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Published:
2024-04-04
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1,490
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1/1
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Summer Nights

Summary:

He lets out his own sigh. "Ozai didn't deserve you."

He feels a dampness spread through his sash and he pulls Zuko away briefly. "Oh. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking when I said that, I—"

Zuko shakes his head. "That’s not why I’m— ah—“ he wipes at his eyes. “We took everything from you. And I can never make it up to you. What my great-grandfather did to your people... It is my worst atrocity."

~*~

Zuko and Aang are traveling to the fire nation for a visit. In the middle of one of the hottest nights yet, Aang wakes Zuko from a dream, and they have a heart-to-heart of sorts.

Notes:

if there's any mistakes, no there isn't

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The colors of the sky are melting into the sunset. Water dews on his skin as Appa lifts them through and above the clouds. Spring is ending, the warm breeze of Summer ruffles his neatly dressed robes and Appa's stiff fur. 

 

A faint sniff pulls Aang from his reverie. Zuko runs his fingers across his puffy red eyes and wet cheeks, breathing quietly through partially parted lips. 

 

They're laying next to each other, albeit a few inches apart, the edges of their sleeves barely brushing. The skies are still melting above them. Appa bristles beneath them with a low grunt. 

 

These days of travel have not been kind to Zuko— just yesterday, they had run into a group of rogue fire benders that didn't hesitate to attack from their hidden positions in the trees above. Zuko's hair had been singed around his shoulder, leaving Aang to cut everything below it off. 

 

Aang had apologized profusely the entire process, gave a comforting arm around his waist or pressed light kisses along the rough ridges of his cheek.

 

"It'll grow back," He'd said, unhelpfully. 

 

"It's not that," Were the first and only words spoken for a few hours. Aang simply nodded— he understood the importance of culture and the sanctity of certain body parts to each. 

 

Then, that night, when they'd fallen asleep in the saddle, Zuko carried a pained expression into sleep, flinching violently when Aang tried to shake him awake. It wasn't uncommon, but it had been a while since the last nightmare.

 

Aang had touched a finger to his temple and joined him in the dream. 

 

A long platform, a roaring crowd, Zuko, almost seven years younger, stands at the end while a dark figure menaces at the other. 

 

Bright, white light and pain, and Aang falls out of Zuko's mind through an ear piercing scream. Aang reaches for his love, but he's backing away, his eyes are clouded, and Aang knows he isn't entirely in the present yet. 

 

Zuko can't breathe, but Aang is experienced with breathing— you'd hope as much for someone who mastered air bending only at the age of fourteen. 

 

Now, laying, staring at the sky, hot air sticks to their lungs and skin. Aang tilts his head to the fire lord's nephew to ask a question with an obvious answer. The warm yellow light of the early evening pokes through his deep brown hair. 

 

"You okay?" He supposes it's like going through the motions of anything else. 

 

Zuko speaks at last. "I will be." Golden eyes carefully make their way to grey. Aang doesn't want him to be afraid. 

 

"Can I—" Aang lifts his arms slightly, and Zuko shifts into them, pressing his face into the soft orange cloth draped across Aang's chest. 

 

Aang wonders how anyone knows what to say ever. Zuko obviously needs some sort of wisdom and now Aang finds himself wishing they were traveling a little faster to visit Iroh. 

 

Despite barely meeting, Iroh seemed to understand Aang at a molecular level, like he did with most. But more than that, he always knew exactly what Zuko needed to hear. Guilt begins trickling into his head, falling to sit heavy in his chest. 

 

He pulls the prince closer, if it were possible. "I'm sorry that— I guess... I'm sorry you didn't get a childhood. A real one." 

 

Zuko sighs against him. "I dwell on it often. I wonder if it would've been easier with a loving sister."

 

"Or father."

 

"No," He says. "He wasn't capable of it. Azula... maybe."

 

Aang tries to think of another sage wisdom. It's harder than it looks...

 

"You didn't get one either." 

 

Aang stills. Well, no— "I did. Before the monks told me I was the Avatar. I was like any other kid. I played with my friends, I had... I guess 'parental' figures. They acted the same as parents. Gyatso showed me love and compassion and forgiveness when he could've just as easily shown me what Ozai taught you. Emotions as weakness, humility as my downfall, love... forgiveness... useless in the battle field." He lets out his own sigh. "He didn't deserve you." 

 

He feels a dampness spread through his sash and he pulls Zuko away briefly. "Oh. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking when I said that, I—"

 

Zuko shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m— ah—“ he wipes at his eyes. “We took everything from you. And I can never make it up to you. What my great-grandfather did to your people... It is my worst atrocity." 

 

"It's not yours," Aang sits up, leaning over Zuko. "You can't say that— don't say that, I— you weren't even alive, how is any blame on you?" 

 

He's quiet, mulling it over as they maintain intense eye contact. Aang raises his brows. "See? You're scrambling to come up with anything because it's not true."

 

"I-"

 

"Tried to capture me? Betrayed me in the Earth kingdom? Sent an assassin after me?" Aang supplies, leaning down to rest on his elbows. Zuko cringes at the past. "We're well past that. I already forgave you. You taught me fire bending. You helped Sokka break into the most secure prison in the fire nation to save his father. You sacrificed yourself to save Kat's life," He presses his palm to where Zuko's matching lightning scar was. "You saved mine. I'd call it an even trade." 

 

Zuko looks entirely uncomfortable, he starts to look away from Aang, who in turn, grabs his jaw between his fingers and drags his gaze back. "I already forgave you. A long time ago. Three years ago." Zuko closes his eyes. Aang keeps going. "Look at me." 

 

The prince and the Avatar stare at each other. 

 

"I forgive you." 

 

Zuko pulls Aang down, his fingers twisting right into his robes. Aang smiles warm and welcoming, resting his palm to the base of his skull. It's like hugging a human furnace, and despite the summer air, Aang relishes in the heat radiating off of Zuko. 

 

"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "Despite all of my efforts, I still refuse to let go of the past." 

 

Aang breathes in his scent. Naturally, smoke and something ambrosial. Not so naturally, fresh linen and ripe peaches. It's a cologne the air bender recognizes— he bought it. A faint blush rises to his cheeks. Somehow, Zuko still manages to light the butterflies in his stomach on fire with the smallest gesture.

 

"Do you remember... A year ago... We were in the palace on our last visit, Iroh let us stay in your old room..."

 

 

'Uncle— we— we need our own rooms!'

 

Iroh laughs heartily. 'Dear nephew, I may not be as spry and youthful as I once was... But I am not blind. Just be safe, and make sure you keep it down! The walls here are like paper!'

 

Aang remembers the ferocious blush that ran down Zuko's neck and collarbones. 'Uncle!'

 

'I just don't see the point in readying two rooms if your light-footed-friend is going to sneak into yours for the night anyways.'  

 

 

Zuko laughs quietly under him. "How could I forget?" 

 

Aang smiles. "Do you remember the conversation we had that night? After my nightmare?" The prince nods. "I told you that despite how many times I have to relive what happened, I don't let it get me down. Not completely."

 

"But—"

 

"No," Aang presses a finger to his lips hastily. "Let me finish, Qīn'ài de." 

 

Zuko grumbles. 

 

"If you don't look at the positives..." Aang pauses, trying to summon any wisdom remaining in his body from past avatars. "I guess... You'll drown in the negatives. It becomes all consuming, right? Like you can't breath? You told me the genocide wasn't my fault even though I said it felt like it was."

 

"It's not your fault," Zuko says feverishly. 

 

Aang gives him a solemn look. "Why is it so easy for you to relieve me of the guilt? I was there. You weren't." 

 

"I— I don't know. I'm sorry." 

 

He relents, petting Zuko's hair until he can't keep his eyes open any longer. It was unfathomably difficult to get the prince to open up about anything— he'll take what he's got. 

 

Aang presses a kiss to his forehead, then his eyelids after he mutters a complaint. Runs his thumbs under his eyes, smooths them on his cheeks and jaw, across his scar, over his eyebrow and his lips. 

 

Zuko's good eye opens barely, he slurs, "What... doing?"

 

"Appreciating you," He smiles. "Sleep, Huálì de, I'll wake you when the sun rises." 

 

Zuko stifles a laugh at his compliment, letting Aang drag him into whatever sleeping position he sees fit for the night. 

 

If Aang wants to debate the liability for the pain his own family had caused, it can wait for the morning. Until then, Appa soars atop the clouds, towards the fire nation. Though it is Summer, the winds up above aren't any softer, and Zuko keeps them warm.

Notes:

comment and i'll kiss u