered a whole new story.

He was an old, weathered man missing a leg, and had been sitting, staring out at the rain from the covered porch, an empty look in his eyes, and a half full cup of something in his hand, as Zuko had been passing by. The man had looked like someone, who had a story worth hearing, so he had stopped, bowed, and taken off his dǒulì.

“Excuse me, good sir, may I have a moment of your time?” Zuko asked, trying to ignore the rain quickly soaking his hair and shoulders.

The man grunted.

Zuko told his cover story, and requested any story from the man’s life he was willing to tell, to be written down for future study.

The man had regarded Zuko thoughtfully, before waving a dismissive hand towards the empty spot on the porch next to him, “Get out of the rain.”

Zuko hurried to comply, setting his pack on the deck next to him, pulling out a bound pile of loose papers, and his writing supplies. 

And then the man started talking.

“Have you ever seen snow?”

“No, sir,” Zuko answered honestly.

“It’s like white sand that just goes on and on for as far as the eye can see. Sometimes it’s hard enough to let you walk on top of it, and sometimes so soft it’s like you’re wading through water. And it’s always cold. When it falls from the sky, it can bite at your skin, or just dance softly down on you, melting away sooner than you can look at it. Sometimes the snow falls so fast it’s like you’re stuck in a thick fog–”

The man went on explaining the peculiar feeling of freezing nose-hair, feeling disappearing from one’s toes, and how one could see their very breath in the air. Zuko simply sat quietly, listening, and writing the man’s words down as fast as he could.

He listened as the man described the villages of the Southern Water Tribe dotting ice shelves and endless fields of ice and snow – caverns of domed roofs built of snow, and tents made of animal hides. He listened as the man told him of the terrifying waterbenders who could call up avalanches of snow, ice and water on dry land, and sweep the Fire Nation soldiers into watery grave, how the very ocean itself would rise up to swallow a battleship whole, how they could freeze men and women on their feet, forever trapped in blocks of impenetrable ice. How they had once encountered an ice floe, ways away from the mainland, full of long dead soldiers, frozen inside the ice. 

And those descriptions were followed by even more horrid stories of people burned to death, skewered with swords and spears – men, women, children, elderly, babies – and the waterbenders, captured, chained, denied drink and medical care – some succumbing to their injuries and thrown overboard on the way to the Fire Nation.

Not to mention the torture – pulled fingernails, carefully applied burns, and so many others – done on the ship, demanding the waterbenders reveal the names of all the other benders in their villages, and the locations of the Tribe camps that were still unknown to the Fire Nation. 

Zuko listened to it all, careful to keep any expression from his face, as he wrote and wrote.

“It was horrifying,” the man’s voice was hoarse as he took a sip from his cup, “Just listenin’ to them. Or lookin’ at them. Especially when they started lookin’ less like these terrifyin’ demons who could control water and drown you on dry land… and more like broken, tired, dirty people. After a while you can’t sleep, just thinkin’ about them. One lady asked me to kill her… dunno… seven year old daughter, shut up in the next cage over. In the end I didn’t need to do that, the girl died of dehydration. Then I had to throw her body overboard. Honestly, I was kinda grateful when hypothermia took my leg in the next raid – the Fire Nation military needs no cripples for their ‘glorious purpose,’” the man scoffed.

Humans were capable of the most horrifying things, no matter where they were from. Before Zuko left the Fire Nation, it had never even crossed his mind that his nation was doing anything wrong. Of course he had learned otherwise as he read about the Air Nomads and copied the military scrolls, but actually hearing about it, from someone who was there, was different. 

There was a weight to the words and feelings that didn’t come through in clinical military reports, carefully curated to give the people reading them the impression the writers wanted to give. 

He didn’t know if anyone would ever read them, but at least they existed. 

Zuko thanked the veteran for his story, and continued on his way. 

Chapter Text

Zuko was woken up from his peaceful sleep by the entire Library shuddering . He shot up into a sitting position – only barely avoiding hitting his head on the tabletop in his study room turned bedchamber – wide-eyed, wondering what in the name of the Great Spirits had happened. He scrambled up from his bed, pulling on a green durumagi, and staggered out of his room. 

The shuddering didn’t seem to have any intentions to stop. He could hear books and scrolls falling off the shelves in the distance, and see some scattered on the floor as he stumbled past.

Was it an earthquake? He somehow doubted it, Wan Shi Tong had chosen Si Wong desert for the location of his Library for a reason; it was one of the most stable parts of the world as far as weather patterns and local geology were concerned. Or at least that’s the impression he had got from listening to the Owl Spirit expounding on the importance of preserving knowledge. 

So whatever was making the Library shudder, must be Spiritual in some way, Zuko concluded the same moment he ran right into one of the pillars by the stairs leading up.

He swore.

And then he frowned. 

The natural light from the central spire was weird. Why was it red ?

Wan Shi Tong was prowling around the walkways like a tiger-lion in a cage, glaring up towards the windows and the red light shining through. Zuko stopped by one of the pillars, wary, as he shot looks between the light and the Owl Spirit. 

The Library was still shuddering, apparently from the force of Wan Shi Tong’s anger.

Zuko had never seen him act like this. It was frightening, and otherworldly, beyond human comprehension. A part of him wanted to retreat back to his cosy room, and hide beneath the blankets, waiting there until whatever was going on was over. But another part of him was rooted to the spot, just like that time he had been five and there had been a cyclone by the Ember Island. He had frozen back then too, and Mom had had to drag him inside. 

Then, the red light encompassing the world disappeared. A dull twilight rushed in like a wave onto a beach, catching Zuko’s breath and sweeping it away.

Suddenly, the familiar and even dear shadows of the Spirit Library felt threatening and scary, as if they would eat him at any moment.

This was not normal.

“Wh-what’s going on?” he asked, his voice wavering, choked in a world that felt like it lacked air.

Wan Shi Tong whirled to him, the dark eyes somehow blazing with an emotion Zuko could only describe as enraged .

“Humans have meddled with Spiritual matters!” he snarled, “The Moon Spirit Tui is dead !”

Zuko’s stomach dropped, “How?”

The Owl Spirit growled, somehow, “It must have been that human who burned my Library.”

In other words, the Fire Nation soldier whose debt Zuko was paying.

He had known the person must have been an idiot to do something like that, but to kill a Spirit ? And one of the most important Spirits, as far as the balance of the world, and the balance between Spiritual and Mortal Worlds was concerned? Blaze it, one of the most important Spirits presiding over the very functions of the Ocean?

“...Can she be saved?”

“I do not know,” Wan Shi Tong answered, staring up at the dark, empty sky, barely visible through the spire’s windows, “Such matters are hard to plan for, much less execute when the time comes.” 

Now that the Spirit seemed more melancholy and contemplative than outright murderous – even the shudders had quieted down enough for Zuko to not feel like a drunk in a boat in a storm – he dared to make his own way to the walkway, to stand beside his Guardian.

“I always thought Tui and La’s plan to reside in the Mortal World, in mortal bodies, was the height of foolishness,” Wan Shi Tong said softly, “Not that I have done much better, by straddling the barrier between the two. But at least I’m not amongst actual Mortals.”

“The Fire Nation has been teaching for a while that no other Spirit besides Agni matters,” Zuko said quietly, “And even what they teach of Agni is… a mish-mash at best. His message of light and guidance have been corrupted from personal contemplation into colonialistic propaganda, and– The main point is, Agni’s true meaning is missing. Whoever killed Tui… did not think it through.”

“You’re right.”

Wan Shi Tong’s voice was heavy with some unnamed feeling that always reminded Zuko, that no matter how much time he spent with the Spirits and learned their ways, he was always still just a mortal. 

They stood quietly in the dark, staring at the sky, hoping and waiting for something to happen. 

Zuko wasn’t sure how long they waited. A mere moment, or hours, or more.

And then it was back. Cold, white light spilled through the windows, bringing the air back, and cutting the string that had had a stranglehold on Zuko’s throat. His shoulders slumped a tad and a huge breath escaped him, his lips twitching into a weak, relieved smile.

The Moon was back.

The Moon Spirit had been saved.

His smile widened.

Zuko groaned softly as he tried to stretch out his neck and shoulders. While he had learned to appreciate – and at times even enjoy – copying work, that didn’t change the fact that it was a pain in the neck. 

Literally.

He sighed heavily, cleaned up his goat-hair brush, and made his way to the kitchen. It was obviously time to take a break. Half-distracted, he gathered up some sweet buns, a kettle of water, a jar of tea leaves, and a cup for himself, before returning up to the walkways in the main hall, to enjoy his break in meagre sunlight. 

He heated the water in the kettle with firebending, added the tea leaves and let it steep, munching on a bun. On tasting the tea, he grimaced a bit but kept sipping. 

It still didn’t taste right. 

But it did taste familiar enough to make him think of home. 

“How’s the brew?”

Zuko almost splashed the brew into his lap at Wan Shi Tong’s voice suddenly echoing behind him. He set the cup quickly down and looked up at the Owl Spirit over his shoulder.

“Not terribly good,” he answered.

Wan Shi Tong hummed and glided around into Zuko’s field of vision properly.

“A pity. I could have done with a spot of tea.”

“Sorry,” Zuko muttered, twirling the dregs of the greenish water, and small pieces of leaves in the bottom of his cup.

“No matter,” Wan Shi Tong remarked, watching as Zuko topped up his cup from the kettle, “But why keep drinking if it’s not terribly good?”

Zuko shrugged uncomfortably, “It tastes like home. A little.”

“That I can understand. I find myself missing the winds of the Spirit World more than anything. But one must do what is necessary for the sake of Knowledge.”

Zuko hummed in agreement, “At least you can go there and visit. I know you don’t spend all of your time haunting the halls here.”

Wan Shi Tong chuckled, “Cheeky, very cheeky. But that is a luxury to have indeed.”

“Yes,” Zuko said softly.

“You miss the Fire Nation.”

“Sometimes more than at other times,” he answered, “I try not to think about what I can no longer have.”

“I imagine you’re not the only one,” Wan Shi Tong said softly.

Zuko blinked up at him in surprise. Someone else unable to go home? “Who?”

“Rumour has it that the Avatar has returned.”

“The Avatar ?” Zuko asked, flabbergasted, “I thought people were making stuff up!”

“You haven’t seen it while copying military reports?” Wan Shi Tong asked curiously, “The Fire Nation Navy reported a loss of a hundred battleships to the Avatar alone.”

Zuko flushed, returning his gaze to his tea, “I… don’t really work with any recent reports. They make me feel… useless. It’s easier to handle older, historical documents, because for those I never could do anything.”

Wan Shi Tong didn’t say anything about the admission, instead continuing the discussion, “What do you think of the Avatar’s return?”

Zuko hesitated, “I… I don’t know. It is a change to return balance into the world, but is it enough? Avatar is still only one person, and the war has lasted for so long and destroyed so many lives… Because if the Avatar could just fix everything immediately, they would have done it the moment they returned.”

Wan Shi Tong nodded, “I agree. The longer the Avatar waits, the more out of balance the world goes. As a Spirit, I can sense it. I fear the Avatar lacks decisiveness and skills.”

“The Spirit World grapevine not offering a lot of details?”

Wan Shi Tong’s face twitched and Zuko hid a smile behind a new bun.

“No, the Spirit World grapevine is not offering a lot of details. The Avatar seems… inexperienced, in the matters of Spirits.”

“As long as they haven’t insulted anyone, the balance can still be restored, right?” Zuko asked.

“If they work fast. You know what comes at the end of the Summer.”

Zuko stared up at the sliver of the sky visible through the window above.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Zuko was just done with his lunch when he heard a despairing wail from his work area. For a second, he froze in the middle of the hallway, before picking up pace. He had never heard a single human voice or sound in the library. Which meant there was a human here , in the Spirit Library, somehow .

"–Just when I think I'm one step ahead of the Fire Nation, it turns out they beat us here a long time ago," the voice continued lamenting, "I need to know what–"

"There's a catalogue, you know," Zuko burst out from between the stacks, beyond eager to be helpful and to just talk to someone.

Before him stood three figures; assumedly a boy and a girl in Water Tribe blues and… and undeterminable third, bald one in Air Nomad oranges. Which should be impossible because all the sources in the Library and all of his lessons Before agreed that Air Nomads had all but been wiped off the map, and even the descendants of those who had survived had long given up any distinctive signs of their culture to avoid persecution. 

All three had whirled around at his words and were staring at him in wide-eyed wonder.

"A human!" the probably-boy exclaimed, taking a funny pose, "Who are you? How did you get in?! Did you follow us ?!"

Zuko stared in bafflement at the flailing person, before answering slowly. He somehow had a feeling he was talking to someone mentally unstable, "I live and work here."

"How come a human works in a Spirit Library?" the other, more reasonable looking Water Tribe person, the probably-girl, asked while offering a quick bow, "Also, ignore my brother Sokka, he's always like that. I'm Katara."

"And I'm Aang, the Avatar!" the Air Nomad whooshed to a stop right underneath Zuko's nose, causing him to stumble a little backwards.

"The Avatar? Really?" he asked in surprise because the Avatar was the last person he had ever expected to meet, "The next one in the cycle after Roku? But you're way too young… has there been a full cycle with no records?"

Wan Shi Tong would be furious if that was the case. So much information, totally unrecorded.

"Aaah," the Avatar rubbed the back of his? her? their? bald head in an embarrassed manner, "I, uhh, kinda froze in an iceberg for a hundred years?"

" Really ?" Zuko snapped his fingers, lighting more lamps, and summoning a Knowledge Seeker, already carrying the newest volume of the Avatar Cycle, before fetching a fresh brush and ink from his work desk, "Please tell me more, this hasn't been updated since Avatar Roku was killed. You were born sometime in the 3518th year since the Union of the Earth Kingdom, in Avatar Roku's 70th year, correct? Which temple? And in which were you raised? When did you attain mastery of airbending? What is the name of your Sky Bison? How do you identify-?"

"How's that relevant? The Fire Nation section is in ashes!" Sokka wailed.

"Assuming someone's gender is rude," Zuko answered distractedly as he wrote down Aang's answers in the rote style of the Cycle, immensely grateful the Cycle was noted down in a table format instead of sentences like the Lineage, "And you don't have to remind me, the political and military history section of Fire Nation has been my main duty since I came to the Library. Some asshole decided it was a good idea to burn it down to protect potential military secrets, leaving me with the thankless job of filling it again."

"Filling it?" Katara asked in surprise, "How?"

"Copying. Lots and lots of copying. I should be done in about fifty years at my current pace. Maybe"

"We can't wait for fifty years!" Sokka cried, "Aang has to defeat the Fire Lord before the end of the summer when Sozin's Comet comes again! And we need to find out what happened on the Darkest Day of Fire Nation history!"

"You can literally check that in the astronomy section," Zuko answered, trying to ignore the uncomfortable, swooping feeling in his stomach at the mention of his father, "It was a solar eclipse, everyone knows that."

"What do you mean everyone knows?" Aang asked.

"The Fire Sages keep an eye on things like that, military strategists plan their campaigns in a way that no one will figure out firebenders lose their bending for like, ten minutes," Zuko had to wonder why they looked so shocked, this was all basic information.

"How does a random Earth Kingdom teenager in a Spirit Library know that?" Sokka asked weakly.

Zuko sighed, "For one thing, this is the largest Library in the world. For another, I'm from the Fire Nation and everyone there learns that," he closed the Cycle decisively and handed it to a Knowledge Seeker, who whisked it away back to its place in the shelves. 

“ Fire Nation ?!” Sokka screeched, and stumbled backwards, taking another ridiculous pose. Was it supposed to be for fighting? Zuko hadn’t read terribly much about Water Tribe fighting styles beyond bending, maybe he should have…

“Stop pointing, it’s rude,” Katara said, smacking his arm down, “But he’s got a point. Who exactly are you and why are you here?” 

“My name is Zuko, I’m… an indentured servant is probably the best way to describe it,” Zuko answered uncomfortably.

“Isn’t that slavery?” Aang piped up, sounding concerned.

“Umm… kinda? Sometimes? Wan Shi Tong has been a good employer though, all things considered. And I literally have no place else to go so…”

“But what about your family? Don’t they miss you?” Katara asked, now stepping closer and her guard completely down.

“Not really, I think.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I’m used to it.”

“...You know, that’s even more horrible,” Sokka muttered.

“Point is,” Zuko ploughed on because the topic was getting way more personal and uncomfortable than he wanted to deal with, “I have a reason to be here, because it’s literally my job. Is there anything else I can help you with?” he had absolutely no experience in customer service but he would do his best. And as long as Wan Shi Tong was not throwing these three out, they were Library customers.

“Uhh…” the Water Tribe siblings looked at each other uncertainly, clearly not knowing what to say anymore.

“We need some info we could use to defeat the Fire Lord before Sozin’s Comet comes at the end of the Summer,” Aang said brightly.

Zuko’s first thought was ‘Oh, it’s that time already,’ but fortunately he didn’t blurt it out. He had a feeling that was not how someone should react to the potential of another genocide event.

“Wan Shi Tong’s policy is to not give information that can be used to destroy peoples or knowledge,” he said instead.

“But the Fire Lord–!” Sokka started to protest.

“– is a horrible person, believe me, I know. But destroying knowledge goes against his mission to gather knowledge because he prizes that above all else. And destroying peoples…” Zuko grimaced, “that upsets the balance of the world, and it’s already all out of whack because of the Purge of the Air Nomads. As things stand, the Spirits of the Four Principal Winds will literally die in a few centuries with no one actively serving them.”

Aang gasped in shock, and Katara looked stricken. 

“That’s very sad and all–” Sokka said, clearly not understanding the implications of a world with no wind currents – didn’t Water Tribes mainly fish? On sailboats? His people would literally die out if they couldn’t get their boats out to the Ocean. Not to mention warmer air currents no longer making their way to the Poles seasonally would affect the living conditions negatively…

Zuko almost missed the rest of Sokka’s speech, “–very tragic, and so on. But we literally need to defeat the Fire Lord, and for that we need information. Otherwise he makes the world even more out of whack from balance or whatever. He needs to be defeated.”

Zuko sighed heavily, yanking gently at his ponytail, “Problem is, you can’t really freely look over the Fire Nation political and military sections as they are… under construction , and at this point your spiel isn’t convincing enough to me to risk my place here. But there’s a few arguments you could use to maybe get Wan Shi Tong to your side.”

“Except we kind of lied to him,” Katara spoke up slowly, “Aang gave his word that we wouldn’t abuse the knowledge of his Library.”

Zuko face palmed, “Has no one taught you that you are to never lie to Spirits?” he asked with a muffled voice, “Are you suicidal?”

“Hey!”

“It should be okay, right? As long as everything ends well?” Aang asked hopefully.

Zuko stared at him, “You haven’t been taught any political history or spiritual cutoms  at all, have you?”

“Uhhhh…”

Zuko sighed, “The short answer is, no , everything will not be well that ‘ends well.’ The world isn’t a story book, humans have their own rules on interacting with each other, and the Spirits have even more complex rules. And even though you’re an Airbender, and a child,  you can’t choose to not care about the consequences . You’re the Avatar, and what you do has political meaning. If you act purely by Air philosophy, everyone else will think you don’t care about them, and are actually trying to help solve their problems . ”

Aang looked overwhelmed, and like he was about to cry at any moment.

“Hey!” Katara protested, stepping up to Zuko, as if to protect the Avatar, “You don’t need to be so strict with him! Aang’s still learning!”

“The world isn’t kind, and it doesn’t have the time for him to learn everything slowly, and gently. The Spirits don’t forget. They might forgive, if the right price is paid, or if long enough time has passed, but they never forget ,” Zuko said calmly, “Lying to a Spirit is a stupid move in any situation. Withholding information they might even respect, but outright lying? Never.”

Katara opened her mouth to probably argue again, but Aang stopped her with a gentle hand, turning an imploring look to Zuko.

“How do we fix it?” Aang asked, “We still need the knowledge to defeat Ozai. I can’t forgive myself if I just ruined everything!”

“You just vouched for Sokka, so it’s his fault,” Katara said comfortingly, patting Aang on the shoulder. She was still shooting narrow-eyed looks at Zuko. 

He was just being realistic, ugh.

“Oy! Betrayed by my own sister!” Sokka protested, “How cruel!” He was clutching at his chest, as if actually wounded.

“That sounds familiar,” Zuko muttered, already trying to think.

Because the Avatar and his companions were right. Ozai needed to be stopped, somehow, both for the balance of the world, but also to put a stop – or at least alleviate, Zuko was a realist after all, and knew not everything could be fixed just by kicking the bad guy’s ass –  all the suffering he had to see every time he ventured outside the Library for his missions.

So how to let the Avatar use the knowledge available in the Library without breaking his word to Wan Shi Tong? At this point he or his companions couldn’t really look at any of the books in Zuko’s section of the Library, as he knew full well which ones would be useful and which ones not–

Wait.

Zuko stopped and stared at all the books he had copied during the three years and more he had spent in the Spirit Library, fixing mistakes his countrymen had done, paying back for someone else’s debt.

“I have an idea,” he said and turned on his heel, hurrying towards the main hall.

He could hear hurried scrambling behind him as the troublesome threesome all but ran after him.

“Wan Shi Tong, sir,” Zuko gasped out as he arrived at Wan Shi Tong’s most common roosting spot on the highest level of the main hall.

“Zuko,” the Owl Spirit glided out into the light, scaring the Avatar and his companions, judging by the squeaks and gasps behind him, “What brings you up here?”

Zuko licked his lips, and gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the threesome.

“I… have a mission proposal of sorts, sir,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes sir,” Zuko confirmed, “The world is out of balance, and as things stand, it will go even more out of balance as time passes. Sozin’s Comet returns at the end of the summer, and you can guess as well as I can what the Fire Lord will do.”

Wan Shi Tong’s eyes narrowed as he nodded, “He’ll use the power of the Comet to wipe out either large swathes of Earth Kingdom, or the Water Tribes in their entirety.”

The Water Tribe siblings gasped, Katara even letting out something that sounded a bit like a sob.

“He needs to be stopped,” Zuko said, his tone agreeable.

“What do you propose?”

Zuko bit his lip, “I… propose that you let me join the Avatar in his quest to stop the Fire Lord.”

“What?” Sokka asked, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Really?” Aang asked, “That sounds like fun!”

Wan Shi Tong tilted his head, thoughtfully, as he slowly glided around Zuko, appraising him in a way he hadn’t since taking Zuko in, “You would be a good choice,” he agreed, “You have mastered Fire to an extent many haven’t since Sozin’s time. You know the Fire Nation, and its people. You know the Earth Kingdom and its people. You have read of the people of Air and Water, and you know much of them as well. Yet, you also know the Spirits.”

He came to stop in front of Zuko, staring down at him.

Zuko didn’t move. He didn’t feel afraid, there would be no punishment or reprimand for his proposal, whether Wan Shi Tong agreed to it or not. The Spirit saw the merit in the idea, and knew Zuko’s capabilities. It wasn’t an outrageous idea, beyond the fact that it was very far removed from Zuko’s other duties.

Someone still needed to fill up the Fire Nation political and military history section. Zuko’s gaze fell to the floor, his hands curling into tight fists.

He didn’t hate it in the Library, he had a life here, a life he had grown to be content with. Was he actually happy ? Maybe not. Contentedness was the best way to describe it; he wasn’t really lacking for anything besides human companionship – like friends and family – but otherwise he really had no room to complain. 

He was happy enough.  

But he did want to see his home again, in some manner. He wanted closure. And he wanted a chance to make friends. Travelling with the Avatar seemed like a way to make at least a few. And then, when he returned to the Library, maybe they could come and visit him.

“Yes, you may go.”

Zuko’s eyes shot up, “Really?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Wan Shi Tong sighed, “Yes. You are correct that the Fire Lord needs to be stopped. And I can see that the Avatar,” he turned his dark eyes at their guests, “is still a child. A child who needs a guiding hand in many matters, and especially in keeping the balance. You are what he needs to help him with that.”

“He’s talking like we ain’t already doing a good job,” Sokka grumbled under his breath. 

“Shhhh!” Katara hissed.

“I… thank you, sir,” Zuko said, and bowed, his hands held in the greeting of flame, “I’ll not let you down.”

Wan Shi Tong chuckled, “No, you don’t. You’re far too aware of the weight of the burden and duty you’re taking on. Fly free, and do your duty for the world, Prince Zuko of Fire Nation.”

“Wait, he’s a prince ?!”

Wan Shi Tong observed in silence as his ward negotiated the Sandbenders to give up their attempts to capture the Avatar’s Flying Bison, immediately proving his skills in diplomacy. The Sandbenders had never really bothered the boy when he travelled through the desert, but the boy had felt it necessary to read up on them, as he would be passing through their lands many times. 

Wan Shi Tong hummed in quiet pleasure as the children clambered on top of the Bison, Zuko shooting a quick look at the spire, the only part of the Spirit Library visible above ground. The boy’s eyes brightened as he spotted the Owl Spirit in the shadowed window, offering him a quick and informal bow.

Wan Shi Tong answered in kind.

The Owl Spirit watched as the Flying Bison disappeared from view, into the deep blue of the sky, the position of the sun just starting to hint at an approaching evening.

The boy would be fine.

The balance would be restored, and then Zuko would return to the Library, out of duty. And while Wan Shi Tong would be more than pleased to see the boy again, Zuko wouldn’t be able to stay. 

Because while restoring the balance would be a task and a half, keeping that balance would be even harder, especially in a world used to war and injustice. Injustice, that could be compounded with human feelings, and brought right back around to more injustices.

Zuko was just the right person to help with that.

Hopefully, as the Fire Lord.

The Library was quiet as Wan Shi Tong returned back into its shadows. This was unusual, as the Library had always been quiet, even with a human child making his home there. 

But there was something missing, a warmth that had been there, even if Wan Shi Tong had never noticed it. But clearly, Zuko’s presence had brought something to the Library, something that he now had to get used to being missing. 

He wondered if this was the feeling humans called being forlorn. 

“Oh there are so many wonderful books!” a quiet voice gasped somewhere in the depths of the Library, “This treatise on the founding of the Dai Li has been lost for well over a hundred years!”

Right, the Head of Anthropology of the Ba Sing Se University was still here.

Wan Shi Tong sighed deeply. 

He so hated doing customer service.