Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The robes sit heavy on his shoulders. The thick fabric is weighing him down, constricting his movements as it wraps around his neck, his arms, his chest. He feels like a doll in a storefront display, like the ones on the streets near Uncle's tea shop. Except this isn't Ba Sing Se, and he's not Lee, and his days don't consist of carefully brewing leaves until they're perfectly soft and fragrant, ready to be served to ordinary people just living their lives. He's someone else entirely, in a different place, a different time.  

He meets his own reflection in the mirror, Fire Nation colors coating him from head to toe. The robes on his broadening shoulders make him look a decade older than the soft skin around his good eye betrays him to be. His soft hair, still growing out, stands high in a bun, unadorned, waiting. 

He looks like his father. The one he used to have, when he was still a child. Yet the eyes that meet him, golden and determined, look nothing like Ozai's, and Zuko feels nothing like Ozai where he stands, ready to put on his armor. The last piece of regalia until he's ready to meet his people as their leader for the first time. 

The entire nation has come to watch him perform the role of a lifetime. Zuko is going to play it well. 

He was born ready for this, he thinks. He's a Firelord in every way that matters, young as he is. A boy king, they say in the palace, probably in the nation as well. And he may be young but he isn't ignorant, isn't oblivious to looks and stares and whispers about him. He's not foolish enough to think that his staff's opinions of him don't matter, or the nation's opinion for that matter. He knows, and he cares, more than he ever cared about what his father thought of him. 

He knows that isn't really true. He can't wash himself of the desire to please his father, so deeply ingrained in him it might as well be part of the blood rushing through his veins, part of the heart thumping against his ribcage as he puts the final piece of armor on. A part of him is standing in front of his nation still wishing for recognition and approval from a place he knows he's never going to get it from. 

Still, he'll spend every second of his life from here on out trying to be someone he can face when he wakes up in the morning. Someone his nation can be proud of.

His coronation party is still going on, heading towards the early hours of the morning. 

The palace gardens are overflowing with people from every corner of every nation, dancing, drinking, enjoying the promise of peace. Zuko's certain he just saw an off-duty Kyoshi warrior sneak away with a girl on the other side of the courtyard. He chooses to look away, reminding himself to ask Sokka if that sort of thing is common amongst the Kyoshis. 

He feels some sort of calm settle over him where he stands, sipping some sort of tea concoction Uncle convinced him to include in the grand buffet of food being served. He can tell from the acidity that it's Earth Kingdom tea. He'd made a point when the head of kitchen staff had approached him about his coronation festivities to ask her to make sure there would be food from all four nations. The poor woman had already been stressed out as it was, planning a celebration for that many people, but Zuko had insisted. 

He wants his time as Firelord to start the right way. He wants everyone to know that he won't be his father, that he wants something better for his people, for the whole world, too. 

The way the evening is going, Zuko feels like he just might succeed. 

From where he's standing in the courtyard, leaning against a pillar, he can see his efforts have at least been greatly appreciated by Toph. She's circling the buffet, stuffing her pockets with various buns and cakes, for about the fifth time tonight. He'd been worried that the amount of food served would be excessive, but his kitchen staff, who in conversation appeared surprised he'd even be talking to them, assured him that people would eat, eat, and then eat some more. As Toph moves back to the dance floor, pockets full of sweets, he knows his staff was right. 

Zuko can't recall a time where he's seen this many people inside the palace walls at the same time. The gardens are bustling with people, crowd overflowing into the courtyards, terraces and adjacent chambers. Everywhere he turns is a new face, someone to greet, to thank. The air feels thick with promise, about peace, new beginnings. Hope. 

Turning around to the middle of the gardens, temporarily some sort of plaza, he can see Sokka and Katara doing some sort of Water Tribe dance routine.. Sokka had called it a dance floor earlier, and Zuko has steered clear of it ever since. Katara is currently nailing the dance on said dance floor, while Sokka is mostly flailing his limbs around in a semi coordinated way. Zuko smiles to himself, knowing that he'd be mortified to be seen like that. But somehow Sokka doesn't care, and continues flailing while simultaneously taking sips of his drink in an experienced fashion. 

Maybe Sokka's had many opportunities to practice, Zuko thinks. He knows if he was the one dancing out there, everyone looking at him, he wouldn't make it five seconds without spilling his drink and tripping over himself. 

It seems he and Sokka aren't so different after all, because approximately ten seconds after Zuko thinks it, Sokka stumbles and spills his drink all over his tunic. 

Zuko is still laughing when Sokka makes his way over from the dance floor. 

"I just want you to know that this rarely happens." Sokka says as he tries his best to wipe down his wet skin. "Normally I'm kind of a king on the dance floor." he brags, leaning back on the pillar next to Zuko.

Zuko finds it in himself to humor him for a second. "I'm sure it's a massive hit with the ladies, flailing around like that" he says, and takes another sip of his drink. "Do you want some tea?" he offers Sokka, holding his cup out.

"We're at your coronation and we can't even afford a separate cup of tea for me?" Sokka says in disbelief. "Dude. This what you raided my village for?" He laughs, stealing the cup from Zuko's hand. 

Zuko freezes. It's been weeks of jokes like this, and he never knows how to respond. "No of course-" he begins, and turns to head for the refreshments. 

"Zuko, I'm kidding" Sokka nudges his shoulder and downs the contents of the cup in one gulp. "Aw, this isn't even spiked. Why didn't you say that?" He frowns, but still holds the cup over his gaping mouth to catch the last drops. 

"Uh, I didn't wanna be drunk at my own coronation, really." Zuko says. "I want these people to like me, Sokka, this is a big deal." 

Sokka says nothing. Zuko, for some reason, continues talking.

"Plus, last time I drank at a party, someone spiked my drink with something," he mutters. "I wanted to go home, but Azula made me stay, and I was sick in someone's potted plant all evening, and I'm pretty sure I saw some things that no one else could." 

Sokka laughs, loud and brash, but stops himself to fleeingly pat Zuko on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I would never do that to you. Katara neither, I'm pretty sure." 

"Gee, thanks." Zuko replies, but finds it in himself to laugh a little. It is a little funny in hindsight. Just a little. But then the thought of his sister in a cell is there in his mind again, and his smile fades. He turns to Sokka desperate for a distraction, and finds him staring at the crowd on the dance floor. 

Suki and Aang are engaged in a sort of semi-dancing, semi-fighting routine. Suki, with her back turned towards Aang, whips around, leg raised. As she turns, Aang slides across the floor underneath her leg and pops up behind her. Instead of delivering what would be the fatal blow, he waits until Suki comes back around facing him, and then they continue. It's oddly soothing to watch, both dancing around each other, highly skilled in their movements.

"Look at her," Sokka says, and sighs longingly. "She's so cool."

"Look at him," Zuko says, looking at Aang. He feels his jaw tighten. "He's the Avatar, and he just stopped a war, how is he dancing around like everything is fine?" He sounds less unbothered than he hopes to. 

Apparently bothered enough to warrant attention because suddenly Sokka is standing in front of him. 

"What?" Zuko shrugs. 

Sokka rolls his eyes. 

"You know you're allowed to relax for like, one day, right? Your family is all… evil, and you have all this history, yeah I get it, but come on!" Sokka stands in front of him, gesticulating. "All these people are here because of you, you can worry about the fate of the world tomorrow, okay?"

"I'm relaxing." Zuko says stiffly, and holds up his now empty cup of tea. "Look… having fun!"

It's at this point that Katara makes her way over from the dance floor, because being confronted by one member of the Water Tribe apparently isn't enough for Zuko tonight. 

"Katara, tell him the fate of the world can wait until tomorrow." Sokka says, pointing in his direction. Zuko makes an effort to move away, sliding his body around the pillar, but Katara pulls him back. 

"Zuko, I haven't seen you let loose for even a single second tonight!" Katara says matter-of-factly. "You're bringing your people something good, something hopeful. That's worth celebrating, I think." 

And Katara says it so earnestly that something in Zuko relaxes. 

"I just… What do I do tomorrow, even? What's going to happen now?" he says, suddenly unsure about sharing all this with people who, up until a few months ago, were his mortal enemies. He persists. "What if my father did too much damage, what if I can't undo it? What if I can't fix the Fire Nation?"

At these words, Sokka seems to soften. He takes a step closer towards Zuko. Hands firm on Zuko's shoulders, still wet from his dancing fiasco, he takes a deep breath, no doubt preparing to launch into some sort of motivational speech. Zuko speaks before that can happen.

"It just feels like… like everyone is expecting a miracle from me, or something. Just because my father was who he was, and I'm his son, y'know, I'm gonna be able to fix it all." 

Katara moves to say something, but gets interrupted by Sokka. 

"Dude, I know it's a lot. Anyone would think that. No one expects you to make everything fine overnight, alright?" Sokka says, and Zuko gets the feeling this is how Sokka would sound if he was talking to a small child. "And you're not alone! You have Aang! The Avatar! And us!" he says, pointing back and forth between himself and Katara, somewhat frantically. "If you let me loose in the palace I'll have the whole nation fixed in no time."

Zuko can feel the resistance in him, the agitation of being stuck at a party of all places when there's so much to do, settle down just a bit. 

"I'm just so tired of being followed around like a child that can't be left alone." He sighs. "I just wanna… I don't know, not be here for a while. But everywhere I go some stupid guard is watching me." 

"I actually think they're kinda busy right now." Katara laughs quietly, and tilts her head in the direction of Zuko's bodyguards. Meant to be guarding the Firelord, they have instead become temporarily enamored by Suki, whose way of having a good time consists of discussing martial arts techniques and offering to let people practice on her. 

Zuko sees it as his opportunity to escape. 

He loosens the outermost part of his robes, including his royal armor, and throws them in Sokka's hands. Sokka looks visibly confused for a second, until he puts two and two together and drapes the robes over his shoulders, and lets out his wolftail. 

"Gotcha. Distract the guards, pretend to be you. From now on, call me Prince Zuko." he says, pretending to act important. 

"It's Firelord, actually." Zuko corrects, and he tries his best to sound cheerful, but the words come out sullen. 

"Tui and La, it hasn't even been a day since your coronation, calm down." Katara says while still watching Suki and the guards, oblivious to Zuko's anguish. 

Sokka opens his mouth to say something, somehow more observant than his sister. 

"Can you just, uh, lie if they ask where I am?" Zuko says quickly, and hopes the tone of his voice doesn't betray the discomfort at baring something raw and private. 

"I suppose I can." Katara says, laughing as Suki body slams one of the bodyguards. "Today of all days, right?" 

"'Course." Sokka says, eyes zeroing in on him, almost softly. "Whatever you need." and Zuko can't ignore the ease at which the words come out of Sokka. Like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like it's nothing. 

He can only smile gratefully as he takes a few steps back and disappears into the darkness of the crowd. 

Back in his quarters, finally alone, he finds himself longing to leave. Shedding the rest of his robes, he changes into the soft fabric of his sleeping clothes, and moves to his balcony. He knows there are guards surrounding the perimeter of the castle, perched on nearby balconies and roofs. For a moment, though, he can almost pretend he's completely alone. Looking out towards the sea, he finds himself wishing, only for a moment, to be anywhere but here. 

But the Fire Nation needs this. The world needs this, he tells himself. He's doing right by everyone he's ever wronged in the name of his honor, and everyone his nation has wronged in the name of its greatness. He's going to give everything he has to make it right, if that's what it takes.

Still, he thinks as he looks up at the the pearly white moon on her descent into the sea, you can end up giving too much of yourself in the name of the greater good if you're not careful.

The first month of being Firelord is not what Zuko has imagined it to be. 

All the years as crown prince, growing up imagining what it would be like to rule his nation, to bring prosperity and wealth to his people. His early teenage years spent trying to learn how to be a Fire Lord the way Ozai was. And then, the years in banishment imagining his return, being welcomed back to the throne, walking the halls of the palace. What would it be like, what kind of leader would he be? 

As it turns out, not a very glamorous one. Being Firelord has, so far, turned out to be more monotonous and gruelling than he'd first thought. It's nothing like his fantasies, he thinks, in the midst of the fifth council meeting so far this week. 

The council is small, no more than ten people, with an ambassador from each tribe joining around the long table of the new council room. 

Zuko had refused to use the old one, as well as the throne room. The new council, with its Fire Nation councilors and ambassadors from the other tribes, is no more than ten people. Finding this group hasn't been easy, and Zuko has personally overseen the exclusion of multiple officials pleading loyalty to his father. It's been exhausting. 

Most of the council meetings drag on for hours, and Zuko does his best with the help of his advisors to stay knowledgeable and up to date on everything. Still, it became clear to him approximately three days into his reign that there were significant holes in his knowledge about both the other nations as well as their relations with the Fire Nation. 

What remains of it, his nation, his government, is at this moment confined inside the walls of the council, with the fate of the nation in their hands. They're a small group, isolated for the past months to prevent influence from any remaining loyalists. In the first days, he and Aang had spent several sleepless nights drafting propositions, invitations and new regulations, hoping that the people Aang had been in contact with would agree to help. So far, it hasn't worked out quite like they thought it would. 

Councilor Naoki of the Fire Nation is currently enrolled in a heated discussion with Ambassador Minh over the newest Harmony Restoration proposition. They've been going at it for the past ten minutes, and Zuko has been glancing over from where he's immersed in the drafting of a new economic proposition between his nation and the Earth Kingdom. 

Naoki is an old advisor to his father who, surprising no one but Zuko who had seen her work up close in his early teens, swore her loyalty to him in the early days of the new regime. She's an intense presence in the council. Not everyone's cup of tea, and certainly not Minh's. He knows that the people in this room, incompatible as they may be, are a group as dedicated to the cause as he is. 

But Naoki has gone from dedicated to bordering on threatening, and Zuko knows they're not getting anywhere from this point, unaffected as Ambassador Minh may seem. 

"Councilor Naoki," Zuko says cooly. She backs down, turns on her heel, and hastily walks out of the council chamber. 

He looks over at Minh, who only smiles and goes back to the documents in front of her on the table. Zuko isn't trying to meddle, or talk in her place. He knows she doesn't need anyone to speak for her. 

When they'd first met, Zuko had spent the first few days wondering what Aang had been on when he'd recommended her as their first ambassador for the Earth Kingdom. In her mid 50's, quiet and somewhat boring, she hadn't seemed like anything special. Zuko knew she'd left behind being a nun to show up for her new role, and he had wondered what an old nun of all people would know about running a nation. 

He'd been proved wrong almost instantly, with the way Minh knew her country inside and out, the way she was always able to foresee reactions to decisions made in the council, and how to counter them. The work they've done in the past month has been made possible in large part thanks to her. 

Out of all the ambassadors, she is the one he likes most. Maybe it's her calm composure, which at times reminds him of his uncle, or maybe it's the way she keeps showing up even when most of their council meetings eventually turn into this.

It's a tribute to their dedication as a group, really, that they continue to show up for their nations, and for him. They get good work done, and that's the most important part, even though Zuko often has to intervene when heated discussion turns hostile. Even so, the ambitions they each have for their nations, as well as his own, seems more important than their distrust of each other. And really, they've made progress. 

The other week, Ambassador Eska of the Northern Water Tribe had escalated a civil discussion with ambassador Yuki of the Southern tribe into a full blown screaming match. Zuko — foolishly in hindsight — hadn't prepared for conflict between the water tribes. The discussion between the ambassadors about aid for restoration from the North to the South had turned sour in a way Zuko had not predicted. 

Afterwards, he had learned from Katara about the infected relations between the tribes, a decades old conflict that had widened the gap between the nations, no matter the similarities they'd once shared.

Yet now, Yuki and Eska share pleasantries as they sip tea that's been served during the short break, a visual representation of the unity between their tribes. Possible unity, at least. The road to peace, to real unity and solidarity, is long, and Zuko knows this.  He's spent the past months trying to put his, as his uncle had said, impatient nature behind him. It's easier said than done, but Uncle has taught him to start small, with the things within his immediate control. 

And so, Zuko calls on the council to temporarily disperse. They've reached a lull in an otherwise productive day and apart from Naoki, whose presence is still unaccounted for, the remaining councilors and ambassadors look as ready to leave as Zuko feels. 

He lets his head rest on top of the table for a minute. The wood is cool to the touch, and the faint smell of jasmine lingers in the air, drifting over from someone's cup. He needs a break. They all do. His eyes are heavy and hot, and his eyeballs move slowly in their sockets behind his closed lids, sore from looking in one place too long. His bad cheek presses into the table, agitating the scar. He feels his eyes becoming heavier, consciousness dipping for a brief second. 

He lifts himself back up and can't keep himself from yawning softly. The rest of the council is busy collecting documents and folders from the table, chatting with each other as they prepare to leave the chamber. His eyes briefly meet ambassador Minh's as he scans the room, and he's certain that she has seen him almost fall asleep at the council table. Anyone other than her and he'd be alarmed, worried that his carefully constructed demeanor, the facade he's been keeping up since he came back here, is slipping to reveal his weak points. 

But it's just Minh, and with a twinkle in her eyes she, too, yawns. It really is time for a break. So Zuko gets up, straightens out his robes, and addresses the council. 

"That's it for today. Could someone inform Naoki of tomorrow's agenda, and that we need her contact within the New Ozai Society?" He says, to no one in particular. He receives nods in response, and sees Minh eye him up and down as he prepares to leave the chamber. 

Before she can approach him, he hurries away, leaving her in the company of Yuki and Eska, whose conversation has moved from restoration projects to differences between their recipes of seaweed stew. 

Zuko hasn't seen the sun in days. Last time, he'd managed to escape the council for a few minutes, only just managing to catch Agni sinking down into the horizon. She had made his skin come alive in her orange glow, and he'd closed his eyes and drowned in the brilliant red beneath his eyelids, so bright it had almost been white. His skin had looked orange in her warm rays, and he'd wished he could sit there forever. Illuminated until he dissolved into dust. 

But then a council member had interrupted him, and had called him back into session with the other council members. And there had been no other choice than to leave his quiet moment of peace behind.

Tonight's meeting ended a few hours ago. They'd gone over the estimated time by several hours, and by the time they finished everyone barely had the energy to drag themselves to their chambers. 

Zuko, too, had been exhausted, and had dragged himself back to his bed, hoping that when his head hit the pillow, sleep would reach its tendrils out to him and pull him under. 

His head against the pillow is heavy now, his eyes stare up into the canopy of fire colors. He's been laying here a while, searching his body for the comforting heaviness of sleep. But nothing comes, and soon the softness of his bed digs into his skin and the bones poking out of his hips, his shoulders. He's lost whatever extra weight remained after his time in exile, the softness of fat and relaxed muscle he'd had is gone now. 

Most nights go like this, he tosses and turns until it becomes too much. So he gets up, like most nights, and heads for the common living quarters. When the door closes behind him, he nods to the guard posted outside of his door, and starts walking. 

His footsteps echo in the corridor with only silence in between. He briefly wants to return. It's not because he's scared of the dark, he tells himself, but he still casts frequent glances over his shoulder until he reaches the communal area. 

There's no one there. He's not disappointed, doesn't particularly enjoy conversation with anyone on the council except Minh, and he knows she always spends her evenings alone with tea on the balcony. 

Suddenly without purpose, he looks around for a few minutes. What is he looking for, really? A reminder that other people still exist, that he's not alone in the world, the only one left awake and behind? 

He decides to go back to his room, almost running the last part of the corridor until he reaches his chamber door. His guards must think he's crazy. If one of them is a spy, maybe word will get out about his nightly walks, and an assassin will ambush him at night, too. 

He tries to push the thought away, finally back in his room again. But it's dark and unwelcoming, except for the few rays of moonlight filtering through the curtains over the balcony door. 

Out on the balcony, he quickly scales the wall and continues up, up, until the palace and the city outside of it spreads out underneath him. The distance away from everything, the council, the ambassadors, his stupid, stupid work as Firelord, finally feels like enough.

The council has been convened for weeks while trying to deal with the problems in the former Fire Nation colonies. Zuko is reminded of the crushing work every second of his day. The Harmony Restoration Movement is a failure. The colonies are at unrest, bordering on rioting. He has no idea what he's doing, and everyone is turning to him at every problem like he's sitting on all the answers. 

It's been half a year of this, ruling over the Fire Nation. Of looking out from the palace and seeing his city, his people. He knows he's trying to do right by them, but with every passing day it becomes clearer that he has no idea what that looks like. If it's not civil unrest in liberated colonies, it's meetings on government reforms, organization of demilitarising efforts, reparations procedures, economic support to reconstruction projects. 

He feels his headache flare up again. He's kept it at bay during the day, thanks to the copious amounts of tea served during meetings (which is never brewed exactly the way he likes, anyway). For a moment he considers sneaking down into the heated pools in the bowels of the palace, the warm water relaxing his muscles, heating him up to the core. 

But he knows his guards. They have enough people posted to keep track of him wherever he goes. And he can't bear seeing another face right now. He's had enough of people for today, for the whole week, really. 

He rubs his temples slowly, trying to relieve himself of the pain shooting through them. His neck began cramping up hours ago, and still hasn't stopped. His shoulders have been by his ears all day, and he's pretty sure his molars are ground down to his gums. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can picture the bags underneath them. 

Minh has been pestering him about letting a healer look at him. He hasn't listened to her, hasn't let a healer touch him in weeks. He trusts her more than anyone on the council, she's proved her worth ten times over on the council. Her contacts and intel in the colonies have allowed them to do better work in the colonies than Zuko could have dreamed of. But he still won't take her advice. Relations in the nation are tense as it is right now, not to mention with the other nations, and he doesn't dare to let word escape about the state of his mental wellbeing. 

Not unless he wants to prepare for yet another assassination attempt. He's grown accustomed to waking at the slightest rustle, getting up Agni knows how many times to check that his guards are still there. His security advisor, in charge of both his personal as well as the palace's general security, assures him that the amount of assassinations he's experienced is 'normal' for a newly risen Firelord, but Zuko has his doubts. 

A few weeks ago he'd been ambushed in the palace gardens, out on what was supposed to be a relaxing evening walk. And he'd actually been nice to the assassin he'd mistaken for a servant girl (which was an honest mistake, Zuko keeps arguing to anyone who will listen, because she was dressed in servant clothes, and with so many servants in the palace, how was he supposed to notice?). He'd barely managed to dodge her initial attack, only on account of being surprised, and his bodyguards had done the rest.

He'd suffered a fractured wrist due to the guards lack of urgency in acting accordingly. He hadn't wanted to bother anyone, already feeling like everyone was focusing too much on him and not on the enormous problems of his nation, and so he hadn't said anything. 

It wasn't until days later, when Uncle was back from Ba Sing Se, where he spends half of his time running the tea shop, that Zuko paid him a visit in his small apartment in the common living district of the capital that Uncle, of course, noticed something had happened.

-

"Zuko, tell me you haven't been walking around injured all this time." Uncle says while pouring them tea, something almost disappointed in his voice. They're sitting on the floor of his uncle's simple apartment, yet it feels like home. More than the palace does right now, at least. 

"It's nothing, Uncle, I promise there are worse things to attend to right now." Zuko says, picking up his tea cup with his good arm. Good eye, good arm, he thinks. What other parts of himself can he give in the name of his nation? 

"You're more of a fool than I thought, after all this time, if you think I am blind enough to not notice when something has happened." Uncle sighs. "Why haven't you let anyone look at it?" Zuko doesn't meet his eyes, knowing that he won't be able to keep up the lie if he does. 

"Uncle, it's just a fracture. It'll heal." he says through gritted teeth, staring down into the swirling leaves in his tea cup. He hears his uncle take a deep breath, unsure if what's coming is affection or a life lesson. Years of being in his company still hasn't made Zuko able to fully read and understand him. 

"Zuko" his uncle says, tone pointed. "It is bad enough that you let yourself walk around in pain, for no reason I might add, but to not even tell me that you almost got assassinated?" 

Hearing this, Zuko lifts his head and looks his uncle in the eyes. And he doesn't know what he was so afraid of, because the only thing waiting for him there is the gentle gaze of someone that, despite his many flaws, still loves him.

"You don't have to punish yourself for the sins of your father." Uncle says, almost pleading. "You've paid enough as it is." And for once, Zuko almost considers believing him.

-

In the end he'd ended up letting one of the healers look at it. They'd done what they could, being regular healers of the palace, but nothing was ever as effective as real healing. Water healing. 

Sokka and Katara resurface in his mind. They'd returned to their father in the South a few weeks after Zuko's coronation and ascent to power, to help the rebuilding and restoration of their tribe. And Zuko couldn't blame them, had even encouraged them to leave when the time came. He'd offered what he could at that point, resource wise, to undo the damage his nation had done. 

The Southern Restoration Project is well underway now, thanks to Yuki and Eska's continued work. The letters that Zuko receives from Sokka detail the progress of the rebuilding process, and through them Zuko has followed the progression of the project, as well as occasional anecdotes about Sokka and Katara's life back home. 

Reading them is the highlight of his weeks, a reminder that his work is making a true difference somewhere. And for a second while he reads he can almost pretend they're here with him, that they didn't leave at all. That Sokka and Katara didn't get on the boat taking them home, didn't wave to Zuko until the boat grew to the size of a speck of dust on the horizon, only to go beyond it, leaving only the soft waves left to see.

The absence they'd left behind had been surprisingly loud in the beginning, but by then it had been too late. One night, a few days after their departure, he'd been on his way to the messenger hawk tower, letter in hand asking them to return, to keep helping him. He'd made it all the way up the tower and to the door before realizing what a stupid idea it was. 

And then, a few weeks after they'd left, Aang had followed, travelling to the former colonies in the Earth Nation. And Zuko had remained, a steady feature in the Fire Nation palace when everyone else had left. 

Mai is still here with him, he reminds himself. His childhood friend, his girlfriend, nowadays. And now, somehow his royal advisor as well. She sits in on council meetings when she can, voicing her support for him. And outside of the meeting she fills him in on everything he's missed, after three long years in exile and one more on the road. 

She's one of the few people Zuko feels like he doesn't have to pretend with, one of the few he can share his worries with. She knows of his sleep troubles, his headaches. She often asks to spend the night. He always declines. 

She never tells Zuko she's upset about it. But he sees it on her, the way she swallows and takes a deep breath before blinking a few times and telling him it's okay. She says it's okay, but Zuko knows that it's not. And still, he declines her invitations to go out together, to have dinner together, to train together. He declines her offers to help him with his work, even though he's drowning in it most of the time. He just wants to be alone. 

And he does have a lot going on, it's not a lie when he says it. But it feels untrue most of the time, like an excuse for something else that Zuko can't really pinpoint. And he does like her, he really does. Looking out over his city, he imagines Mai there with him. Next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He imagines what she'd say, what she'd do. She'd join him if he asked. 

He rubs his wrist, the bad one, not fully healed from the assassination attempt. He can't put weight on it for too long, and with the way he's sitting on the roof, he's straining it more than usual. 

It feels like a sign to go back inside, so he does, even though he knows sleep won't come to him when he lies down this time either. 

And he could get up, walk across the corridor and knock on Mai's door. He knows she'd open the door. He could ask her to spend the night with him, ask her to stroke his hair as he falls asleep, ask her to watch the rising sun with him before the council convenes. 

He could, but he won't. And he isn't sure why. 

It's months until the next assassination attempt comes. Enough time passes that Zuko starts to think that maybe things have finally calmed down. 

He starts sleeping through the night, and only wakes when the rising sun finds its way through the curtains of his chambers and onto his face. He spends time in the royal baths, finally alone with only the soft sound of running water from the fountains to keep him company. After the sun has set, he takes walks in the gardens,  talking to himself, and sometimes the moon if he feels particularly lonely. 

He finds himself settling into something that almost feels like a comfortable routine. One morning, missing his uncle more than usual, he takes a cup of tea with him onto his balcony and sips it in silence while watching Agni's first rays find their way up from the horizon. And it's nice. Who knew his uncle could still be right about things even now?

Uncle spends most of his time in the Fire Nation. Ever since the last assassination attempt he hasn't wanted to leave Zuko alone, even spending days at the palace after previously swearing to leave that part of his life behind, only venturing to Ba Sing Se on occasional trips to acquire tea and visit friends made during their time in exile living in the Earth Kingdom capital. 

It just happens to be during one of these occasional visits that a nationalist extremist ambushes Zuko and his bodyguards. They're on their way back to the palace after an inspection in Harbor City, making sure the visiting group of ambassadors from the Water Tribe have their boats taken care of properly. 

Zuko knows Sokka and Katara are amongst them, returning to the Fire Nation for the first time in months. He hasn't actually met with any of them yet, he wants to make sure the practicalities of their visit are taken care of first. He's had the cleaning staff prepare the best rooms, with the best views, for his friends from the Water Tribe. He's going to be a good and hospitable Firelord, if this is what it takes. 

Unfortunately, his welcoming efforts end there. 

The attack comes from nowhere, after his guards have already cleared their way forward on the walkway leading up to the stairs of the palace. They usually don't go this way, Zuko prefers the many secret passageways into the palace instead, but the way to the harbor is a long one to travel through tunnels and back roads, and it's been months since any sort of security concern happened, so he treats himself to going the proper way, this once, lacking royal armor and robes to blend into the masses.

What a mistake. 

With his back unguarded for a brief second, he senses the incoming blow before he feels it, and barely manages to dodge the flying knife heading for his neck. It grazes him, and before he's fully turned around to face his attacker he knows that he's already bleeding. 

But when he turns, the walkway is empty, like there was never anyone there. And when his eyes scan the perimeter, the only thing indicating that someone ever was is a rustling in the nearby crowd that by now has separated itself from him. His guards spread out to find the culprit, which proves easier said than done with the density of the crown forming around them. They succeed, and faster than Zuko expects them to. 

It's no use — the damage is done. Zuko is already bleeding profusely. The person throwing the knife, whoever they were, has had an aim that he suspects would have been deadly accurate had he not moved. Blood is pouring down his robes, and the hand coming away from his neck is bright red, glistening in the sun. 

His bodyguards quickly usher him into a side alley, working together to find the nearest hidden entrance into the palace. As they begin to make their way through the tunnels, he makes a great effort to not need their help, shaking off their hands on him whenever they try to do anything more than gently steer him. He trudges on, but as they come closer and closer to the underground core of the palace, he feels himself becoming weaker by the minute. 

Blood loss seems to be a very effective way to kill a Firelord. 

Climbing up the last set of stairs, into the bowels of the palace, blood dripping on each step, Zuko finds himself struggling to stay upright, and his guards have to practically drag him the last bit into the nearest chamber. He collapses on the floor, waiting for something, not entirely sure what. Someone to help him, maybe. 

It is at this moment that he remembers that Katara and Sokka are visiting. Katara, with her wonderful healing abilities, will surely be able to fix this. Assuming she wants to. 

"Get Katara." he manages to choke out, while one of his bodyguards presses something soft against his throat. The grip she has is not soft at all, and Zuko's voice comes out strained. "And Sokka" he adds, not really knowing why. "They'll know what to do." Healing is Katara's thing, and all of Sokka's expertise may be somewhat useless here, but maybe she won't want to come otherwise. He hasn't seen either of them in months, even though they'd left on good terms. But Zuko still remembers Katara's mistrust of him, even when the rest of them had accepted him. 

Then again, he doubts she'd come alone either way. There's no way Sokka would let her go alone. No, he'd come, requested or not. 

It feels like hours until he hears the hurried, familiar steps of his only two real friends from the Water Tribe. He'll be alright, he thinks, before he relaxes against the unfamiliar arms of his bodyguard, who he's sure he knows the name of under normal circumstances. 

"Thanks." he mumbles, to no one in particular, before going limp, preparing to succumb to the comfortable darkness that's been prickling at the edges of his vision the last couple of minutes. 

His comfort doesn't last long, because then, just as he's beginning to drift off, a slap on his face jolts him back into a very uncomfortable and bloodied reality. 

"Zuko!" Sokka exclaims standing over him, voice frantic. "Spirits, where do you think you're going? Stay here with us, alright?" He grabs Zuko's shoulders, gentler than what Zuko is prepared for, and fixes his eyes on Zuko's neck. "Katara," Sokka says without taking his eyes off of him "it looks…bad." 

At once, Katara appears beside him. "Sokka! Don't say that in front of him" she whisper-screams, then follows Sokka's line of sight to Zuko's neck until she winces, only momentarily, before letting her usual calm and collected demeanor slip over her face. She leans over him, hands already glowing soft blue.

"Zuko." she says sternly, and raises her hands to his neck. "It's going to be okay. Okay? We're going to fix this." A strange, yet comforting and weirdly cool sensation begins to spread through Zuko's neck, travelling down his shoulder and into his chest, up into his jaw and up towards his eye. 

"We? Is boomerang going to help, or what?" Zuko manages, wearily.

"Katara is going to- hey!" Sokka's arms go limp where he stands, brows raised in exasperation. Zuko thinks he's about to take a step closer towards him when Katara interrupts.

"Sokka, for Tui's sake, if you're not going to help, at least move out of the way!" Katara's hands must be working quickly, because Zuko feels the energy flow and ebb in his body, being redirected and strengthened at Katara's orders.

Sokka says something back, just then. Zuko is losing his grip on consciousness, and Sokka's words are lost to him. But he sounds angry, and something else too. But before he can figure out what the something else is, the darkness that's been lurking at the edges of his vision takes over. 

Something bright and warm is shining on his face. 

It must be the morning sun, Zuko thinks. Is it already daytime? Does he have meetings? He's supposed to have the day off. He closes his eyes harder, but the brightness is still there, flickering persistently.

He tries turning over, but his body won't quite listen. His limbs have been filled with sand, and he stays stuck, unmoving. He tries to groan, but finds his voice catching in his throat. 

His bed is unusually hard. His pillow seems to be gone, and his neck is bent at an angle so unnatural he's surprised it's physically possible. Is he back on the road with Uncle? The absence of snoring, and general smell of dirt, tells him no. He tries turning over again, but his body is strangely weak, like something's happened to it. 

Something has happened to it, he knows this somehow. Something happened to him, something scary. 

It all comes rushing back.

Crowd, knife, tunnels, blood, bodyguards, comforting darkness, lurking at the edges of his vision. 

And then; Sokka holding him, Katara's hands, the soft blue glow of being okay. 

He opens his eyes to the soft, flickering light of a fire, nestled in a fireplace. Looking up, he can tell that he's not outside in the morning sun at all, but in the private chambers of the palace. The sky outside is dark, and he's on the floor, but someone has piled soft blankets on him, as if he's going to freeze to death inside, in front of a fire. He gathers strength and prepares to lift his head, but movement next to him, in the corner of his eye, makes him move too quickly. 

His eyes meet Sokka's just as his hand moves to clutch his neck. Sokka's expression immediately changes, even though Zuko knows he's usually good at hiding physical pain. 

"Careful." Sokka's tone is soft, but his voice sounds like it hasn't been used in a while. Like he's been here all night. 

Zuko lets his head fall back on the hard floor again, the strain of holding his head up becoming too much. 

"How you feeling?" Sokka asks quietly. 

With his head back on the floor he can just about make out Sokka's expressions from where he's sitting, leaned against the fireplace, eyes fixed on Zuko. 

"Like I almost died, I think." Zuko croaks, and he tries to laugh but his neck hurts, and his body feels weak in a way that's wrong and scary, like when he'd almost frozen to death in the Northern Water Tribe. He wonders how much blood he lost. "How long have I been out?" 

"It's almost morning." Sokka says, and scoots closer to where Zuko's lying. He does the math in his head, adds up the hours from the visit at the harbor until now, and realizes he's been out half a day, at least. 

"Have you been here the whole time?" he asks Sokka, who straightens his back slightly at the question. 

"Well, yeah. Someone had to." The expression on Sokka's face is proud, not one of the dutiful but unwilling. He looks almost happy to be there, relieved in a way. 

"Thank you." Zuko says, because there's not much else to say. And then; "I don't think I actually thought something like this would happen. Something… serious, you know? Not this soon. Maybe not ever." he sighs. "I don't know what I was thinking." 

"You couldn't have known." Sokka says, and shakes his head. "It's been okay before, your letters have said so, right?" Something comes over his face. "Unless you were lying to not worry us." Sokka eyes him suspiciously.

"I'd never" Zuko laughs weakly, 

Sokka is quiet for a while. 

"You scared us there for a bit." he finally says. "Katara worked on you for such a long time. For a while I almost thought you might be beyond saving." 

"Well, thanks for saving me." Zuko says. It feels inadequate, like a word that small will ever be enough to express what he feels, lying there on the hard wooden floor. There aren't enough thanks in the world. Thanks for coming back here. For the nations, for me. Thanks for forgiving me, thanks for fighting with me. Thanks for staying. 

"Thanks for not dying." Sokka laughs, an earnest, relieved sound. "If Katara finds out that you said thank you she's never going to let you hear the end of it, you know that right?"

"I just thought…" Zuko begins, but the rest of the sentence dies as he tries to rearrange himself on the floor in an effort to relieve his right hip from bearing his entire body weight. He tries to sit up, and manages to prop himself up on his elbow before dizziness sets in. 

"Want some help?" Sokka says, and starts scooting his way over until he's sitting, legs crossed, between Zuko and the fire. 

The light illuminating Sokka from behind makes it look like he's on fire, glowing like embers. He reaches out to Zuko before he can nod in response, and with Sokka's help he manages, with great effort, to finally sit. He takes a few seconds to recover while Sokka wraps him in one of the blankets. 

They sit like that for a few seconds, silence resting between them. 

Finally upright, Zuko can see the sky brightening through the windows. It's turning from black to the midnight blue of early morning. The low light scatters across Sokka's face, illuminating what looks like bags under his eyes. 

"Did you sleep at all?" Zuko asks, even though he thinks he knows the answer already. 

"Sleep? There was a Firelord to watch over." Sokka says, and he looks tired but there's something to his voice when he speaks. 

Zuko doesn't know if he's joking or not. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Sokka says before he can ask. "Me and Katara brought snacks from the boat. We ate most of it, but there's some salmon jerky left if you'd like. I stashed some in my bag for me, but I'll share with you. Since you almost died and all." Sokka reaches for his bag and starts rummaging through it, still looking like a dying fire from where Zuko is sitting.

"Thanks, Sokka. Very generous." Zuko says apprehensively, but he still takes the jerky from Sokka's outstretched hand. "You didn't have to stay up all night." He says, because Sokka didn't, really didn't have to sit up for hours to… what? Watch him sleep? He's just being nice. "You must be exhausted. And I'm okay, really."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." Sokka says, and eagerly starts chewing his jerky. "I'm gonna chalk it up to the blood loss, and not you being stupid, and I'm gonna eat my delicious salmon jerky."

Zuko feels like he's said something wrong, even though Sokka seems fine as he tears into his snack. Zuko stays quiet as they eat, both in silence, and the sky grows brighter, turning into the cool blue that always comes before actual morning. The light is casting shadows on Sokka's face where he sits across from Zuko, blanket wrapped across his shoulders, too. 

Zuko wishes the night could go on a bit longer, but to no avail. The sun is rising for a new day in the Fire Nation. It's a new day, and he's alive, whether he wants to be or not. 

"Sokka." Zuko begins before he can change his mind. "Do you ever wish you didn't have to wake up in the morning?"

Sokka looks at him in a strange way, and Zuko immediately regrets opening his stupid mouth. The feeling is annoyingly familiar. Zuko has spent the past half of this year saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, even when he's trying his best. Not that the twenty odd years before that have been any better. 

"Like, I wish I didn't have to wake up because I wish I was dead…?" Sokka asks, not taking his eyes off of Zuko, who's feeling like he has ten seconds to explain what he actually means before Sokka springs Katara on him again for mental healing. 

"No, not like that. I like living, Sokka. It's just… exhausting being Firelord. Some days when I wake up I just feel angry that I have to do it, or something. I don't know. It doesn't make sense. I fought so hard to get here, we all did." he sighs. 

He's talking too much, and Sokka isn't saying anything, eyes still fixed on him as he's trying to get the right words out. Zuko knows he's not making any sense, yet he can't seem to stop talking.

"I just wanna go away, but I don't even know where. I live here."

"Zuko-"

"And besides, I'm the Firelord, I can't really just up and leave, can I?" Zuko's talking now, and the words are flowing out of him like lava, showing no signs of stopping. "I'm so sick of trying to fix everything, and I know it's my fault, or my father's or whatever, so I have to." His breaths are coming out shaky and uneven. "But I'm not even good at it! And everywhere I go someone's got "help" for me, but it's really their opinion, or criticism, or a knife for spirits' sake! I'm sick of it!" 

He doesn't mean to yell, not like this. Yet he is, and Sokka's face is frozen in a mixture of apprehension and concern, and something else. Zuko can't tell, and part of him doesn't care. Not about Sokka, not about his duties as Firelord, not about anything. 

"I don't even know if what I'm doing is making any difference, no matter what I do I can't fix anything." There are tears forming in the corners of his eyes, already dripping down his cheeks. Zuko doesn't know where it's all coming from, why he's feeling like this, why it's all happening now, in front of Sokka of all people. "I should've just let Azula kill me when she had the chance." he spits out, and his mind is filled with the agonizing crackle of Azula's lightning bolt, bright like the sun as it headed for Katara and caught him instead. 

And him, diving in front of it so easily, like something in him wished to be consumed by it. A nice way to go, Zuko thinks. Being the hero for once. 

"Hey." Sokka's voice brings him back to the present. "You can't think like that." Sokka says, voice soft. "What we're doing here, the southern restoration project, it's helping. Sure, it won't undo the damage but you can't really go back in time, can you?" 

"It's still my fault, my nation's fault." Zuko says bitterly, but the fire in him has gone out. He feels wrung out, like a wet rag. 

"You were a kid, Zuko." Sokka grabs both of his shoulders, grip firm like at his coronation party. "A kid caught in the crossfire of a hundred-year old war that you had no hand in starting." 

"But-" Zuko tries. 

"Zuko." Sokka's voice is stern, but Zuko doesn't feel scolded. "You have to let this go. You have to focus on what you can do right now, or you're never going to get anywhere. Stop blaming yourself for once."

He hastily wipes a stray tear escaping his bad eye. Crying always irritates it, as if crying in front of Sokka wasn't agonizing enough. "Okay." he says, voice small, like a child's. Like he's fourteen again. 

"Alright." Sokka's shoulders relax, almost unnoticeably, and Zuko sees the concern on his face soften just enough for the exhaustion to set in. 

"You should sleep." Zuko tells him. "You don't have to guard me, I'm alright now." he tries his best to make it sound believable. Sokka really looks like he needs some rest. And to his surprise, Sokka, for once, doesn't argue. 

"Wake me if something happens, alright?" he says, and makes himself comfortable on the floor next to Zuko, body turned to face what's left of the fire. 

"Promise." 

Sokka says nothing for a long while, and when Zuko is sure that he's fallen asleep, he can't stop himself from opening his stupid mouth one last time. 

"I'm sorry." he whispers, mostly to Sokka, but maybe also to himself a bit. The room is quiet for a second before Sokka whispers, from where he's apparently not sleeping at all, on the floor. 

"I told you to stop saying that." There's a softness in Sokka's voice, and even though his face is turned to the fire, Zuko imagines there's a soft smile on it. His throat constricts for just a moment, and he reaches for his neck, feeling for the scar. His neck must still be damaged, still. 

Outside, Agni rises for yet another day.