The Tale of Avatar Zuko: Part 1

... The next thing he knew, Zuko was standing in a field in the middle of the day and there was complete and utter destruction all around him.

The air was cool with a chill that did not belong to summer. With a firebender's innate sense, he noted the thin sunlight was slanted in a way it normally did only in mid-winter.

No, he realized, staring around. He wasn't in a field—he was actually standing in palace gardens, but not as he had ever seen them before. Leaves had been ripped off every stem, clods of grass and dirt were flung everywhere, mixed in with broken tea cups. A table and canopy were laying upended at least twenty feet away—it looked like the fancy set Uncle used to have the servants drag out for celebrations.
What was going on?

Around him, people—palace servants, nobles dressed in stained livery—picked themselves up as if they had been thrown to the ground. Zuko, who stood in the center of the chaos, was the only one left on his feet.

And they all stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

Zuko backed a step, not understanding, not knowing if these people were friends or foes or how he had even gotten here. Had he passed out, or somehow lost track of time? But why was he now in the gardens? Where was Katara? Had Aang come through?

"Nephew?"

Zuko startled and turned around. His uncle was climbing slowly, painfully to his feet.

"Uncle Iroh? What are you doing here?" Zuko took a step toward him then stopped to clutch his throat. His own voice sounded as high as it had been when he was a child. As soon as he moved, he found his lightning injury wasn't bothering him, either. "What happened?" he squeaked. Literally.

But even his uncle was staring at Zuko as if he were a ghost. "The impossible."

Ten Minutes Earlier

"More sugar?" Iroh asked, passing a tray of lumps over.

"Father said I'm not supposed to have sugar. Says its for babies." That declaration made, Iroh's nephew resolutely took a sip of his unsweetened tea and manfully tried not to make a face.

Really, Ozai was too hard on the boy. Iroh sighed to himself, but kept his expression neutral. "It's true that as you age, your sweet tooth often diminishes. However, today is your birthday. Surely you can allow yourself a treat."

Zuko eyed Iroh's large belly. "How many treats do you allow yourself, Uncle?"

"More than enough!" He chuckled, patted his belly, and then pushed the sugar closer. "I won't tell your father if you don't."

Iroh's heart broke a little as Zuko looked around as if to make extra sure none of the passing nobles in the expansive palace gardens were paying attention. He had clearly already learned the hard lesson that everything came back to the Fire Lord eventually. However, the lure of sugar won out. With a mischievous grin, Zuko dropped a couple lumps in his tea. When he drank this time, it was with enthusiasm.

"Twelve years old today," Iroh said. "It's a momentous occasion. You're nearly a man."

Zuko nodded and glanced around at the tea table and the waiting servants. "I'm not too old for presents, am I?" he asked, trying and failing to hide his eagerness.

"Are you telling me you joined your old uncle for tea only to receive birthday presents?" Iroh asked in mock severity.

"No, Uncle!"

The boy was a terrible liar. Ah well, his heart was good. Iroh dropped the act with a chuckle. "Then I will tell you a secret, Prince Zuko: You're never too old for birthday presents." With that, Iroh nodded to a waiting servant who stepped forward and bowed low. Wrapped in a bundle of silk cloth were double dao swords—plain, but well made. An excellent set to practice with.

Zuko's eyes were wide as he pulled the swords from their scabbards. "Thank you, Uncle. But… when would I ever use swords? I'm a firebender."

"I find it's wise to cultivate multiple skills. Throughout history there have been many firebenders who were also great sword masters. You are determined and inventive—there is no reason you cannot be both. And," Iroh added with a wink, knowing this would sell the deal, "if you learned how to use them, you would then would know something your sister does not."

That did it. Zuko's pale golden eyes widened a little and his grin became true. He set the swords down and bowed. "Thank you, Uncle."

Iroh smiled indulgently. "As it happens, there is a well known swordmaster in the city. Master Piandao is an old friend. If you are free this afternoon, he has agreed to show you the basics…"

He trailed off as a chill, unnatural wind will stole through the air, sending every hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. He glanced around the peaceful gardens, instinctively searching for the source of an attack—ready to shield his nephew at a moment's notice.

Zuko's teacup dropped with a clatter. The wind picked up around them, from a gentle winter breeze to a gale in seconds. The tea table flipped over and away.

Shielding his eyes from wind-whipped dust, Iroh reached to haul his nephew away…

… Only to see him encased within a sphere of air.

Zuko's eyes, which were a normal pale gold a moment before, now glowed an unearthly blue.

"It… it cannot be," Iroh whispered, backing away.

Servants screamed and ducked as debris flew in all directions. In the distance, noblemen and staff who were enjoying the gardens scrambled over to watch, mouths agape.

The wind was such a roar that Iroh was forced to move further away. He watched, stunned, as his nephew lifted several feet in the air, face utterly blank except for the glowing, ageless power shining out from him.

Zuko lifted his hands, and a blazing double ring of fire encircled around the air sphere. Dust rose from the ground and coalesced into orbiting earth. Finally, the fluted water rippled from overturned pitchers and joined the other elements in a shining ribbon.

All four elements, perfectly in balance. A harmony no one had seen in nearly one-hundred years.

People were pointing, staring, screaming for the guards.

Zuko's fingers suddenly tensed and the elements flew in all directions, blasting out. Iroh was knocked off his feet as the earth roiled, wind roared, and fire and water shot over his head.

Suddenly, the moment was over. Zuko fell to the ground, caught himself and staggered, holding his head.

"Nephew?" Iroh croaked.

Zuko blinked and looked around, dazed. "Uncle Iroh? What are you doing here?" Then he gasped and for some reason clutched at his throat. "What happened?"

"The impossible." It could not be. The Avatar had been missing for nearly a century, and he was supposed to be of Air. How had the cycle come back to Fire? "Nephew," Iroh asked, hesitantly, "did you know?"

Zuko shook his head. He looked around, confused and unsteady as a newborn colt. "The sky was red… It—something went wrong. Did Aang return?"

"Who is Aang?"

A look of irritation bloomed over the boy's face. "This isn't the time to joke, Uncle." He looked around. "Where's Katara?"

What in the world was the boy talking about? Friends from school, perhaps? He was clearly disoriented.

They had no time. If Ozai learned what his son was capable of…

Iroh gripped his nephew's shoulders with fierce intensity that startled them both. Zuko looked up into Iroh's eyes and then frowned, opening his mouth to speak.

Iroh got there first. "Zuko, I know this will be hard for you to understand, but you are in grave danger. Your father—"

The boy jerked and glanced around wildly. There was real alarm in his eyes. "He's here? Ozai?"

"In the palace, yes, but once he learns of you—"

"I know," Zuko said grimly.

Do you? Iroh wondered. Why did it feel ike he and Zuko were having two separate conversations?

Iroh's next question was was interrupted by a shout.

"That's him!" A nobleman pointed at Zuko. Several imperial guards stood behind him. "He's the one. He attacked us all!"

Iroh's heart sank. "Stay behind me, Zuko," he said before turning and placing himself firmly between the guards and his nephew. Years of discipline, forged in countless battles in the Earth Kingdom let him keep his voice calm. He held up his hands to halt the oncoming guards. "Thank you for arriving. As you can see, there has been a misunderstanding…"

"A… misunderstanding?" The lead guard looked pointedly to what had been lush gardens a few minutes ago. Now, it looked as if a hurricane had ripped through them.

Iroh winced. "A rather poignant misunderstanding." And as soon as he thought of it, he would tell him.

"Uncle," Zuko hissed. He stood, covering Iroh's back without having to be told, and was the first to spot several more guards coming from the other end of the gardens: Neatly cutting off an escape route.

Zuko also had picked up the dao swords and held them in a loose, but ready grip.

The lead guard stepped forward. "General Iroh, we've had several reports that Prince Zuko is responsible for this destruction, and assaulted several people."

"It was him! The boy!" The nobleman yelled, voice high and hysterical. "He earthbent an entire patch of my prize tomato-cabbages. They were to be presented to the Fire Lord himself at harvest!"

"What?" Zuko squawked, rounding on the man. "No I didn't! That's absurd!"

"As you can see," Iroh said loudly, praying to any spirit that would hear him. "My nephew was over-enthusiastic in practicing his firebending. There are forms known only to the royal house. Not to be practiced in the gardens," he added with what he hoped was a quelling glare to the boy.

It was a thin excuse, and anyone who had actually seen the Avatar's power would not believe it, but he only needed to buy time.

The guard, however, was unmoved. "Whatever happened here, our orders are for the Fire Lord to sort it out." He gestured to his fellows. "Escort the General and Prince to the palace—"

Iroh sensed rather than saw Zuko strike out in a low sweep-kick toward the guards he was facing, generating a truly impressive amount of fire. Two of the firebenders were were knocked back by the sheer force of the blast.

The one remaining standing reached for the prince. Zuko ducked away in a lithe move Iroh had never seen from him before. Swords flashing, he struck the man upside the head with the flat of one blade. The guard went down.

"Uncle, run!" Zuko yelled.

Bemused, Iroh followed.

The palace grounds were a complex of noble and courtier housing, servants quarters and guest houses, and military research facilities, interspaced with gardens, and pathways.

He and Zuko ran through twisting cobblestone roads and stopped in the shadow of one home. Zuko had led the way—and he had been wise enough not to run for the palace itself.

Something was very different about the boy.

He was alarmed, but not frightened. He carried the swords with confidence and looked around with the eye of a battleground veteran expecting danger around every corner. But as far as Iroh knew, Zuko had only ever been in training with the royal firebending instructors.

What, exactly, had Ozai been drilling him in?

As he watched, the boy's gaze turned inward. Then he caught his breath sharply and reached down to lift up his own shirt, to examine his belly.

"Zuko, what are you looking for?" Iroh asked.

"Scars." Cautiously, Zuko touched the left side of his face, and then pulled his hand away, staring at it in wonder. "This can't be happening."

Iroh shook his head. He would ask later, when they had time. "Nephew, I know this is very confusing, but we must get away from here—from the Fire Nation if at all possible. I'm afraid your father will not… take this news well."

"You think?!" Zuko's head dropped into his hands, muttering, "This can't be happening. Someone must of put something in my tea…"

Iroh paused. He expected a wholly different reaction. Zuko loved his father, for all that the man showed no affection toward him. Perhaps he was in shock. He tried another tactic. "There are people who may be able to help."

"Let me guess," Zuko said, looking up wryly. "The White Lotus."

Iroh could have been knocked over with a feather. "Who told you—"

"There they are!" shouted a voice from down the road.

Zuko grabbed Iroh's elbow and they were running again.

"I know a way out of the city," Zuko said.

So did Iroh. Master Piandao would give them sanctuary at his estate, but only if they could shake the guards, first.

"Where?"

His nephew grinned. "The Fire Lord's been working on prototype war balloons, right?" He turned and headed toward one of the larger buildings set near the Capitol Prison—the one earmarked for experimental research for the war.

There was a staircase which led to the rooftop—abandoned now that it was lunch hour.

Iroh had heard of Ozai's war balloons when he attended military meetings (and how, by all the spirits had Zuko known about them?). His step faltered as he laid eyes on the contraption, which sat on the rooftop. Iroh considered himself to be an openminded man, but the only people who had business being in the air were the long-dead Air Nomads.

"Nephew, I'm not certain this is a wise idea…"

"I can fly it, Uncle." Zuko did not break stride before he jumped into the basket and started fiddling with the onboard furnace.

After this was all said and done, Iroh thought, he was going to sit that young man down and have a chat about what he had been up to.

Zuko pointed to the lines which tethered the basket to the ground. "Untie the guidelines. I'll stoke the furnace."

Seeing wisdom in this, Iroh set his doubts aside and bent to the task. He had gotten three of the four lines released when no less than twenty imperial firebenders rounded of the stairs and charged toward them.

"Halt! Halt by order of the Fire Lord! " one yelled. The others fanned out in a diamond flanking position.

His nephew had already lit the furnace and the balloon was beginning to rise into the air. "Uncle! Hurry! Get in!"

Iroh knew it was almost certainly too late for them both to escape, but seeing the look of fear and desperation on Zuko's face, he had to make the attempt.

Gathering himself, he jumped and caught the rising basket. His nephew started to haul him in, but was forced to let go to block a blast of fire from the guards.

Iroh did not think about his decision—It was no decision at all. His nephew came first.

Letting go of the rising basket, Iroh fell back to the ground with a blast of his own. The balloon was still tethered to earth by a guideline, but if he could win Zuko's freedom, the boy might have a chance…

The guards must have already been given orders to stop them at all costs, because Iroh was surrounded on all sides by fire blasts. However, he was a canny old firebender and his root was not so easily broken. He battled the flames back, but he was losing ground… There were simply too many.

He heard the boy he loved like a second son cry out his name.

The wind around them picked up and Iroh glanced up to see that once again Zuko's eyes were glowing unearthly blue.

"Leave him alone!"

The voice that spoke was not Zuko's—it was multilayered, powerful, and ancient.

The legends told that the Avatar state was defense mechanism before the Avatar truly came to power. It was brought on by high emotion and mortal threat to themselves or loved ones.

It was also rumored that until he mastered all four elements, the Avatar state was completely out of the Avatar's control.

In a moment, the wind was howling like the fiercest gale. The Avatar slashed out with a fiery crescent that blew all of the imperial firebenders back, yet didn't touch Iroh himself.

Unfortunately, the Avatar's fire was also hot enough to sear through the remaining guideline that kept the balloon tethered.

The balloon rose swiftly into the sky, carried in an impossible wind.

"Zuko!" Iroh called, but the balloon was out of sight with such quickness that Iroh sensed the hand of the great spirits at work. Nothing else could have won Zuko's freedom—someone or something wanted the Avatar to complete his journey alone.

He sent a prayer up: Stay safe, my nephew. I will find you again.

Only a few of the imperial firebenders were picking themselves up, and those had scorch marks on their armor. The rest seemed to be knocked out cold.

Iroh didn't wait for reinforcements to arrive. He had an underground network to alert: Against all logic or reason, the Avatar had returned to the world as a firebender.

And he was the Fire Lord's son.

One moment Zuko was watching, helpless and terrified, as imperial firebenders fired upon his uncle. Zuko cried out, and in desperation dug down deep, reaching at the limits at his bending—for something, anything to help Iroh— but it was like grabbing live lightning.

Something immensely powerful reached back.

… And in the next moment, Zuko stood in dark mist. Beside him, hundreds of stiff, unmoving people stood in a line which stretched on and on back into the infinite past. With a shock, Zuko recognized Avatar Roku, and beside him Avatar Kyoshi, Avatar Kuruk, Yangchen…

There was a gap beside Roku, separating him from Zuko. Looking at it, Zuko felt a loss of where every instinct told him Aang should be standing. It felt as if he were looking down at an empty grave.

"Aang?" he called.

Every head down the line turned to him in eerie synchronization. Every eye was lit a glowing blue.

Backing a step in surprise, Zuko bumped a warm shoulder. He whirled around to see he was not alone. Katara and Toph stood beside him, not in the line of Avatars but standing just outside of it, like he was.

Their eyes were firmly closed, their faces peaceful and lax as if in sleep.

Before he had time to process this, he woke up.