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Princess Azula is born with a spark in her eyes. She takes her first toddling steps at merely ten months old. At four she shrieks and cries at bath time throwing small blue licks of flame in every direction. At six she begins her firebending against the will of her mother. She is eight when she first burns her baby brother in a fit of rage. Eight when her mother looks at her with fear and silent disappointment. Even though she hadn’t actually meant to. Except Azula always meant it whenever she pushes or bites or yells. So why would her mother believe her now?

After that the soft loving smiles of her mother are for Zuko and Zuko alone. Her mother tries to pretend but Azula isn’t stupid. She sees the strain in her eyes when those smiles are directed her way. Azula tells herself she doesn’t care. That their mother’s love is nothing compared to her father’s approval. Though Zuko, the absolute little fool that he is, did believe Azula. Or he just didn't care. He bothers her the next morning to show him her katas so he can ‘practice’ even though he hasn’t produced a single spark yet. His smile towards her never changes even though he still cries and whines when Azula doesn’t let up on her hard shoves and cruel words.

Azula is ten when her cousin dies, when her grandfather dies, when her mother disappears and the pressure on her shoulders comes crashing down tenfold. Crown Princess Azula, first wielder of the blue flame in generations. An auspicious sign of Ozai’s rise to Firelord. Azula tells herself her hands aren’t shaking as she gets her crown after her father. It was only two weeks ago Zuko had managed his first sparks. Then they are informed about Lu Ten’s disgraceful failure at the front. Lu Ten who had laughed and played and sparred as much as Azula wanted when he was home. Days after the funeral Azula barges into Zuko’s room to tease him with what she’d overheard from their grandfather. Despite being the firstborn she is not worried about being on the chopping block, her grandfather had said specifically Ozai would understand the pain of losing a ‘son’ Azula was a prodigy and Zuko was a spare. Despite that she wasn’t actually worried about him, Zuko had managed to find his fire after all. He could be useful now. Father wouldn’t let Grandfather kill him. Azula is wrong. She feels stupid and very small when her mother disappears overnight and her grandfather is found dead. Good riddance Azula repeats to herself over and over again, even when Zuko reveals to her that he got a goodbye and she didn’t. She repeats it until she believes it.

Under her new pressure and responsibilities Azula thrives where Zuko struggles with even the most simple katas. She knows it is his own inherent weakness, more like their coward of a mother. It is his own fault when his teachers end up burning him or their father berates him. Zuko deserves it for not being good enough. She is convinced this is the truth, even as his smile starts to fade along with hopes of their mother ever coming back. Though in the end Azula cannot stand being compared to him. He’s an embarrassment. So she takes matters into her own hands and spends their lunch times correcting his sloppy forms by the turtle duck pond. She can’t be related to a dud afterall. Zuko never needs a trip to the infirmary after their lessons. Azula has perfect control over her flame unlike those sloppy teachers. She decides that when Zuko starts smiling brighter again it must be because he’s finally forgetting about their mother. Good. She never deserved her station anyway.

She is eleven and Zuko is improving at the pace a slug-leech crawls so she goes to watch more of his lessons. Watches as the instructor gets too close with his flames and scathingly corrects Zuko all the while. Nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually he notices her. Everything about her is sharp and practiced, even the mean way she laughs when Zuko is knocked flat on his back. She remarks on how poor of a job the instructor must be doing for Zuko to be so bad after a year of practice. Her mean practiced laugh returns when the man turns red down to his neck. The master is nearly steaming in the cool early morning as he roughly grabs Zuko’s arm to pull him back up into his stance. Then there is sizzling and Zuko yelps from the heat of his master’s palm. Azula stops laughing. The instructor is replaced within the week. The new one is meaner than the last and Azula doesn’t know what else she expected. That one doesn’t last long either, except this time it’s not because of her. Uncle Iroh returns, smiling, smelling of jasmine and talking nonsense. Before she can even blink Zuko is sent off to study with some sword master she’s never heard of.

She doesn’t talk to Iroh for a week, and when she finally deigns to speak with the soft pudgy former dragon she is as cutting and cruel as she can manage. Azula doesn’t quite know what to think when he takes it all without blinking, when he invites her to tea and pai sho. Apologizes for leaving them. It is an apology from the wrong relative, and even when she flips and burns the wooden board he is patient and kind. Azula doesn’t know what to do with it. She has tea with Iroh two times a week.

Azula is twelve when Zuko returns with dual dao. Of course he would pick the flashiest swords available. She graciously allows him to go through his sword dances for a whole ten minutes before she flattens him in a spar. Uncle has now offered to be Zuko’s teacher. That doddering old fool might no longer be a dragon but he was one of the best masters in the world. If anyone could shape up someone as hopeless as Zuko it’d be him. Azula gets Iroh a whole crate of the finest tea on the market for dealing with that little monster. She gifts Zuko a larger, finer pair of dual dao for him to grow into. He needed the crutch of swords to defend himself after all and she didn’t see his firebending improving anytime soon. Even though she uses those exact words when she hands them over he smiles at her brighter than the sun. The way he smiles when they go to see a play, when he sees baby turtle ducks, the way he used to smile before their mother left.

Azula is thirteen when her little brother is challenged to an Agni Kai for speaking out. For being dumb and stupid and kind. She is thirteen when she watches their father burn half of Zuko’s face off, his small limbs jerking uselessly as he screams. She is thirteen when a passionate liquid fire races through her veins, hotter than she’s ever felt before. She is thirteen when she stops lying to herself about how much she loves her little brother. She is thirteen and helpless and nearly sick as Zuko writhes and cries on the floor. She is thirteen when she decides she has to kill her father.

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Azula does not run away from the arena after her brother. She does not shake in rage or cry. Instead there is only smiling and joking about Zuko’s shameful behavior. It takes every bit of control she has to keep from following Zuko as he’s being carried out by healers. Only her Uncle leaves the room with them and Azula would give anything to be him. But doing so would give away too much of herself to her father and everyone else in the room. It is only after everything winds down in the dead of night that she sneaks off to go see Zuko. As the princess of the fire nation she has long since mastered the art of sneaking around guards and servants. She tries not to think about Zuko learning with her, sneaking cookies and laughing. Not that she’d ever tell him but Zuko might even be better at it than her.

It takes Azula longer than she’d like to admit to find him. He hadn’t been in his room or in the room reserved for treating royal injuries. Instead she finds him in a room close to her Uncle’s and only crawls through the window after confirming Iroh is the only other soul in the room. Her Uncle looks up and does not look surprised to see her. He does look wary however and Azula hardly feels the little spike of pain that causes as she rushes to Zuko’s side.

“How is he?” She demands in the harshest whisper she can manage. In an instant that wariness fades into his usual fondness.

“It is likely he will survive provided the wound does not get infected. We won’t know how his eye or ear will function until he wakes.” Azula frowns at this, burns are notoriously prone to infection. Then again no one knew burns like the fire nation and the royal doctor was the best in the land. With rare tenderness Azula reaches out and pets Zuko’s hair. It has been slightly shaved on the burnt side, damp and limp with sweat unlike the smooth silk she’s used to. Her Uncle looks tired and twenty years older than he did yesterday.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” She asks, unable to help herself, voice dead calm despite the rage that still roars within her. Iroh despite his age and newfound pacifism had a far greater claim to the throne than her father. He was an accomplished general and the firstborn son, that carried weight despite Azulon’s will. No one would have questioned it if he had taken the throne back when Grandfather’s death was still fresh. Now though her Father had established his own cabinet and loyalties. To take the throne now might mean war. Unless he just dies and it goes naturally to Azula that is. Yet she is only thirteen, to take the throne now even if she could take him out right away would make her the youngest firelord in history. Young and vulnerable to anyone who might want to swoop in and take it away from her. No Azula had to be smart about this, build her own following and reputation before she could even make an assassination attempt.

“If you had just stayed and fought he would be okay! If you hadn’t left us Zuko would still have half of his stupid baby face and I wouldn’t have to- have to-” Horrifyingly she begins to choke on her words as pressure builds up behind her eyes and nose and Iroh’s visage becomes overlapped with Ursa’s for a brief dizzying moment.

Just as her Uncle begins to reach out to her tears brimming in his own eyes the door begins to creak open. Azula is off like a shot shoving herself into the large wardrobe in the corner of the room before it’s even half open. The doors to the wardrobe are solid towards the bottom but begin an intricate weave halfway up leaving just enough of a gap to see who Zuko’s other midnight visitor is. It’s Ozai. She nearly stops breathing in terror, instantly sinking below the slatted portion of the doors to hide fully. He cannot catch her here. Maybe if she hadn’t hidden she could have played her visit off as a mocking one, just to see if ‘their dear zuzu had kicked the bucket’ but her dive into the wardrobe made the intentions of her visit clear as day. Azula never hid her cruelty but her kindness has always been a closely guarded secret. It would be alright though, because she wasn’t going to get caught. She just hoped her father wasn’t here to finish the job. Hoped that her uncle wouldn’t let him if he tried. If he laid another hand on Zuko she’d try to take the throne within the next hour consequences be damned.

“You’re still here brother? Soft as always.” Ozai says as a few servants shuffle in behind him. Her Uncle holds his ground with poise that Azula envies. She’s gotten better over the years but she could never manage a passive aggressive exchange of blows with the grace her mother and uncle had mastered.

“Well he is my nephew.” Iroh responded with a tone that added a clear meaning of ‘a father should be even softer’ or probably something along those lines. It’s clear he isn’t happy with Ozai. Hypocrite. He could have done something. Anything. But no, everyone just sat and watched. Azula had just sat and watched.

Ozai hums in agreement, ignoring the steel in his brother’s tone before nailing in the days final blow. “I’ve come to a decision about Zuko’s punishment for his cowardice, banishment will suit him well I believe. He’s always been a disgrace so maybe this lesson will teach him something of value.” Her father says completely nonchalant, as if he hasn’t managed to turn the blood in Azula’s veins to pure ice in an instant. She hugs her arms tight to her body, digging her nails in until it hurts to prevent herself from jumping out of the closet saying something she shouldn’t.

Out in the room she hears Iroh make a noise like the air has been punched out of him. “Banishment brother? Surely that’s too harsh, Zuko is only a child!” Iroh is smart, he doesn’t point out that Zuko has been punished enough or accuse any of Ozai’s previous actions as wrong or unjust. However this response hinges on her father having even an ounce of sympathy or love in his body.

“Perhaps you’re correct brother,” Ozai begins after one of the people behind him murmurs in agreement. Perhaps they hadn’t been servants after all but witnesses to an official order of banishment, at least two nobles and a firesage must be present for the banishing of royalty. “I will give Zuko a chance at redemption.” The words nearly make Azula cry in joy from her position in the closet. Anything- she would make sure Zuko succeeded at anything if it meant him coming home. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to kill her Father for it to happen.

Her Uncle sounds similarly relieved “Thank you, that is most generous of you brother. What are the terms?” He sounds excited and Azula hears the scrape of his chair as he stands, presumably to face his brother.

“By my decree Prince Zuko will regain his station and honor if he finds and captures the Avatar.” Her hope shrivels up and dies in her chest and she stops listening to the world outside. Similar to when she realized Azulon wasn’t joking about ordering Zuko’s death. It was like a rug got yanked out from underneath her and she’s about to hit the ground. Father has always been very creative in his cruelty. It’s impressive and sickening. She wishes her Uncle hadn’t opened his stupid mouth. This was worse than mere banishment, this would give Zuko hope. Searching uselessly for something that no longer existed, tempting him with a carrot like he could come home if it wasn’t for one simple task.

Azula sits in the closet for a long long time after she hears her father and his witnesses exit the room. She begins to feel the rise of the sun before her uncle cautiously raps his knuckles against the wardrobe door. Azula crawls out of it gracelessly, legs still feeling limp and weak like they have ever since her father walked into the room. Iroh stands her up, face pale yet determined. “We leave in three days.” He sounds more grim than she’s ever heard him. Zuko won’t be anywhere near ready in three days. All thoughts of safely coasting through potential infection and receiving superior treatment vanish. Burns are prone to infection. Infections lead to death. Azula turns her back on her Uncle and leaves without responding.

Three days later she is sneaking aboard the most pathetic out of date ship she’s ever seen. From what she’s heard the soldiers are even worse, scraped up from the worst the fire nation navy has to offer. Yet she also knew her Uncle had handpicked them himself. It bothered Azula greatly that she wasn’t in a position to do it and if she was supposed to be anywhere near this ship she would take her time assessing them one by one. As it was she had about thirty minutes before the ship was on its way out of the fire nation and an hour before she had to be back in her room to get ready at sunrise.

The darkness helps her go unnoticed as she stuffs herself through the porthole nearest to Zuko’s cabin. Two days ago someone she’d never seen before had handed her a note written in her Uncle’s handwriting, listed was a time, a ship, and what porthole to sneak through. Her Uncle is waiting for her and leads her through the suspiciously empty halls. Good. She would hate Zuko to be down a crew member before he even began his so-called quest. A quest that Azula decided he would indeed be going on even if she was trying to fast track her way to ruling the country. It would keep him busy and far far away while she took care of everything. Once she won she would call him back home with some excuse about needing his help in these troubling times. An excuse meant to spare his pride from not completely regaining his honor. As if he could, as if their father didn’t make that decree as a joke to twist the knife. No she’d sell him something about how he could regain it by serving at her side. Closely at her side.

When they arrive Iroh opens the door for her and stands aside, closing it quietly behind her as he remains outside. Whether to guard or grant them privacy she cannot say. The cabin smells of medicine, blood and sweat. Her brother is shivering and flushed where he lays and Azula is overcome with fear, has an infection set in or is it from the stress and pain? She flops into the chair at his bedside and shakes him gently to rouse him. Zuko will survive this, she just knows it, he’s stubborn like that. Just in case though she wants to see him awake and talking. She wants to be able to say goodbye. Even if he comes out of this alive, which he will, she doesn’t know how long it will take her to secure the throne. Her authority must be unquestionable when she brings him back, enough so that no one will even think to betray her or go after the one soft spot she has.

After another few seconds of increasingly rough shaking her little brother finally cracks one golden eye open. It is hazy and confused but she waits patiently for him to recognize her. “Lala?” His voice cracks as he blinks up at her. Azula reaches out and clutches his hand in hers as her mind goes uncharacteristically blank. She’s never been at a loss for words in her life and yet seeing Zuko awake is what nearly undoes her. Does Zuko even know he’s on a ship? That he’s been banished? She isn’t sure but she knows her Father had a scribe lay out the terms of his banishment for when Zuko woke up, and she can spot the official letter sitting unopened on the desk in the room. It tempts her to burn it. To demand no one tell Zuko about it. But that will only hurt them both in the end so she turns back to her naive little brother. Azula won’t be the one to tell him about it. She’s hardly even able to spend these few precious moments with him. It will be a long time before Azula sees him again.

Azula reaches up and ruffles his hair, it’s still unwashed and rough and Zuko flinches as her hand comes for his face but she ignores it and keeps at it, gently going through some tangles on her way through. Something very soft and painful begins to crack through the past few days of forced apathy as Zuko tries to give her a pained smile. He whimpers as it pulls on the burns beneath his bandages. Every twitch of his face must be agony at the moment yet he still tried. For her. The love she feels for him that she tried so hard to bury all these years suddenly threatens to overwhelm her, sharpening the pain in her heart. Love doesn’t come easy to Azula, it never has. Even now she fails, unable to protect him, unable to take his pain away. It is a shameful weakness and she had always thought she would be better off without it. Only facing the truth of how precious her brother is to her after the Agni Kai made Azula realize it’s never going away. So even if she’s bad at it she’s going to start trying. Azula has never failed to excel at whatever she’s put her mind to and she decides love will be no different.

“I’m going to get you home Zuzu. Wait for me.” She whispers, leaning over him to press a soft kiss on the side of his forehead not swathed in bandages. The words don’t come easily. She nearly chokes on the weight of her promise, on everything it means. Father won’t go down without preparation, from here on out she will be walking on a tightrope. One misstep will mean death. Unlike with Zuko any insubordination from her would mean death, her father will know better than to keep her alive if she acts out of line. Azula is dangerous and cunning. She does not hesitate. She does not show mercy, she cannot, she-

“Lala?” The word is even softer, coming out concerned and almost afraid. Of course he’d worry about her. More than anyone in the world Zuko was sensitive to her moods, even if he still couldn’t tell when she was lying. He squeezes her hand back even though she can feel the way her nails are digging into his soft flesh, it must be painful.

With forced composure Azula meets his eye. “I swear it Zuzu. I swear it.” She promises again, breathless with emotion as she tries to push her tears and bubbling emotions back down into the dark where they belong. Azula hasn’t cried in years and she’s not going to start now, not when she has work to do. Zuko mumbles something in response that she can’t make out and his eye starts to flutter closed, grip finally going slack in hers. It’s time for her to leave. With one final squeeze she lets her brother go and forces herself up and away from him.

On her way out she lays out her own letter next to the bright red envelope that she knows only contains cruelty. She put everything into that letter, from here on out nothing by hawk could be trusted and it could be years before she had another chance to address her brother without censoring herself. Next to it she places a small headpiece, it is two intricate golden wings joined in the middle by a dark ruby. It was their mother’s it was rarely worn in comparison to her flame but still recognizable. Azula had stolen it when she was nine after her mother refused to play with her when Zuko had a fever. She’d kept it out of spite but after their mother disappeared it became a carefully guarded secret, kept underneath a delicately loosened board in her room.

It takes more strength than she thought it would to open the door and step back into the hall. Iroh escorts her back to the porthole she came through and Azula hesitates again. The only family waiting for her at home is her father. No soft mothers, no annoying Uncles or cheerful cousins. No little brothers. But that’s okay. She doesn’t need them. Doesn’t need Iroh like Zuko will. In fact it’s a good thing that Zuko was banished. He will be safe chasing legends and myths and Uncle will keep him safe while Azula takes care of everything else. This is for the best.

Azula steps towards the window but stops dead when Iroh grabs her shoulder. Did they get caught? Will she have to bury a soldier today after all? Her alarm dies down to flustered confusion when he pulls her close into a firm hug. She tenses all over and does not return it. “I’m sorry Azula. I’m so sorry, and I’m so proud of you. Please be careful my niece.” The words make her inhale sharply, as if she’s been stabbed. Her heart does something funny in her chest that she chooses to ignore.

“I’m not the one who needs to be careful old man.” She snaps back not knowing what else to say. However despite the sharp tone she allows the hug to go on for several more minutes than she usually would even as she refuses to return it. Eventually she pulls away and he lets her go. She doesn’t like the look on his face, one of sadness and pity. “Take care of him.” Azula barks the words out like an order, one that must be followed or there will be consequences. As always Iroh responds to her prickling with patience and his slow stead nod of acknowledgement settles something within her.

Azula takes a deep steadying breath and heads back into the night alone.

Chapter Text

Prince Zuko is born quiet and small. He starts to walk at sixteen months. At four years old his father pushes him away for the first time. When he is six his sister starts spending less time with him so he goes to her instead. He bothers her as she tries to meditate in the courtyard, whining and poking at her sides. Suddenly she’s rearing up and yelling at him but the only thing he’s paying attention to is the aggressive downward swing of her arms. All he can see after that is bright searing blue as he throws his arms up to protect himself. It takes a moment for the pain to register and the moment it does Zuko is wailing and a few guards come to swarm them along with their mother who had been reading by the turtle duck pond.

As his mom gently grabs at reddened arms to check the damage, her voice gets louder than Zuko has ever heard and she pulls him up on her hip to rush him to the healers herself. Zuko peeks over her shoulder as they hurry away from the courtyard and away from his sister who looks more surprised and scared than Zuko has ever seen her. Azula does not apologize to him even when their mother tries to make her. Instead she gives him whatever small desserts she gets at every meal their father is not present for until Zuko’s bandages disappear and he knows she’s sorry without her having to say it.

When Zuko is eight and spitting mad after Azula shoves him into the turtle duck pond little sparks crackle from his stomped foot. He is so overcome with joy that he forgets all about waterlogged clothes and frightened turtle ducks. So distracted by trying to make them come out again that he doesn’t see the way his mother’s face falls at the sight.

Zuko is eight when his mother tells him and Azula about Lu Ten and he is lost in despair. He cries himself to sleep over the next few days and one night Azula slips in and says horrible things only leaving him when he starts to cry all over again. His big sister is usually mean to him but not mean like that. The next night his mother wakes him up with a soft shake, tells him to be brave and that she has to leave. He is eight when his mother tells him goodbye. Grandfather dies and Uncle leaves. Father chooses new teachers for Zuko, better teachers who will help him overcome his weakness. Zuko clings to them and tries to better himself. His sister becomes cold and even meaner than she was. She doesn’t pat him on the head anymore or tell him that his katas are ‘not terrible’ he sees her all the time but it feels like she left along with everyone else. Zuko doesn’t chase after her this time.

He’s nearly nine and can’t seem to do anything right. Even when he gets close he always falls short of perfection. Always too much movement or not enough, it's hard to concentrate when he knows failure means pain. But it’s his fault for not being good enough. Azula is perfect and he’s trying so hard to be like her even if it’s useless Zuko can’t make himself stop. After a particularly bad day of training Zuko comes out of the infirmary and she’s waiting for him. She takes him to their favorite courtyard and starts running through basic katas, going slower than any of his teachers ever have. Zuko follows along and she nudges his sloppy form until it’s perfect. After that it becomes a regular part of his day and he sees his sister more often. Sometimes she’s mean and shouty but Azula never pinches him until he’s bruised and she never ever burns him even when they spar. Zuko likes training with his big sister the most.

Zuko is nine when Uncle Iroh comes back and Zuko is happy to see him. His Uncle asks about his bending progress and Zuko is embarrassed to admit he hasn’t gotten too far past the basics but doesn’t refuse when his Uncle asks if he can watch one of Zuko’s lessons. He agrees and even though he does his very best during the lesson his flames are still weak and small but at least they don’t flicker like they used to. After the lesson his teacher goes over everything he did wrong and Zuko nods along as usual. His instructor isn’t too harsh today, maybe because Uncle’s watching.

A week later his Uncle takes him aside and asks if he would like to learn how to use swords with a friend of his. A friend who lives on the other side of the fire nation. Zuko nearly bursts into tears thinking he’s being sent away for not being good enough. It takes two cups of tea and many desserts for Iroh to explain that nothing is Zuko’s fault but learning swordsmanship will help improve his footwork and center himself which would only help his bending. On the day he’s scheduled to leave he looks for Azula everywhere to say goodbye and almost doesn’t find her in time. After he gets close enough Zuko quickly looks around to make sure they’re alone and then throws his arms around her. There is a lot of squawking and shouting but she doesn’t push him away even after her usual ten seconds of patience have passed. Zuko even gets a head pat before Azula tells him that the carriage will leave without him if he doesn’t hurry.

It takes a year before Zuko masters the basics enough to return to the palace. He tries to tell everyone all about it. Master Piandao had let him forge his own swords and told Zuko he was talented. No one has ever told Zuko that. Iroh takes over his firebending lessons when he returns and his uncle must have been right because Zuko’s flames start to get brighter and stronger. All of his instructors have changed actually and Zuko isn’t sure how swordsmanship helps him with history but he starts doing better in all his lessons. Azula even praises him in her own way when she offers to spar with him so he can show her the dao he had made. He’s on his back in a second but it doesn’t discourage him because it means she took him seriously rather than toying with him. Zuko gets up and happily throws himself at his sister twenty more times before Iroh breaks them apart laughing in a way Zuko hasn’t heard in a long time. A few weeks after that Azula tosses the most beautiful swords he’s ever seen on his lap. Even though her words are mean when she presents them her voice is warm and a small smug smile lights her face up. He briefly wonders how much of her allowance these cost her and only feels a brief sting of guilt before he gently sets the swords aside and throws his arms around Azula. If she thought he wasn’t worth it she wouldn’t have bought them. The thought of his sister acknowledging his skill warms him far more than the gift had.

The next few months are some of the happiest of Zuko’s life and then he goes and ruins it all. He is eleven and begs to sit in on a meeting with his father. Zuko knows he’ll never be firelord but he wants to learn how to support Azula in any way he can. It takes Zuko less than thirty minutes to break his promise to not speak. He is afraid to fight the Agni Kai but between learning from Uncle and sparring with Azula his firebending has improved greatly. Even if he can’t take down the general he’ll do well enough to not shame himself. Zuko’s confidence lasts right up until his father joins him up on the stage.

Zuko is eleven years old when he falls to his knees and begs for mercy and forgiveness. Eleven years old when he knows true fear, nothing has or ever will come close to the bone deep chill he feels when his father places a hand upon his cheek. He is eleven when he is burned in front of an audience. He is eleven when he feels his own flesh bubbling and melting away. Eleven years old when all he can think about is how he’s probably going to die under his father’s hand and it will be his own fault if he does. He is eleven when he is banished and kicked out of the only home he’s ever known.

Chapter Text

Apparently it takes two weeks for Zuko to wake up properly. At least that’s what Uncle tells him. All Zuko can really remember is pain and throwing up more than he ever has in his life. When he’s awake enough to realize he’s on a ship he begs his Uncle to tell him why but he always just pats his hand and says he’ll tell him when he’s better. This never fails to make Zuko angry but he’s too tired to fight about it and too afraid pushing will drive his Uncle away. Uncle has been the only constant ever since Zuko first woke up and he’s terrified of waking up without him there. Though Zuko thinks very early on he might have heard Azula he hasn’t seen her since. He wonders if she’s disappointed in him.

Eventually Zuko starts keeping more food down and is able to take a few steps out of bed. He nearly trips over his own feet with every step but his Uncle is there to hold him up. It’s embarrassing and Zuko feels like a baby but Uncle says that when he can walk across the cabin on his own he’ll finally tell him why they’re out on the water.

He’s still somewhat feverish and weak but Zuko manages the walk within a few days of his first steps. “Now will you finally tell me why we’re out here?” He demands after Uncle helps him back to bed and, embarrassingly, tucks him in. His Uncle is silent and still for a long time before he walks over to the low table in the room and returns with a bright red envelope. Zuko makes a grab for it and growls when his hand misses the envelope by a few inches. He’s gotten better about reaching things close to him lately but until the bandages come off he’ll have to get used to this. Just until they come off. The ship doctor said he might not be able to see out of that eye but Zuko refuses to believe that will happen.
Zuko makes another grab for it and it looks like his Uncle is going to say something but instead he sits on the edge of Zuko’s bed and opens the letter for him. For a few minutes they sit in silence as Zuko reads. ‘Banishment’ is the only real word that Zuko can see as the rest of the world fades into white noise. “Uncle?” He whispers, voice cracking like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. It feels like he’s in a dream- as if the world had suddenly stopped making sense.

“Read until the end my prince.” His Uncle softly coaches and after a few more dizzying moments Zuko is able to read to the end of the letter. Slowly the world starts to make sense again as he re-reads the terms of his banishment. Right- he wasn’t banished forever. His father wouldn’t give him an impossible task. There had to be some signs out there- something to follow. Of course finding the avatar wouldn’t be easy but the difficulty of the task was proportionate to how much Zuko had shamed their family. He was going to be okay. Everything would be okay. He would be able to see from both eyes soon and then after he found the avatar he could go home. Maybe he’d even be praised as a hero for bringing the fire nations greatest enemy home. Some said the cycle had been broken but surely there must have been some signs if his Father sent him out.

There was still one thing about this that hadn’t slid back into place though. “Why did you come with me?” Zuko asked peering up at his Uncle. For a moment the man looked so lost and sad Zuko was reminded of Lu Ten’s funeral, however the look was gone so quickly he couldn’t help but think he imagined it as he took in his Uncle’s smile.

“Do you think I would miss a chance to go on a trip with my favorite nephew?” His uncle asked as if this were merely a trip to Ember Island. This could take months. Even years if he was particularly unlucky and Agni knows he’s the unluckiest eleven year old alive.

Zuko feels the burning in his nose that always leads to tears and his face scrunches up in a way that twists his burn painfully. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry.” He’s choking on snot and tears before he can stop himself and his Uncle pulls him in for a tight hug.

He cries for a long while and it’s only when he’s slowed to sniffles that his Uncle speaks up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for Prince Zuko. This was my choice to join you, I wouldn’t allow anything else. Besides if I hadn’t come I’m quite sure my dear niece would have had my head. She was quite concerned for you, even left you a letter before we set sail.” The mention of Azula makes every muscle stiffen up but his uncle pats his back until he settles back down. He doesn’t want to read it. The only thing it will contain is mockery even if it’s in her loving way. Or worse she’ll actually be disappointed in him. Disappointing their father fills him with dread and fear but if he’s disappointed Azula- A kiss on his forehead snaps him out of the spiral he’d begun to head down as he rears back from his affectionate Uncle to rub his forehead clean.

Zuko is still close enough to feel the deep belly laugh that earns reverberate through him and suddenly he realizes he’s exhausted. His Uncle seems to realize as well and he helps Zuko settle back down into his pillows. “Rest now Zuko, but you should read your sister’s letter soon, she also left you a gift. They’re in your trunk when you’re ready, is there anything I can get you?” Zuko shakes his head but as his Uncle turns to leave the cabin Zuko manages to lift one heavy arm and grab onto his sleeve. His Uncle doesn’t say anything, just pulls up a chair and sits down. Tomorrow they will change their course to the nearest air temple but tonight the only thing Zuko can do is close his eyes and dream of home.

—-

It takes a month at sea for Zuko to build up the courage to open his sister’s letter. He had seen their mother’s headpiece and wondered if it was a mild threat. That he should just leave and not come back the way she had. But this letter might be the last time he ever hears from Azula and even if the words are cruel Zuko knows he deserves them. So when the moon is high and nearly the whole ship is asleep he flips his trunk of belongings open and gently moves his mother’s headpiece away from the letter. Breaking the seal and sliding the paper out eases some tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying even if he’s still afraid of the cutting words within.

“Zuko,

I won’t act like I’ve ever truly understood you. You’re emotional, annoying, and you’ve been a thorn in my side from the moment you could walk. Mother always babied you and Father tried and failed to fix your weakness. I always knew I was better than you.

That’s what I thought I knew at least. After all, I would never stand up in front of a room full of powerful men and call them wrong to their face. I would never stand up in front of Father like that. Before I would have only called it stupid to do so. It is only watching you burn that I realized I might be the weak one instead. There was nothing I could do except watch. At that moment I realized I have no power in any way that matters. Being the Crown Princess or being the favorite doesn’t mean a thing if I can’t protect you. It doesn’t matter if it was foolish of you to speak up or even if you were wrong because I think you might be the bravest person I’ve ever known. You at least tried to protect something important to you. I wasn’t able to do anything.

I wish you luck little brother and I expect you to have finished your advanced katas by the time we meet again.

I love you,

Lala.”

Zuko sits there and stares down at the letter until the sun begins to rise. He knows in his heart this isn’t a joke. She delivered it personally according to Uncle and he recognizes her handwriting but he just doesn’t understand. Very gently Zuko sets the letter down and reaches into the chest and gently pulls out their mother’s headpiece. Azula had kept it all these years after she disappeared. She’d hidden it like Zuko had hidden his copy of Love Amongst the Dragons. Yet she had given it away to him. His sister has always cared about him. Always loved him. Even if she didn’t show it the way Mother or Uncle could. Even though he knew this Zuko had always compared parts of Azula to father. A cold unattainable perfection. Only now he realizes the ways in which they differ. While he had to earn father’s love he always had Azula’s.

Zuko had to get home- Azula didn’t need him. She never had and never would but he suddenly missed her so much it ached. He wanted all three of them to be together again. Except for when he’d studied with Piandao Zuko had never been away from Azula, and with his sword studies Zuko at least had the option of going home when he wanted.

No matter what it took Zuko was going to find and capture the avatar.