Archive of Our Own

“Always stay true to yourself regardless of the consequences. I assure you not doing so has even greater consequences.”—Thorin

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Aang was walking backward, extremely aware of the dual swords pressed against his throat. He tried not to squirm too much despite the discomfort, knowing that his rescuer was only holding him captive like that because they were still visible to the Fire Nation soldiers who’d kept him in their fortress. But it wasn’t easy; he felt beyond trapped and helpless like that. A part of him couldn’t help but freak out a little at how close he was to being killed right now. All it would take was one slash of the swords and he’d drop to the floor like a ragdoll.

But he and his masked liberator kept on backing up, faces turned to the fortress to make sure nobody was coming after them. To show that it was still unsafe to go after Aang, no matter how much Zhao wanted him trapped. Not killed—trapped. That was the only reason Aang was alive right now. The Fire Nation didn’t want him dead. It would just have to be enough.

They were almost out of sight when Aang felt it—the air currents getting split violently by a sharp object heading in their direction. His eyes zeroed in on the approaching arrow immediately, widening at the sight of it speeding forward in a precise trajectory aimed at the swords-wielder. The thing was nearly invisible in the darkness surrounding them, but Aang knew what to look for. The lack of tension or evasion from his rescuer let him know the guy was seeing nothing.

“Look out!” warned Aang.

Risking it a bit, he brought a hand up just in time to send a gust of wind at the arrow, blowing it away. The motion startled the man behind him, though, so his blades cut a little into Aang’s throat. It stung but didn’t go all that deeply. So Aang just leaned back and away from the cool metal, forcing himself not to glance down so he wouldn’t end up seeing his own blood staining it. He just kept on walking backward a little more quickly, his savior basically dragging him as quickly as possible into the forest surrounding the area.

And then they were out of the woods—figuratively, at least—and Aang was prepared to free himself and escape. But before he could so much as tell the guy behind him to withdraw his swords so they could move more quickly, fingers clasped around his wrists, forcing them together behind his back. Blindsided, Aang grunted in surprise and only thought to fight after the feeling of metal handcuffs around his wrists already registered in his brain.

“No, wait! But…” he muttered, unable to wrap his head around this. “What are you doing?”

A hand on his back shoved him forward and Aang stumbled to the ground. He exhaled quickly through his mouth to break the fall but still ended up with his cheek pressed against the grassy ground. The sound of metal clinking together made him try to squirm back to freedom, but before he could do much more than twist his upper body a little, a weight landed on his back, pressing him more firmly against the ground. The masked guy was sitting on him. And he was shackling his ankles so he couldn’t run.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, the air struggling to enter his lungs with the body weighing him down. “Who are you? Why are you doing this? I thought you were here to help me!”

“You were wrong,” a familiar voice came from above him.

Aang stopped fighting for a split moment, fear rippling through him. He recognized this voice. He’d heard it shouting in his direction enough times since waking up in the iceberg. He’d heard it taunting and mocking him either from up close or from far away. This voice was bad news. It was already associated in his brain as looming danger and the need to flee before it was too late.

“Zuko.” Aang shook his head the best he could in his position. “But why would you—I was already held captive. Why did you break me free?”

A grunt left his lips as he was forcefully pulled back to his feet. His shackles made sure he couldn’t run away or use his hands. Still, once he lifted his head and saw Zuko’s face staring back at him, no longer hidden behind a blue mask, he felt the urge to send the teen back with a strong gust of wind from his mouth and… crawl away somehow. But this was no mere rope tying his limbs together—this was metal. He couldn’t break these cuffs by using something sharp. And he couldn’t run away without being able to walk properly—let alone run.

Zuko didn’t answer his question. He just sheathed his swords over his back, grabbed Aang by the arm and started dragging him away from Zhao and his men. It didn’t seem to matter to him that Aang could hardly walk without stumbling. He just kept on pulling him ahead—most likely in the direction of his ship. There was a frown on his face like always, although Aang could have sworn he also saw a flash of relief in the older boy’s eyes.

“Wait,” Aang protested. “Wait, no. Stop! I’ve got to go back. My friends—”

“You’re not going anywhere, Avatar,” said Zuko. “You are now my prisoner. And this time I won’t let you escape. So unless you want to get burnt, keep on walking.”

“But my friends,” he insisted. “My friends are waiting for me! They—ugh!”

Zuko tugged at him more roughly and Aang nearly lost his balance and face-planted again. He grinded his teeth as he managed to catch himself but didn’t have much time to revel in his relief. The Fire Nation prince just kept on pulling him forward, unconcerned with how difficult it was in his current state.

Frustration built up inside Aang. He looked all around helplessly, searching for anything that could help him. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t just get taken away like that. Maybe people would have judged him for this, but his worries had nothing to do with the war. He just couldn’t bear the thought of knowing that Sokka and Katara were both sick and waiting for him to return with some medicine for their ailment. And now he was being whisked away before he could assist them.

“Zuko, please,” he pleaded. “Sokka and Katara are ill. I’ve got to help them!”

“Who?”

Aang would have pulled out his hair if he had any. “What do you mean ‘who’? My friends! The two friends I’ve been traveling with! The ones who are now sick.”

The teen kept on walking ahead, undeterred.

“The crazy lady told me I had to let them suck on these frozen frogs in the river nearby,” Aang continued stubbornly. “And I don’t know what will happen to them if they don’t get the medicine they need. What if they only get worse? What if they—what if they die?” He closed his eyes momentarily at the unpleasant thought. “I just need to give them the cure and then… and then I’ll…”

“The Water Tribe peasants won’t die from a little cough, Avatar,” the prince said impatiently. “And I wouldn’t listen to a crazy lady if I were you. Come on.”

“No, but she’s a healer.”

Zuko irritably said, “A crazy healer isn’t much better.”

Digging his feet into the ground, Aang refused to budge as he firmly said, “I have to help them. I don’t care if it’s a longshot! I’ve got to try! I can’t let them die too!”

“They’re not going to—”

“They’re the only people I have left!”

Both of them stood in place, glaring heatedly at one another in the dark forest. Aang knew he couldn’t really stand his ground here. He could talk all day long, but Zuko could just toss him over his shoulder and carry him to his ship without preamble. And he would be helpless to stop it. But the haunting image of Monk Gyatso sprang to his mind, shifting to fit Sokka and Katara instead. It made him nauseous to think about, no matter how unlikely it was that they truly would die from their cold.

Although Sokka was hallucinating last he saw of him. Who knew how bad things would go from there.

When Zuko still looked like he was going to say no, Aang sighed and defeatedly said, “I’ll go with you, okay? I won’t fight and I won’t try to escape. I promise. Just let me give them the frogs first. Please, Zuko.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko grumbled, “I can’t believe I’m doing this… where are your friends? How far is your campsite?”

“Not far. At least, I don’t think it is. It was… kind of hard to tell while those archers were dragging me away,” admitted Aang sheepishly, but a spark of hope blossomed in his chest and he latched on to the feeling with both hands. “We can get there around dawn, I promise.”

“If they try anything—” the teen started warningly.

Aang shook his head. “They won’t. They’re in no condition to fight you anyway. Sokka was completely out of it last time I saw them, and Katara caught what he had. She’s probably hallucinating too by now. Trust me, they couldn’t come after you even if they wanted to. And they’ll probably see you and think you’re a tiger seal or something.”

For a long moment the teen didn’t respond. He sent an unreadable look in the direction of Zhao’s camp, where they’d escaped from. Then he shot a look in the direction he’d been leading the two of them now—likely where his ship was anchored. When his gaze locked on Aang, the airbender met it head on, glancing between the burnt and healthy eyes nervously.

“You make one wrong move—you give me one reason to believe you’re plotting something or planning on going back on your word—and I’m dragging you back before you even catch sight of the Water Tribe peasants, Avatar,” he threatened. “Is that clear?”

Despite agreeing to become a prisoner without putting up a fight, Aang couldn’t help but nod and sigh in relief. Because at least he’d be able to tend to his friends before he was snatched away for… possibly forever. It was worth it. And hey, once Sokka and Katara healed, they could come after him. He was sure they would at least try.

And so, still shackled, Aang awkwardly led Zuko toward the river of the frozen frogs and then up the mountainside to the camp his friends were in.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Sokka and Katara, as expected, were too out of it to notice the cuffs around Aang’s wrists and ankles. He shuffled about and stuck the frozen frogs in their mouths, lethargy and wariness filling him at the sight of how oblivious they were. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zuko keeping an eye on the exchange, invisible to the Water Tribe siblings.

A part of Aang wondered if maybe he could whisper something to his friends, to let them know that there was danger—that he was going to be taken away with Zuko to the Fire Nation. But while Zuko was out of sight of Appa, Katara and Sokka, he was still close enough to hear everything. And he looked like he was ready to jump in and drag Aang out of there before he could do anything to try and tip them off to the fact that something was wrong.

Pulling the frozen frog out of her mouth, Katara weakly mumbled, “Aang, can you fetch us some water?”

“Oh, uh…” He looked at the empty waterskin resting beside Momo and cringed. “See, I have something I’ve gotta do so I’m not sure—”

A movement to his right drew his attention back to Zuko. The guy looked like he was moments away from cutting this quiet moment off. He sharply waved his hand at Aang, then tossed a bottle of water toward him. The airbender fumbled to catch it, his movements restrained by his shackles. Still, he managed and uncrooked it. Peering in, he saw the bottle was half filled. It wasn’t exactly much, but it was better than nothing. And it was an obvious message from the teen—Aang wasn’t going to get the chance to go fill Katara’s waterskin, no matter how much he wanted to.

So, forcing a smile onto his face, he handed the bottle to his friend and said, “There you go, Katara. Just, um, try not to finish this too quickly, okay?”

She didn’t reply—just eagerly took a big gulp and sighed contentedly. Then she handed the water to her brother and went back to obliviously sucking on her frog.

“Right, um… I’ve got to go now,” he said, looking between Sokka and Katara’s dull gazes. “But these should help you heal up. So you’ll be fine, right?”

Sokka shot him a thumbs up. “Suuuuure, Aang. Relaaaax. We’re fine.”

They didn’t even ask him where he was going. He wasn’t sure their brains were processing the fact that he was already leaving them again, and this time not to get them any sort of medicine or help. He wasn’t sure whether to be hurt or relieved as he backed away from them, trying to commit them to memory the best he could. Sokka, Katara, Momo, Appa—all of them. He wasn’t sure when he would see them again—if that would even happen at all.

Stepping sideways and closer to the head of the cave, Aang approached Appa and pressed awkwardly against his head, his tied hands stuck between them. A lump formed in his throat at the idea of saying good-bye to his earliest friend. Appa had always been there—ever since he was six. And now he was being forced to leave him behind. The only consolation he could find was that at least Appa would be with friends. He was certain Sokka and Katara would take care of him and Momo.

“I’ll see you later, buddy,” he said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “You too, Momo.”

Appa growled in response and closed his eyes. Off to the side, Momo chirped lightly.

He allowed himself to remain there, face buried in Appa’s fur, for a few seconds longer. Then he pulled away and shuffled backward. Appa’s eyes remained shut. Sokka and Katara kept on sucking on the frogs, unaware of the tension Aang was exuding. Momo was the only one watching him, but there was no obvious comprehension in his eyes—no sign that he could tell his owner was in danger.

So, with a heavy heart, Aang made his way away from his friends and over to where Zuko was waiting for him. The firebender looked impatient and annoyed, but at least he hadn’t intervened and made this whole thing worse. Aang would have hated to see his friends’ faces had they known they couldn’t protect him. And as much as he hated to admit it—there was nothing he could do when he could barely move his limbs.

“Finally,” said Zuko. He grasped Aang’s arm and tugged him back down the mountain harshly. “Now it’s your turn to uphold your end of the deal, Avatar.”

Eyelids drooping, Aang muttered, “Yeah, okay.”

The entire voyage to Zuko’s ship, Aang found himself hoping his friends would somehow find him. They’d show up on Appa and they’d rescue him. They’d snatch him away from the angry prince and bring him to safety. But no one came and nothing changed. He just kept on trudging forward after Zuko until the shore came into view, as well as the familiar Fire Navy ship Aang had already been brought to once before.

As he stepped onto the deck, he tried tugging at his restraints one last time to no avail. He was truly trapped this time. No amount of airbending could get him off this ship now. Not as long as he was shackled with metal. And especially not when he was put behind bars in the belly of the ship—which was exactly what Zuko himself made sure happened this time around.

“From one prison to the other,” said Aang to himself, eyes darting all around his blank cell. “Now what?”

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

There were always two men standing guard outside the door. Aang could hear them chatting lightly despite the closed door separating them from him. But he himself was alone, the room he was in empty. Half of it was completely free, with access to the door. But the other half was locked behind metal bars and an iron door no amount of air-puffing was going to take down. That was where Aang was.

A porthole above his head was sealed tightly, letting in just a little bit of distorted light that filtered in despite it being below water. They did bother putting a lumpy mattress on the floor for him to sleep on, which he figured was better than nothing. And there were two candles resting on the opposite side of the room to offer him some more light. They also brought him a plate of some sort of cooked meat for him to eat which… well, Aang left it near the door of his cage, untouched. He did drink the bit of water he received, though.

Aang wasn’t sure how long it’s been. A couple of days at most, he figured. His stomach was gurgling loudly, nausea and pain filling his body as he kept on going without food. He tried to tell the men who came in with the meat that he couldn’t eat it but they determinedly didn’t listen. He wasn’t sure how long the journey to the Fire Nation by ship was supposed to take, but he was certain that at this rate his body might just give up on him before he even set foot on its grounds.

But the hunger wasn’t his main concern. No, Aang could go without food for a while. He’d survived the Great Canyon and those canyon crawlers on an empty stomach. He was going to be fine. What he couldn’t handle was the confined space he was in. The fact that he felt so trapped. He was inside a ship, underwater. He had no access to fresh air, to the sea breeze, to his own element.

Yes, he had air. But it was stale and nothing like the free gales he grew up with. So his spirit felt almost weakened, cut away from what was so essential to who he was.

And so Aang found himself sitting with his back against the corner of his cage, knees bent and arms wrapped around his shins. His chin rested on top of his knees as he blinked sluggishly at his brown mattress. Boredom weighed his entire body down and left him feeling almost numb—or maybe it was just the fact that he was sitting all day long, only pacing from side to side every now and then to stretch his muscles.

The door’s hinges creaked as it was pushed open, drawing Aang’s attention toward the newcomer. He expected to see an armored man there, arriving to take the plate of food away like always. But instead he found himself facing the older man that accompanied Zuko everywhere. Aang was pretty sure his name was Iroh but he wasn’t sure what his purpose there was. Was he an advisor of the prince or something? What did he want from him?

“Hello, young Avatar,” the man—maybe Iroh—greeted, voice kind. “May I sit with you?”

Lifting his head off his legs, Aang uncertainly said, “Um… sure.”

He pressed his back a little more firmly against the corner, watching as maybe-Iroh stationed himself on the floor in front of the metal bars, legs crossed. There was nothing outwardly malicious about this man, Aang observed. But, then again, he worked with Zuko. And Zuko was the one holding him captive. So where did that leave him with this guy?

“My name is Iroh,” he informed Aang. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”

Pensively, the boy said, “I’m Aang.”

Stroking his beard, Iroh nodded. “A fitting name for an airbender Avatar. And, I believe, a name I have never encountered before during my travels.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s an Air Nomad name.” Wiggling his toes restlessly, Aang leaned his chin back down. “I have met an Iroh before, though. He gave me and my friend a free pie once when we visited the Fire Nation because we helped him carry groceries from the market.”

“Speaking of pies, I see you have not touched your roast duck.”

Aang wrinkled his nose as he sent the plate a brief look. “I don’t eat meat.”

“Don’t eat meat?” Iroh repeated, sounding genuinely incredulous. “No meat at all?”

“I’m a vegetarian. So… no. Nothing that used to be alive. All Air Nomads are—were like that.” Aang glued his eyes to the floor and curled his shoulders a little as a chill ran down his spine. “I guess without us around you wouldn’t have heard of this concept. Huh. Well, I can’t eat this.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Iroh seemed to contemplate this for a moment before he said, “I believe we have a couple of fruits aboard the ship. And bread is not meat. I will go fetch you some soon.”

Aang’s empty stomach seemed to ache at the promise of food. He ignored the pain in favor of flashing the Fire Nation man a grateful smile. Because even if he was still trapped, at least he wouldn’t starve to death in here. They wanted him alive, just like Zhao, but Zuko and his staff didn’t seem to intentionally leave him uncomfortable. Zhao had openly told him he was going to keep him alive just barely. Zuko had been oblivious to Aang’s vegetarianism, but he’d still given him meals. The effort was there.

Nodding to himself, Iroh reached his hand through the slim space between the floor and the bars to pull out the roast duck. Then he proceeded to eat it with glee. Although for a second there he sent Aang a look, as if to make sure this wasn’t bothering the boy. But apart from being hungry and wishing he could eat already himself, Aang didn’t really mind. He considered asking Iroh to maybe get him food now but figured he was in no place to request anything; not really.

“Do you mind explaining something to me, Avatar Aang?” said Iroh eventually.

“Well… I guess not?”

Iroh swallowed the food in his mouth. “Avatar Roku died a very long time ago. The war started a hundred years ago. All this time everyone believed the Avatar must have been born among the Air Nomads right after Roku’s death. The world was expecting an old man. Yet here you are, and you can’t be older than fourteen. I’ve been wondering how that was possible ever since you showed up at the south pole.”

“Oh. I’m actually—I don’t look like it, but I’m a hundred and twelve.” Aang shrugged without looking up at Iroh’s reaction. “I’ve sort of been frozen for a while.”

For a moment it was silent, then the man’s stunned voice said, “Well, I must say, you look rather well for your old age.”

A chuckle left Aang’s lips.

He let the silence linger for a little while after that. When he finally caught a glimpse of Iroh’s face, he found the man staring into thin air with his chopsticks frozen between his food and mouth. He was wearing an expression of deep contemplation, clearly trying to process Aang’s words or make sense of them somehow. He figured it was a strange piece of information to have. It did sound fictional even to him, and Aang knew it was very much true.

Then one of the men stationed outside the room poked his head in to let Iroh know Prince Zuko was looking for him. And so, with a grunt, Aang’s visitor got up with one hand still holding onto the plate of roast duck like it was precious cargo.

“I’d better go see what my nephew wants,” he told Aang. “But I will make sure you get proper food soon.”

Nephew. That meant Iroh was Zuko’s uncle. So he was either the brother of the teen’s mother or… or his father’s. Meaning he was possibly the brother of the Fire Lord. Aang felt a little blindsided all of a sudden, unsure. He had no idea what the Fire Lord’s name these days even was. Before the war it had been Sozin, he knew. But now? Neither Katara nor Sokka had mentioned the man by name. And none of the other people they’d encountered bothered bringing it up either.

If the Fire Lord was Iroh’s brother, was he really all that bad? This man looked nice and pleasant enough. He came in just to have a short conversation. He didn’t even really judge Aang’s choice not to eat meat like many others might do, instead merely opting to find him something else to eat. If he was related to the current Fire Lord, was it possible the leader of the Fire Nation wasn’t as bad as people painted him out to be? Maybe he could be reasoned with…

Instead of asking the man about that, Aang only bowed his head a little and said, “Thank you, sir.”

And just like that, Aang was left to his own devices again.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Having a full stomach made the situation slightly better, but Aang could still feel all of his pant-up energy building within his body. It was like a tornado forming inside of him, slowly gaining speed and gravity. It made him pace more every chance he got. His hands would tug helplessly at the bars locking him even though he knew it wouldn’t help him in any way. Despite the fact that his hands were tied up, he still performed minor air tricks just to try and expel some of the energy in some way.

None of it was enough. He felt like he was going insane. The water outside his window pulled at him, but Aang had no idea how it could possibly help him. Even if he broke the window and let the water in, it would potentially only sink the ship, and he would possibly drown. He still barely knew how to bend water—certainly not enough to use it to escape. And the guards who brought him water always kept an eye on him until the last drop of it went down his throat. They were wary, probably because during their first encounter he’d somehow bended water expertly.

He wanted to escape. Oh, he really, really did. He wanted to figure out a way out of this place so he could be reunited with the air above. With Appa, Momo and Sokka and Katara. But every time he even considered trying to come up with a solution to his predicament, his chest would ache at the reminder of his promise to Zuko. Because he’d sworn not to try to escape if he was allowed to help his friends before leaving. And Zuko had held his end of the deal.

The problem was that he wasn’t sure what was worse—going back on his word or potentially abandoning the world by going into the Fire Nation custody. He knew what Sokka and Katara would have chosen in this situation, yes. He knew what almost every single person on the planet would have said in his place.

But he thought of an escape attempt, and his chest ached.

Zuko has been chasing him for a long time now. It was obvious he was desperate to capture him, but Aang had no idea what this reason was. It was obviously more complicated than simply wanting the Fire Nation to win the war. Had that been his sole reason for going after Aang, he would have left him to rot under Zhao’s supervision. But he’d broken him out so he could capture him himself instead.

There had to be a story there. A deeper reason Aang wasn’t privy to. Something to explain Zuko’s decisions and desperation.

After that whole mess with the pirates, Katara had told Aang that Zuko had mentioned to her that capturing him would—according to the teen—somehow restore his honor. And after befriending people from the Fire Nation in the past, Aang knew honor was a big part of their culture. He never really saw the big deal about it or why they cared so much. But he knew it was important to these people, and so this must have meant a lot to Zuko.

But was capturing the Avatar really going to fix whatever mess Zuko was dealing with? What had caused this in the first place? He was the Fire Nation prince. Did that mean nothing? Did he do something wrong? Was he supposed to prove himself to earn the title of future leader of the nation? But then, how did his father and, possibly, his grandfather get to rule the Fire Nation without having the Avatars?

Something wasn’t adding up.

Would it be considered an escape if Sokka and Katara showed up to rescue him? Aang wasn’t sure, but he kept on praying for his friends to arrive on top of Appa. Surely they could do something. They could find the ship and sneak Aang out. Or burst him out by force if they encountered too much resistance. They were strong. And Katara was improving tremendously with her waterbending the more she practiced.

Still, time moved on around him and nothing changed. Aang was still below deck, Appa was nowhere in sight and the Fire Nation grew closer and closer the more they sailed.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Bored out of his mind, Aang eventually pulled out his marbles and started flicking them around. They smacked against the walls and bars loudly every single time, and then he’d pull them back with airbending so he could do it again. With time, his aim was to flick the marbles directly through the candle flames across from him one after the other. When it proved to be too easy, he tried to do it with his breath rather than his bound hands.

And, well… it was still too easy. But he had nothing better to do.

“What in the world are you doing in here?” Zuko demanded, bursting into the room furiously.

Looking up at the teen, Aang said, “Nothing much, honestly. I’m just bored. Who knew being captive would be so dull…”

Zuko’s eye twitched. He looked all around, spotting the three discarded marbles Aang had yet to recollect. Bending down, he picked one up and examined it like it was a weapon and not a toy. Well, Aang figured it could be used as a weapon if one wanted to try it. But he wasn’t exactly planning on shooting people with tiny, round stones any time soon. What if it proved to deliver a fatal blow? Something could go horribly wrong and Aang didn’t even want to entertain this possibility.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Zuko suspiciously.

“I had it on me. I play with it sometimes.” He used a gust of air to pull the marble out of Zuko’s hand and into his own. “Not like I have anything better to do with my time here.”

“It’s a weapon!” protested Zuko as he quickly grabbed the other two marbles.

With a shake of his head, Aang frowned. “It’s a game. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not much to do around here! And I’m twelve and I’m bored. There’s nobody to talk to and nowhere to go, and I’m kind of losing it down here. So I’m playing a game. So can I have my marbles, please?”

Instead of returning them, the prince gave Aang a long look. “My uncle told me you were frozen all this time.”

Aang dropped his gaze to the marble he had in his grasp.

“So is that how you’ve evaded us all this time? Do you even know how to bend more than air?” asked Zuko.

“Not like you can bend anything other than fire. And I do know a little bit of waterbending now.” With a little smirk, he cheekily added, “I didn’t need more than airbending to beat you.”

The teenager scowled at him. “I’m keeping these marbles.”

“What? But what am I supposed to do to pass the time?”

“Practice your waterbending forms,” Zuko threw over his shoulder flatly.

He left Aang standing there with only one marble left and even more restless energy flowing through him. Sending a look toward the water visible through the porthole, the boy sighed. Then—because he really didn’t have anything better to do—he resumed the stance the waterbending scroll—and Katara—had shown him and concentrated on the foreign element. Well, he tried to; he couldn’t really move freely enough to do it properly. But he had some time to kill, obviously, so might as well try, right?

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

A couple of hours after his game was interrupted, the door of the room opened once again. Aang let go of the part of his consciousness that had been focused on the water outside the ship, instead turning to watch as Zuko stepped back inside, followed by his uncle. And while the prince looked like he would rather be anywhere but there, Iroh had a smile on his face as he stepped closer to Aang, holding a familiar object under his arm.

“Um… is that a Pai Sho game?” said Aang.

“Uncle, you can’t be serious,” protested Zuko exasperatedly.

Ignoring him, Iroh said, “Indeed. My nephew told me you were bored down here and I always look for new opponents. I fear the crew atop this ship are getting too predictable for me. A bit more of a challenge would be much appreciated.”

“Oh, well, I don’t think I’m all that good at this game, but I used to play it a lot. I’d love to play!”

Anything was better than this mind numbing monotony that was taking over his brain. And if he couldn’t go out and breathe some fresh air, then he’d happily jump on the opportunity to at least do something that was more interesting than staring blankly ahead. Plus, Iroh was being friendly and nice, and at this point Aang would take any type of company as long as he was no longer alone.

As he sat down on the floor, Iroh did the same on the other side of the bars. He pushed the boardgame under the bars so Aang would have access to it even with the handcuffs around his wrists. Then he proceeded to hand him a pouch of tiles to play with. The kid did his best to appreciate the obvious care with which these tiles were being handled and not pay attention to the irritated huff Zuko let out off to the side, a bit of smoke coming out.

“The guest has the first move,” said Iroh once they were both ready.

“Prisoner,” corrected Zuko grumpily.

Aang swiftly ignored him in favor of pulling tiles in and out of the pouch, wondering how to begin the game. During his games against Monk Gyatso, he’d usually used the jasmine tile first. Against his friends he’d mixed it up a little more, going for the white lily or the chrysanthemum. But he’d known them and their moves. This time he was playing against a stranger. He had no idea what this man’s gambits were.

He could almost hear Gyatso explaining to him that if he wanted to play against someone he didn’t know, he should pick the safe route; a gambit Monk Gyatso had shown him during one of them travels to the Earth Kingdom. Aang had been so utterly baffled by the way his guardian and a person who was a total stranger to the both of them had interacted like old friends from the moment their game picked up speed.

So he eventually closed his fingers around a familiar tile and put it on the board to start the game.

“I see you favor the white lotus gambit,” commented Iroh, mild surprise in his voice. He shot Aang a look of consideration before adding, “Not many still cling to the ancient ways.”

The Earth Kingdom man who’d played against Gyatso had said the same thing a century ago too. The exact same words. Aang would have likely forgotten that had it not been for Gyatso’s insistence that he ought to remember that moment. That is how you can find friends and allies in times of trouble, my young pupil, his friend had told him.

So, forcing his voice to work past the lump in his throat, Aang wondrously said, “Those who do can always find a friend.”

The Fire Nation man looked… not quite surprised, but definitely like he wasn’t sure Aang would know how to respond to his words. Meanwhile, Zuko just looked annoyed and bored. It was obvious he didn’t recognize any of this. Aang would have thought Iroh would teach his nephew about this. But maybe he had a good reason not to. Or he never saw the need to pass this on.

Smiling a little, Iroh pulled out a tile from his own pouch and said, “Then let us play.”

Normally, Aang would focus on trying to win the game. He never minded losing, really, but it was still fun to feel the rush of victory coursing through him. But this time he focused on what Monk Gyatso had taught him what felt like months ago. Iroh placed his pieces with practiced ease, never second guessing himself for even a second. But Aang had to wrack his brain to try and recall what his mentor had told him to do in this situation. He had to get the order of the tiles correctly if he wanted this to work, right?

Although he wasn’t sure what he could possibly gain from this anyway. Monk Gyatso had made it sound like finding friends and allies was possible this way, but his opponent right now was a Fire Nation citizen. Was he really going to find an ally in a person who was on the other side of this war? The uncle of the teenager so desperate to keep Aang trapped on top of his ship? It was ludicrous to think about. But he couldn’t lose anything, could he?

Slowly but surely, the lotus shape on the Pai Sho board began to gain form. Aang could even see Zuko perking up a little at the strange sight, having realized his uncle and prisoner were most likely not playing the game like most people did anymore. No one was really winning or losing in this scenario. They were both amicably… existing in this game. It must have looked really odd to outsiders like Zuko.

And then the last piece was put in place and Aang leaned back to check that nothing was amiss. It all seemed to be in line, the tiles perfectly stationed in the right order. His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he wondered what would happen now. Gyatso had earned himself a friend that way, but Aang wasn’t really expecting Iroh to suddenly be all close and cozy with him because of this. He wasn’t sure what the man would do.

“Ah, I see,” the older man said, looking away from the board and over at Aang. “May I ask where you learned this move, Avatar Aang?”

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Zuko’s face pinched a little at the sound of Aang’s name but he didn’t say anything.

“Monk Gyatso—he was my guardian,” said Aang pensively. “He told me to remember it, although he never really went into length about how helpful it might turn out to be.”

“What are you two muttonheads talking about?” grouched the prince.

Iroh shot his nephew a secretive look and merely said, “I always tried to tell you that Pai Sho is more than just a game.”

A groan left the teen’s mouth. “Whatever! You had your fun. Now let’s go. The Avatar is our inmate, not our guest. He’s the Fire Nation’s enemy, Uncle. Playing games with him should not be a part of his imprisonment.”

Pressing his back against the wall of his cell, Aang defensively said, “I’m only your enemy ‘cause you made me your enemy. I don’t want to fight you or anyone else. But you’re raging war on all the other nations! You’ve eliminated all of my people just because you were looking for me, so no one would oppose you when you started colonizing areas that don’t belong to you. If only the war stopped—”

“That is not the only reason why my great-grandfather attacked the Air Nomads, Avatar, and you know it!” he argued.

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh intervened, “I recommend not—”

“What other reason did he have, then?” said Aang, an odd mixture of curiosity and trepidation stirring inside of him. “What did my people ever do to yours? We were minding our own business. None of them did anything to harm the Fire Nation. Why attack them?”

Pushing off the wall, Zuko stepped forward and gripped one metal pole tightly. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Everyone around the world heard the stories about the airbenders. They were thieves and colonizers, far worse than the Fire Nation ever was. And the world knows the truth. We know the only reason the Air Nomads were all benders was because all of the non-benders were killed at birth.”

Head spinning, Aang trembled from head to toe as the words he was being told bounced around his skull, refusing to compute. Because they made no sense at all to him. He knew it was all lies, it couldn’t be true. But how could he argue against it when he could hardly even wrap his head around the false information he was being fed?

“So yes, Fire Lord Sozin killed them. He got rid of the worst, most savage people this world had ever seen. And the world is a better and safer place thanks to him.” Zuko’s healthy eye narrowed, his brows contorting angrily. “No one from the Water Tribes or the Earth Kingdom offered to help the airbenders who did manage to escape the original attacks. Why do you think that is, Avatar?”

“Zuko,” said Iroh sharply.

Aang bent his legs toward his chest, wrapped his arms around them and leaned his forehead on his knees. His head shook from side to side as he muttered, “That’s not true. None of it is. That’s not true.”

His eyes stung so he squeezed them shut. Tears still managed to slip out and roll down his cheeks, but he was convinced the Fire Nation men couldn’t see it with the way he was sitting. He had to bite his tongue to keep quiet when images of his friends’ faces flashed under his eyelids. The names of the monks and nuns he knew raced through his head relentlessly, all of them reminders of what he had lost. And he knew them—he knew they weren’t the monsters Zuko was describing.

How could anyone believe such lies? How could people hear all of this and believe it? It was so outlandish; impossible to grasp. They were good people. Yet this guy was claiming they’d been killed for things that had never happened. For lies the world had been fed over a century to justify the genocide that had occurred.

Was it true that no one had helped? Was it possible refugees had wandered to the Water Tribes or the Earth Kingdom only to get turned down? No. The Air Nomads had friends all over the world. People who knew who they were and what they valued and believed in. People who didn’t believe the stupid rumors that must have spread all around back then. Someone must have helped. Someone must have at least tried.

“That’s not true,” he kept on mumbling helplessly. “It can’t be true…”

“It is true,” insisted Zuko firmly. “Ask anyone and they’ll tell you.”

Aang wished he could cover his ears with his hands. “Stop it! You’re lying!”

He expected a rebuttal from the prince, but instead was greeted by a short silence. Good. It was better than hearing more false accusations hurled at people who could no longer defend themselves. Against people Aang himself used to know personally and ones Zuko had never even encountered. He had no idea what he was talking about.

He had to be lying. He was. He was lying to him to—to make him miserable or something.

At last, Iroh’s quiet voice said, “Come, Zuko. We shall soon reach the port. We should prepare for dinner.”

Footsteps followed these words, walking toward the door and growing more and more distant. And then, from much closer, came the sound of tiles being tossed back into their pouch and the boardgame being dragged back across the floor. Aang didn’t need to look to know Iroh was collecting the game and preparing to leave. He merely sniffled and listened to the man’s steps as he, too, walked toward the door of the room. But instead of leaving, he just paused at the threshold.

“The Fire Nation history books—the ones the children are being taught from—might not be the most accurate, Aang,” the man said, his voice cautious. “My nephew is only repeating what he and every other Fire Nation student had been taught ever since the war started, and I suspect even a few years earlier.”

Wiping his tears with the back of his fist, Aang met Iroh’s tender gaze with a teary one of his own. “So not only were the Air Nomads slaughtered, their memory was also forever tainted by false information? So nothing is left of them but skeletons and fake knowledge.”

“And you,” the man said.

And just like that, he left Aang alone again.

The boy just retreated to his lumpy mattress and cried until sleep took him.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Aang?

He was drowning. There were bubbles all around him as the wave swallowed him, the currents dragging him further and further down. Daylight disappeared, replaced by the darkness of the sea’s depth. And he couldn’t breathe.

Aang!

His grip on Appa’s reins slackened, the rope beginning to slip through his numb and cold fingers. His lungs, usually so full of air, were now desperately grasping for the element that gave them life, water filling them steadily. A fog sipped into his mind as he tried to stay conscious and salvage the situation. The world was falling away as he sank deeper, deeper, deeper.

Where did you go?

There was water soaking his clothes, seeping through the fabric and wetting his skin. It added to the weight of him, allowing his body to get dragged down more easily. Through blurry eyes he could see less and less bubbles escaping his mouth as his air supply drained. He yearned to reach forward, collect the bubbles and bend them back into his burning chest, but his body was cold and unresponsive.

Why did you abandon us?

He sucked in a breath that drew a torrent of water straight into his lungs—

Aang woke up with a start, gasping for air as the feeling of drowning and suffocating lingered behind. His entire body was trembling on the mattress, his head spinning as black spots filled his vision. Tears brimmed in his eyes and slipped past his eyelids and down his cheeks. And with every attempt to breathe deeply, the memory of being unable to do so in his dream cut through him and renewed the tears.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he curled into a ball on his side and found himself reliving the dream while being fully awake. His body wrecked with sobs that weren’t strong enough to drown out the voices of Sokka and Katara, both mixing together as they called after him in confusion and hurt. He wanted to cry back that he hadn’t meant to leave them. He’d been captured. It wasn’t his fault. He would have stayed with them if he could.

But they weren’t there and he had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t get words past. Neither could he suck air around it, which was another matter.

Usually, when Aang had nightmares, Katara was there to comfort him. Even if he didn’t end up telling her what was going on, she offered to listen to him. Her and Sokka were always in the area, ready to help. They’d claimed him as their family barely a week into knowing him and they acted like it too. Sokka would make Aang laugh to pull him out of his own head and Katara would embrace him tightly, as if proving that he wasn’t alone.

Now he was all by himself, though. He was very much aware of the fact that his friends were nowhere near him. They couldn’t reach him, nor could he reach them. He waited for Sokka’s sarcasm to cut through the silence and take the edge off the entire situation. He waited for Katara’s hand to rub his back and her gentle voice to ask him what was wrong.

Yet the tears kept on coming and no friend showed up.

He had to breathe. He felt like his chest was on fire, incapable of taking in any air. Everything around him felt wrong. There was no wind, there was no flow, there was only stilted dust that penetrated his lungs and made him cough in between sobs. He could almost imagine himself reaching out his hand to Vāyu, the spirit of the air, and colliding with a wall separating her from him.

His metal shackles clanked loudly in the cell, the sound amplified by his brain. It made him try to fight his restraints in vain. Logically, he knew nothing he did would work. But logic had been tossed out the window the second he woke alone from his nightmare. So he kept on tugging helplessly at his hands and feet, attempting to separate them by sheer force of will. And each unsuccessful attempt made his sobs intensify and his desperation and panic flare brighter and brighter.

He was trapped, all alone, and he couldn’t breathe.

Voices chimed in around him, foreign and lacking in comfort. So Aang’s brain filtered them out as he tried to force himself to inhale. Another pull at his handcuffs earned him nothing but more despair. He had to get out of here. He needed to be outside. He needed the feeling of Vāyu’s breeze blowing in his face, her whistles in his ears. He needed the sense of freedom that came with her presence and was so scarce in the belly of this ship.

When he felt arms snaking under his back and knees, Aang couldn’t find it in himself to fight. He just kept his eyes sealed tight as someone unfamiliar lifted him off the mattress and carried him somewhere. Considering he was on an enemy ship, he was probably supposed to feel trepidation or concern right now. But seeing as he wasn’t really getting the air supply his body required to live, he figured the threat the Fire Nation crew of this ship just didn’t matter as much in comparison.

Wiping his face with fisted hands, he listened to his rattled gasps as he kept on fighting the thick and musty air surrounding him. The skin of his face was damp as tears kept on streaming down, taking different paths and most likely leaving wet splotches on the uniform of the man holding him. Aang didn’t care. He just grasped at his throat, as if that would help in any way.

And then a door creaked and a gust of fresh air—salty and clear and free—smacked him in the face. Aang’s eyes snapped open at once and he squinted through his tears to see where he was. With another swipe at his eyes, he cleared his vision enough to realize he had been brought to the deck, where the moon above washed the world with its silver light. Stars twinkled up above and waves crashed against the body of the ship.

Glorious wind swirled all around, finally entering his body and filling him to the brim.

He inhaled deeply and stopped fighting his shackles. Instead, he focused on his element as it seemed to welcome him back to its embrace, showering him with nothing but love and care. It was like receiving a warm smile from Katara or a side hug from Sokka. It was like hearing Momo chittering straight in his ear or cuddling up against Appa’s soft fur. It was like the sea breeze was greeting him enthusiastically, excited to have him in its reach once more.

The Fire Nation man—probably one of the guards stationed outside his cell, Aang assumed hazily—placed him on the metal deck, back to the railing. Aang didn’t fight him—he just made himself comfortable, with his legs folded under him and his bound hands resting in his lap. And then he just focused on his breaths, on the air, on the way it dried his tears and took some of the sorrow and guilt off his shoulders.

People talked nearby. He was pretty sure he could hear Zuko and Iroh among the voices. But their words were indistinguishable to him right now. All Aang could bring himself to focus on was the way his chest expanded and contracted with each inhale and exhale. The difference between the air up here and the air in the cell he’d been subjected to was almost laughable. This was where Aang belonged, not in the belly of a metal monster. This was, quite literally, his life source. It was almost awe-inspiring, just how long he’d managed to go without this feeling.

He imagined Sokka and Katara sitting atop Appa, scouring the skies and looking for him. He imagined Momo flying near them, chirping loudly to try and be heard by his owner. The same air would be carrying them. The same air he himself was now exposed to once again. If he opened his mouth and made a noise, would Vāyu carry it over her gales to his friends?

“How are you feeling?” a much closer voice asked.

Aang blinked slowly, then turned his head to the side. The fog in his brain was slowly dissipating, but it still took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that the man standing beside him was Iroh. Not too far behind him, Zuko’s profile was visible to him too. His scar was obvious even at the night, angry and prominent and big. It made him wonder if the wind had soothed it too.

“Better,” said Aang hoarsely. “Thank you.”

“May I ask what brought this on?”

Want to talk about it? Katara had asked him last time.

Shoulders curling, the boy focused on the constellations above. “Just a nightmare. It’s nothing.”

“Great,” said Zuko wryly. “So let’s go back—”

Before he could finish and before Aang could plead with him to let him stay above deck a little longer, Iroh said, “Well, you can always talk about something else. I’m sure you have much to share, having come from an entirely different time. The world must have changed tremendously.”

“Uncle,” protested Zuko.

It sounded so much like a whine that it brought a small smile to Aang’s face.

“Of course the world changed.” Aang gestured around with his shackled hands. “All you guys know is this war. It’s this harsh reality where no one can travel freely because there’s always the threat of being caught. Either by the Fire Nation or by the people fighting for the Earth Kingdom. Now you have to wear disguises or hide who you are or what you can do. All of the freedom the world used to hold is… gone. Or at least tampered down.”

When even Zuko sent him a mildly intrigued look, Aang continued. “A hundred years ago I used to travel all over the world. Monk Gyatso started taking me with him on his journeys and we’d meet new people and try new food and look at all of the flora that was unique to each area we visited. We saw a bunch of animals locals would share stories about. We brought back to the temple a few seeds of plants we wanted to try and grow ourselves, but most of them didn’t survive in the climate we lived in.

“And we made friends everywhere. One of my friends from back then is now the king of Omashu. It was so weird to meet him again now. I didn’t even recognize him; it’s been so long. And I knew this Water Tribe twins who told me about all these different fish they learned to recognize. They tried to get me to eat some until I told them I didn’t eat meat. And I even had a Fire Nation friend.” Aang glanced at Zuko over Iroh’s shoulder. “His name was Kuzon. We got into so much trouble together. He used to show me his firebending, and this one time we nearly burned down his house because of it…”

With a sigh, Aang leaned his back against the railing and once more closed his eyes. He could picture Kuzon’s face in his mind, with those wild, curious eyes and gappy grin that almost meant trouble. Before the loneliness could envelope him again, though, the air’s currents seemed to wrap around him comfortingly, a reminder that Aang wasn’t alone.

“It must be hard,” sympathized Iroh. “Waking up to an entirely different reality than the one you had left.”

Allowing his eyelids to flutter open halfway, Aang quietly rasped out, “Yeah.”

Off to the side, Zuko bemusedly said, “Why would a Fire Nation citizen befriend a security risk?”

“Because we weren’t a security risk.” Aang’s voice sounded clipped even to him. “The Air Nomads were peaceful. We never hurt anyone. The reason we only had benders was because we were all more spiritual than most. We never stole from anyone and we definitely never killed another person, be it a stranger or one of our own. We were pacifists—against causing harm to others,” he added when the teen sent him a stumped look. “All of the things you had been taught are lies. Lies that were probably meant to paint history in a different light so the massacre of an entire culture would seem reasonable and not as inhumane as it was.”

“That’s not—” The prince took in a sharp breath and turned on his heel. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. “Take him back below deck the second you’re done here, Uncle. I’m going to bed.”

He left briskly and Aang sighed sadly and focused on nothing but Vāyu’s wind.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

They let him out of his cell and into the open air every morning and every evening after that. Probably because they didn’t want to deal with how hysterical he’d gotten after being cooped up for far too long without any release. And when he was put back behind bars, the crew took his shackles off to give him a little more freedom. There were red marks around his wrists and ankles by then, but Aang was just happy to be able to move around his cell with no limitations.

But the thing that really caught him off guard was Zuko. The prince started dropping off his lunches—every single day. He’d show up with an unreadable expression on his face and a bowl of fruit in his hand. The first time, he spared Aang one tight-lipped look and then placed the bowl down and left. But from the second day, he accompanied his brief visits with questions.

“Are you planning on killing my father?”

Stunned by the question, Aang stuttered out, “W-what? Of course not!”

With a disbelieving expression, Zuko left again. But the next day he returned with another question. And the next one was followed by yet another one. And another one. And another one.

“Why are you so sure you’re right and I’m wrong? You’re a kid—maybe the monks you grew up with just didn’t tell you the truth.”

“I know what values I was raised by. I know they don’t match at all with what you believe about my people. What makes you so sure I’m wrong?”

“These are airbender tattoos, right? What do they mean?”

“It means I mastered airbending.”

“Why don’t you eat meat?”

“My people believe that all life is sacred. Eating a corpse doesn’t really go hand in hand with that…”

“Were you taught to bend any other element other than air?”

“Well, not officially. I wasn’t even supposed to be told I was the Avatar until I turned sixteen. The war sort of ruined that for me. But Katara tried to teach me everything she knows.”

“Do you hate the Fire Nation?”

Aang’s hand, reaching for the fruit bowl, froze midway. He raised his gaze from the food to Zuko’s face, zeroing in on his angry scar. He wondered if, before their bodies had decayed, the airbenders had the same marks marring their skins. Probably not—they would have looked far worse. After all, the fire had been bad enough to kill them. Zuko’s burn looked horrible but he was still alive.

“Do you?” he asked.

The teenager’s healthy eye narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Pointing at the scar, Aang amicably said, “Someone burned you. I’m willing to bet it was someone from the Fire Nation. They hurt you and left a permanent scar behind—a reminder you can’t ignore no matter what, right? Do you hate them?”

Emotions flashed across Zuko’s face in quick succession, too complicated for Aang to even begin to decipher. So he just picked up his food and started munching on some berries. His slow chewing was the only sound in the room as Zuko remained unmoving for a few long seconds that seemed to stretch for far too long.

Eventually, the prince pensively said, “I don’t know.”

“It’s complicated,” said Aang with a shrug. “I don’t really hate the Fire Nation for what they did to the Air Nomads. I’m angry at Fire Lord Sozin for attacking so many innocent people just because he wanted me out of the way. I’m angry that so many people followed this decision and never thought to question it. I’m upset because I just found out everyone is being taught false information about my culture. But I don’t hate anyone. I can’t hate people who hadn’t even taken part in the original attack.

“You, your uncle, the men working for you—you were born into this war. You don’t know anything beyond this reality. I can’t hate you for the circumstances you were thrown into.”

For a moment Zuko seemed to mull over the words. Then he wordlessly got up and walked toward the door, ready to leave once again. But before he could touch the handle and exit the room, Aang put down the bowl, pushed himself to his feet with a gust of air and urgently grabbed the bars of his little prison.

“How is capturing me supposed to restore your honor, Zuko?” he asked.

The prince’s posture stiffened. His hand seemed to travel up to brush against his scarred eye.

Taking in a deep breath, Aang steadily explained, “Kuzon told me about Agni Kai once. He said that it was about honor. I never really understood it, but it’s gotta be related. You faced someone during an Agni Kai and you must have lost. But why did you fight? Why do you need me to fix it?”

“I told a general he shouldn’t send new recruits to the front lines as live bait,” said Zuko evenly, his back still turned to Aang. “I spoke out of turn.”

“So that general did it? But you were right! They shouldn’t sacrifice their people like that if they’re not ready. The general should have listened to you—”

“Maybe. But it wasn’t the general I fought. I spoke out of turn in my father’s war room. So the one I had disrespected was—”

Bile rose in Aang’s throat. “But he’s your father!”

“After that, he banished me,” the teen continued, ignoring Aang’s interruption. “I was not to return to the Fire Nation without capturing the Avatar. And now I have you. So I’m finally going back home.”

But back then the Fire Lord couldn’t have possibly known Aang was back. Zuko had found him right after he was found in the ice. The scar had looked like… well, a scar back then. It wasn’t new or even mildly fresh. Which meant that Zuko’s dad must have banished him with an impossible task as his only hope. Zuko just happened to be lucky to actually find Aang eventually. Really, it just sounded like the Fire Lord didn’t want his son to be able to redeem himself.

Knuckles turning white from his intense grip on the metal poles, Aang said, “Do you really want to go back?”

Zuko left without another word.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Aang’s eyes were round and curious as he felt the warmth of the flame Iroh had handed him. The fire hovered over his palms, flickering along with his breaths and casting shadows along the walls of the cell. Aang’s senses could detect the fire, like an extension of himself now that it was under his control. The way he could feel the air around him and the same way Aang had been able to connect to the water he controlled whenever he practiced a bit of waterbending with Katara or—ever since being captured—by himself.

It was Iroh’s idea to teach him the basics of firebending. Aang had been excited at the prospect and eagerly nodded and jumped to his feet. And it helped that he was bored and a little sick of Pai Sho—not that he would ever admit that out loud in front of the Fire Nation man. He seemed to be very much obsessed with the game as much as he was obsessed with tea. Any change would have been accepted well by Aang, and firebending looked so lively and awesome!

So now he had a flame in his hands. And, like Iroh had instructed, he was focusing on his breaths to see how the fire reacted to it.

“The source of fire is our breaths,” explained Iroh from the other side of the bars. “The breath becomes energy in our body, and this energy becomes fire. It is a living thing; and like all living things, it needs air to survive and grow.”

“I’ve got plenty of air to give it,” said Aang lightly. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth again. “It’s so different from air and water. It feels nothing alike.”

Iroh folded his arms within his sleeves and smiled a little. “That is because the elements are different. But at the same time, they are connected. Fire requires air. Air can be found within water, just like water can be found in the air.”

Surprised, Aang said, “Really?”

“Concentrate hard enough and I am certain you would be able to feel it, Avatar Aang.” Iroh gestured with his head toward the flame. “But not right now. At the moment, you must concentrate on your fire. Feel its heat, its life, its energy. It has the potential to hurt you and everything around you. So it is your job to contain it. Do not lose control and do not forget the harm you could cause.”

Aang’s hands faltered a little as he chanced Iroh a look. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Fire is more than a means to hurt others or your environment. Just like the rest of the elements.”

“How could I harm someone with air?” chuckled Aang bemusedly.

“All of the four elements have the potential to cause harm,” said Iroh patiently. “Fire burns. Water can make you drown, it could flood cities. Earth can crush you. And air—despite your gentle use of it—can suffocate. An airbender could, potentially, suck the air out of a person’s lungs.”

Blanching, Aang’s flame flickered violently and nearly died but he hardly paid it any attention. “That’s horrible! Why would anyone do that?”

“It is good that you do not feel inclined to use the elements in such ways, young Avatar. But the possibilities are there. It is your job to keep yourself in check without slipping. The elements would bend to your will, so do not let your will get corrupted. Now, concentrate.”

With a nod, Aang looked back down at the fire and kept on breathing. He let Iroh’s words sink in slowly, determination to never use the elements in such horrid ways coursing through his veins. Some lines were not meant to be crossed.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Aang wasn’t sure how he ended up sitting on top of the deck one night, playing Pai Sho with three of his guards. But he was there and they were there and he was definitely winning the game.

To his left, Mezon was tapping an unused tile on his thigh, his brow furrowing as he took in the state of the board. To his right, Ruk’s eye kept on twitching as he looked between the other three suspiciously. And directly across from Aang was Aizom, his face still hidden behind his white mask; although his shoulders were visibly pulled up against his ears as he fidgeted nervously.

Because the moon was hidden behind a cover of clouds, they had two candles nearby, to shed some light on the board. While the three firebenders had their legs crossed comfortably, Aang had to sit on his folded legs, seeing as his ankles were shackled together. And his wrists were once again bound as well since he was outside his cell. He would have minded, but it was hard to care when he was winning the game.

From the corner of his eye, Aang could see Zuko and Iroh talking in hushed voices near the prow. While Zuko had a troubled look on his face and he kept on glancing over at Aang, Iroh looked rather peaceful. His hands were folded, covered by his long sleeves, and he listened to his nephew with a smile and clear indications that he was paying attention. They looked like such an odd contrast, but something about them clearly worked because Aang wasn’t all that shocked to see such different personalities getting along together.

Tilting his head back, he shot the dark sky a look. Maybe because a part of him was still hoping to see Appa showing up, like he had when Aang was taken captive the first time around, back at the south pole. But there was no flying bison coming to rescue him, nor were there any Water Tribe teenagers anywhere in sight. Disappointing but not surprising.

“It’s your turn, Avatar,” Ruk said gruffly.

Aang looked back down at the board. He finished the game with a single move and watched amusedly as the other three groaned. As if congratulating him on his victory, the wind intensified momentarily, ruffling their clothes and caressing Aang’s face chillingly. His eyes closed instinctively as he focused on the feeling, trying to memorize it before he was once again dragged back below deck.

“What was it like?” Mezon asked suddenly.

“What was what like?” said Aang.

“The world. When there was no war. I heard—I mean, they say you were here before the war started. So You’d probably know, right? I always wondered wat the world would be like once the war was over.”

Shifting his weight a little, the boy pondered this for a moment before saying, “It wouldn’t be the same. The world before and after the war could never be. It used to be peaceful between the four nations once. Everyone lived together without living in fear or constantly fighting or suspecting others or expecting the worst to happen. People could travel without worrying about which territory they were stepping into. After the war… well, if your nation wins, the other nations wouldn’t be left the same. The Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdom would be irreparably altered. Even if you lose, the world wouldn’t be the same as it was before because too much has changed.”

Ruk tapped his chin. “But there would be peace again when we win.”

“You really think that just because you’ll take over their land, the people won’t fight back? They’ll still want their homes back. They won’t stop retaliating and undermining you. Because you’re still going to be their enemies, their conquerors. Would you stop fighting if the Earth Kingdom took over your homeland?”

“That’s not the same,” dismissed Aizom. “We are going to help the others prosper. Just like the Fire Nation. They’re all just a bunch of mannerless hooligans that we are trying to help. If we ruled them, they would finally be able to rise. If they tried to rule us, we’d all be gone in under a month.”

A sigh left Aang’s lips at the words. “That’s not true. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but the other nations aren’t some barbarians who can’t handle themselves. And you guys aren’t helping them. You’re repressing them. The Earth Kingdom people have their own ways. The Water Tribes have their own laws. My people were different too. But none of that means any of the nations are lesser. We have our strengths, we have our weaknesses. That’s true for all four nations. And it’s supposed to be this way. Not one dictatorship—four nations. Separate but sharing the same air and the same world. With different traditions and different leaders and different beliefs.”

The three Fire Nation soldiers looked at each other skeptically.

“That’s anarchy,” protested Mezon.

“No. There’s a difference between anarchy and pluralism. The reason the world changes is that people come up with new ideas. They have different views and different ideals and they expand on those. But if you repress these differences, you ensure that things come to a halt. If you and your friends don’t agree on everything, does that mean you can no longer get along? That you’re causing chaos or mayhem?”

“Well… no,” conceded Aizom. “But—but the world is different. The other nations, if left to their own devices, would rise against us! They’d attack us! If we don’t show them the right path—”

Aang met his eyes—visible through the mask—and challenged, “How do you know you’re on the right path and not them?”

The firebender’s words faltered. Next to him, Ruk frowned deeply, as if searching for a way to prove they were right and Aang was wrong. Mezon just appeared to be dumbstruck as he rocked back and forth restlessly, peering over his shoulder like he was worried someone might overhear their conversation and call them all traitors.

Eventually, Aizom furiously said, “Well… well, how do you know you’re doing the right thing? That you’re fighting on the right side of this war? I don’t care that you’re the Avatar. You’re just some kid!”

Looking down at the Pai Sho game, Aang quietly said, “I’m hoping I’m fighting with the right people. And I base my decision on what I see. I see that the Southern Water Tribe is nearly gone entirely, with only a small village left and one waterbender remaining. I see the Earth Kingdom fighting desperately to free their land from invaders or being put in jail just because they use earthbending. I see… I see the ruins of my home. I see that the sky is empty now because there are no more airbenders left but me. Can you really tell me this all paints the picture that the Fire Nation is the good one here?”

Near the prow, Iroh told Zuko something that seemed to upset the teen. He let out an angry grunt and whisps of flames danced around his fingers before he collected himself and whispered furiously back to his uncle.

“That’s not true,” argued Ruk. “This isn’t what’s happening. If the Water Tribe is gone, it’s because of their own actions.”

“Yeah, they resisted us when we showed up to help, so we defended ourselves. What were we supposed to do?” said Aizom.

“Defended yourself against what?” spluttered Aang. “They were minding their own business when your soldiers came over there. They didn’t want your help? So you should have let them be. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help. If they’re perfectly all right with their way of life, why enforce your own anyway? If they attacked your men, it was in self defense against invaders who showed up and tried to conquer them.”

Aizom’s mask glinted under the light of the candles. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We know about these people. We know how dangerous they are. We had to stop them before they got out of hand. And that includes taking in their benders. They were too wild to leave to their own devices. They’re not the innocent people you think they are.” With a scoff, the man crossed his arms and murmured, “Next you’re gonna tell us the Air Nomads weren’t a global threat either…”

Thieves. Murderers. Colonizers. Monsters.

Aang’s body tensed as he closed his eyes and tried to drown out the men’s voices, instead concentrating on the breeze. It seemed to envelope him tightly, comfortingly. Vāyu was most likely attempting to offer him as much comfort as she could offer, to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Even if he was forced to sit here and listen as more people told him lies about his own people.

“They were minding their own business,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.

“Our intelligence said they were planning a coup,” said Ruk. “Against the rest of the world. They were going to overthrow all of the leaders across the globe and rule themselves. Everybody knows it.”

Mezon’s uncertain voice said, “Guys, maybe you shouldn’t—”

“That’s not true.” Aang squeezed his eyes more tightly. “You were taught lies. My people never wanted to overthrow anyone.”

“What do you know?” scoffed Ruk. “You’re, what, ten? Why would the adults tell a kid their plans? This was probably going on behind your back, Avatar. They were just going to hide this from you until you were old enough to help them take over—”

“That’s not true,” he insisted.

From the prow, Zuko’s voice demanded, “What’s going on over there?”

“Seriously, quit it,” pleaded Mezon.

The eyeroll accompanying Aizom’s next words was almost palpable. “Oh, yeah. Right, now I’m convinced. Why wouldn’t you know better than all of our history accounts? We have people who are old enough to remember the days before the war started, you know. We can just ask them what they know and they’ll side with us, Avatar.”

“Look, maybe you aren’t inherently bad just because you’re an airbender, and their teachings just didn’t have the time to take root in you,” reasoned Ruk. “But the harsh reality is that every single account we have regarding the Air Nomads is that they were dangerous and deadly and posed a threat to the entire world because they were unruly and didn’t even show mercy to their own kind. So maybe—”

“STOP!”

An intense gust of air pushed the three guards away from Aang, and the Pai Sho board flipped upside down, the pieces scattering on the metal deck. The flames of the candles flared and enlarged momentarily, casting longer, leaner shadows all around. The ship seemed to rock more violently when harsher waves smacked against its hull.

For a second Aang felt like his control was slipping away. As if from far away, he could see the tattoos on the back of his hands beginning to glow. But then he forced himself to take a deep breath and the light faded. The sea calmed, the fire dimmed and the air became breezy and light again. But Vāyu’s embrace on him felt tighter than ever, like she was trying to share in his sorrow and pain in the only way she could.

Tears prickled in his eyes as Aang used a puff of air to push himself to his feet. He lifted his head just in time to see Zuko marching toward him, apprehension, anger and concern mixing on his face to form an odd expression.

“I wanna go back down,” said Aang as steadily as he could.

Zuko looked taken aback. “You want to return to your cell?”

“Yes.”

“Er…” The prince threw a look over his shoulder toward the three guards, as if about to ask them to lead Aang away. But then he merely said, “All right. Come on then.”

As Aang followed the teen toward the stairs leading into the belly of the ship, he momentarily paused to mutter to the three men, “Sorry if I hurt you.” Then he waddled away, eager to leave them behind for now so he could sleep. And, hopefully, it would be a dreamless sleep.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

The next time Zuko showed up to give Aang his lunch, he didn’t ask a question. Instead he stared at the boy for a few long moments, eyes assessing cautiously and body language stilted and tense. Not knowing what to do, Aang just awkwardly offered the prince a mango. Zuko stared at him with even more intensity in response.

At last, the teen said, “You’re twelve.”

“Um… yeah?”

Zuko stared some more.

Aang pretended like this was completely normal and popped a honeyberry into his mouth, allowing its flavor to linger for as long as possible. It reminded him of some of the pies he and his friends used to eat back home, before he ran away. In other words, it kind of tasted like home and he wished he could savor it forever.

Eventually, Zuko quietly said, “My father isn’t going to care that you’re young. He is not going to make your imprisonment any easier because of your age, Avatar.”

“Well, it can’t be worse than what Zhao did, right?” said Aang with false levity. But unease and dread pooled in his stomach when Zuko stared at him with something close to pity.

“No,” the prince said. Before Aang could respond cheerily, he added, “It would be much worse.”

He could feel the color draining out of his face as a chill ran down his spine. Zhao had chained him to two pillars, keeping his entire body spread widely so he wouldn’t be able to bend. He could only blow out gusts of air, which hadn’t been useful when it came to trying to escape. The prospect of being stuck in that position for hours was horrible. For days was unbearable. For years was incomprehensible.

How could the Fire Lord make things even worse? Was he planning on strapping Aang to the floor and leaving him in a pool of lava or something? What in the world was going to happen to him once he was delivered to that man? They wouldn’t torture him, right? they had no reason to. If he remained incapacitated, they’d have no reason to hurt him. All they needed was for him to be held captive. Why make his conditions worse intentionally? What would they gain from that?

Suddenly his appetite was gone. He put the bowl of fruit on the floor next to him and tried to fight back the queasiness that rose in his throat.

Across from him, Zuko looked almost apologetic. “I… I didn’t mean to scare you, Avatar.”

“Aang.”

“What?”

“Aang. My name is Aang.” Curling into himself, the airbender rested his chin on his knees and muttered, “I never wanted to be the Avatar. I’m perfectly fine with only airbending. I wish it were somebody else. I wish I could just go back to the way things were before.”

Frowning, Zuko said, “But you are the Avatar. You can’t shed this part of yourself any more than I can deny being the Fire Nation prince or the son of my parents. We were born into these roles.”

Aang peeked up at him. “Don’t you ever wish that you weren’t?”

A moment passed, then the teen firmly said, “That’s childish and impractical.”

With a sigh, Aang looked down at his feet and murmured, “That’s me. Childish and impractical kind of sums it up. And I guess you can add the worst Avatar the world had ever seen to the list, too. I bet Roku was never apprehended this quickly in his lifetime. Kyoshi definitely wasn’t.”

“Stop,” said Zuko snappily, grabbing one of the bars tightly. “Quit it right now. You can’t make me feel sorry for you. I’m finally going back home. You’re an enemy of my country. I’m doing my nation a service by bringing you in. And once we arrive at the capital, my father will determine your fate. Don’t try to deter me, Avatar.”

Aang glanced at him. “But it doesn’t have to be this way. We don’t have to be enemies, Zuko. We can be friends. We can work together instead of against each other.”

“No. We can’t.”

He sighed in defeat when the prince stomped out of the room.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

Aang focused on the water outside the ship.

When Iroh told him to concentrate on the flames he practiced with, they felt like tiny heartbeats, with life driving them. They were warm and cozy and inviting, thawing some of the dread Aang felt almost constantly now. When he focused on air, he felt… everything. A familiar chill, home, safety, life, freedom. It was every single truth he was raised with, every single embrace his people or Vāyu had ever given him, every single peal of laughter that had been released into the world.

So he tried the same on water. He sat on his lumpy mattress with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap, closed his eyes and extended his reach. The water was easy to sense and slipped into his consciousness without too much of a hassle. And it felt completely and utterly unlike air and fire. It was cool and flowy, intense yet soothing. Water could lap at one’s feet or freeze and pierce through one’s chest. It was calming and deadly, fluid and difficult to contain.

The longer Aang focused, the more obvious it became that every time he pulled, the water pushed; every time he pushed, the water pulled. It was like an eternal dance they performed. Fire demanded constant control from him. Air required him to follow its currents and simply try to direct it. Water needed teamwork. It was a give and take system that Aang tried to make himself familiar with, seeing as he had nothing better to do with his free time unless he wanted to drive himself mad with boredom and fear.

After a week of acquainting himself with this element the best he could, Aang resumed the stance he remembered the waterbending scroll had shown. He let Iroh’s past words echo in his mind, remembering how the older man had told him that air could be found in water… and, likewise, water could be found in the air. And while he wasn’t about to draw water from outside the ship, he wanted to see if he could maybe… possibly… feel the water Iroh was talking about residing in his very own native element.

So he searched for it, furrowing his brows in concentration and looking for that feeling of push and pull he now associated with water.

At first he couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was Vāyu’s being all around him, filling the room and barely moving; not enough for a spirit of freedom. Extending his consciousness a little further, he could also feel the fire of the candles in his room. The feeling of the flames consuming the air to sustain themselves was odd and reminded him a little too much of the fact that firebenders had killed his people.

He pushed through this thought, reminding himself that he was trying to find water, not pain.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, moving his hand around to try and feel anything. “I know you’re in there…”

A cool, fluid feeling danced at his fingertips and he halted his movements at once, honing in on it. He widened his stance just a little and moved his hand in a swift circle before him, collecting the moisture in the air. And, when he opened his eyes, he found droplets of water hovering in the air before him, having appeared out of nowhere.

He stared at it, eyes growing wide with wonder and excitement. His joy dimmed a little for a moment when the thought of sharing this with Katara flitted through his head. He had to remind himself that his friend wasn’t around so he couldn’t show her any new waterbending tricks even if he wanted to. So he took in a deep breath and instead focused on what he had just managed to do.

This almost made up for the fact that he was trapped and headed toward a man who might make the rest of his life a living hell simply for existing.

“Okay,” he said, relaxing a little to a more familiar posture. “Now just do the opposite of that. You’ve got this—air is easy.”

Indeed, finding the air in the water and pulling it out was far easier. Aang barely even had to look for it because it almost seemed to call out to him the second he leaned into this familiar mind frame he grew up with.

Face lighting up, he called, “Cool!”

He wished his friends were there with him.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

“Do you really not know your parents? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Not really. All of the Air Nomads were my family—it doesn’t matter who gave birth to me, does it?”

“Did you have a ruler?”

“We had the elders in the council who usually called the shots, but we didn’t have anything like the other nations. I know you have the Fire Lord, the Earth Kingdom has its royalty and the Water Tribes have their chiefs. But my people didn’t have a singular leader.”

“You didn’t have your glider thing when I captured you.”

“That’s not really a question…”

“Did Zhao do anything to you while you were imprisoned at Pohuai Stronghold?”

Aang paused with the melon halfway to his mouth at the sound of that day’s question. A shudder went through him as he grimaced and pulled the food back down numbly. He could almost picture that place vividly, with the orange hues and the shadows and the empty room he’d been placed in to just… stand and wait. And he remembered Zhao, his breath brushing against his face and his eyes gleaming with the kind of malicious joy Aang couldn’t fathom for the life of him.

With a lump in his throat, Aang admitted, “He asked me how I felt about being the only Air Nomad left and if I missed my people. And then he told me he’d keep me alive because the Fire Nation doesn’t want to kill me and start looking for the Avatar all over again… but just barely.”

Zuko stared at him blankly, then got out and left. Aang was sure that was the end of it since he’d been asked his daily question and so there was no reason for the prince to stay there. But then, less than a minute later, the door opened up again. Zuko came marching back in, holding a plate with a slice of pie in it. Just the sight of it made Aang’s mouth water. His eyes widened hopefully as he glanced between the teen and the pie.

“Here.” Zuko pushed the plate under the bars. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know. This isn’t personal. Zhao’s just a jerk.”

Snatching the pie, Aang happily took a bite out of it. It was a little dry, most likely because it couldn’t have been as fresh as the pies Monk Gyatso and he would bake together. But it was sweet and tangy and delicious all the same. He closed his eyes and tried to savor it for a moment, just basking in the fact that he got to eat something like that after living off mostly fruits and vegetables since waking up in the iceberg.

“Thanks, Zuko!” he said brightly.

“You’re welcome… Aang.”

He sounded like saying the name was physically painful to do, but Aang beamed at him regardless. It only earned him a grimace from the teen.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

It was the middle of the night. A hand roused Aang up from his sleep, shaking him insistently until he moaned and brought a fist to rub at his eyes. He used the back of his hand to wipe the drool off his face a second later. Then he opened his eyes and blurrily blinked at the figure hovering over him in the dark room.

Wrecking his groggy brain, Aang tried to understand what was happening. He could tell it was nighttime because nobody bothered lighting up the candles in the room and no sunlight filtered in through the water visible outside his small porthole. And he’d already been allowed to spend some time outside earlier that evening. Not to mention the fact that nobody ever stepped into his little cage to get him out.

Absently, he noted that his hands and feet weren’t tied together so he was still free to move as he wished. And then he squinted at the shadowy person peering down at him and frowned in confusion at the sight of a familiar scarred face.

“Zuko? What are you—”

“Come on, move it,” hissed the teen. He rose from his bent posture and moved toward the open door of the cage. “You’d better move quickly if you want to see your friends.”

That did it.

“My friends?” said Aang, torn between jubilation and trepidation. “They’re here? Where? What happened to them? Are they okay? Why are you taking me to them? Are we in the Fire Nation already? Did they follow us here? Were they captured? I have to help them!”

“Hey, they’re fine,” the teen told him. “Keep quiet already and follow me.”

Aang opened his mouth to ask more questions but Zuko hurried forward and out of the room without giving him the chance to. It kind of reminded him of the day when he’d been rescued from Zhao—although ‘rescued’ was a generous term to use when he was merely moved from Zhao’s hold to Zuko’s, perhaps. The comparison between the two situations didn’t cheer him up exactly, but the promise of possibly seeing Sokka and Katara again was far stronger than his caution.

So he silently followed Zuko out of his room and down the ship’s dark corridors. There were no armored men anywhere in sight, likely having gone to sleep. Or maybe they were just not necessary right now? Aang wasn’t sure, but he decided not to question it too much as he easily kept up with the Fire Nation prince.

The path they took was familiar to him, at least. It was the one leading upstairs, to the deck. And, indeed, in no time at all Aang found himself breathing in the salty fresh air, the ocean breeze greeting him once again as it ruffled through his clothes in delight. Aang would have chuckled in delight had he been less tense and confused. Instead, he inhaled deeply and kept close to Zuko.

He hesitated when the teen started going down the ramp to the port the ship was anchored next to. It was a small fishing town from the looks of it, although all of the lights in the huts spread around were turned off. A few mountains jutted out of the ground, surrounding the area. It was cloudy, with the promise of rain taunting the air. Nobody was awake, it seemed, only waves making sound.

“Zuko, what’s going on?” asked Aang as he tentatively went down the ramp and stepped onto the port. Was this some kind of test, to see if he would try to run away?

Looking all around, Zuko made sure the area was clear before he stiffly turned to Aang and said, “There were reports of a giant, flying monster with an arrow flying in this direction.”

Heartrate picking up, Aang eagerly said, “Appa?”

“I… don’t know. If that’s the name of your pet, then yes.”

“He’s a sky bison. And he’s not my pet—he’s my friend! Did people really see him in this area? But if he’s nearby then—”

Looking pained, Zuko said, “The Water Tribe peas—your friends are probably in the area. If they’re any smart, they’d find a comfortable camping site around here and rest for the night, so this is your chance to find them.”

Aang’s head was spinning. He could still feel the grogginess weighing him down and slowing his thoughts. But the idea of Appa, Sokka, Katara and Momo being so close made up for it. It was like Zuko was pumping him with adrenaline that burned through his entire body, making his body buzz excitedly. Tears almost stung in his eyes at the promise of seeing his friends—his family—again.

But then Zuko’s last words registered in his brain and Aang bemusedly turned to the scowling teen. He found the guy standing there with his arms crossed, a look of anger and impatience on his marred face. His burnt eye was shut tightly as his healthy one narrowed, brow pulling low above it. His entire posture was rigid and tense, like he was expecting the worst to happen any second now.

“Find them?” echoed Aang numbly. “But I thought you needed to bring me with you so you could go back home.”

“You’re an enemy of the Fire Nation. Of my nation.” Zuko’s lips thinned. He inhaled, exhaled and turned his head even further away from Aang. “But you’re not… you’re not the monster I believed you to be. And I know my father will not care about that or about how young his prisoner is. If he wants to capture a child, he can do it himself. I won’t take part in it, though.”

Eyes widening, Aang gawped at him. “B-but what about you? Without me—”

“I won’t go home.”

“I thought you wanted to.”

Zuko’s hands fisted at his sides. He sealed his eyes shut. “Of course I do. But my uncle… helped me realize it was not right for me to condemn an innocent kid for my happiness. You may be the enemy, but you’re so… unlike everything we were taught you would be. Kids shouldn’t have to fight in wars.”

“You’re fighting,” Aang pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“It just is!” The teen leveled Aang with a furious glare, then averted his gaze again. “Go. Find your friends. Before I change my mind.”

Shaking his head, Aang shifted his weight between his legs. “You should come with us! You can help us end this war. Then… then you’d be able to help the Fire Nation become what it used to be before Fire Lord Sozin started all of this. You could help your people. We can be friends, Zuko.”

“You really believe that, huh?” the teen snorted. Rubbing the side of his head, Zuko started heading back toward his ship. “Go to your friends.”

“But—”

“Go!”

Startled, Aang jumped back and nearly dove into the water. He used a gust of air to propel himself backway and away from the edge of the port, then zeroed in on Zuko’s form as the teen started ascending back toward his ship. He was really leaving. He was leaving Aang—his only hope of ever going back home—and he wasn’t turning back around to grab him and haul him right back into the depth of his ship.

He should have probably felt relieved at being released, and he was; he really was. But he couldn’t help but also feel a pang of guilt and sympathy in his chest. Because he could see how much Zuko longed to return to the Fire Nation. And Aang could relate to the feeling of missing everything and everyone he used to know—even if his people were dead and his home deserted, unlike Zuko’s living relatives and friends (maybe?) and his standing nation.

But if he wasn’t coming with him, then Aang had to leave. Even if his heart went out to the guy. Even if he wished he could help in some way. Because his own friends were probably looking for him, utterly distressed at having lost him. Appa was probably besides himself. Momo was most likely confused. And Aang missed them—he missed them so much, it almost physically hurt.

“Well… if you ever change your mind, I know you’ll be able to find us,” said Aang with a hint of mirth in his voice.

Zuko nearly reached the deck. He didn’t respond.

Sighing, Aang turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “Bye, Zuko.”

Carried over by the wind, a small, “Bye, Aang,” reached the airbender’s ears. But by the time he turned around to catch a last glimpse of Zuko, the guy was already out of sight.

༄.° ༄.° ༄.°

“It’s difficult to change overnight but if you are persistent and take one step at a time you will see results!”—Jack Lalanne