ZUKO

"Tea?" Zuko asks softly, not wanting to disturb Aang's sleep. He'd been unconscious during the whole trip back to the herbalist's conservatory.

Toph turns toward him as he enters the room carrying a tray with three cups and a kettle. "I'll pour my own, thanks."

He lets her, setting the tray down by Aang's bedside. Fragrant jasmine steam perfuses the air, following him as he retreats to the other side of the room and tries not to pace along the wall.

"You don't have to lurk there in the corner like a monster in the shadows." Toph leans against the bed frame, ankles crossed, sipping delicately from her cup. She's the picture of studied nonchalance, the opposite of Zuko crawling with nerves right now.

"I just… I hate to see him like this," he admits. "When we were fleeing Pohuai, I was scared he wouldn't make it."

"Let me see if I have this right. You've had all manner of spirits and people, including me, trying to kill you ever since you became the Avatar, but this is the thing that actually scares you?"

"Don't laugh," he mutters, only a little irritated.

"I wasn't going to. Just pointing out something that even you might not have realized yet. By the way, Sleeping Beauty's awake," Toph announces, seemingly apropos of nothing. "His breathing's changed," she explains in response to Zuko's confused silence. "How are you feeling, Twinkletoes?"

Several long moments pass before Aang actually opens his eyes and summons the strength to roll his head in the direction of the earthbender standing at his bedside.

"Like I flew through a tornado," he answers belatedly, his voice still sandpaper. "Where are we?"

"In an abandoned city, in the house of a crazy old lady who feeds her cat flowers. She does a pretty mean remedy for motion sickness, though, so she can't be all that crazy. I wonder if she has anything to treat lovesickness."

In his half-delirious state, Toph's remark probably goes over his head, which Zuko might or might not count as a blessing.

"Where's Zuko?"

"Oh, what, I'm not a nice enough sight to wake up to?"

Aang manages a weak snort of amusement which quickly turns into a painful cough. Zuko sighs, unpeels himself from the far wall where he'd been resting, too unsure of his reception to venture any nearer. "Over here."

At the sound of his voice, Aang turns his head over to the other side, an agonizingly slow process, to seek him out. "Could you please give us a moment, Toph?"

"Sure. Have all the moments you like." She turns for the door but pauses and tilts her head at Zuko, meaning clear: Please get your heads on straight for once and talk things out like adults. Using words, yes?

He nods, a little impatiently, and she must sense it, leaving them alone. He approaches Aang tentatively, wondering if he's ever taken ten more hesitant steps in his life. The Agni Kai comes to mind immediately, but he thinks that those steps towards his humiliation and banishment should have been the most exultant of his life. They brought him to the one before him now, after all.

It's a little disconcerting to be staring down at Aang for once, so he kneels by the bed to put their heads on a level, awaiting some kind of verdict, an indictment, a curse, a reprieve, something. He focuses his gaze on the floor. His hands clutch at each other, desperate to reach out but terrified of rejection.

"I'm sorry, Zuko."

He raises his eyes, not expecting to hear this. "Sorry? For… what?"

Aang smiles, just barely. "For running away and leaving you, remember? And for giving you hell just because of your heritage. And for getting myself captured so you had to come rescue me. Did you forget? I thought I was the one who got hit on the head."

He's this close to his deathbed and still trying to make jokes. This is how I fell. The long speech leaves still more cracks in his broken voice. Zuko reaches for the kettle to pour some tea. He helps him sit up, and warm skin under his fingertips grounds him slightly, helps reinforce the reality that his best friend is here with him again, alive and well (more or less), and that he hasn't lost him.

"Thanks." He takes the cup and drinks. "You never realize how much you miss things like water and air until they're forcibly withheld from you."

At this proximity, the dark bruises stand out like blights on his skin. Zuko feels a fury mounting in him at the sight of them that threatens to wipe out his hearing and his thoughts in anger, at Zhao's complete lack of humanity that allowed him to lay a hand on Aang. His hands, lying flat on the bed, clench into fists, wanting to lash out but finding no appropriate outlet. He rests his forehead on his arms, afraid that otherwise the simmering rage in his eyes will spill out and destroy what they're trying to rebuild.

"It's okay," Aang says quietly, noting Zuko's distress. "Zhao wanted to get some information on you, stuff like where is the Avatar now? What are his plans regarding the war? Are there any more surviving Air Nomads? Of course I wouldn't tell anything to such a rude man."

It seems airbenders take refuge in gallows humor, and if he weren't so livid, Zuko would probably be crying at the way his perfect airbender is offering comfort when he's the one who's wounded and war-torn.

"I was really offended. He should at least have asked me some questions about myself before trying to choke the answers out of me. But seriously, I'm so sorry. I wish you didn't have to see me like that."

He feels Aang's gaze on him, curious in the lengthening silence. He raises his head and takes several deep, long breaths to steady his voice. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he finally says. The words are inadequate, but he has nothing else to show for how he feels. "Sorry that I didn't tell you about my past, that you had to find out like that. It was never my intention to tear us apart. I can't ask you to forgive me, but please, Aang, I beg of you, give me a second chance."

There. He's done it, bared his soul, his every heartstring on display for the snapping. Spirits save him. Aang looks down at him thoughtfully, before declaring, "Nope. Can't do that."

His heartstrings snap. The world teeters out of alignment; the poles fall into the sea, quakes split the ground, everything is wrong—

"I mean, I can't give you a second chance because you haven't screwed up the first one," he clarifies on second thought, as if this were perfectly obvious from the outset. "You had a reason for what you did, and I understand why you thought I would want to leave you forever. But even before you rescued me, I already knew: I couldn't do that. I'd already made up my mind to come back."

He leans forward, pulls the other into a hug, two whole hearts beating opposite each other, not to be parted. "You have to know now: I'll never leave you."

Never.

"You idiot." Zuko throws everything he can't say into the hug. The last time he hugged anyone was probably before he was banished. "Don't do that to me again."

"I won't."

AZULA

By decree of Fire Lord Ozai, Crown Princess Azula will remain confined to her quarters in the palace indefinitely for falsifying the nature of her identity as the Avatar; conspiring against the Fire Nation with a foreign national; and attempting to leave the grounds against imperial orders. Violation of this decree in the form of any effort to leave the designated radius will result in further penalties, to be determined by the Fire Lord. Retraction of this decree may be issued by the Fire Lord at any time.

She rereads the decree for perhaps the hundredth time in two weeks of house arrest. The scroll no longer springs back into its tight roll but lies flat from being unrolled so often. The words haven't changed, though, and they continue to leave her with no answers regarding when she will be released, what will happen to her, or what's happened to Haru.

They'd been caught leaving the palace under the cover of night. Azula hadn't underestimated the level of security at the perimeter, but for some reason that night, they were apprehended by more than the usual amount of guards watching over the royal family's safety. Haru was bundled off somewhere else, probably the holding cells for keeping prisoners of war, while she was returned (under highly effortful struggles, she reminds herself) to her own rooms, with the one change being that she's now guarded day and night. There is no leaving the compound without attracting attention.

She drops the paper over the side of the couch where she lies, not having moved for who knows how long. She no longer bothers her mind with inconsequential things like time, food, sleep, her appearance, anything at all, except the chance that she might get out of this predicament relatively unscathed. This whole time, no word has come from the Fire Lord at all, except for this decree, delivered a few hours post-incident. Every day, a different guard brings her food at set times, which she generally ignores. A knock sounds on the door—that's probably dinner.

"Princess Azula?" The guard enters hesitantly, possibly still in awe in spite of her state of disarray. Well, that's something. "The Fire Lord has summoned you to appear before him immediately."

That's definitely not dinner. She sits up rapidly, stars briefly popping behind her eyes at the change in elevation (should've had lunch). "Right now?" she demands, then berates herself internally; obviously, immediately means now.

The guard takes pity on her. "We have a few minutes before we must make haste there. I'll wait outside."

She's halfway to her dresser mirror and picking up her hairbrush before he hurries out. The Fire Lord has summoned her. She can't help but remember what happened the last time a member of the royal family was summoned to meet with him under similar circumstances.

No, that won't happen. If he wanted to banish me, I'd be gone already. He won't treat me like Zuko. He can't afford to.

AAA

Azula enters the throne room, steps echoing timidly on the vast, empty floor as she walks towards the throne. The Fire Lord sits elevated above everything else in the chamber, a dark figure framed by the regal arch behind him, imposing even through the wall of fire before him. Everything is as she remembers it from five years ago, when she and Zuko were just children, pawns in their father's plots. That part hasn't changed. She bows once before the throne and awaits Ozai's response.

"Do you know why I asked for you today, Princess Azula?" His tone is unreadable.

She inclines her head into an expression of appropriate chastisement, though it is a far cry from how she truly feels about the man before her.

"To hand down punishment for defying your orders, Father." Hopefully her honesty will lessen the degree of said punishment. His business-like attitude makes it clear that no manner of shameless begging or apologizing will alter her verdict.

"No," he says simply. "Azula, come here. Sit." He rises from his seat and steps aside, beckoning to her.

She does as he bids, bewildered as she ascends the steps. The wall of flames dies down to allow her to stand beside her father. To her amazement, he steps down from the dais and leaves her there alone, walking away until he stands where she was just moments ago. He looks up at her as if she is the sovereign, but she feels only more belittled as she sits like a child between the finely carved pillars of the throne's arch.

"As someone who will one day come into this kingdom, you should familiarize yourself with the view from on the throne and from below it."

What am I supposed to see besides your judgmental face, Father?

"You are the Fire Lord." His back is to her; he now stands farther away, between the third and fourth pillars from the throne, but his voice carries in the absence of the crackling of the flames. "Show me what you would show your loyal supplicants when they enter your presence."

He thinks I'm weak, she realizes. He thinks I'm not strong enough to be his successor, to broadcast the image of an infallible ruler.

With inspired strokes, she ignites the long gutters before the throne so that the wall of flame rises anew, higher and hotter than her father's had been. She smiles proudly—that will show him. She may not be the Avatar, but she has this.

Through the blinding haze of the fire, she struggles to make out Ozai's shape, but the moment she locks eyes onto it, the air crackles, and suddenly, the entire throne room is illuminated by a cold white blaze forking through the air towards her, seemingly faster than light should be able to move. She throws herself out of the way, sliding across the floor in an ungraceful heap just as the lightning strikes the arch above the throne, instantly cracking it and raining down worthless gilded pieces.

"Where do the stars go during the day, when the sun is in the sky?" Ozai asks conversationally as if he hadn't just shot lightning at his heir apparent. "Do they flee, overcome with awe at its fire? No, they remain where they are, obscured by the sun's brightness, but they reappear when night falls."

Azula remains huddled silently on the floor, doubting his next move, the wall of flames she'd conjured now vanquished.

"If I were an assassin here to kill you today, your flames of vanity would not have protected you; quite the opposite. You saw only the beauty of your raw talent and didn't think of how they hindered you from seeing threats close at hand. Likewise, you omitted to think things through when you tried to abscond with that Earth brat on some fool's quest to find the Avatar."

Now there is heat and anger in his voice. She bites her tongue against the desire to ask what will happen to Haru. She can't let him know her weaknesses. Her own fate is unclear enough.

"Don't worry. No harm will come to him if you know your place," he reassures her, slightly menacingly, she thinks. "But even if the two of you had found the Avatar, what would you have done? The Avatar's power is limitless. You could not have hoped to best him with brute force. Do you remember your first firebending master, Azula?"

She clears her throat, nerves wrecked and voice shaking, speaking to the floor beneath her. "Master Kunyo, of course. You banished him to the colonies."

"All because he refused to teach you the way to make the biggest fire blasts." Ozai smiles without mirth and approaches the throne again. "You were a willful child, and I let it go at the time. I see Zhao has more than compensated for Kunyo's deficiencies in your education. But his teachings will afford you little success. To face the Avatar requires what you currently lack: precision. I have neglected your training, but no longer."

She dares to look up in surprise at the promise in his words. Is this… her reprieve?

"I will train you personally. Your firebending, and more importantly your mentality, requires honing and finesse before you are ready to capture the Avatar."

There's a flicker of hope that her father will forgive and forget, that she'll get a second chance to prove herself and please the Fire Lord, but… what's the catch?

"Father, if I may ask… whom have you determined to actually be the Avatar?"

He tells her. It is as if all fire and warmth has been leached from her body, as if the Avatar spirit, which never was hers to begin with, has left her destitute and barren.

A/N: I cannot believe I have actually finished this book, much later than I thought I would, haha. Oh my god. I'm weirdly really proud of myself (now if only I could say that about most other aspects of my life). Definitely I can recognize parts that weren't great, but also parts that were stellar and that I wouldn't be ashamed to show people outside the fandom. This is plot-wise the most complex thing I've ever written, and wow, I am still in awe of it all.

The next book is posted - check my profile page for the link - it's called too cold to shiver, and introduces the Water tribe siblings :D and Zuko learns waterbending.

Finally, thank you all for reading - I can't say this enough. Every time I get a comment, I just have to stop what I'm doing and sit down because I'm smiling too much to function. Like, someone actually liked this thing enough to type words specially intended to express to me that they liked it that much? ? How ? ? ? Thank you so much for doing what you do. You're awesome. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you, actually. Ahhhh okay, I need to stop now before I get too emotional. *wanders away to cry tears of joy*

Until next time!

Notes: archiveofourown dot org /works/7019827/chapters/21786944