So I'm a little late to the Avatar bandwagon. I just discovered it towards the end of last year, and I figured, "Why not let it consume my soul?" Anyways, yes, I've been wanting to write this story for a long time. I started developing it in my head even before I finished watching the series.
The story takes place three years after the end of the show. And by the way, I haven't read any of the graphic novels, so if you see any contradictory plot points then... sorry? I'm trying to stay true to canon when it comes to characters, events, relationships, etc.
Here's a little warning: this story contains a few dark themes. And death will be a lot more obvious than it was in the show.
As always, please enjoy and don't forget to review!
Three years sounded like a long time in words or writing, so it only made sense that it would also feel like an eternity. But it didn't. In fact, it couldn't have flown by any faster. It was hardly believable that three entire years had passed since the end of the war—the war that had lasted for a hundred years.
But that was not to say that the past few years had been easy. After the end of the Hundred Year War, the new firelord found himself hard at work trying to repair his nation. Too long had it been twisted at the hands of corrupted leaders, and there was so much to be done. Frustratingly, very little had actually been accomplished during his time as firelord. These three years had felt short indeed.
The sun's glow had just faded below the horizon. Evening settled heavily over the royal palace. Now seemed like a good time to sit down and write that response letter to the Earth Kingdom. He and the Earth king were deep into the discussion of the newborn joint government that had been created between the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation colonies. Tonight, Firelord Zuko determined, was a good time to quit with the procrastination and prepare a reply to the latest inquiries. With such a sensitive topic, he needed the clear, peaceful atmosphere that the evening provided.
Or so he thought. As Zuko spread the parchment open over his desk, the door to his office flew open. Startled, one of his hands flew aside and knocked into the porcelain inkwell. It fell over and cracked, causing black liquid to ooze out over the desktop. Zuko snatched the inkwell and placed it upright, but ink continued to bleed from the crack.
"Whoops," he heard his unexpected visitor say. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Zuko glared at the person standing in the doorway. "You didn't scare me," he countered. "You just surprised me!" He let out a frustrated sigh as he watched the ink drip down over the side of his desk. "What are you doing here, anyway? It's a little late for friendly visits."
"I've got a letter here for you," the visitor replied.
Amused, Zuko raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize the avatar was running errands for me," he marveled jokingly.
"I make exceptions. Don't get used to it," Aang replied with a crooked grin. "But this is a pretty special letter." He raised the scroll up. "It's from Ba Sing Se."
Zuko threw his hands up as he stood from his desk. "Special? Every other letter I've been getting is from Ba Sing Se!" he exclaimed.
"It's not from the Earth King. It's from your uncle."
The firelord's eyes widened. "My…?" he trailed off, feeling a faint glimmer of nostalgia. Quickly, he pushed it down, reminding himself there was no room in a firelord's mind for that. "Never mind, I'll look at it later. He's probably just asking me how I'm doing. Help me find a new inkwell, will you? I remember there being one in here somewhere."
"Why do you—oh," Aang said as he noticed the ink dripping to the floor. Zuko ducked down to open a drawer and began rifling through its contents. Old paintbrushes, empty parchments, a dusty jade paperweight… nothing that could be used to hold ink. He shut the drawer and opened the one below it. After a few seconds of searching, still no luck.
As he rummaged through another drawer, he heard Aang say, "Geez. I figured you'd become a fashionista after becoming firelord, but this can't possibly be yours." Zuko gave a quick peek over the desk before ducking back down again. As he registered what he had seen, he froze. "Wait!" Zuko cried as he stood up. The top of his head collided with the edge of the desk. He let out an aggravated grunt as his hand flew to the tender spot.
Aang watched the commotion with a comical look on his face. The white silk scarf was still clutched in his hands.
"Where did you find that?" Zuko demanded urgently as he rose, his hand still planted firmly on his head.
"It was in that box on that shelf over there," Aang answered, pointing. "What was with that reaction? You look like you've seen a ghost." Then, in a witty manner, he raised the scarf and wiggled it around. "Ooooo!"
"Quit it. Let me see that." Zuko extended an arm. Aang gave him the scarf.
He ran a hand over its smooth surface. The silk's age worn edges and gray splotches gave voice to the scarf's age. But there was no mistaking it: this had been hers.
"I haven't seen this in years," Zuko said quietly. Sensing the darkened shift in mood, Aang's face dropped.
"What is it, Zuko?"
Zuko snapped back to his senses with a firm blink. He crumpled the scarf in his hands and threw it into the top drawer. "Nothing," he answered curtly, shoving the drawer close and casting the scarf out of sight. "Did you find an inkwell?"
The firelord's reaction to the old silk scarf piqued Aang's interest, but he could tell that it was something Zuko didn't want to talk about. Reluctantly, he dropped the subject and the millions of questions that came with it. "No, but I found this," he offered as he held up a small pewter cup. Zuko sighed.
"It'll have to do." He looked down at the puddle of ink on the floor.
"Let me." With a fluid motion of the hand, Aang brought the ink rising up in a neat stream and guided it into the cup. Then, he passed it over to Zuko.
"You're useful to have around," Zuko joked as he took the cup. "But I know you're not sticking around. So what's your plan for the next few days?"
"I want to head back to Republic City as soon as possible," Aang replied. "I feel it's still too young to function on its own. I can't leave it alone for too long."
Zuko chuckled. "Katara must be jealous at how much time you spend with the United Republic."
"She knows how important this is to me," Aang said. "And after Republic City, I can finally start reviving my culture."
Right. The Air Nation. Its annihilation had resulted from the actions of Zuko's great grandfather. Though the avatar would never place the blame on him, Zuko couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. "You know I'll help you with whatever you do."
Aang grinned. "I know. Thanks." He turned towards the door. "If you need to talk to me, send your letters to Republic City."
"You're going now?"
"Sure. It only takes a day or two with Appa," he said.
Zuko tapped his chin thoughtfully. "If only we had some sort of widespread public transportation that was that fast," he pondered. "Maybe I should make that my next goal once we get the United Republic on its feet." He shrugged. "There's already a million things on my plate, anyway. I'll see you later, Avatar."
When the door to this office closed, Zuko found himself alone again. He turned back to the desk and set the pewter cup down. His hand brushed against the scroll that Aang had brought. He stared down at it for a moment, curiosity creeping into his mind. Well, it had been a pretty hectic day. He could use a little break, and he couldn't wait to see what his uncle had written.
Zuko ripped the twine off of the scroll and unraveled the parchment. The letter's first few lines were warm greetings. A smile appeared on Zuko's face. But as his eyes glided over the next few lines, that smile slowly disappeared. He had hardly finished reading the last sentence when he put the letter down. His gaze drifted over to the top drawer of his desk.
He had stopped believing in fate ever since he learned that he could be in control of his own destiny. But this had to be more than a coincidence.
Zuko fell heavily into his chair. He hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he weighed his options. His nation, not to mention the United Republic, needed him. Then again, he had already worked so hard. Perhaps it was time for a break. And after seven years, he had never found closure for her death. Maybe this was finally the time to get it.
Marching out of his office, Zuko went to find the nearest guard. "Have the airship prepped," he ordered. "I want it ready to it fly first thing in the morning." The guard nodded. "And find the captain," Zuko continued. "Tell him to plot a course to Ba Sing Se."
So long ago I don't remember when
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees
"One Headlight" by The Wallflowers