Chapter Text
It was the dark of night when Ozai attempted to kill his father. And he would have succeeded if his wife hadn’t been preparing for this very action for years. She knew that he would not hesitate to kill anyone, no matter their relation to him. Wife, son, daughter, brother, father… they were all merely pawns to him in a grand game not of his own making. And that power grab would get him killed.
She had taken her concerns to her father-in-law early in their marriage, only to be laughed away. It had seemed funny to him then- this small peasant’s daughter, only important for her connections to Avatar Roku, a half-forgotten prophecy and her father’s line back to the Sun Warriors. What could she possibly know of politics? And it was true, she knew nothing of politics. But Ursa was an actress and she knew people. She knew when they were acting, playing a role and Ozai was not a good actor. He thought himself above all and the longer they were married the more this appeared to be true. And then, when her son was two years of age and she barely recovered from childbed once more, he accepted the truth of the words the Peasant Princess had spoken to him all those years ago.
Ozai had been presumptive. An assassin in the night, baring his mark that failed. Azulon had been furious, but he was also a brilliant strategist. And by law, there needed to be proof before he could just strike a Prince and heir in line to the throne out of the running for Fire Lord. One assassination was not enough- after all, the assassin could have gotten the mark from anywhere and it could even have come from any member of Ozai’s household, servants and all. But, Azulon knew. And that was all that was needed.
It took several letters to a family that she had not seen in years before they could move anywhere. Ozai was stupidly unaware of the knowledge that being a florist’s daughter gave her- ignorant of the fact that his own father had talked his wife out of murdering him with poison the night he first dared raise a hand to their son. And then later, when he did the same to their daughter. Nine years it took of restraint, before Ozai took one step too far and sealed his own fate. After all, the man never thought to check if there had been any other ears in that chamber. Had never taken the time to learn the epithet ‘all walls have ears’. And these ears belonged to certain nobles placed there, the most loyal of the Royal Guard, a couple of council members.
Apparently, it was also a lesson he had forgotten to teach his daughter.
Ozai thought he had won after watching his father drink poisoned tea and his wife supposedly banished. What he didn’t know, however, was the part where Azulon took the antidote, gifted to him many years ago by Ursa, an hour after his son left. It left him weakened, and had damn near killed him, but he stubbornly lived on. Lived on to change and dispatch his official will to where Ozai would never think to look.
When Ozai was crowned Fire Lord, rampant in his success and revelling in his supposed victory, Azulon had already left the city. He had a son to find, and daughter-in-law to return.
Jeong Jeong stared at the man in front of him, calmly sipping tea made from his own pot. He understood that he probably looked like a gaping recruit, staring at their superior for the first time, but this was not a possibility that he had ever expected. After all, he had been in the capital five years ago and the Avatar had only just left, followed by his wayward student. He had thought that, having left the army three years ago, he had left the court politics behind him.
Oh, how very wrong he was.
“General Jeong Jeong,” the man in front of him stated. “Are you going to spend the entire time gaping at me like a fish?” This statement came with a quirk of a white eyebrow. Jeong Jeong scowled.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. It was said you were dead.”
“A rumour allowed to be exaggerated,” the man dismissed, waving one sharp-nailed hand in front of him. Even dressed in drab Earth Kingdom browns and greens of a traveller, he had kept the long near-talon-like nails. But he had to admit, it made logical sense. “I take it Colonel Chey made it to you?” Jeong Jeong raised his own eyebrow.
“I wasn’t aware Chey was of any interest to the Royal Family,” he grunted, suspicious. A sigh.
“His father was a loyal General of mine. I entrusted his family with an important document- it was simple to assume that he would follow in your footsteps from the word my spies sent me. His father informed me the document was missing the same day he left.” Jeong Jeong scowled- this was why he very rarely let too many ex-high-ups join his resistance group. Never mind his ties to the White Lotus: politics was even more annoying than twelve-year-old airbenders with the patience of a rabbiroo. He had known that the ex-Colonel Chey had belonged to a noble family, one that had been close to Fire Lord Azulon but had thought nothing of it. Chey was a follower, it had seemed unlikely he would have deliberately been embroiled in anything as complicated as this.
However, he wouldn’t put that same faith in General Shen.
“If he hands this document over, will you leave my camp?” Jeong Jeong asked. He wanted nothing to do with whatever this was. He had his mission for the White Lotus and he wasn’t going to fail General Iroh, a man he trusted far more than this one. A near silent tsk followed this demand, but there was no legendary fire to blast him into an ashy smear on the forest floor, so he assumed he had been allowed that small consideration.
“Yes.” Jeong Jeong nodded and had Chey called for. An hour later, and the late Fire Lord Azulon was on his way, off to Agni knew where with a document sealed with the Royal Emblem tucked carefully into a bag.
Hakoda had never been happier when his son had been dropped off by a giant fluffy extinct creature with a bubbly airbender on its back. That happiness soon faded only a day later when a wizened old man turned up in their camp, asking after the boy who had arrived with the Avatar. He didn’t seem like much- well into his nineties, back cowed with age and dressed in greens and browns of an Earth Kingdom travelling merchant, with a carefully crafted story of having lost his caravan and family along with it. He even had a worn knarled piece of wood that acted as a walking stick. But there was a fierce look in those easily discernible Fire Nation golden eyes.
“And what exactly do you want with my son?” Hakoda asked doubtfully, motioning for Bato to find him but kept at a safe distance until they knew what this stranger wanted.
“I am looking for my son and grandson, lost to me on the road. I am hoping that he may have been spotted by one travelling with the only hope to this world,” the man said, tone believable but something still felt off to him.
“What’s your name? And that of your son’s?” Hakoda asked.
“I am Azul, of the old Pohuai coloney. My son’s name is Mushi and my grandson is Lee. We were forced to move out when that awful stronghold was erected,” the old man stated, a tone of disgust entering his voice when he mentioned the Pohuai Stronghold. It was a plausible story- not all Fire Nation colonists were particularly happy with their treatment by their supposed countrymen. Ostracised both inside and outside of the Fire Nation, they often made for troublesome groups, usually the most attacked on the roads by rebel Earth Kingdom militias. But Hakoda wasn’t buying it. Unfortunately, Bato was no longer able to keep Sokka out of the way.
“Hey, Dad, Bato said- whoa you’re really old!” Sokka blurted out, stumbling to a stop next to him and Hakoda almost smacked his palm to his forehead. His son was smart, but also without tact. The man, luckily, seemed more amused than insulted.
“I am a hundred years old,” he agreed, although not humbly. “And you are a friend of the Avatar’s?”
“Oh, yeah!” Sokka agreed blithely and Hakoda swallowed the feeling of dread at the sight of the delighted spark in the man’s eyes. Clearly Sokka had missed that the man was Fire Nation and saw only the disguise. “You actually just missed him-“
“It is not the Avatar I wish to speak to,” Azul interrupted and Sokka blinked, mouth still hanging open. “I was hoping you could help me. You see I am looking for my son and grandson and had heard you had run into them.” Sokka blinked again and Hakoda frowned. What did that mean? How did he know that?
“Er… well, Aang kind of helps all refugees,” Sokka said, deducing the fact that this man had fallen on hard times at least and thankfully now sounding uncertain. “So, I might not know them by name.”
“I have pictures,” the man intoned. “Unfortunately, they are a little out of date by about three years.” There was genuine sadness in his tone. Sokka, brightened a little though.
“Oh, well, I’m sure I’ll be able to recognise them! I’m good with faces.” He glanced at Hakoda and he nodded, knowing there was no getting out of this now. Azul reached into his bag and plucked out two pieces of well folded paper- proper quality paper too, as was the artwork depicting a young boy of thirteen years dressed in full Fire Nation armour and a noble collar. They must have been the councillers running the coloney! Hakoda’s brain shrieked. However, the boy’s hair was not up in the traditional topknot, but rather some form of tail, not unlike the Water Tribe Wolf’s-Tail. The man on the next sheet of paper however, turned this dubious meeting into a nightmare. The moment the Dragon of the West’s face appeared, Sokka recoiled, almost dropping the first portrait.
“That’s-!” Sokka didn’t seem able to get the words out. Hakoda’s hand fell to his machete, the other on Sokka’s shoulder, ready to throw his to safety, or out of the way or- something.
“Who are you really?” Hakoda growled, noting with pride how the other warriors were already preparing for a fight. Azul gave him a deadly smirk and suddenly stood up straight, truly showing how much of his image had been a ruse.
“I am Lord Azulon of the Fire Nation. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t drop the only portrait I have of my grandson.” He was eyeing Sokka with disapproval, those talon-like hands shifting ever so slightly in agitation. “And I believe we have much to discuss.”
“Like what?” Sokka squeaked.
“Where you last saw Zuko.” Different name than the one previously given but this man was dangerous and they just didn’t have the capacity to fight a member of the Fire Nation Royal Family in their camp. One wave of his hand and they would probably all be ash on the ground. Hakoda ground his teeth, frustrated.
“If you are General Iroh’s father, how are you not ruling, Fire Lord?” Hakoda hissed, still ready for battle. Azulon made a noise of contempt.
“Previous Fire Lord,” the man corrected. “Ozai overstepped his boundaries, more-so since I left him to dig his own hole. And now he has dragged his daughter down with him.” For the father of the current Fire Lord, he sounded less than impressed about having to clean up his son’s messes.
“And you want to find Zuko why? I thought he was banished?” Sokka asked, clearly speaking before engaging his brain. Azulon’s face twisted into a scowl, so ferocious that Hakoda wondered how they were not all smears at his feet.
“One struck from the line of succession has very little power to banish the Fire Lord. Which Ozai would know, had he bothered to read my will rather than forge a more… convenient one,” Azulon stated, somewhat casually. “As I said, he has overstepped. Many times.” Sokka really was staring now and even Hakoda had to stop his own mouth from falling open. He had seen the recent wanted posters, the damage done to the boy’s face… the stories from Sokka. And this man had named him as Fire Lord.
“You made an eleven year old boy Fire Lord?” Hakoda stated, unsure if it was a question or a statement.
“Had the antidote failed, yes. With his uncle as Regent.” Sokka turned to stare at his father who shrugged.
“News travels fast that there was a new Fire Lord five years ago… wait did you say antidote?” Hakoda broke off, his brain catching up with what had just been said. Azulon raised one bushy white eyebrow, looking annoyed.
“Yes.” No elaboration and Hakoda hid his shudder. Fire Nation politics had suddenly become a lot deadlier than he had previously thought. And the thought that this man had just admitted that not only had he thought the most suitable person for the job after him was an eleven-year-old… Hakoda frowned.
“I thought your son was first in line for the throne?” he asked. It made sense that Ozai had written his brother out of the line of succession if he had attempted poison but for the man himself to have passed Iroh over… it didn’t make much sense. Azulon huffed, eyes raised to the sky.
“Iroh wrote to me, before the official retreat from Ba Sing Se, at this very beach in fact. After Lu Ten’s most tragic death, he no longer wanted the throne and that he would be going on a spiritual journey. I wrote him a letter knowing of the precarious position we were all in, but since I have been unable to track down my poor daughter-in-law, I have to admit that that letter may also have been lost.” Or never received was the unspoken words between them all. If Ozai were willing to kill his father, it was no stretch to imagine that he would have any correspondence to his brother stolen and destroyed. Hakoda nudged Sokka- the sooner this mess was behind them, the better.
“Go on, Sokka. It would appear we have our answer on who will pick up the slack of Ozai’s mistakes.” Azulon gave him a glare, the likes of which made Hakoda glad they would most likely never see each other again. But it was true- he would rather have a hot-headed teenager on the throne, than a psychopath. Sokka looked at him a moment, wide-eyed, but then shrugged.
“Er… I don’t really know how helpful it will be though. The last time we saw Zuko, Crazy Blue Fire was trying to kill us on the outskirts of the Si Wong Desert,” Sokka said, jumping at the displeased growl Azulon let out. “Katara wanted to help when she shot Iroh down, but Zuko attacked us. I don’t know where they are now.” Azulon seemed less than happy at that information, lip curled.
“What were they dressed in? Their state? I don’t care how old the trail, this is the most recent news I have of them,” he asked, voice level but Hakoda could hear the fear behind it. The fear of a father. It was… strange to equate that to this stiff, deadly old man. Sokka swallowed, thinking.
“Um… well, they were kinda dirty and Zuko looked like he’d lost some weight. They were dressed in Earth Kingdom clothing and had clearly been on the road a while- Zuko arrived on an ostrich horse and I honestly don’t know where Iroh came from. He just kinda… appeared.” Azulon nodded his thanks, although he still didn’t look happy. “Er, Aang might know more…” Sokka trailed off when the former Fire Lord shook his head.
“Considering my father wiped out his race, I think it prudent that I not be here when he returns,” Azulon stated and Sokka made an odd choking noise.
“Sozin was-!”
“My father lived to a hundred and two. Yes,” Azulon stated blandly, “he lasted another thirty-two years after Roku’s death.” Hakoda raised an eyebrow. Interesting. And a little disturbing considering this man’s age- if that much was true, he would have become Fire Lord at the age of twenty. No wonder there had been genuine grief amongst some of the older Fire Nation generals- they knew no one else to lead them during the majority of the war. “If that is all you know, I shall be on my way. No need for us to create a mess.”
Hakoda didn’t relax until the man had disappeared from view. That was, until he realised he was heading right towards Ba Sing Se.
The opening of the Jasmine Dragon had gone off without a hitch and Zuko found himself genuinely happy for what felt like the first time in a long time. With the decision to just accept what had happened to him and making the decision that he was not going to let banishment destroy him, he felt more at ease and open to new experiences than ever before. Best of all, Uncle was happy and smiling again after the anniversary. He had had to beg Pao for that day off for his Uncle, spent hours for the weeks leading up to it, allowing his uncle to teach him the ‘delicate art of tea-brewing’ after work, in the hopes that they wouldn’t go under the one day his uncle wasn’t there. Thankfully, his new skills had been passable enough that Pao didn’t regret that day off and had been more lenient the month later when the anniversary of Lu Ten’s death came up. All Zuko had to do was mention his uncle had lost his son, and Pao’s eyes had softened and he’d been sent right back into the kitchen. It had been… gratifying knowing that somehow, despite his miserly approach to everything, Pao had a softer side. And that he was happy to let them have time off- the next day Zuko was given a day off to his surprise for ‘all his hard work during such a tough time’.
Perhaps he ought to have mentioned that it had been five years not… so recently.
Zuko actually found himself quietly humming an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him at night as he swept the front porch. For the first time since that terrible night, five years ago, it didn’t hurt so bad to think of her, to wonder if she was alive and out there somewhere or had been killed and left to rot in a ditch somewhere back in the Fire Nation. Instead of thinking about being woken in the middle of the night, he found himself thinking instead of those warm summer nights on Ember Island, being rocked to sleep by this very same lullaby.
What he wasn’t expecting was a reedy old voice to add lyrics to a song he had thought had only been loud enough to be heard at the porch.
“Hush, my baby, hush,
How lovely the sun shines in the sky.
Sleep, my baby, sleep,
As Agni watches us this morning.
Hush, my baby, hush,
Look how the stars twinkle in the sky.
Sleep, my baby, sleep,
The moon watches over us this night.”
Zuko blinked, cheeks flushing red to have been caught singing a children’s rhyme in the middle of a busy city. He couldn’t see the stranger’s face- his reed hat was pulled low over his face, helped by the fact that the man was so old he was stooped over from a crooked back. Long white hair, braided in the traditional Earth Kingdom style, created a long plait down his back. The only tip that this man was more than he seemed was the long talon-like fingers, complete with long nails associated with nobility. Zuko was amazed that he hadn’t broken any.
“May I help you sir?” Zuko asked uncertainly. “Unfortunately, we’re closed now,” he added quickly, in case he wanted to come inside. There was a short laugh.
“So I hear.” There was something familiar about the voice that emerged from under the hat, but Zuko couldn’t place it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that song. Not since I left the Fire Nation.” Zuko swallowed the blind terror that wanted to rise-up. They had only just recently shaken off the skulking Dai Li from the Lower Ring. Then again, this man had just admitted to also being from the Fire Nation but if he looked up, he would surely recognise his face. So, Zuko stayed silent, unsure how to respond to that comment. The silence stretched on and Zuko shifted uncomfortably. What did this man want from them?
“Was there anything you wanted?” Zuko asked eventually, still confused as to what was going on. Silence and then-
“You don’t remember me?” There was a note of sadness in the man’s voice and Zuko swallowed back his nerves. He had been a prince once upon a time. This shouldn’t be so terrifying. The last time he had been this afraid, he had been facing down his father in an Agni Kai. Or… The happy feeling was suddenly long gone.
“Onryō?” Zuko whispered. “I… Mother… I didn’t…” He didn’t know what to say. What did one say to the ghost of their murdered grandfather for his life? He might not look like a traditional yūrei but that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t one. There were tales of onryō appearing normal right up until they killed you too. And it was his fault that Grandfather was dead. There was a short chuckle as the ghost looked up, revealing features that Zuko hadn’t seen in five years. Strangely, he didn’t appear angry at all.
“Not tonight, grandson,” the ghost said. “Now, are you going to invite me inside or shall we do this in the street for all to see?” Zuko wordlessly stepped aside, allowing this man with his grandfather’s face to shuffle up the steps and enter the shop. He hadn’t thought Fire Lord Azulon knew any of the songs his mother had sung- she had claimed they were generally local to her childhood home. It was quite possibly the most shocking part about this whole…situation.
Uncle was still cleaning up the kitchen and the ghost stood up straighter now that they were out of the sight of strangers. Zuko knew a disguise when he saw one and cursed himself for letting his guard down just this once. Trust his luck to get them found out the one time he was actually happy. Unsure, where to go from here, Zuko somehow fumbled out some words and got his supposed grandfather sat in their most comfortable booth and then tired very hard not to run for his uncle. Iroh, too, was humming happily and blinked in surprised when Zuko almost crashed his way into the kitchen, looking as if he had just taken three steps backwards from the progress that he had finally instilled in the boy.
“Lee?” he inquired and, when that didn’t seem to work, “Zuko? Are you alright?” Zuko’s mouth worked for a good minute before he shook his head and just pointed out into the service area. Grateful for the small window that allowed him to see the dining hall, he peeked out to see the ghost of a man long gone. He was simply thankful he was not holding anything at the moment. No wonder Zuko is so off balance. This is… Five years. It had been five years for Zuko, nearly eight for him, since they had last seen this man. Iroh had been sad that he had missed his father’s final moments and no amount of coaxing would get Zuko to tell him how he died. Passed away in his sleep was all he had been told by anyone he asked, but Zuko had been far too jumpy when he returned for that to be completely true. Of course, to jump up so far in line for the throne was a shock, but his nephew was persistent and rose to every challenge thrown his way. The twitchy, uptight and suspicious boy he returned to was something different to just a change in position. He had thought that that boy had disappeared when Iroh returned and actually paid enough attention to begin tutoring Zuko properly, however he had made a vengeful return on the moment of banishment.
But now was not the moment to be freaking out himself. His nephew needed him, and he needed to know how this would fit in with his own new plans. Taking a deep breath and pulling on old habits of a general, he pushed the interal turmoil away and placed a bracing hand on his nephew’s shoulder.
“I believe we shall need some Oolong,” he said clamly and Zuko threw him a wild look, face pale, but nodded, already reaching for the teapot. Within a few short moments, they had the tea brewing and Zuko had placed a few leftover fruit tarts on a serving plate. Neat, perfectly placed but he could see his nephew’s internal fretting that it wasn’t good enough, despite the fact that they were not in the Fire Nation palace and Azulon was no longer Fire Lord.
And then, it was time to face the dragon. Pasting a smile on his face, Iroh picked up the teapot and walked into the dining hall, Zuko following with the treats and cups.
“Father! This is… a surprise!” Iroh stated, stumbling a little over the wording. Azulon looked rather different in Earth Kingdom green. Less intimidating, despite his general aura, and somehow more human. He was still watching them like a hawk, but gratefully accepted the tea, sipping carefully, a look of content settling over his features for only a moment. Iroh never forgot someone’s favourite tea.
“A surprise indeed and one not meant to occur,” Azulon replied after tasting the pot first. The only indication of surprise Iroh gave was a blink but Zuko somehow only got paler, a near imperceptible shake in his hands as he held his own cup, not even tasting the tea. He looked like he was about to be sick. “I sent a reply to your request, although I suspect your brother had the messenger meet an unfortunate fate.” Iroh blinked again. His father had accepted his reasons? That was… new. Azulon was not one for retreat.
“I never did receive any letters,” Iroh mused out loud, watching Azulon carefully as he took another sip. The man just merely nodded, sniffing in dissatisfaction.
“A shame. It would have made this easier to explain. However,” Azulon turned to the satchel at his side, pulling out a slightly rumpled scroll, sealed with the black wax denoting a royal decree and a seal Iroh had not seen in many years. Azulon’s personal sigil. “This may clear up some… misconceptions.” Iroh took the scroll, placing his teacup on the table and carefully breaking the wax. The scroll was thicker than he was expecting, revealing several different papers all rolled up into one. Glancing down, Iroh felt the breath catch in his throat.
Scribed here, by the hand of the Royal Sage Hitomu, is the Last Will and Testament of Fire Lord Azulon, son of Sozin and Wei Wen. All decrees are to be followed as orders direct from…
Scanning further down, confused, Iroh read through several decrees in surprise.
I hereby decree that the army retreat from Ba Sing Se. The loss of life is too great for validation…
I hereby decree, in light of the death of Lu Ten, Son of Iroh and Nemira, that Prince Zuko be named Crown Prince behind Iroh, Son of Azulon and Ilah and that Ozai, Son of Azulon and Ilah, be struck from the line of succession…
I hereby decree, as per Iroh’s request, that… Iroh froze, staring at that last decree, blinking rapidly. This… this changed many things. It managed to simultaneously wreck and move up many of his carefully laid plans. Slowly, he passed the Will to Zuko and picked up his teacup once more, inhaling the calming fumes. For the first time, he wished that they had something stronger.
“I was told your Will was read at your funeral,” Iroh said carefully, one eye still on Zuko as he scanned through the document as well, waiting. It was only a matter of time and for once, Iroh did not know how his nephew would react. It… changed many things about the past and Iroh felt the return of the simmering anger he had towards his brother that he had been resolutely ignoring for three years.
“A fake,” Azulon confirmed. “Considering I was neither present, nor in the sarcophagus and had already sent the original away, it would be rather difficult for that to have been my Will.” Zuko made a strangled noise, marking the moment he had found that passage. Terrified golden eyes snapped up, glancing between them both and then, almost in slow motion, Zuko stood, swaying only a little, laying the Will carefully on the table.
“I…” Iroh wasn’t sure if Zuko was breathing or hyperventilating. His chest barely seemed to be moving. “I have to… to…” A half-choked noise left his mouth and then, suddenly, he was gone. Not even out the door either, just gone, through the window, up and gone. Iroh stared sadly at the spot his nephew had just been while Azulon made an interested noise.
“That explains why the servants kept telling me he was on the roof,” his father muttered into his tea and Iroh took a steadying breath, slowly, praying to stay calm. The decree jumped out at him again, the last of a long list and clearly tacked on with the rest of the decrees at the end.
I hereby decree that on my death, I name Zuko, Son of Ursa and Ozai, as Fire Lord. If the time of my passing occurs before he comes of age, I place Iroh, Son of Azulon and Ilah, as Regent and if he is unavailable, Ursa, Daughter of Jinzuk and Rina, until such a time as he is ready to take control of the Fire Nation.
By Azulon’s own hand, his nephew should have been on the throne for the past five years.
Zuko couldn’t stop running. His breath wasn’t filling his lungs enough and there was a scream trapped in the back of his throat, threating to rip through his vocal cords. He had already passed one startled Dai Li, away and back down into the streets, unsure of where he was going anyhow. What did it matter when his life had just been turned upside down once again? His grandfather alive. His father banished from the line of succession. Himself as… He choked back a sob and tried to run faster, but even his stamina had to give up sometime. He very nearly collapsed outside of one of the many fancy houses found in the Upper Ring, probably one he wasn’t even meant to be around but what did he care?
Agni, my luck is rotten he found himself deliriously thinking, staring up at the stars. For a moment, he wished that he just didn’t know, that he could go back to that blissful ignorance from not even half an hour ago. But there would be no forgetting. Father tried to kill you. It was an admission he’d never allowed himself before. Now, there was no getting away from the cold hard truth he had spent three years running from. He must have known about the Will. Had Azula? She had seemed pretty smug when Father had been crowned, but Zuko supposed that if she had he wouldn’t have had the chance to mess up in the War Chamber.
He wasn’t sure which was worse right now: that his father had tried to kill him or that his mother had tried to kill the man that removed Ozai from power. Either way, he couldn’t face that just yet. There would be no returning home tonight, or at least not anytime soon. But he would go back. He had to- Uncle was there and Uncle hadn’t known any more than he had. He wondered what they were talking about.
Zuko jumped when the door opened and a short figure appeared, grumpy.
“Hey, are you dying out there?” a girl’s gruff voice shouted. Zuko blinked, turning from his awkward, sprawled position on the floor to get a better look at her. Short, young, only twelve or so and dressed in green. Black bangs fell in front of milky, pale eyes, showing that the girl was blind, although he was also willing to bet, from her bare feet, an earthbender. “If you do, I’m not clearing up!”
“Toph!” came a painfully too familiar shout, appalled, and Zuko shot to his feet. Oh no, not here, not now. He had just agreed with himself not to hunt him down and the spirits just dumped him on his doorstep? Had they not played enough havoc on him tonight? Orange robes jumped up behind her and Zuko found himself face to face with wide grey eyes and the familiar visage of the Avatar. Before he could go though, the girl- Toph apparently and most likely the Avatar’s earthbending teacher- butted in again.
“Hey, you were that guy with Uncle! You must be his nephew!” she stated and Zuko just stared dumbly at her, suddenly too tired to process all of this. Uncle had mentioned something about meeting someone on the road while he had been… travelling. Zuko hadn’t really been paying too much attention at the time- in his defence it had been on the boat here with that stupid idiot with the ridiculous wheat straw. The Avatar was also staring at his teacher, allowing the group’s resident idiot to join them at the door. He somehow took in Zuko’s appearance, blinked, and then opened his mouth.
“Your grandfather found you then?” There was an odd squeak in his voice, and he was eyeing the rooftops where the curious-once-startled Dai Li was situated. There were three more surrounding the place he had stopped. Zuko just nodded silently, wondering when Sokka of all people had met with Fire Lord Azulon. Just Lord now his brain helpfully provided and Zuko twitched, annoyed. “Um… why don’t you come inside?” Zuko wasn’t the only one to stare at him and Sokka just shrugged, a silent I’ll explain in a minute, too many ears hanging in the air. Figuring this would be better than resisting, Zuko just stepped obediently inside, taking note of all the exits as he went. Always good to know where the best get-away exits were.
The Avatar’s house was… spartan. Oh, it was lavish as all houses of the rich and noble were, but there was nothing personal to the place. No added touches that made the place theirs- everything was still decorated as a guest house for important dignitaries staying in Ba Sing Se. It made sense: the Avatar and his group weren’t exactly carrying any extra stuff considering they were constantly on the move. He had just thought that, if one thought about it, the amount of time they had been here ought to have brought at least some junk that they had accumulated. Gifts from nobles, pandering from the crowds… where did they keep all that stuff or did the airbender just give it away? He had assumed that the supposed saviour of the world would have been showered with attention by now. But maybe that was the point- the attention they had gotten wasn’t good.
He sat gingerly at the table, closest to the window so that if anything went wrong he was at least close to an exit. Sokka plopped down opposite him and the tiny earthbender sat herself next to him. The Avatar skittishly sat down next to Sokka. It had to be the most awkward table he had sat at since the last time he had sat at dinner with his father and grandfather.
“We’re not gonna kill you, you know,” Toph piped up from next to him, her hand carefully placed on the floor between them. Zuko just shrugged, still unsure of how to answer, his head too busy with the revelations the night had already brought. But it was… calming to just sit away from the mess that was waiting for him back home at the Jasmine Dragon. The silence dragged on before Sokka awkwardly coughed and shifted uncertainly.
“I guess you’re wondering how, err, I met your grandfather.” It seemed that Sokka must have spotted the Dai Li considering he wasn’t using names. “He said his name was Azul?” Zuko just nodded silently- considering he had been ‘dead’ for five years, a pseudonym would have been needed along with a back-up story. “Well, when I was meeting with Dad, he was sort of already there and, um, he was looking for you and your… uncle.” Zuko wasn’t sure what to make of the pause but there wasn’t exactly much he could do about it now.
“He said,” Zuko said softly, staring down at the table.
“Did he…” Sokka trailed off as if wondering how to phrase the question and Zuko looked up sharply, glaring. How did this boy know? How could he have known before him? Why would Azulon have…? He was with his father. Chief of the Southern Water Tribes. Telling an enemy that the person they’re fighting has to claim to the throne is a sure-fire way of spreading rumours without giving yourself away. It was hardly as if people were going to believe some Water Tribe savage that the previous Fire Lord was still alive. Zuko swallowed back his anger and tried not to scrunch into himself. He couldn’t afford to show weakness here, not to these people.
“Yeah, he showed me the Will.” Zuko couldn’t quite keep all of the bitterness and terror out of his voice. How was he supposed to be Fire Lord? Even after two years of actual training, he was still the screw-up, the weak-link of their family. Why had Azulon placed him as heir, even all those years ago when he had had no potential? None to Father his mind whispered and he shoved that traitorous thought down immediately. No need for wishful thinking right now. Aang was looking confused, while Toph’s eyes had gone wide.
“Wait, your telling me your grandfather is still alive?” she asked, amazed.
“Yes.” I don’t know how though. He didn’t say that part though. Had he faked his death? But then, why was Mother gone? And why… why had it all seemed to final when she left? Aang blinked and Toph shrugged.
“It’s in the Beifong family’s interest to know who’s running the place,” she stated. Ah, so she knew too then. Their four shadows were still out there, listening. “I thought he died in his sleep?” It was aimed at hm but Sokka twitched.
“Um… he kinda mentioned something about poison?” the Water Tribesman said and Zuko flinched. Of course, it would have been poison. His father wouldn’t exactly have been able to explain away physical wounds to the guards. But then again, there hadn’t been a body to begin with, so Zuko wasn’t sure how he had got around that. And considering his mother’s knowledge of botany… it wasn’t exactly difficult to guess where he had gotten the recipe from. Sokka appeared to notice his turmoil as he quickly added, “He had an antidote though!”
“Huh?” Thankfully the Avatar was just as confused as the others. Toph was frowning in disapproval, having worked it out and Zuko just felt cold at the implications. He knew. He knew Father would try to kill him, to kill me… The nausea returned in full force and Zuko swallowed the reflex to gag. It had seemed so impossible that anyone could second guess Ozai or Azula that this new information just put everything into an even worse light than it had before. “What do you mean?”
“It means Grandpa knew the attack was coming,” Toph near hissed. “And prepared accordingly. So, I’m guessing our friend overseas is currently sat there illegally.” Zuko blinked, turning to look at her properly. Blind, but competent through earthbending, clothes plain but made of a higher quality material. Hands soft, no callouses despite working with earth…
“You’re a noble,” Zuko stated numbly. She had mentioned the Beifong family, it was true, but that could have just meant she was a servant there. However… “You’re Lao Beifong’s daughter.” Toph just gave him a cheeky grin in response as Sokka stared.
“How’d you…?”
“If you’re travelling the world, you always know your merchants,” Zuko said firmly. “Even the Earth Kingdom ones.” Sokka just continued to stare incomprehensibly while the Avatar just stared at all of them, clearly out of his comfort zone.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Toph asked. Zuko shrugged again.
“I can’t… I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, glancing out of the window. “But I should… I should go back. I left Uncle alone with… with him.” He was stuttering and rambling he knew, and cursed himself for it. Toph, however, didn’t seem to care.
“Cool! I’d love to see Uncle again!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Zuko blinked.
“You’re blind.”
“Your point?” Toph asked, a note of aggravation in her tone.
“How are you going to see him?”
“Well, Toph’s pretty good at seeing things actually,” Sokka intoned animatedly. “She even liked my drawings of Appa!” Zuko found himself floundering wondering what on earth that meant.
“How does any amount of earthbending allow you to see what’s on paper?” he asked, bewildered. Toph grinned, mischievous.
“It doesn’t.”
For the first time that evening, Zuko felt his mouth curl up in the semblance of a smile.