Disclaimer: Nope, still own nothing.

AN: Lots going on in my life at the moment—essays to write, Harry Potter to obsess over, and I'm turning eighteen next week, so I've got to pretend I actually have a life for a little while. So don't get upset with me, if you please, if I don't post my next chapter right away. But it will be out—at the moment, I'm expecting about thirteen chapters to this, and you're at all liberty to get on my back about that. Many thanks from your humble servant, Masako Moonshade.

Nothing Short of Herculean

The most obvious solution—and definitely the most popular—was exile. After all, what room did the reborn nation have for the man who'd betrayed both sides? But the new Fire Lord would not hear of it. Once was enough, he insisted firmly. So the traitor's fate was left undecided.

"It shouldn't be too hard," said one man over his tea. "Just execute him. Show the world what we think of his kind!"

"If he won't exile the man, I hardly think he'll be thrilled to kill him," argued his friend.

"How about prison, then?" Voiced a third. "A hundred years behind bars, for a hundred years of his family's sick War!"

But of course, the People In Charge were not particularly interested in the opinions of a few old fools in a teashop… They were, however, agonizingly aware of the populace that swarmed the imperial city, getting in the way of the endless repairs that had to be made after the end of the War, all of them listening for the man's sentence with bated breath.

"Vultures," the man muttered more than once, not caring who could hear him.

"It's your own fault, you know," said the warrior who stood behind him. There was no pity in his voice.

"I didn't ask you," he spat. Alliance, though useful, hadn't made them particularly friendly.

"And nobody asked you to keep butting in, but you did anyway. This wouldn't have happened if you'd just kept your ugly face out of it, but nooo. You just had to switch sides… what, five times? Six?"

"Shut up," he growled, gripping the banister so hard that the black marble began to scorch under his fingertips.

"And you know how much trouble this is causing everyone. All these people aren't leaving until they find out what happens to you, and until then, the entire nation is crippled. For a guy who wanted to rule them all someday, you're awfully indifferent to all this chaos."

"I said—"

"Pr—er... um… I mean… Zuko…" The man who had once been Lieutenant Ji stumbled uncharacteristically over his words. He wasn't the only one; the young man's title and rank had been the subject of constant debate for weeks already.

"What is it?" Zuko said venomously. Rather than being intimidated, Ji seemed relieved by the boy's petulance. Of all the thousand things that had changed during the past months, at least Zuko's foul attitude remained steadfast. Not pleasant, of course, but familiarity was as good a comfort as any.

"Avatar Aang has summoned you to the gardens. He says you should come quickly; it's important." It's important. The words didn't even pretend to mask their true meaning: it's time for your judgment. The grim thought must have shown on his face, because Ji continued: "Anyway, Master Sokka was supposed to have told you about this an hour ago."

Sokka did not spare this opportunity to smirk at the Zuko as the other boy seethed. Of course it had slipped Master Sokka's mind completely to tell him about it. Of course. The Firebender sincerely considered launching a flare at his head. Dear Agnii, it wouldn't make much of a difference now. But still he contented himself to clench his fists and storm past Ji, igniting Sokka's shirt as he passed.

The world seemed to have lost all sense of focus as he made his way through the halls. Eagerness and dread had mingled in the air and in his veins, warping reality around him. For a moment he would nearly run, only to find that he had made no progress, and then as he slowed down each stride would stretch for miles. Meanwhile his head was spinning, anticipating every alternative, analyzing every fragment of the Avatar's decision.

His mother's garden—the Avatar had found it the most comfortable shelter in the vast city, had spent most of his time among the pond and trees. And he was as eccentric as he was young—passing judgment there would not be openly questioned. Yet there was more to it. Even a hushed conversation held there would be easily overheard, and there would doubtlessly be dozens of eager gossipers listening for the first scoop. So he wanted news to travel fast. Why?

He could almost see it—exile, execution, absolution—each with a dozen consequences.

And besides that, the Avatar knew that the garden had once belonged to Queen Ursa. He knew that Zuko would do nothing to mar the haven she had once adored.

How would his people—the people who used to be his—deal with each? Anger, fury, sorrow, spite…?

And he had sent Sokka first—an hour before, which meant that he'd only thought of the dreaded sentence recently. Likely within the day. And his choice in messengers—people Zuko knew, who were generally pitiless.

His traitorous feet stopped before they flattened grass. For a moment his racing mind froze, and he was left alone, young, scarless, gazing out into the world he had once loved. There were the winding cherry and plum trees, the pond where tiny turtleducks waddled, the breathtaking lilies and irises, the pavilion where his mother had once told him stories of magic and hope and beauty and peace. But his mother wasn't sitting there anymore. Now his favorite bench inside the pavilion was occupied by the little boy, still just a child though he was. The thick black hair had been shaved away again, and the blue arrow on his head gleamed dangerously.

"You wanted to see me?" Unadulterated insolence was tempting, but he decided to temper his tongue. The entire nation would hear this conversation within a week—if nothing else, he wanted to remind him that he had once been a prince. Even so, a measure of petulance bled into his tone.

"You already know what this is about," the Avatar said quietly.

"Yes."

"You… caused our side incredible harm, knowing what you were doing was wrong. That can't go unpunished."

Get on with it, would you?

"But you also did a lot to help us. You saved me more than once, you helped us defeat Fire Lord Ozai…" Zuko didn't miss the delicate formality. "And Fire Lord Iroh has explained to me the details of your circumstances. That in mind… my councilors and I have decided your fate." The careful way he phrased everything grated at Zuko's mind. He had heard the kid talk before, and it was never anything like this. This was rehearsed. Nervous. Drawn out. And he didn't like the way it sounded, or what it could possibly mean.

"And your decision?" he prompted after a moment's silence. The formal tension was beginning to drive him insane.

"I sentence you," the Avatar began, "To repay your debt to the people… through community service."

He blinked mutely for a moment. "What?"

"You will be given twelve tasks," he said. "Until all of them are finished, you'll be basically a prisoner on probation. After you're done, a decision will be made about your rank and title."

"You're not serious," Zuko couldn't stop himself. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Where had he gotten such a—

"Your probation only goes as far as doing those tasks," the Avatar intoned. "If you're not working on them, you stay in prison."

He heard a rustle in the leaves and stifled a groan. Of course. The terms had been set in front of a horde of uninvited witnesses, and now the judgment could not be revoked… even if Zuko did manage to pummel the idea out of the idiot boy's skull.

"You have heard the conditions," the idiot boy said quietly. "Whether you take them or not is your own choice."

Liar. Zuko desperately wanted to hit something. "All right," he said instead, keeping his voice steady. "I accept."