Believing In Lies

by Fire's Ashes

Having lost his memories, Zuko wakes up to find himself surrounded by little more than vaguely familiar faces. Lies begin to spiral out of control; until they finally become too much for even the GAang to believe. Rated T. Zutara! AU. Rewrite of the 2013 original. NEW! Chapter 3 is now available to read.

2. Chapter 1: Worries of the Past

A/N: Good morning/evening…. Afternoon? Either way, no matter where you are in the world, I hope you're well!

Welcome to the final rewrite of Believing In Lies. The original was written over five years ago-by a less experienced me. I loved the story idea, and it had stuck with me ever since. And so I have decided to give it-and myself-another chance.

And while I've got your attention the on the A/N(s), I would just like to introduce my fantastic beta reader, Ana-DaughterofHades. An incredible writer, and a truly inspirational beta reader. I would recommend her to anyone! If you enjoy what you read-remember that she had a lot to do with it.

Thank you, my friend. I owe you greatly! ^^

Fire. 火

火-水-土-空-闪

Summary: Having lost his memories, Zuko wakes up to find himself surrounded by little more than vaguely familiar faces. Lies begin to spiral out of control; until they finally become too much for even the GAang to believe. Rated T. Zutara! Slight AU. Rewrite of the 2013 original.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own A:tLA, and claim no payment from writing this story.

Fire. 火

火-水-土-空-闪

"Believing In Lies", by

Fire's Ashes

Chapter One:

Worries of the Past

火-水-土-空-闪

As the dilapidated warship passed through the sea's waves, she groaned, and a weariness could be heard echoing through her shallow halls. It would have been clear to any skilled engineer on board-she was beginning to struggle under the strain of active duty.

The waves themselves showed no care for this revelation however-lifting her up without a second thought, only to send her crashing back down moments later. The sea water lifted high over her bow, the smell of salt all too familiar to the old general who sat upon her deck. Iroh watched the sea with a somewhat troubled glance. Ah, the Moon Spirit… You have always had an impressive way of letting your anger be known.

Was this sudden animosity a warning or was it him candidly showing the world that it was time for him to depart from them all? Either way, this was a pure and unmistakable sign that this war had to end, for what else would force this world to do so? If the legend was to be believed and the moon did indeed leave, the sun might soon follow, and oh, by her gracefulness, that was a chilling thought. This prolonged aggression needed to end soon and not just for the other nations that were losing this war...

"The Moon and Sun spirits' patience is unending. They will lead their people by example-and towards peace." The truth in those ancient words were almost as hard to grasp as believing the intention behind them. But who could blame Dairk's and Myaira's anger-what Spirit would show patience forevermore to the circumstances surrounding the world these past hundred years? No soul truly knew the answer, and those who were unknowing often asked questions… and in their hatefulness and fear, people would often believe in any answer to find some form of peace in their heart, but this false hope would not be so indoctrinating on the mind. A sane man's mind that is. It would soon question the answers it found, as was the instinct of logic, which would often over-power the purest emotion of the heart—hope.

Iroh, however, knew the story of the Moon and Sun spirits well-of Dairk, an ordinary Firebender who gave up everything to become something he wasn't supposed to be, just so that his wife, Myaira, could return to her people once more. How a Firebender became such a being was now seen as an unbearable consequence of something that no longer existed-harmony. For the Water Tribes now saw the Fire Nation as monsters, incapable of selfless, heroic actions.

In hindsight, to the world now, it had been for Myaira. For love. People had come to question everything. The legend was now seen as a myth and the truth was hidden behind lies and corruption.

But love wasn't true without respect and understanding to guide it. Back then, Dairk was a hero-he had shown a kindness that the world had not seen in a Firebender for well over a century-or so they had conveniently come to believe.

Though, it was believed that Myaira never did return to her people in the end. Once she had learned of her husband's loyalty to her, and the actions of her distant and unforgiving people, her heart froze, and the Waterbender turned away from them in her time of grief. The rest was never documented in the land that she had once hailed from. At the time, the Fire Nation took it upon themselves to tell the remainder of the story. Some elders still told children the story in hushed whispers. And yet now, their words were somewhat hearsay. As if the story had been removed from history.

Once, the Fire Nation spoke of Myaira's name with pride and gratefulness, for it was believed that she became the sun, to not only save them, as her husband had saved the Water Tribes, but so that her love, the moon, would never be alone in his journey across the stars. It was said that it had unfrozen her cold heart-and in her dying words she held true to the fact that her husband had saved her once again.

Deep down though, the world must have known that the circumstances were simply much crueler than that. Iroh himself wouldn't claim to know if Dairk's decision now were held against his people. Nor was Myaira's to hers all those centuries ago. Nevertheless, no matter the truth, with their love, in that very moment, they had not only saved their lover's culture but also their own, and in turn, the world.

The "Elite" of the Fire Nation would now call Dairk a traitor, spitting on his name as if his actions played no role in their existence. Although, they were more than accepting of him and his actions when it suited their needs. But like the Water Tribes, they had forgotten how much they had both sacrificed. Dairk and Myaria's love wasn't just for themselves-it was also for their people and they were wise enough to know of that love, no matter how distant they had become from each other. And that showed in all that they had relinquished, for the world would not have lived on without them.

What the Fire Nation failed to comprehend was the importance that the moon played on the very seas they claimed to rule. For those in the Elite, they maintained quite abruptly that they had to control every aspect of people's everyday lives. They could move metal through a powerful world without any form of resistance and so that must mean they would and should triumph over it all. That lie quickly spread through the ranks of the men; they grew self-indulgent and ultimately greedy with their own victories. As the hundredth year of the war approached, their metal machines spanned the length of the world's oceans. Their fleets overwhelmed anything the rest of the world could throw at it, and so, their selfish hearts assumed that they controlled that of unquestionable power, too.

Most were just lost in the hatred of a few, and those few still managed to threaten the balance of the world. The Fire Nation's soul-its once great and loving people-was fading from exhaustion. For all men had limits. The weight of the world pushing against them, no matter the power they held, weighed so heavily on its heart, that it finally threatened to crack.

火-水-土-空-闪

The Dragon of the West examined his tea for what could have only been the fourth time that afternoon-and still showed no interest in actually drinking it. He sat alone upon the deck of the moving vessel, watching as the birds flew over in their mass numbers.

Placing his cup back on his table, Iroh glanced at his game of Pai Sho. Ava, the guard who had stood with him that afternoon, had offered him a game, but he had declined the kind girl's request. Which in turn had shocked the woman half to death. She had asked if he was feeling well and offered to get the ship's doctor. Iroh had laughed; the thought was genuine, as the anxiety in her eyes had been as clear as the sun in the daylight sky. But he simply explained that he only wanted to enjoy the solidarity of his own thoughts. She had smiled then, understanding his request. She apologized and left the retired general to think alone. She had only been there to keep Iroh company in this dark time of his-anyone who knew Iroh well enough could take a firm guess that he didn't need a guard to protect him.

Iroh closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, composing his thoughts in a peaceful manner. A skill that his nephew still had to learn... and Iroh would have taught him everything he knew. Because his nephew, despite everything, had cause to feel the way he did. The impatience he felt-it was justified. He just didn't know who else to blame other than himself.

I would give everything just so I could have you here one last time. To at least say goodbye… to tell you how proud I was to call you a son of mine. Iroh exhaled then, and the sorrow he felt showed plentiful in his demeanour. Though his expression soon softened as he saw Darren approach from the stairs. If he was honest, Iroh had time to prepare. He had heard someone approaching long before they could be seen. He smiled at the young lad but nevertheless he still bared a hint of grief. It weighed heavily on his shoulders. The old general was exhausted, and he wouldn't lie about his sorrow. Nodding, the boy knew that Iroh more than welcomed his presence. Darren wasn't to know that Iroh had requested solidarity. But his slow approach was that of caution. The boy wasn't frightened; he just didn't know if this was the appropriate time.

"Iroh, sir." He paused then, as if there was a silent rule to wait until the general asked him to speak. Merely out of respect for the great man. To Iroh, it was an unnecessary gesture, but Zuko had always implemented it with the crew.

"It's alright, son. Say what you came to say." Iroh knew that this gave the boy some confidence. As Darren shifted his stance, standing prouder than he had been only a moment ago.

"Thank you, sir."

"Since you're here, why don't you join me?" Iroh gestured to the empty chair next to him. His own pondering thoughts had begun to become a draining aspiration, and if he was honest, he could use a new perspective on the situation. Even if the subject matter was merely a distraction.

In his young age and lack of experience dealing with "down time" with a much higher ranking officer, Darren hesitated, though he knew being rude by declining was not an option. "Of course, sir," the young boy smiled gently, eventually accepting Iroh's offer. His smile remained as he moved towards the chair - an indication that even people who had not known the general for the decades that some had were also trying to keep the kind man's mind occupied from his recent traumatic ordeal.

Once settled, Darren almost immediately took notice of the untouched cup of tea sitting idly upon the table next to his superior; simultaneously a cool breeze gently crinkling its surface as it passed, making its presence all the more… unusual. Though still a rare sight, Iroh had been alone up here for a good few hours at least and common sense told the young officer that the drink would probably now be too cold to be considered a delight - though still drinkable. A tea, especially one that belonged to the Dragon of the West, was to be enjoyed. Or in his words: savoured.

Iroh, who was famous for his soft spot for the drinkable herb, was extremely fussy when it came to a "good cup of tea," no matter the circumstances the man found himself in. Though Darren had probably realised by now that this particular situation was the lone exception.

Clearing his throat, he would admit that he was a little concerned at his discovery and his side glance at the older man showed his growing pity. The Dragon of the West was, in one word, a tough human being, but every man had a breaking point. All people do.

No matter how strong a man claimed to be - the mind, in the most brutal of hardships, could bring any man to his knees.

Thinking it would be best if Iroh was surrounded by some of the things he loved most, Darren offered to pour Iroh a fresh cup of Jasmine Tea, and he at least expected the general to nod, as he always did. This fond and familiar instinct was instant, and the very fact that Darren picked up the pot was not the surprising factor in this recognizable situation. To anyone in this crew this was all second nature, a natural occurrence that came with knowing this incredible man. It was just how it had always been, and no one would want that to change. And despite his rejections to the matter, Zuko would have probably been one of the first to notice if it ever did.

Darren was ready and able to follow the order he was expecting. But as Iroh politely declined, the boy's face fell - his smile all but a distant memory.

"Sir?" Darren's voice carried his disappointment; and yet with it was a hint of sadness. His eyes showed a deeper rooted concern, for it told of words he couldn't voice. He was worried, and there was nothing he could do to help. Darren sighed, "please sir, if you will not drink, can I at least request a game of Pai Sho?" This got the officer a more detailed reaction and even after a while, a genuine smile emerged.

"You have not said what you originally came to say," Iroh observed, and expressed a guilty tone, though one was not needed.

"It's just good to see you smile, sir," Darren chirped, placing the tile set in the right places on the board.

"You are a good boy, Darren - thank you." The Dragon of the West's voice softened, expressing his gratitude to the young lad.

火-水-土-空-闪

The early morning sun rose slowly amongst the parting clouds high above in the now brightening sky, and the view from Appa's saddle was undeniably alluring, wanting nothing more than to be admired by the very few who were privileged enough to appreciate its unique beauty. Katara, however, had no time to admire the view, to her own disappointment.

Not wanting to wake the boys this early she silently crept over to Zuko's side, and the first thing she took notice of was Aang's blanket covering the un-responsive prince.

Though she wasn't at all surprised, Katara still couldn't help but wonder how Aang managed to show such kindness towards someone who-in her eyes-least of all deserved it… And yet, here it was: proof of that very ability laid before her very eyes, and despite her initial rejection, for a blissful moment, it came to soften her weary heart.

Then, just as quick as the last, another heartbeat came and went and she found herself in another moment, a different line of thought. As she had done before she hesitated. She wouldn't pretend to know what was best for Aang, but to warn him against such things like this seemed… appropriate, did it not? Not because she felt any doubt that her friend could not keep himself safe - and still have kindness in his heart - it was more for her own fear that the people he was giving his heart to would not replicate those sort of actions towards him. She just didn't want it to be his downfall. However, maybe she was wrong to ever think for one moment that it was her right to take away the one thing that still connected him to his... estranged people. As of now, he merely had memories of his life with them; who was she to take that away? These were after all his people's teachings and it had led them through many generations of peace. For now, she simply agreed to disagree with herself, and just like before, she pushed the thought aside, almost as quick as a heartbeat.

A sudden and mind-numbing surge of panic washed over her, realizing right there and then that she had spent too much time pondering on her worries that she had forgotten about almost everything. She couldn't have rushed more quickly over herself in that moment.

Zuko, to her dismay, looked devastatingly ill. More so than when they had found him. His skin had once again become unnaturally pale, and not only did he look worse, but no sooner had she placed the back of her hand against his cheek, she had to pull away. Her eyes shivered, plastered with guilt and made her worrying known. But it was as she was speaking to nothing but a ghost-he couldn't see her and who was she going to confide in?

As she quickly removed the damp cloth from Zuko's forehead to drain, it in turn confirmed her suspicions. It would seem that his fever had worsened during the night and the pain it was causing him showed itself clearly enough in his features.

Oh Spirits, what did I do so wrong?!

She whispered her apology upon the wind, wishing that someone would hear. She was truly sorry, and she couldn't deny that she didn't care who he was, she generally thought she had done him a service.

For as much as Katara wanted to hate him for all that he had done in the past, she began to think about what she was supposed to feel now. She placed the back of her hand back upon his forehead, and the heat quickly powered through once again, warming her hand considerably-and yet not as much as before. Katara then began to watch his chest, this time in a more observing manner. His breathing was rushed, still damaged by the discomfort of his injuries, but for an unknown reason it had worsened during the cold night and despite his body's persistence to keep him alive, it would seem that he was struggling terribly.

Without proper and long-term care...

She knew she could try to do what she had done before, but that would simply mean going through the exhaustion she had felt on that beach. Katara didn't know if she had it in her, to go through that all over again.

Katara sighed, troubled by what she faced. She knew well enough that she was no master healer and that fact alone meant it didn't really matter how much her heart was in the right place, it simply meant that she didn't have the skills required to save him.

And for all her free-will and kind spirit, it would seem that this was a battle her heart wasn't going to win.

Her mind would win in the end, no matter how much she protested. The right course of action wasn't always the easiest to admit to or convince oneself of, but if she could just be strong enough to convince her heart of such a hard truth then maybe Zuko would have half a chance of surviving. She was strong, and no one would convince her otherwise, and yet...

I can't do this on my own. Katara bit down hard upon the right side of her lip.

Spirits, what am I going to do?

The Waterbender pondered for a moment, and although she wished that the thought had never entered her mind, she couldn't help but see it as a viable option. If Zuko was going to die, then it would happen whether or not she had the answers… and with that ever looming prospect, she side-eyed Zuko for a brief moment. Could she really let him die, all for the sake of avoiding her own insecurities?

Soon remembering that she had once again forgotten her purpose of being by his side, she began to clean the cloth that had sat idly in her hand with the last of the water from Sokka's old fish stick bowl. She then pressed the water out and placed the cloth back where it was needed most. She should have left it at that, for she needed more sleep than she had allowed herself to have, and in all truth she hadn't had much. But she couldn't help but want to stay.

The way he was, it all seemed so familiar… as if… as if— Katara's trace of thought ended abruptly as it had done so many times before since they'd found the prince, and yet, this moment felt different. Maybe it was from pure exhaustion, or maybe she was just simply overreacting. She really hoped for the latter. And yet, no matter how hard she tried to comfort herself, worry began to creep through her weary mind nevertheless.

Any hope of contentment was soon dashed however, as a sharp shooting pain edged its way through her spine, grabbing her full attention. Her eyes went wide from panic, not knowing the reason for this unexpected pain.

It's just stress. It has to-

The pain cut her off as she was forced to react. Katara tried to grab at the source of the imaginary pain that had now spread through her back and lower abdomen. She clenched her teeth; soon shutting her eyes as tight as her remaining strength would allow and when all else had failed her, Katara tried her hardest to let her mind wonder. But no matter how hard she pushed, and no matter how hard she endured, her torment never subsided and soon a pure and unmistakable fear set it. She didn't know what do with herself. How could she heal what she could not see? The mind, for all its splendour, was playing its cruellest of games.

It was made all the harder by the fact that it felt as if all the air from her body had been forcibly removed, and Katara soon struggled to replace the oxygen that had escaped from her lungs. Placing her shaking hand upon her forehead, she took note of a heated sweat that pushed through to her palm. Katara leaned over as she fought to keep herself upright, but her already exhausted body simply refused, and within a moment or two she blacked out.

火-水-土-空-闪

The boys, who had been oblivious to all that had transpired, awoke soon after. Though in all truth, the warrior of the group was more content to sleep a little while longer as the Airbender attended to Appa. But his eyes were soon forced to flutter open to the sound of a certain familiar voice coming from the other side of their rather enormous ride. Straining his neck, Sokka lifted only his head. His eyes barely open, he attempted to see what had possessed Aang to already be talking this early in the morning. Getting nowhere, Sokka soon gave up, muttering to himself as he turned over, making sure to pull his blanket over his head to protect himself from the kid's obsessive talking.

Unbeknownst to Sokka, Aang's pet lemur had other plans. Since he wasn't getting any more attention from his young master, Momo had become bored and sought something to do.

He didn't have to see Sokka's annoyed glance to know that the boy was no longer in a deep, Sokka-like sleep. Silently, he flew over to one of the high points on Appa's saddle, one that just so happened to be above the sleeping warrior's head; the lemur sat there quietly, licking at its left front paw. At first, Momo watched the Avatar. His back was turned as he happily spoke to his six-legged friend. The lemur then looked over to Katara. Though the creature probably found this to be slightly odd, he saw that she was still asleep. Good. No witnesses.

Without warning, the lemur pounced, landing upon Sokka's body with a shockingly heavy force.

"Ah!" Sokka bolted up, his eyes wide, frantically looking to find the source of his final wake up call. The only thing he came into contact with were two wide eyes staring right back at him. He immediately jumped to the right conclusion. "Why you little-" without thinking Sokka lunged forwards; both arms reached out, trying to grab at the creature.

Between his blanket becoming intertwined with his legs and Momo being too fast for him, he soon lost his balance and found himself coming into contact with Appa's leather saddle. He grunted, his hands failing to stop his awkward fall. Momo, on the other hand, had made his way to Aang's shoulder, and in turn pulled the Airbender's attention away from Appa and to the rather annoyed Sokka, who had yet to move from his uncomfortable position.

"You're awake then?" The rhetorical question caused a massive grin to form on Aang's face, but he might as well have been talking to himself. Sokka failed to give Aang any kind of voiced response. Instead, Sokka sent him a rather irritated side glance. With his face squished against the rough fabric, and the very fact that he was facing away from the very person he was sending his silent threats to, Sokka couldn't see a reason for maintaining his vicious glare for very long, and so pushing himself back up, he then turned to face the Airbender, who any idiot could tell was trying to contain himself from bursting out laughing.

Momo, it would seem, was the only one who got the privilege of a voiced response this early in the morning. A scowl formed as he pointed directly at the lemur, making sure the Avatar wasn't too busy wetting himself to take notice of his complaint.

"You need to contain that little-" Sokka tried to finish what he had started but stopped mid-sentence, this time of his own accord, and simply sent a bemused look into thin air. The frown remained, and Aang was also somewhat puzzled by this sudden silence that had filled the tense air; but he was more worried about what had caused Sokka to become speechless in the first place rather than the tranquillity that had followed it. Though Aang had suddenly wished that he had been paying more attention; in the end, all he could do was send Sokka an identical look and hope it would be enough to find answers.

Without another word, Sokka sent the troubling look directly at Aang, who shrugged, still waiting for an adequate reason for all this apprehension.

"How long have you been awake?" Sokka inquired.

"Uhh," Aang thought for a moment, "about… half an hour. Why?"

Leaving the Avatar's question in the air, Sokka threw the blanket to one side and lifted himself over to where the prince still laid. Not giving him the time of day, he went straight to his sister. This of all things got Aang to move as well. A bewildered yet concerned look was carried with him.

"Is she ok?" Aang's words fell on deaf ears as Sokka merely shook his sister, trying to wake her.

"I don't know. Has she spoken to you this morning?" Aang shook his head. That wasn't the answer he was looking for. "She's always up before me, no expectations." This was a fact; it always had been. And it was that very fact that made this all the more unsettling.

"Maybe she's just exhausted, Sokka," Aang suggested, and Sokka usually would have accepted it. But today, Aang wasn't the voice of reason that he had become so accustomed to, and Sokka sent him a look to correspond with that very feeling.

Always trust your gut.

"My gut says differently." He placed a hand upon his sister's arm, squeezing lightly, but this did nothing to stir her and she remained motionless. The only indication Sokka had that she was alive was the gentle rise and fall of her chest, which gave him a comfort that he was more than grateful for.

He hadn't noticed Aang moving to his side. "We'll be landing soon, Sokka. Let's just give her the time she needs. She'll be fine." The warrior gave the young lad yet another side glance, although this time he was just thankful Aang was there.

"You think that's all this is? Because ever since we found him," Sokka motioned to the prince beside her with his head; a venomous distaste reeked out from the edge of his tongue, "things have been…"

Aang tried to finish when Sokka hesitated, "tense?" The Avatar could not have been more right.

"Yeah. And now this?" Sokka bit his lip, just as Katara always did when she became concerned. Looking down at his sister, a flare of anger threatened to boil over. Aang, for the most part, understood.

"Sokka…" The older boy didn't look directly at him, not this time, but Aang knew he was still there, listening to every word. "She'll be fine - she knows you'll always want to protect her - but sometimes battles must be fought alone for one to learn how to protect themselves."

"From what? You said she was just tired. What does "protecting herself" have to do with anything?" Sokka's frustration grew when he could not understand. Aang sighed, feeling for any person who could do nothing when they believed they were needed the most. The Avatar contemplated on what to say, for he truly did not want to hurt his friend.

"You can't always be there, Sokka. You can't always intervene when you want to. She most likely became weak and passed out."

"My sister is not weak!" The warrior turned to face Aang, offended that he would ever suggest such a thing.

"That's not what I'm saying." Aang was being completely reasonable, when most wouldn't be.

"Then what-"

"You're my friend, and so is she. Like I was saying, she probably fainted. She will wake up when her body believes she's ready to. If you can't protect her, then I sure will try. When one dreams without control, spirits notice, and they become what she dreams. They become the very memories that make her who she is. This can, and does hurt, and there's nothing you can do to change that, but I will keep an eye on her where you can't. That's all I meant." Sokka didn't say a word. How could he not protect his little sister…? "Then again, nothing might come of this and she will simply awaken no worse for wear. Be by her side, though let her rest, alright?" Aang then stood and walked away to give Sokka some space.

Though not before Sokka muttered a genuine "thank you" in Aang's direction.

火-水-土-空-闪

As the Gaang approached their destination, far North of Hei Bai's Forest, the Great Pine Forests that had endured their journey with them for countless miles finally began to become a trace of its former self. Endless lines of trees soon became splintered fragments, and as the sudden bitter cold air hit Appa with an intense ferocity, the final trace of its majesty was left far behind as they continued their journey to Makapu. Aang sat upon Appa's head with Momo fast asleep upon his lap, while Sokka stayed firmly at the back, guarding his sister. Only Sokka would truly know what from. It wasn't as if Zuko would be waking up anytime soon, and if he did, what could he possibly do in his condition? Regardless, they sat in complete stillness. The only thing that truly moved was Appa, though Momo's ears would occasionally twitch in response to his blissful dreams.

Katara, on the other hand, was not in any sort of wonderland. Every time she moved or her face screwed up in discomfort, Sokka would place a hand on the edge of her hairline, rubbing his fingers through her hair. Their mother had done so when they were young, before they dreamt, and whilst Sokka had grown somewhat distant to the custom, Katara still took great solace from the action, and though Sokka thought it was a waste of time, he cared for his sister and whatever brought her comfort gave him some peace of mind.

As she calmed, he stopped the action, removing his hand. Her skin had felt muggy to the touch. He would have to keep an eye on that. A certain Firebender with a fever had been enough stress for one day. However, Aang had taken charge of taking care of that thing, mostly due to the fact that Sokka refused to even look at him, let alone care for him. Sokka simply couldn't care less if Zuko died right there and then. Some spoilt prince wasn't his problem and he wasn't going to start making him his problem anytime soon.

"I think we should land soon. We're not far from Makapu at this point," Aang's voice broke through the silence. "And Appa's been flying for too long as it is." The Avatar looked around to see if Sokka had even heard him. He had and simply agreed.

火-水-土-空-闪

The beating of Zhao's heart echoed in the stillness of his own solidarity. One thud after another-endlessly taunting him-toying with his every thought, analysing every possibility, every fault in his once well thought out plan.

Within this preposterous moment of weakness, he could only picture his own despair if this was to backfire. He sneered, the end of his mouth curling into a vicious snarl.

How could something so brilliantly simple go so wrong? All they had to do was place explosives onto Zuko's ship after he his "attempt" to remove his crew and…

Ugh! Zhao pressed both his thumb and finger on the bridge of his nose, exhaling his frustration into the dimly lit room. What could you expect from a bunch of insignificant, simple minded pirates? He knew he should have hired some proper mercenaries.

I am surrounded by Idiots! Snapping his arm back down. He positioned them behind his back with an almost unnaturally cool efficiency, as if he had rehearsed this very moment. To clear his mind, he began to wander slowly around the limited space he had been allocated. The simpletons who had arranged his accommodations couldn't even get the small detail of space right.

Though in all truth, compared to his men's tents, he was living in a palace. But no one would dare let Zhao know of the naked truth. Zhao couldn't see passed the lens he had created for himself.

His mind once again bombardment itself, trying to think of a way he could get out of this mess those imbeciles had put him in. He surrounded himself in denial. It built a wall around him and protected him with his own sense of security.

"The only idiot here is you." The exaggeration on the words was almost as poisonous as the man they were aimed at. Looking into the mirror that hung on the far wall, Zhao glared at the reflection. Now seeing the source of the voice, Zhao whirled around to find Teniran, his Lieutenant Commander, standing right behind him.

The man stood proudly, though Zhao took immediate note of his stature.

He held one hand behind his back while the other clutched what seemed like a simple looking piece of jewelry. It was held aloft by its chain. Its swaying rhythm was bizarre; Teniran's hand remained unnaturally still.

At first the younger man's eyes were glued to this basic pendant, watching every motion as it danced to its eternal rhythm. He was transfixed, as if he alone understood what made the object alluring. To the naked eye, there seemed to be nothing special about it whatsoever. In spite of that, Teniran wasn't what you could call "normal". His honey-golden eyes attracted the light of a single candle, its flame dancing to its own unspoken tune. The light soon became trapped within those irises, reflecting the splendour of Teniran's attractive gaze.

His stature held tall and lean, and although he was younger than his superior, he somehow matched the man in skill. It all seemed rather... unbelievable.

Teniran alone could be recognized by those under him from his "unofficial" undercut that crowned his scalp, though everything came down to the tense golden eyes that could glare into any man's soul. Matched with his charismatic tongue, he could tear any man's hopes apart in seconds.

The unremarkable object still held relevance in the dead air. It gleamed as its reflective shell shimmered passed that of a flickering light, born from the same candle that had revealed the true magnificence of Teniran's eyes, making something so warm and welcoming cause dread to trickle down one's spine.

Zhao watched him cautiously, his lips tightening as a hard stress line appeared on his tense brow. He needed proof to satisfy his suspicions. Something reliable, something that would make even his skin crawl.

Teniran's eyes came to darken as they made contact with Zhao's, and yet his lips bore a smirk, highlighting the small scar that ran through them. The smirk creeped wider with every second that passed in the encroaching silence, as if it would envelope them at any moment. There was no explanation needed - there was nothing ordinary about this man, but this here, was not proof.

"You wanted to see me?" The sudden realization that the question was normal caught Zhao off guard, but he held his composure. As he always did. Huffing, he begrudgingly admitted that he wanted the man in his presence. That very man raised a curious brow - it wasn't as if Teniran wanted to be here either. "I don't suppose it's about a certain plan of yours going awry? I told you not to hire those pirates." Zhao somehow held his cool, only sending Teniran a crude glimpse of what it could have been like if he lied again.

"You lair!" Zhao barked, and Teniran's features turned dark. Despite the lump forming in Zhao's throat, he somehow was determined to defend himself and his brilliance. "You told me that they wanted revenge."

"And I was, of course, right. But hiring them was the bold move of a short-sighted and impatient man, or a man who's as cheap as he is ruthless." Teniran expected the reaction he got from that observation.

"How was I supposed to know they'd fail?" Teniran could not believe what he was hearing.

"Well according to all reports, Zhao, you're apparently a shrewd and clever man. It's a shame to see that they were all just rumours after all." Teniran didn't even flinch as the Commander slammed his own knife into the wooden desk. The candle upon it was the only thing that seemed to react; its flame flickered with an alarming amount of ferocity. Teniran simply felt pity for the desk.

"Angry, are we?" Maybe the question was rhetorical, for it was evident to anyone with the ability to see that Zhao had, once again, become irate. Teniran shook his head in disappointment, not even trying to be careful with what he said, for the truth had always been a bitter pill for Zhao to swallow. "Don't all people born with the gift of fire have to learn how to control the flame that burns within them?" Zhao's grip on the knife worsened as his Lieutenant Commander dared to continue, "it is evident to me that you skipped that very important lesson - so here's a bit of advice: don't let it consume you, sir, for it is a shameful way for any Firebender to die."

The smirk realigned itself just in time for Zhao to take notice, and as Teniran walked ever closer, the room almost seemed to become deprived of air. In response, Zhao tried to move himself, to square up to the lesser man, but no sooner had he let go of the knife's handle, his whole upper body flung itself back down hard onto his desk, the side of his face hitting it with a significant amount of force - his stomach and hips pressed firmly against the wooden frame. An unforgettable pain surged through Zhao's body, and he, being only human after all, yelled out in surprise. Almost simultaneously to this the light source of the candle simply ceased to be. This startled Zhao, and he tried to hide his uncertainty, though his crude and somewhat erratic breathing betrayed him.

Without a word or an action of warning, Teniran was beside him, and he leaned down to his level, making sure Zhao was paying attention. "Listen to me very carefully for I will only say this once more. The very thing you fear the most will be your undoing if you don't control that ambitious temper of yours, and believe me Zhao, your downfall is something this world has been waiting a very long time for-so if I were you, I wouldn't do anything rash." The delight never left Teniran's voice, and Zhao could feel the bastard's tenacious ego rip right through him. "You do well to listen to your second-in-command, Zhao, in doing so you might actually live long enough to tell your children about your...own self-importance." The tension finally released and Zhao fell to the floor.

It was a shame really - Teniran had actually been looking forward to his lunch before this meeting - however, simply talking to this pig had taken his appetite from him.

"Am I dismissed, sir?" It took more than a few moments for Zhao to compose himself enough to stand.

"Get out of my sight!" Teniran did exactly that, not caring to even check if the commander was alright, and left without another word. Zhao was more than slightly peeved at what had just transpired. How that low-life expected to get away with such volatility was inconceivable.

"I'll deal with it later," Zhao muttered, casually holding his injured head - and then it suddenly dawned on him - that meeting was supposed to be his way out of the mess that now smothered his mind. In true Zhao fashion, he would never admit, even for one moment, that it was entirely his fault - yet, as a consequence, all he'd been left with was a throbbing headache and a rather pissed off temper.

Life certainly did not envy the next man who would walk into that tent with anything but good news.

火-水-土-空-闪

A/N: I rarely write Author Notes at the end of chapters, but I feel like an explanation is needed about updates. I would rather say this now that in individual message here and there later on.

So, before anyone writes a review about the amount of time this update has taken me, I would firstly like to apologise, but most of all I would like to take this chance to say this: chapter updates will come when I have the time to write them. I work almost a full time job - and as much as I would like to write all day, every day, I can't. Not just because I don't have to time, but sometimes I simply don't have the ability.

On the other hand, I promised myself that I would see this story through until the end, so there will always be updates until the time comes where this story is finished. I can't give you any idea how long each individual update will take because I simply don't know. Please try to understand this before writing something about the waiting time in your reviews.

Thank you for your understanding and patience, it is much appreciated, as is every review, like and follower.

All the best,

Fire. 火