"Wh… Why are we in an IKEA? Where's that general who wanted to fight me?" Zuko stammered. A few shoppers holding blue bags wandered past them and into the labyrinth of furniture.

"Oh, Zuko," Ozai said. "It's so hard being fire lord, and sometimes, you need a break. What better vacation could there be than hunting your own son for sport inside an IKEA?"

"Excuse me, what? Hunt me for sport?" Zuko echoed, recoiling in horror.

Ozai aggressively grabbed Zuko by the shoulder so he wouldn't try to run just yet. "I would've liked to go with the traditional forest setting, but with industrialization and all, there aren't many of those left. So I thought — why not do it in my favorite furniture store? There are plenty of places to hide. Water, bathrooms, beds, Swedish meatballs for sustenance. I don't want to make it too easy on myself. That would take all the fun out of it!"

"Father… I mean no disrespect, but what the fuck."

"I'll give you twenty minutes to hide, and then I'm coming after you," Ozai announced jovially. "And you know what? I'm feeling generous. If you can survive a week, I'll let you go. But you'd better get running, boy!"

DAY ONE

Zuko took off through the IKEA. He made seventeen turns through the maze, figuring that by now, he was all the way in the bowels of the store and there wasn't much further he could go. How wrong he was. He climbed into a dresser for the night and hoped his father wouldn't think to look inside.

DAY TWO

Zuko clambered out of the drawer. He was achy and sweaty from the night inside the cramped space, not to mention he hadn't slept well. There was still no sign of Ozai, so he decided to use one of the many showers, only to find that it was occupied.

So he wasn't alone back here. He located another bathroom area and used the facilities.

"Hingen hurgen durgen!" A voice drifted over from the other side of a wall, and he could smell meat cooking.

"A Swedish meatball vendor!" he gasped, and desperately tried to follow the sound and odor through the maze, but succeeded only in getting more lost. He felt safe enough to spend the night in a real bed, but fell asleep with his stomach growling.

DAY THREE

"Hey kid, are you lost too?"

The lights were off, and the store was not yet open. This was the only way Zuko had been able to count the days in the windowless maze. The man who'd awoken him was holding a torch, and behind him was a ragtag gang, some using their firebending for light. One particularly smart woman had simply turned on one of the IKEA lamps.

"Yeah. Who are you guys?" Zuko asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed.

"Ah. We've all been trapped here for weeks. Some of us, months."

"Or years," a grizzled, one-eyed old man spoke up from the back. "You look like you could use a meal, kid. Follow us."

A few turns and a hidden door later, they'd arrived at the cart of the Swedish meatball vendor. Zuko dug in eagerly, and took some food for the road.

"You're welcome to stay with us," the old man offered as Zuko licked his fingers.

"My father took me here so he could hunt me for sport," Zuko confessed. "Will you protect me if he shows up?"

"Hah! Sorry, but you're on your own, then! We want to live to see the sunlight again, laddie!"

"All right. Well, thanks for the food, at least."

DAY FOUR

It was midmorning, and as one does, Zuko was walking through the maze when he ran straight into Ozai.

"Get over here you little shit!" Ozai blasted fire at him, and Zuko fled haphazardly, nearly tripping over the skeleton of someone who'd died in the labyrinth and jumping over a Scandinavian-style lacquered mahogany table. Several lamps shattered. A group filming a sitcom using the furniture stopped to watch the carnage.

Zuko dove through the hidden trapdoor that the roving gang had shown him yesterday, and Ozai halted, confused as to where his son had disappeared off to. Zuko heard him pacing around aboveground before he finally left.

DAY FIVE

Zuko's hunger drove him to venture out from the bunker. He had to find the Swedish meatball vendor again, but when he opened the trapdoor, he was in a totally unfamiliar area. Here, the furniture was only partially assembled, and the skeletons were bountiful. Had he accidentally entered the warehouse area?

Then he saw her. "Mom?" he breathed in disbelief. Was he going insane, or was this really where she had been all these years?

But she saw him too. "Zuko?" She feebly turned her head towards him. She was weak, starving, and he rushed over to her side.

"Here." He offered her the last of his Swedish meatballs. "Please. Eat," he begged.

She pushed his hand away. "No. All I've eaten for the last three years has been Swedish meatballs. And on rare occasions, Swedish fish…" Her eyes started to glaze over.

"No! Mom! I need you! Dad's trying to kill me! Please! I just found you…"

"Listen… If you keep your right hand on the wall and just walk… Eventually, you will get out. That is my advice to you. Now go… Be free, my son."

Ursa shut her eyes one last time, and she was gone.

DAY SIX

Zuko emerged from the trapdoor. He had to escape — he had to do it for his mother. It might take him a few more days, but he knew he would make it to the entrance if he followed her advice, and hopefully without running into his father again. Which was looking like it would be pretty easy, considering—

Ah, shit.

A rug unrolled into his path, and Ozai jumped out from the middle. "Prepare to die!" he declared. Fire engulfed the room, and Zuko's skin sizzled. Certain that this was the end, he clutched his burnt face, but a mighty "HINGA BERGA DURGA" filled the smoky air. The Swedish meatball vendor leapt out from behind a nightstand and stabbed Ozai in the chest.

"You and your son are banned from IKEA for life!" the vendor screamed through a heavy accent. "You owe one hundred thousand Swedish kronor in property damage! Dur hinga dinga durgen!"

He clapped, and a portal appeared, through which he shoved Ozai and Zuko.

The two royals lay panting in the IKEA parking lot, thoroughly befuddled. "Okay, Zuko. I know it's only been six days, but you win this round," Ozai admitted. He, too, grabbed his wound, and he sputtered out, "But you're banished! How dare you and that meatball vendor humiliate me like this!"

"Acceptable," Zuko managed to squeak out through his horrible agony.

And thus, IKEA banned hunting in its stores.