-1Cherish

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Well, here's my first Avatar fic, and it revolves around out favorite Fire Nation prince. It's an AU, and begins before Zuko's super-embarrassing-bitterness-from-hell thing. I'll try to keep him as in-character as possible, but there will be slight OOC, seeing as this is an AU. Before anyone asks, this story will have no romance, so none of the multiple female characters are his 'TWU WUB'. So please don't ask.

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DISCLAIMER: I most definitely do not own this series.

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Chapter One: My Fears And My Lies

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The former prince of the Fire Nation ran long, cold fingertips over the angry scar marring his face, then stared intently at his glassy reflection in a chunk in the cave wall. Zuko shivered and spat a breath of fire into his hands to warm them.

Who would have thought that Iroh would actually know something practical, Zuko mused idly to himself, then leaned back, before automatically stiffening up as his body touched the frosted wall. Schooling his features, Zuko set his jaw and refused to flinch away, settling himself down obstinately.

He gazed at his reflection again, and in the substitute mirror, a furious golden eye flashed, and Zuko suddenly dug his hands into the wall, using his flame to wrench out a chunk of ice, only to hurl it as hard as he could into the other side of the cave, where it shattered, sending freezing splinters in a beautiful spray.

Breathing heavily, the fire prince exhaled, then shut his eyes.

And he dreamed.

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"Please, Uncle Iroh!" thirteen year-old Zuko pleaded, gazing up at his mentor with wide, golden eyes. "Please?"

"Absolutely not." Iroh told him sternly. "Not until you're older." Zuko scowled, disappointed.

"But Uncle, you don't really have a big part in it, but you get to go. But I'm going to be king one day, and I don't? That's not fair." He couldn't help it, he sulked. "Not fair at all." At his word, Iroh surveyed his defiant nephew, running sharp, war-trained eyes over him.

The boy would be good leader in the future, that much was certain. He was nothing like his father, his mother had taken care of that. For a second, just a second, an image of the eleven year-old Azula flashed through his mind, and unable to control it, his face twisted into a soft sneer. Not like his prodigy of a sister. Not at all. She was FAR too much like her father for Iroh's liking. Zuko continued to watch him, and suddenly his expression went subdued, almost unnaturally submissive.

"It's alright. I understand." he murmured, plainly upset. "I'm not old enough."

Iroh suddenly held up his hand, decision made.

"Come, get into a proper attire. I'll allow you to come, this once. But for your own sake, stay silent. Commander Zhao will be there, and the last thing you want is his attention. Understood?"

In a flash, the boy's face had lit up, and he immediately straightened.

"I understand!"

"Good. Meet me here in fifteen minutes, and for the love of all things holy, look decent, boy." Iroh told him, folding his arms to his chest, and Zuko obeyed, sprinting eagerly to his room. As he watched his nephew's retreating back, the man tilted his head.

Just don't let this be the wrong choice. And with everything you have, Zuko, don't screw up or call attention to yourself.

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The large group of Firebenders sat in a circle at an equally large table, solemn, all wearing perpetual scowls. Iroh sat next to the nobodies, the lower ranks that just happened to make it, and next to him sat his young nephew, clad in his most domineering, yet simplistic garments he owned; black pants that never seems to gather soot or dust, a sleeveless, high-collared tunic colored blood red. Covering that was a long, black and golden cloak left halfway open, and of course, there were the customary knee-high boots, perfectly polished. On Zuko's left breast lay the royal crest of his family, two swords crossed with a flame and dragon intertwined in the center.

Iroh nodded appreciatively to himself. The boy knew an occasion when he saw one.

Commander Zhao was on his feet, and apart from his voice, the room was silent. Utterly silent, save that booming, knowledgeable, charismatic voice echoing. Zuko was as quiet as all the others, hands folded on his lap, leaning forward, listening, expression intent. However, despite how blank his expression was, Iroh could see tumultuous thoughts spinning and spinning through the boy's head, could see the anger in his eyes, could see his lips thinning with every word the general spoke, could see his fingers twining tensely around each other in his lap, a sign of fury in the boy since he was a young child.

Iroh prayed that he keep his fragile control.

"It's simple," Zhao said imperiously, surveying the men, allowing his eyes to linger on the infuriated Zuko a bit longer than necessary, "We need all of the talented we can get, correct? We need to save them. All we do is place a group of trainees in a 'strategic' position, the enemy goes for them, and then we will have them! After all, there are plenty, and it doesn't matter, as long as they don't have the talent for bending, as we do."

"So you suggest that we use group, lets say…. Forty-one, as bait?"

"Yes, your highness." Zhao went humble, bowing his head.

"All trainees?"

"Yes, your highness. A truly worthless group as far as things are concerned-"

A soft,. Nearly-silent gasp, and Zuko's face drained of color, the prince completely stricken.

Cool it, Zuko, calm yourself. Iroh prayed, watching the flush grow in the prince's cheeks again, watching sparks dance between his fingertips. I know you're angry, but for your own sake, keep still. Using a physical motion to lay the point home, Iroh reached a hand under the table, and took one of Zuko's hands, giving it a light shake, unseen to the others.

A plain order.

Calm down, you would gain nothing from this but senseless and pointless pain if you were to speak now,. Remain silent, as you promised me.

Zuko's eyes widened, but he didn't shift his gaze, but shook his head lightly from side-to-side unobtrusively, a silent communication to his uncle.

For you and for myself and for my promise, I will be still. Do not worry.

A message that was taken with the ease of one who knew him well, Iroh released Zuko's hand. The boy stared holes into the table for the rest of the meeting, unable to look anyone in the face. How on Earth could he? He couldn't accept this. Wouldn't accept this.

Would never accept this.

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Still shaking, Zuko paced about his room, limbs still shivering hours after it was all said and done.

Two-hundred people in a training group.

Two-hundred people dead.

Two-hundred people were going to die, not because of a crime, or honorably in a glorious fight.

Two-hundred people were going to die, be used as bait, for what seemed a petty, simple attack. Two-hundred people, dead, because they couldn't firebend. Not because they weren't talented. Because they couldn't firebend.

Zuko refused to accept this.

He had done as advised by his uncle and silenced every angry retort about to spew from his lips, restrained every blow his hands wished to inflict upon that pompous, inconsiderate, cruel commander, and disguised every furious movement he made as confusion and intensity.

Just like him. Prince Zuko. 'Lucky to be born' Zuko. Weak Zuko.

He couldn't stand it.

Unable to control himself at last, he hurled a glass….something, at the wall, and felt an unnatural glee as he watched it break. Just pretend that that was Zhao's face. Now there was a thought worth remembering. Almost immediately, he felt embarrassment and irritation with himself.

Still a child.

Throwing things at walls? What the hell kind of future king did that?

Abruptly, he glanced rapidly about it room, as if making sure no one else was there, making sure that no one else heard the crash. He was sure that no one had. Besides, he thought to himself, the only person who WOULD care would have been his mother. And she was gone.

However…..

There would always be a reprimand if someone informed his father.

Zuzu was acting childish again, maybe you should put him through extra training……. Oh, hell, your highness, he's useless as it is, why not just kill him? Stick him in with group forty-four, let him do something of purpose. Or better yet--

Zuko shook the familiar voices out of his head. Azula. Zhao. Quite possibly the two people he hated most. EVER. The one 'born lucky', and the favored commander. For all he cared, they could go suck eggs, and he didn't mean figuratively. He shook his head.

Childish.

"So childish."

He wasn't aware that he had said this aloud, and therefore jolted when a voice met his ears.

"Slightly."

Zuko whirled, but sighed in relief to see only his uncle standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Oh. It's only you. Come in." the boy accepted, and Iroh entered, silently shutting the door. "I'm sorry. I almost lost it in there. And now I'm closed up in here, whining to myself-"

He was cut off.

"Nephew, I'm proud of you." Iroh said suddenly, stepping forward to wrap a hand around the boy's arm. "Sit, we have much to talk about." The prince obeyed, planting himself on his bed. "You did me proud, boy, controlling yourself in there. I know your temper, and I know full well how angry you were, and I understand how you're feeling."

"So why don't you DO something about it?" Zuko snapped angrily, turning his head away to stare out the window. Iroh shook his head.

"If I had any control over what my brother did, don't you think I would have exercised it?"

The boy couldn't answer.

"Commander Zhao is cold-hearted, power-hungry, and unbelievably cruel. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And even you, Zuko, cannot be blind enough to see that he would not hesitate to hurt you badly, and cover it up with excuses of training, and insubordination. You know this much."

"I do." Zuko muttered, frustrated with himself. "I hate this."

"And like it or not, you are thirteen. You have no control, despite what you or I would like. Your sister is not fit to rule over so much as a blade of grass, and where she may have been eventually, she is spoiled and about as power-hungry as Zhao and your father himself." Iroh continued, staring intently into his nephew's golden eyes. "And unfortunately, powerful enough to back it up as well. But eventually, she will burn out, like a fire set too strong, too quickly. You, however, will progress slowly, but when you reach your peak, you will stay there, unable to be put out."

"You and your strange metaphors." Zuko said simply. "I don't understand a lot of what you say, and that may be because I am a child, as you also say. But I might, if you keep explaining it to me." Suddenly, an impulsive, altogether rather stupid idea began flitting around in his head. "Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"About me progressing slower than Azula, what might speed up the process?"

Iroh raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going.

"Well, getting away from people purposefully trying to squash you down. Discovering your faults and talents on your own. Getting into and out of your own messes."

Zuko flashed a childish grin.

"Good, glad you agree with me!"

"Agree to what? I agree with nothing!"

Practically bouncing on his heels, Zuko grabbed a bag out of his closet, and shoved some practical and not-so-practical clothing in it, and some random other things, until Iroh got the idea.

"No. Absolutely not.." he ordered. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, ZUKO?" The boy turned around and blinked.

"What's the problem? You said it yourself, didn't you? Besides, it's not like it would be forever, right?"

"Zuko, that's not the point-!"

"Of course it is, you said it yourself. " the boy declared, stopping his almost manic pacing back and forth.

"I said no such thing!"

"Of course you did!" Zuko rolled his eyes. "Get away from squashing people, make my own messes, discover talents, yadda yadda yadda. I'll come back in a year or so just like you said!"

"You totally and completely missed my point-"

In all of Zuko's thirteen rather subdued years of living, Iroh had rarely seen him so excited and worked up over something that wasn't fueled by anger, fear, or indignation, and therefore, had rarely seen him so blatantly ignore him.

"Does it matter?"

"OF COURSE IT MATTERS!" Of course, at this point, Iroh also knew that he could yell at that boy until he was blue in the face, and it would have very little, if no effect in the slightest. He had always been like that, and probably nothing but a violent smack back into reality, like certain and immediate death, would bring him back into a logical state of mind.

"And if I left, I wouldn't see Azula for a loooooong time! That would be so awesome-"

"Zuko, focus." Iroh told him sternly, and was rather surprised when Zuko obeyed him, dropping immediately out of cloud eight-and-a-half after hearing him. "Why are you even considering this? King Ozai will never see things the way that you do, so why are you bothering?"

The boy stared at the floor, then the wall, then the ceiling, before he allowed his gaze to rest on his uncle.

"Several reasons, really. The ones you mentioned. The ones I can't say." Idly, the prince played with a lock of hair dangling on his shoulder from his topknot, pensive. "This may be home, but I every second living here. These are my family, but I hate every second being around them. I want to get away from Azula and her ego the size of her head, and I want to get away from my father and HIS ego the size of his head, and I want to learn things other than combat. And…." he trailed off.

"What?"

"It's stupid, but I keep hoping that maybe if I leave and come back stronger, maybe Father might have some respect, if not love, for me. Even if that caring isn't for me, but my powers, it's okay. At least then, he'd love something in me."

Iroh blinked, seeing quite clearly the sincerity in Zuko's voice, and felt something twist up inside his chest. The extent of that sincerity almost hurt.

"I will not relent, I believe that you are being hasty, and I don't know how the king will react to this, with joy or anger. I think that this is a stupid idea." Zuko's face fell, but Iroh continued. "However, having known you from when you were very small, I also know that while I am capable of physically deterring you, I cannot mentally. I can see it in your eyes, you have set your heart upon this madness, and thus, I cannot stop you. I am your teacher, your mentor, your uncle, but I am not your master." Closing his eyes, Iroh rubbed at his face with a hand.

Zuko continued to watch him intently, until their eyes met once again.

Iroh sighed.

"Well, if you're going, for gods sake, put something practical in there!" Feigning anger, Iroh reached into the boy's bag and pulled out a scarf. "Pointless, boy, pointless! Are you a Firebender or not?" Zuko flushed red, embarrassed.

How mortifying for him, Iroh thought to himself, terribly amused. I should do it more often.

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Embarrassment.

Useless.

Weak.

Zuzu, what is your purpose for living at all? Just get over it, you'll never be as good as me.

You are nothing, and you will always be nothing. Now get out of my way, boy.

Have no illusions, Zuko. Your sister was born lucky. You, on the other hand, were lucky to be born. Make no mistake. Get out of my way.

Always be brave, and never give up.

Your sister will burn out….

I am proud of you----

Zuko woke up with a start, as a tree very conveniently dropped all of its leaves on his head. Gold eyes wide, he glanced around the vicinity, startled.

Oh, that's right.

Brushing off the thick layer of leaves, Zuko sat up, yawned, and stretched, before once again surveying his surroundings. It had been late, very late, when he had finally stopped walking the night before, and passed out completely against the tree trunk, and now, the prince found himself in a thick forest.

It had been about a week since his great escape. A week of walking, hunting, training, and sleeping under the stars. Vaguely, Zuko mused on how his father had reacted upon finding him gone, before squashing down that obnoxious, rebellious little thought.

Now was not the time for familial depression.

Now was the time for breakfast.

Truth be told, it took him a while to get the hang of the whole hunting thing, and he still didn't have it quite down yet. He wasn't that great. Scratch that. He may as well just face it, he pretty much sucked hard when it came to hunting, no doubt about it. However, eventually he bagged two very fat, rather stupid nesting birds and an egg, and it wasn't long before he had an impressive breakfast.

Or rather, more impressive than the one yesterday, which consisted, in its entirety, of one very ill-tempered, bad-tasting turtle. Zuko didn't blame it one bit. On the other hand, he DID blame it for all of the gastro-intestinal distress it had caused him after he ate it, and he swore vengeance, along with several expletives in his native tongue.

Iroh's packing tips had been incredibly helpful.

Nothing he wore now would remind anyone of the Fire Nation in him. No one he met would suspect his origins. Currently, the boy wore a sleeveless, dusty red tunic and a pair of brown pants held around his hips by a belt, and of course, the boots. He had never felt so inconspicuous, and he loved it.

He allowed a stream of flame to escape his fingers to spark up his fire. If he came in contact with people, he knew he'd have to be more careful in the future. However, Zuko knew that he's have to gain better control over his Firebending, and soon.

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"Iroh."

"Yes, King Ozai?" The man responded, expressionless. Zuko must be far away by now, the boy was fast as lightning when he needed to be, and about as fierce as well. Iroh had no doubt that the prince was far away by now.

"Where is Zuko?" Ozai asked. "I sent someone to his room for him, and I was told that he was not there. Then I sent you. You are his teacher. WHERE IS HE?"

"He is not here." Iroh answered, voice cold and crisp. "Prince Zuko is nowhere in the castle." He was unprepared for his father to lunge to his feet, emitting a bellowing roar of rage, nor to fling a full glass of water across the room, where it shattered against the wall. Looked like Zuko had something in common with his father after all.

"HE'S GONE? THAT IDIOT IS GONE?" Ozai boomed, absolutely furious. Suddenly, lividly, the king whirled and turned to Iroh. "Fine. He wants out, fine. Commander Zhao, make it known that Zuko is to be captured and tried for treach-"

"Don't you even dare!" Iroh interrupted, looking every bit the general he had been, "Zuko is no traitor, even you, in all of your blindness can see it! I have kept quiet for his sake, but should you threaten him, no longer! See reason!"

"Useless fool." Ozai snarled. "You do nothing but coddle your precious Zuko, and sit on your fat ass and drink tea all day! The best thing that ever happened to that boy was Zhao's training, and he squandered it! My brother you may be, but I am king and you are not, and that is as good of a reason for you to obey me without question."

Commander Zhao was smirking, and more than anything, Iroh wanted to slap it right off of his smarmy face.

"You have two choices." Ozai concluded, "You will go and find my worthless son and kill him for his betrayal, and in turn be welcomed back, or face exile with him." The king blinked. "I can see it in your face. You could never kill Zuko, could you? Even if you hated him, or if your life was in danger." He snorted. "You fool."

Iroh remained silent.

"You have made your choice, then. You have thirty minutes to gather everything dear to you, and then my guards will kill you on sight after that time period. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly." Iroh snapped, sparks of fire jumping from his fingertips. "May we never meet again, barbarian." He smirked with sarcastic satisfaction to see that he could still embarrass his brother with that horrible, childhood reminder of a game they used to play, and he turned to leave.

"If you see Zuko, tell him this." Ozai ordered, the last order from him that Iroh would ever obey. "Tell him that if I ever get my hands on him, he will face an immediate Agni Kai. Get out of my sight."

The exiled turned, unable to resist one last, parting jab.

"Despite his exile, his disappearance, my wayward nephew still has more honor than the two of you together."

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"Hikari. Hikari! HIKARI!"

"What is it?" the boy responded, staring dazedly out the window, staring at a pair of puppies running about in the grass. He wished he was out there, and not in here--

"You are so totally burning that."

Zuko jolted immediately.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, making a mad, manic dash to the oven, the door he threw open, and wrenched out the pan. Clouds of smoke billowed out, and inwardly, he groaned. Not again.

"Hikari, you are a gigantic idiot." the other boy told him, shaking his head. Zuko turned and scowled at him. Not that he could really deny the comment, which was why, verbally, he didn't respond. Slightly worried, the thirteen year-old reached out a hand covered in an oven mitt and turned the pan upside-down to tip out of the contents, revealing a blackened loaf of bread. Once again, Zuko groaned. Blinking, his companion peered over his shoulder, curious. "Funny, you're great when you're paying attention, but the second you turn your eyes away, poof! Everything goes to hell."

Blankly, Zuko poked it, trying not to remember that one time, where he had gotten impatient and used a bit of Firebending when no one was looking to make the bread bake faster. He had almost blown up the bakery, and immediately decided that all practice was to be done in the safety cover of the forest, and even then, only at night. Mostly because, first of all, he wouldn't be caught, but also because Zuko figured that if he became strong at night, then he would be doubly competent during the daytime, when his power was at a peak.

"Where's that smoke coming from?" a voice suddenly interrupted from the hallway, and a man entered, wearing a green apron. His confusion instantly cleared when he saw the two boys standing in the kitchen, the Fire Nation prince wearing a sheepish expression and covered in char from the blackened bread. "Not again."

"Sorry, Matsu- master. Sorry." Zuko muttered, staring at the floor, a tint of red brushing his cheeks. "I screwed up again."

"Not all your fault, Hikari." the man responded, walking over. "We'll just have to make a new one. It's a hassle, but not a big deal. And you, Mori. I thought that you were going to help out today, not loiter around. There's work to do, boy."

"Sorry, Dad." Mori said, reaching over to help his father get out ingredients. Frustrated, Zuko began over again.

It wasn't like he could really complain, of course.

It was actually his good luck (bad luck?) that Matsu and Mori had found him one day, after failing once again in his efforts to catch something other than turtles, and Matsu had offered him shelter and care in exchange for working in his bakery. The two lived in a nearby village on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, and overall, it was most definitely better than living on his own. Mori, two years older than he, knew a great deal about baking, but also found it just as amusing to watch Zuko screw up after relaying wrong instructions, while Matsu found the boy affectionately frustrating. Zuko may have been unknowingly exiled and rather clueless as to how to really take care of himself, but he was still incredibly prideful, short-tempered, and impatient, which led to blow-ups and the occasional rant and temper tantrum in the forest.

Matsu shook his head. That boy seriously needed to learn some humility, but he had to admit, he was getting better. Mostly due to routine scoldings and being made to correctly re-do everything he screwed up when he screwed up, he was definitely getting better. On the other hand, Mori didn't help with the boy's temper, usually succeeding only in riling Zuko further into a fury. Or as he was known, Hikari.

And he watched.

Watched Zuko brush his ebony hair away from his face with calloused hands used to labor and training. Watched Zuko joke around with Mori, only to get teased. Watched Zuko space out, and watched his golden eyes see a different world before abruptly returning to reality.

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"Kch!" Zuko hissed, getting to his feet, but didn't risk looking at his arm, where he knew that he would be bleeding. Bleeding was nothing. Bleeding meant pain. Resisting pain meant strength. That was one of the few things that both his father and his uncle had drilled into him, and he was glad to have the knowledge. A tall, darkly bronzed man stood in front of him, in an offensive pose.

"Good, Hikari. Even if you cannot Bend, that doesn't matter!" he called out, watching the boy get back into his defensive stance, ready again. "You can always defend yourself, even if your opponent is stronger than you, and if you can get up and ignore it, then-" he trailed off as thick vines wrenched themselves from the Earth itself and lashed out at the prince, who dodged, allowing the training rituals from his home take him over. "-all the better!"

Dodge.

Dodge.

Attack.

Block.

A wrong move, and he flew.

Before hitting the ground, Zuko skidded to his feet and got back into stance. His teacher stared at him, startled at the ferocity he saw in the boy's eyes. Ferocity shouldn't be there, this was no battle! This was training, learning and teaching on both sides, there was no reason for such instinctual anger and the undertone of fear to be seen in his face. The man straightened, relaxing.

"Hikari, enough."

"Kozue-?"

"You've had enough." he said. "When you get so that I can see you feeling that I'm really going to hurt you, other than usual bruises and scrapes, then you've had enough for the day." Zuko wanted, more than anything to ask how Kozue knew this, but kept his mouth shut. It was embarrassing to be found out, but would be more embarrassing to acknowlege that the man was right, and to admit to himself that he was losing his outward stoicism. "Go cool off and shower, we're finished for the day."

"Yes, sir." Zuko murmured. Respect was to be shown for someone who was stronger. That was way it was, and that was the way he had always learned. Someone was stronger if they overpowered you, and someone was stronger if they could shock you. That was what he had always been taught, and only in those circumstances, because that was how things were in the Fire Nation. Ferocious and terrifying. But he was slowly beginning to realize that respect was also to be shown to those who understood you, and to those who could make you feel.

Kozue turned to go, but thought better of it for a second and turned back, stopping his student.

"Hikari."

"Yes?"

"You're good, Hikari, almost too good for your age, and don't you even dare think that I can't tell that you've been trained, and well. But training is to prepare and to better oneself, not to hurt, humiliate, or bully. I honestly think that you've had the latter kind."

And he was right. Zhao always got a terrible amount of pleasure out of their 'training', especially when Zuko went flying.

"Don't get cocky, you have a long way to go. But you're remarkably versatile, and I can see you already adapting to fighting against me, learning my patterns and adapting yourself against them, and you need to see that you're improving. And not just in fighting."

Zuko thought on that sentence for hours, since stepping into the icy bathing stream and relaxing his muscles, but unable to stop moving. Going in stiff would keep his muscles stiff, and he would pay for it next lesson if that happened. He thought on it through dinner, through his own training late that night in the forest, and on the walk back. And when he climbed into bed, he realized that he knew what Kozue had been saying, and he knew that he had been right. He was the only person in this environment with the sort of wild, antagonistic instincts that he had, and he saw plainly that no one else underwent the sort of things that he had. Kozue's understanding with him had proven that.

He also realized that he really, REALLY missed his uncle.

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End Chapter

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Well, this is the first chapter of my Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic. Hope you enjoyed it! Please read and review, and if you liked it, please look out for the next chapter!