Chapter Text
The smoke cleared and Ursa realized something. She had a decision to make.
It wasn’t a choice of whether or not she should start the flames. It wasn’t a choice of which fire to burn. It wasn’t a choice of which flames to fan. Ursa had to choose which child to save as the house burned.
She chose Zuko. She saved Zuko from the contempt of his father. She saved him from his grandfather’s fear. She saved him from the destructive fascination of his sister. She saved him from those who would end him because of something that happened to him when he was less than a week old.
Azula would be safe without her, Ursa assured herself.
She couldn’t take them both. Ozai would start another family, do the same to another woman—Ursa wouldn’t let that happen; she wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.
Ursa left the palace. She left everything behind. She left a burning home. She left a poison in the hands of a power-hungry heartless thing. She left a power vacuum. She left the Fire Nation.
She left with regret in her heart and his smoke gathering again in her head. She left with regrets and memories. She left with fear and pain.
In time, in love, she found a way to shed the marred parts of her. In time she found she could live again, trust again, have hope again. Not every day is better, but most are.
For her and her son.
It’s been five years. And they are stronger for being away.
There is a joke in the military. What happened to the missing Fire Nation prince?
It has many punchlines.
The first version of it wasn’t a military joke. It was cruel mocking from a sister to her brother.
An Earth Kingdom family adopts him.
Zuko frowns at the wanted poster from behind his mask. No wonder plans have changed. A propaganda stunt or truth to the rumors; it changes things. The Fire Lord is telling the public the Avatar is back and he wants the kid, a kid, captured.
Not like he hasn’t done worse. Zuko thinks bitterly. He taps the bottom of his sheath; assuring himself that his swords are still within his reach.
He hears familiar footsteps behind him. “We won’t be able to meet here.” His mother says as she pulls on a festival mask.
Zuko nods. He saw Jeong Jeong’s poster too. “He’ll send someone.”
Ikem takes his hand out of Ursa’s to put the arm around her shoulders. She leans into him.
Still not feeling well.
“Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.” Ikem says.
Zuko and his mom share a look through masked eyes. Without words they know this could be goodbye. So much for having a few more years. There were things they needed to discuss: if she’d want to go back once it was all over, if she’d rather stay in the life she’s built up in the last five years, what to say to the family, who she’d want to see.
Like they’ve learned in the last five years, they move forward, finding joy while they can. They let themselves get caught up in the festivities, enjoying food that tastes like home, dancing more from memory than knowledge, and watching performances they can only see—
Airbender. The Avatar.
And the time Zuko thought they had slips away in a spiral of wind.
His mom she pulls him into a quick hug. “I know.”
They recognize Chey’s voice as he shouts for the Avatar to follow him. Zuko knows the theater troupe’s route, and if he can’t get word to them that way, there’s the house in Gaoling. Contingencies, they have contingencies. They never thought they’d need them.
He hates that he has to leave her.
Zuko turns his masked face to Ikem. “Take care of her.” He tucks his fire flakes into his shirt checking for his swords with the other hand.
Ikem isn’t a fighter. But that’s not the kind of care his mom needs. “Always.” Ikem swears.
With that promise given, Zuko chases the Avatar and his companions, already unmasked to see better. They must not be worried about being seen.
Chey sees Zuko, masked, following with swords drawn. Chey throws a bomb at him; Zuko cuts off the wick before it can explode in his face. Chey should know the Blue Spirit mask by now. “Careful!” Zuko shouts.
“Sorry.” Chey yells as Zuko catches up with the rest of them. At least he recognized the voice.
Then they meet a dead end.
The Avatar calls out to a furry beast the size of a small house lands in the alley, “Appa! Down here” The beast slaps its tail on the ground throwing the guard away. The group hop on. Chey tosses a bomb into a crate of fireworks below them.
Zuko looks back at the explosions. He hopes his mom and Ikem get out of there before the kind of people who’d be after the Avatar get there. Zuko pulls off his mask to rub his eyes.
“Whoa, you feeling alright, Lee?” Chey asks.
Zuko takes a deep breath before answering. “My mom cannot get hurt because of me.” The Water Tribe girl puts her hand to her throat; Zuko barely notices, his attention is on Chey. A spectacle. People will be interrogated. If someone recognizes her…
“Would that really—”
“YES.”
Deep breath.
Chey doesn’t know who he and his mom are, not really. To Chey, Zuko is Lee. Lee and his mom are nobodies. Some unfortunate saps who saw something they shouldn’t have and needed to run and stay hidden. They hide in the Earth Kingdom as traveling actors, roughing it most days. Connecting them to the kidnapped or dead Fire Lord’s wife and son would be ridiculous.
“Nice touch setting off the fireworks.” The Avatar tells Chey. The kid—he’s just a kid—can’t hear what they are talking about over the wind.
“Thanks.” Chey lowers his hood.
“You’re Fire Nation.” The other boy says. They were in a Fire Nation colony, most or all the people they encountered there would be Fire Nation. Why is he surprised?
“Were.” Zuko corrects with a half—maybe three quarter—truth. “Call me Lee. The ex-soldier is Chey.”
“…a legend for that. That’s okay though. Jeong Jeong is a fire bending genius. Some say he’s mad.” Chey says as Lee silently appears with more wood for the fire. “But he’s not!” Chey quickly amends, “He’s enlightened.” He looks to Lee for confirmation.
Lee shrugs. “He’s better than any other teacher I’ve had.”
“You’re a fire bender?” Katara says with deep concern. Between Crazy Flames and Captain Sideburns, Sokka understands.
“You mean there are fire benders out here who aren’t with the Fire Lord.” Aang stands up, ready to go, “We’ve gotta go see him! He can train me!”
Jeong Jeong’s student didn’t use his bending when they were running from the guard. How good could Jeong Jeong be? “We’re not gonna go find some crazy fire bender.”
“He’s not crazy. He’s a genius.” Chey insists.
Lee frowns a little in thought then shrugs. “He’s probably the best person to train the Avatar.”
What a glowing endorsement.
Ha! Fire bender, glowing!
“Look, thanks for the help,” says the voice of reason through Sokka, “but we’re leaving for the North Pole in the morning.”
“Sokka, this could be my only chance to meet a fire bending master who would actually be willing to teach me.”
“You’ll have a hard time finding fire benders who aren’t loyal to the Fire Nation.” Lee sits back down by the fire. “Jeong Jeong is a good teacher.”
“Can’t be a very good if you’re carrying swords.” Sokka points out.
“Can’t at all if my hands are crushed.”
Aang’s jaw drops. “Who would do that?”
“Earth Kingdom soldiers who think revenge is the same as reparation.”
“That has to be Fire Nation propaganda.” Sokka says. Only the Fire Nation would come up with something that cruel, only they’d do something that cruel.
Lee jabs the fire with a stick. “No. That focuses on how benevolent we are taking time to enlighten Earth Kingdom savages.” Lee shudders. He tosses the branch in the fire and it burns too quickly. Sokka can see the flames stripping through the bark and the wood. “They’ve done horrible things because they think they’ll win in the end.” Sokka can’t tell if Lee is talking about the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom.
Before Sokka can ask, Lee stiffens. Sokka tries to follow his gaze, but Lee’s eyes are closed, head cocked to the side, like he’s listening—
They’re surrounded.
Lee isn’t reaching for his swords. He trusts these people.
Katara doesn’t. She’s not making that mistake again.
Or maybe Lee doesn’t care who he burns if they get in his way. Maybe he’s like Azula and Zhao, it doesn’t matter what gets burned as long as they get their prize, leaving destruction in their wake without noticing or caring.
Lee yawns as they walk.
Fire Nation, so used to violence being surrounded by people with spears bores them.
People Lee, Chey, and the lauded Jeong Jeong know. Old buddies.
One of the spear wielders shoves Chey forward.
“Don’t worry! Everything’ll be fine. He’s a great man, great man!” Chey assures as he descends the hill.
Lee yawns again and sits on the ground. Comfortable around the threat of violence.
Sokka flops down next to him. “Lee, explain something to me. Ex-fire person, friendly with a crazy deserter, at a fire person festival.”
“We get home sick. But my mom and I can’t risk being recognized. Fire festival has a lot of masks.” He taps the blue one he tied to his belt. “It’s safe…er”
My mom can’t get hurt because of me.
His is still around, alive. And he left her in that colony. How could he do that? He thinks she’s at risk and he left her.
Katara puts a hand to her throat. She doesn’t realize it until she’s reminded of the different feel of it.
“As for Jeong Jeong,…he’s not crazy.” Lee rubs the back of his neck. “I needed a teacher who would…he’s the only one who never…he’s good.” He says the word like it can’t contain everything he could say in one syllable. “The teachers I had before him nearly destroyed my bending. In the span of a few months, he undid the damage eight years of bad instruction caused.”
Sokka looks her. If bad instruction can take away someone’s bending—Katara never had a teacher. She whispers, “What do you—”
The door on the hut below opens. Chey steps out with a somber expression. Lee stands up as he approaches.
“What happened? Can I see Jeong Jeong now?” Aang asks.
Despite Chey saying Jeong Jeong wouldn’t teach him. Aang insists on going to see Jeong Jeong.
“Anything about me?” Lee asks as Aang walks down the hill.
“Training at dawn.”
The corner of Lee’s mouth twists up. “My dawn or his?”
As always, Zuko wakes a minute before dawn. He uncurls his fingers from around the hilts of his swords. He takes a deep breath and stands as the first light peeks out over the horizon. He is awake and the world around him is asleep. He silently walks down the narrow footpaths, passing by Aang, Sokka, and Katara asleep on the ground. Apparently, they didn’t want to use one of the empty huts. Zuko understands, sleeping inside feels weird for him too most days. Ikem says it’s from too much time on the road. Ursa thinks it’s because he’s spent most of his life sleeping without walls nearby.
He sits down in front of Jeong Jeong’s hut and focuses on his inner flames. An imitation of them comes to life over his upturned palms. Thin and tall pale gold surrounded by a bulbous bright red. He inhales and they grow. They shrink with the breath out.
He lets his mind wander, and it quickly goes to the events of last night. After the burst of energy from the chase wore off, he’d been tired. The bad thing about consistently waking up at the first light of dawn meant he always got tired earlier than other people who’d insist on keeping him up for one reason or another. At least he usually had an hour to himself in the morning. Today he’ll use it well.
The plan was to prepare Zuko and prepare the Fire Nation for Zuko. Power changing hands can be tumultuous at the best of times. Usurping his father and ending the war would be an erupting volcano of problems. The White Lotus wants to avoid most of them.
Phase one, or some called it phase zero, was to get Zuko trained, not only in the politics that he wasn’t trained in as the fourth in line until Lu Ten had children, in the real history and horrors of the war. He also needed to be a master of his element, and to his chagrin sometimes, swords didn’t count because he’d be the Fire Lord and not the Sword Lord.
Real phase one was to meet his allies, everyone in the White Lotus or recruited by them who he hadn’t met when the troupe was nearby. Then they’d start seeding the Fire Nation. Rumors of the missing prince spotted; he looks much like his father. Works a certain censorship law called treason being shared. Pieces of the real story moving from one mouth to another. All discrediting Ozai and once it did, he’d be properly introduced to the members of the Order rather than told who to look for if he ran into trouble. When he left, there’d be rumors of people sighting the missing prince. The next step was to get his story out there, discredit Ozai and legitimize Zuko.
Phase two, as Jeong Jeong called it, improvise. There’s no way to predict how the nation would shift. They’d need to collect their allies and their assets, the ones phase one would gain them, and figure out how they would depose Ozai.
Phase three, enact the plan.
Phase four, Zuko rules the nation and ends the war with the White Lotus supporting him from the shadows.
Years of preparing for Zuko to be the face.
Then the Avatar returns. Not a fully realized Avatar, a kid, master of one element, novice of another. The Avatar complicates things. The Avatar changes things.
Zuko is not ready.
Jeong Jeong emerges. Zuko can feel his gaze on him for a minute before his teacher speaks, “We will start with concentration.”
Zuko sighs. He expected it. Too much has changed in the last day for Jeong Jeong to not question him. Still doesn’t mean he enjoys it. Zuko gathers fallen branches as they walk towards the mountain. He breaks off the side twigs and tosses them back to the trees. One by one, he dries them out. “How many?” Zuko asks when they reach the top.
Jeong Jeong looks at the bundle under Zuko’s arm. “All.”
Zuko frowns. He grabbed twice what he thought he needed because Jeong Jeong makes him keep up the flames as he collects more if he doesn’t get enough.
Jeong Jeong helps Zuko set the branches up. Soon he’s sitting in the middle of a scattered circle of thirty or so branches stuck in the ground. The first ten Zuko connects and quells easily. The next ten are slower, but aren’t hard. Last time he managed sixteen without his focus slipping while answering his teacher. Jeong Jeong lights the thirtieth. Zuko closes his eyes to better focus, reduce the distractions. He’s done thirty before, while meditating with candles. Branches are harder, too ready to feed the flames.
Thirty-one.
Breath and fire.
Thirty…three
Breath. Fire.
And more…
more
breath fire
no more.
Sun breath and flame.
Shadow. Blocks sun. Another fire flickers. One that can’t be held, one of self-loathing, redemption, a cynic’s version of hope for the future. Trusted. It flickers and moves before falling into the pattern of breath.
Rise fall. Inhale exhale.
Thought returns. Jeong Jeong. His teacher, that’s the familiar inner flame.
In and out. In and out. He gives the flames strength and they respond in kind. The flames breathe with him.
All but Jeong Jeong’s. Slowly, it settles into the same pattern, but that does not mean it is his to guide. It flickers, almost like it’s stretching. Jeong Jeong asking Zuko if he’s ready.
Zuko tugs on each connection, one by one, testing his control over all thirty-six external flames. He has a hold of them. He takes two short breaths, the best he can answer when his attention is this divided.
At first there is nothing. Then the man’s flame inches out towards his left. A gentle encouraging nudge to one of the flames Zuko has taken under his care. Jeong Jeong tells it to burn hotter, faster, to eat through the branch. It wants to. Zuko flicks his own flame between them, halting the fire from burning through its available fuel. He doesn’t prevent Jeong Jeong from taking it over, but Jeong Jeong doesn’t hold it for long.
The next attempt Jeong Jeong moves quickly, grasping two at once. Zuko stops one before it can get far, but the other burns much closer to the ground by the time Zuko has full control over it.
Jeong Jeong mixes up his approaches. The “surprise” assaults are the easiest to stop. Zuko can feel Jeong Jeong’s inner flame reaching out, deciding between the flames before his will clamps on. The barrages are the hardest to tamper. Jeong Jeong doesn’t stay on any flame long. Zuko has a second at most to slow one or several flames. Inch by inch the branches shrink.
One winks out.
Fuel consumed. Fire cannot last on nothing.
Two. Four. Six.
Fewer flames makes it easier to focus. Zuko can feel more of Jeong Jeong’s attacks coming. He’s able to push more against them. He can start to discern details about the flames other than where they are and how eager they are to burn. He can feel what they burn: aspen, willow, and birch.
Then the attacks stop.
One more connection, a quick thing, almost like an afterthought. This one doesn’t encourage, it quells. Zuko’s focus was on quelling not preserving. The flame winks out.
Twenty remain.
“Practice?” The first question is always the same.
“Daily. Always meditation. Forms away from towns, military.” That part is always the same. It’s easy to say. It gives him time to thread the singular strand of his consciousness not tending a flame to the rest of the answer. “Less travel since last. Using caves near Gaoling. Practicing there.”
“Underground?”
Away from Agni. Cold. Dark.
No escape.
Chest tightening hour after hour.
Too weak to make a flame.
The flames start smoking. Zuko’s hold slipped. He takes a mechanical deliberate breath. “Meditation before. Fires inside. No sunlight starvation.”
Jeong Jeong frowns. Most fire benders don’t know about that. They are never away from the sun long enough to notice. There shouldn’t be signs of it simply practicing in a cave.
The way Zuko reacted, he’s been sunlight starved before. How? It takes months at lea—it takes months for an adult; the only fire benders reasonable people would keep in the dark for stretches of time. Zuko would have been a child, one who knew many who would do him harm, those who’d want to see how susceptible he was.
There’s a story there. Jeong Jeong could ask. He could do many things. He could have never left the military. But as he’s drilled into his student’s head, can and should are not always the same. He could ask. He should focus his attention on things that don’t disturb the boy.
Jeong Jeong takes a short deep breath, flaring his inner flame, the silent question if Zuko is ready to continue. The smoking on the branches slows to a stop. The flames grow and shrink three times in short succession. Yes and no. Zuko’s ready to continue, but not on that subject. Jeong Jeong doesn’t blame him, from what he’s heard, sunlight starvation is not a pleasant thing to survive.
“Avatar?”
“I’m not ready.”
Interesting. Jeong Jeong only wanted to know Zuko’s impression of the monk. What is he thinking? “Why not?”
“I’m just a teenager, a traveling actor who fumbles if he doesn’t have someone directing him.” The flames start smoking. “All I’m good for is memorizing plays. Not a skill for leaders. Change the plan. I’m not ready.” A couple of the lower ones finish their fuel and wink out. “Aang will defeat him and a weak useless one takes his place. The Fire Nation needs to rebuild and I’m not strong enough to lead them.”
Jeong Jeong sighs internally. Zuko has met every challenge Jeong Jeong has put in front of him and thinks he’s terrible because he fails while learning. Worse, Zuko doesn’t take compliments he doesn’t believe. In comparison, teaching—learning with him how Zuko can use his inner flames was the easy part. Jeong Jeong has to guide Zuko to see how impressive he really is.
Zuko will be ready when the time comes. He will have people there to help him. Jeong Jeong has no doubt. But that’s something he’ll have to realize himself.
Jeong Jeong takes over the flames Zuko released in his insecurity laden fears. “Give me the branches. When I am ready, make them burn.”
“Reverse the roles in the exercise?”
Jeong Jeong is at fifteen flames, his meditation limit. It takes him a moment to answer. “Yes.”
Zuko feels him slowly take over the flames. As he reaches eighteen, Jeong Jeong’s inner fire wavers. That’s not a quality his master’s flame usually has. No. Wavering isn’t the right word. It’s shaking from strain.
Eighteen. There should be…Zuko slipped when he told Jeong Jeong he wasn’t ready. He didn’t just lose focus, he didn’t even notice.
Zuko stretches his inner flames before remembering Jeong Jeong can’t sense them the way he can. How to—
He notes all the flames and gives them a gentle tap at once.
No reaction from Jeong Jeong—no, that’s not right. One of the willow branches winked out. Seventeen flames now. Jeong Jeong’s flame still doesn’t feel stable.
Zuko opens his mouth to say something, but he can barely understand language when his attention is spread across too many flames.
He finds the lower flames, the ones with less fuel under them. He nudges one. It lowers and lowers before burning out. Again.
Again.
Again.
Jeong Jeong starts resisting when there are ten left. Zuko gives him a minute without touching any. Jeong Jeong’s inner flame feels weary. Zuko tries words this time. “Ready?”
Two pulses.
Zuko taps on all ten at once. There’s resistance, but not much. He picks one, on a branch that burned less than the rest this morning, and encourages it to burn everything it can. The flame consumes the aspen gleefully.
Nine remain.
This has to be a test. Jeong Jeong is trying to make some point. What?
Zuko nudges one of the flames as he thinks. Jeong Jeong blocks that fully.
A student against a master. The master should be winning.
But, Jeong Jeong—no fire bender Zuko knows could manipulate their inner flame like that. He wasn’t faking struggling with eighteen flames.
How many does Jeong Jeong meditate with? Zuko never counted.
Zuko starts tapping the flames in a slow circle around them. Jeong Jeong picks up on the pattern after another aspen branch finishes turning to ash. Zuko picks up the pace and starts encouraging the flames more.
Time passes and Zuko smiles as he plays with the flames.
When one remains, with no word, it turns into a contest of wills. Zuko pushing down and Jeong Jeong blocking. It doesn’t last long.
They open their eyes slowly and stretch their legs in silence. Zuko always needs quiet after the mental strain of concentration training. Silence to gather himself again. He gives that to Jeong Jeong.
The wind plays with the piles of ash they made and carries them over the earth and toward the river. Zuko’s innermost flame dances within his inner flame. Zuko smiles at her antics.
Jeong Jeong stands first. Zuko quickly joins him on his feet.
Jeong Jeong bows. Zuko has never seen his master bow. Jeong Jeong bows deeply. “Master Zuko. There is no more I can teach you.”
Master? But he’s too—his innermost flame scoffs at that thought.
Zuko returns the bow as an equal would.