Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Around ten years ago, the four nations came together in harmony again, after the Great Battle between the Avatar and the Fire Lord Ozai ended with the victory of the young air master Aang. Ever since, years of reconstruction of both the world and the people's trust began, and this time there was no one ruler, no thirst for power, and no dark purposes anymore—only the wisdom that everyone carried together in the search for the stability they once had in unison.

Sure, there were bad people, but good always arose in those with the purest of hearts. After all, hope was the strongest power against the dark times—their real strength—, and they for sure remembered that every time. Hope that this life would prove better, and those who served for this moment could finally rest, knowing it wasn’t all in vain.

Fire Lord Zuko had been thinking almost daily about his purpose, sometimes even doubted if he was really fit for it. After years of being dragged into someone else’s destiny, he almost believed he had no more to offer, as that destiny was finally fulfilled.

He believed his destiny was to rule the Fire Nation with the love and courage his own dad lacked to give to his family, even more to an entire land. Zuko doubted he’d ever be like Ozai; if anything, he wanted to bury the mere memory of him. But it eventually came in his nightmares, in the looks that people gave him in the castle, in the lessons for the young ones, even when looking at himself in the mirror, at the permanent scar his supposedly protector gave him.

The nation was scarred with Ozai’s mistakes, too, but as Zuko held high the picture of his long Uncle Iroh, he knew that scars were his own reminder of the strength and power he earned after getting lost in his way too many times. Zuko wasn’t perfect, but his uncle always told him that it was overrated—he could always choose love and happiness. He tried to choose it for his land, at least.

When he dragged the picture down, his own reflection in the water showed the Fire Lord, with the crown shining bright in his long, black hair, and he almost laughed at the irony. He swore he heard his own uncle whispering to his ear, as if talking to him. Zuko held his own gaze, looking deeper into his eyes, to the depths of himself, and the echo of the biggest question pondered like mist in his head:

What do you want?

Zuko had been the Fire Lord for a decade now, and he still didn’t have the entire answer to that question. Partially, he was where he was supposed to be, with the people who had his back any time, and his own promise to himself, where he would rule with the good with which his old enemy and now best friend had taught him. Having his real family helped Zuko feel almost complete in his duties and almost in himself.

If I’m where I’m meant to be, then why does it feel like I’m missing something? Zuko asked himself internally.

Ten years was a long time for everybody, and the looks around could prove it. But for the young king, it still felt like it wasn’t that long. Surely he had had the time to understand himself better now. But even with the gift of brighter and happier times, Zuko couldn’t explain the void that grew more noticeable in his chest.

He glanced back at the picture of Iroh lying in the grass. He once told him that destiny came unexpectedly, when one’s mind and heart were open. Zuko had been opening himself for so long, but the doubt consumed him every night.

The picture trembled slightly as he took it again, and this time, he whispered to the leaves that trailed next to him, the wind making his hair dance a slow, melancholic waltz, and hoped his message would reach his uncle beyond:

“Is this really my destiny, uncle?” His voice was soft, with the contained longing he held in his heart.

Around him, life continued: the leaves rustled, the birds chirped, the wind kissed his face. He wished it were his uncle’s response.

Zuko looked at the sky for moments longer before stepping inside the castle, oblivious to the fact that, somewhere far away, under the same sky, a young woman had asked the same question to the wind. 

Or kind of the same question:

What is Destiny, and why hasn’t it found me yet?