Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Although I once dreamt that I did.

Author's note:

This takes place at the end of the series, with Zuko becoming Fire Lord, and Aang and Ozai killing each other. Touching, I know. Oh, and it's Zutara. Because I will never be a Maiko fan. Damn that kiss in the trailer!!!

Prologue

It was raining. That was the one thing that he remembered most of all…the rain falling from the sky, unto the ground and onto his face. The sky wept for him, for them…for all those who had lost and gained so much in just a few turbulent hours. The sky poured, as if to cleanse the earth of its many afflictions. As if all that was required was water to soothe the burns of the ground.

And pain. Pain was his friend, his only friend, his teacher in those hours of grief. Pain was his father, giving life to him, making him do what he knew he must, keeping him away from doing what he had wanted to do. Pain…and suffering. So much he wanted to do, and yet so much he had to do. So much that he could not do, no matter how much he wanted to.

They had taken the bodies away. And left some bodies behind, for him to deal with. Two bodies in particular would receive funerals attended by dignitaries from four nations. Two bodies, for two heroes. Two deaths, significant for their deeds in life, honoured for the ultimate sacrifices that they had made. Honoured…for dying.

His own father would receive a private funeral. Private, not a state funeral befitting for a man who had done so much in his lifetime. His death…celebrated, not in his son's presence, but everywhere else. Even in some quarters within his own kingdom. A quiet burial, attended by the three remaining members of his family. And several others…close friends. All from the Fire Nation. Because they had no friends anywhere else.

The Avatar…dead. Sokka of the Water Tribe…dead. Fire Lord Ozai…dead. The great bison…dead. All mourned the Avatar. Few mourned the Fire Lord.

But life goes on. And on it went.

The palace of the Fire Lord did not seem any different. The passing of its old master, and the ascendance of a new one, had little visible impact. Few servants thronged its hallways, as it always was. Few visitors came and went, as always. But the throne room was empty, the flames around the Throne of Fire extinguished. Cold, dark, empty…devoid of life. A far cry from the days where the ones who sat as masters of the throne plotted the deaths and sufferings of thousands, all in the name of expansion. All in the name of glory.

Zuko stood by the window in his room, glancing outside at the palace grounds, and the city beyond it. Life hadn't changed much for the citizens of the Fire Nation. The Day of Black Sun had come and gone. No conquering armies occupied their homes. No curfews imposed by those who would have gladly done so. But there was a sense of melancholy around. A sense of loss, and a sense of relief. And a sense of fear for what the future might hold.

He wasn't afraid of invasion by vengeful nations. The Fire Nation's military superiority had not been diminished. They still held vast territory outside the boundaries of their own nation. No one would dare to challenge the Fire Nation outwardly. No one would do it, even if they dared to. The Avatar had told them not to. And they would listen to the words of a young boy. And they would respect his wishes.

The Prince of the Fire Nation sighed heavily, turning away. His room suddenly felt oppressive, and he resisted the urge to scream. Instead, he walked to the door, opened it, and left.

Walking the corridors was even worse. It was the walls, he thought to himself. Red, red, red all around him. Even the carpets were red. The curtains…everything! It reminded him of fire. It reminded him of blood. The blood of the many thousands that was on the back of the Fire Nation's expansion. The blood of the many thousands spilled by his family. The blood of the Avatar that stained the tiles of the arena, a testament to the sufferings caused by his nation, his people. His element.

The gardens were different. There was red here, but it was inter-dispersed with other colors. Blue, green, yellow…the flowers were in bloom. It would have been hard for an outsider to imagine that a place of such beauty could exist, and even flourish, in a place known only for the sufferings and torments it had imposed upon the world. There was a different warmth here, a warmth that came without anger or hatred or rage or fear. A warmth that did not burn, but embraced and caressed and comforted.

Zuko stood beside the stream that ran its way through the entire gardens. Clear water, blue in color. An embodiment of the tranquility of the garden. Water to heal his soul.

"I knew that you would be here."

The Prince of the Fire Nation did not turn, but his entire manner changed. More alert, no longer relaxed. Tense. "I felt the need to take a walk," he replied, and only then did he turn, to gaze into the face of his sister, Princess of the Fire Nation.

Azula did not smile, but she did approach him to glance at the stream. He waited, but she did not appear to want to speak any time soon. So he joined her in gazing at the waters, their reflections clearly visible on the blue surface.

"Where's uncle?" she asked, but her voice lacked the biting sarcasm or malice that had been such an integral part of her entire bearing for the last several years. Her voice was now…tired.

"I don't know," he replied. "He said he had some business to take care of, outside the palace." Zuko ran his hand through his hair, out of the need to do something more than anything else. "You did not join us for breakfast."

"I…," she trailed off, and he did not push the issue. He was beginning to relax, ever so slightly. The animosity between them was still there, but it had mellowed down. He did not trust her, but, for some reason, he did not really care if she wanted to betray him and take control of the Fire Nation for herself. He did not care about ruling any longer. Power no longer held any sway on him. At least…not now.

"What now, Zuko?" she asked, still keeping her gaze on the water. "I…don't know," he replied, no emotion in his voice. She glanced at him briefly, but he did not meet her eyes, and soon enough, her eyes returned to their steady contemplation of the stream.

And they stood there in silence, gazing at the water for what seemed to be an eternity, each of them lost in their own thoughts and memories, brother and sister for as long as they had been alive, but brotherly and sisterly for one of the few times in their lives.

Dinner was a quiet affair. There was no feast, as there would be most of the time while their father was alive. No dancing girls, no musicians, no generals with the grim talk of war, just the quiet shuffling of the servants as they walked in and out, bearing the different dishes and plates. No guests. Just family.

Two of them ate in silence, concentrating on their food alone. One ate noisily, his eyes alternating between his nephew and his niece. He maintained a careful silence, not wanting to do anything that would break the uneasy peace between him and Zuko, and Azula. The death of his brother had, unlikely as it would have seemed, brought the family together in a twisted parody of a family reconciled. There had been no hugs, no tears, no words or admittance of love. Just silence. And, for the time being, it suited him just fine.

But the silence could not go on forever. Because they were royalty, and were thus burdened with the responsibilities that came with it. The responsibilities of ruling. The task of leading a nation that had just lost her Fire Lord. The current respite from responsibility could not go on forever, no matter how much he wanted it to.

But he would do what he had to do tomorrow. Let them have this night in peace.

Tomorrow was another day.

The coronation had been grand, a joyous festival after over a month of mourning. The appropriate time, too…the arrival of Sozin's comet coincided with it. Some said it was intentional, others said it was fated. Very few actually cared.

But there were a number of people who observed that day, and the days thereafter, with considerable interest. There were, in fact, a vast majority of people who did that, with varying levels of interest. They all watched, and they all wondered the same thing.

What would Fire Lord Zuko do now?

Of course, there were those, a few of them, who wondered what the Princess of the Fire Nation would do. And they were all surprised at what she did.

She bowed.

To her brother.

To the Fire Lord.

How exactly he had brought her over to his side, no one knew, although there was immense speculation in the weeks after. Some wondered what role the Dragon of the West had played in this. Most wondered why she did not simply seize power, like they had expected her to do.

None of them had their questions answered.

The coronation was attended by many Fire Nation dignitaries, and very few dignitaries from the other nations. Katara of the Water Tribes was there, and with her Toph Bei Fong. And there were a few others as well, but not many. And, certainly in view of political importance, no one really important was present. They were all watching from afar. All waiting to see what would happen afterwards.

"She has left," Iroh said quietly, as he entered the Fire Lord's study. He glanced at his nephew, who was gazing out at the window. Gazing at the gardens, his face emotionless, unreadable…a mask of careful blankness. The Fire Lord made no indication that he had heard his uncle.

The silence was deafening. The only sounds were the gentle rustle of the leaves outside, and the splashing of water as Iroh poured out two cups of tea.

"My situation is precarious, Uncle," Zuko said suddenly, and Iroh glanced up. His nephew was still standing by the window, still gazing outside. "There are few who would see themselves occupying the throne in my place."

"Indeed, my prince…no…Fire Lord. But that is to be expected, is it not?" Iroh replied, glancing quizzically at his nephew. Zuko was, he knew, volatile, capable of changing his mind without a moment's notice, without thinking things through. "What about it?" the old man continued, then took a long sip from his cup.

"I shall have to secure my position, Uncle." The tea suddenly did not taste as good as it should have tasted. Iroh placed the cup gently back on the table. "What do you mean, Zuko?" he asked carefully, his eyes steadily watching the young Fire Lord's every move.

Zuko paused, and for a moment, it did not seem as though he would answer his uncle's question. The young man seemed to slip into another reverie, lost in his thoughts once again. But when Iroh was about to repeat the question, he spoke.

"You once said that you would be at my side, no matter what." Zuko turned, and, for an instant, his eyes took on the pleading look of the young boy who had begged his uncle to let him into the war-room. The same eyes that led to the general agreeing to his request. A request which had, ultimately, led to Zuko's banishment. A request that had scarred him, permanently.

The scar…the last vestiges of a father's love for his son.

"Will you be at my side, Uncle…no matter what?"

The reign of Fire Lord Zuko was expected to bring about the retreat of the Fire Nation army back into its own territory. This was a belief that stayed alive until the Fire Lord's personal representative, the Fire Princess Azula's first speech to the assembled nobles and generals of the Fire Nation, a speech that would set the tone for his reign. A speech that was quoted, word for word, to the rulers of the other nations. A speech that did not bring the expected good news.

"There will be no retreat. There will be no surrender."

The position of Fire Lord Zuko was cemented when his sister continued, with the same fire in her voice that had, for a while, been unheard. The same voice with which she had declared her brother's treachery only a few years ago.

"Anyone who dissents will answer to me."

And so began the reign of Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, Fire Lord of the Fire Nation.

And, perhaps, for the future is rife with possibilities, another title might be added. A title that would carry the words Emperor of the Four Nations.

And the Throne of Fire burned once more.

Author's note:

Well, how was it? Hope you guys liked it. I'll try to update it as soon as possible, probably within the week or so. Any questions, feel free to ask me. Thanks for reading. This is my first fanfiction, because I've been reading so many lately and temptation to try it finally got me ensnared.