A warm huff of air excused itself out of his lungs as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. He resented the ceiling. It was taunting him — you have to stay in here, it gloated, you don't have time to go on another selfish search. You've got things to do, a country to rule.

And besides, what makes you think you'd be able to find her anyway?

He silenced the ceiling's imaginary whisperings with a glare, and as usual he felt the scar pull at his left eyelid, preventing it from moving too much. That irritated him further. He wanted the ceiling to know when it was being glared at full force. Which was silly, since after all it was a ceiling, but at this time of night Zuko had neither the energy nor the motivation to contradict the notion.

He pushed the velvet blankets back and moved his legs to the side of the bed, his bare feet soundlessly touching the cold floor. There was no use in trying to sleep. He'd find something else to do. Prowl around the palace hallways, watch the turtleducks sleeping, sift through his mother's old theatre keepsakes again… or…

A memory drifted through him, as memories tend to do when one is tired and aching for the past. The sky was red-gold-cold as the sun dipped below the edge of the world, and Mother was there. Mother was there, and she was smiling just for him as she pulled out a certain something, and the air smelled of warm sweet spices and the quiet love of a mother…

Zuko stood and padded over to the door. He silently pulled it open, stepped through to the higher-ceilinged hall, and pushed the door shut. He knew where in the palace he was going now. Well, sort of. He'd have to find it first — he didn't think he or for that matter any of the royals had bothered to spend much time there before.

The palace was silent, but it was a muffly, filled-up silence, seeming to have a presence of its own in the darkness. He was glad for it. Empty silence meant echoes, and goodness knew he didn't need more footsteps following him around his childhood home.

It took thirty minutes and just about as many stairs to get to where he needed. Once he had lit a small flame in his palm to see by, he found himself in a cavernous basement-level room (not as far underground as the secret bunker) lined with cupboards around the walls and counters stretching far into the darkness. The palace kitchens, where the finest meals from the finest cooks in the Fire Nation were prepared for the royal family.

Yes, there was currently only one royal living in the palace, but the kitchens also served to feed the veritable army of servants that worked at the palace every day. Zuko didn't need that many servants, but he wasn't about to dismiss them and leave them jobless and in need of pay. So he let them stay, and they quietly did their work in the background, keeping things dusted and in good condition for their Fire Lord and any visitors he might have. (They got especially excited when the Avatar, the earthbender girl, or one/both of the Water Tribe siblings came. The servants thrived on gossip, and when any one of that eccentric group of children came, something interesting was sure to happen.)

Zuko started his search, still holding his flame with one hand while the other pulled open cupboard door after cupboard door. After a bit his arm started to tire, and he switched hands, tipping the fire from one palm to the other before moving on. He found that the cupboards were organized neatly into categories — spices in this one, vegetables a few cupboards later. He skipped ahead a little and found the breads and cakes on the far wall. Closer, closer… and soon enough, there they were.

They were on the top shelf. The shelf about a foot above the reach of his outstretched fingertips. Fantastic.

(He didn't notice the little wooden footstool sitting on the tile floor just outside of his little bubble of firelight.)

He'd gone to too much effort to quit now. His spontaneous decision to come here, born out of nostalgia and a bit of loneliness, would not be overturned. Zuko grit his teeth, extinguished his flame, and pulled himself onto the cold countertop in order to reach the shelf.

Finally, his prize in hand, he turned and slid off the counter, thinking perhaps he'd just sit on the kitchen floor to eat the pastry rather than walk all the way back to his room first… but when he relit his fire in the other hand, he let out a small yelp as a tall figure seemed to burst out of the darkness only feet away from him.

She had come to the kitchens on an errand, looking for something one of the other servants had left there earlier in the day. It was quite late, but she had only just remembered that she'd said she'd find it, and knowing her she was likely to forget if she left it any longer. So here she was. Standing in the shadows, silently watching her nation's beloved young leader climb up on a counter to reach a cinnamon bun on the top shelf.

(It was a rather endearing sight, to be honest. It reminded her of her grown-up son and the way he had been as a child.)

She had come a little closer — just a few feet away in the dark — to ask if he needed help finding anything, but he got it on his own, and he unfortunately did not notice her until he was standing directly before her. He yelped — or was it more like an "eep"? — and jumped a little, holding tight to the sticky pastry in his hand.

(She smiled faintly at the thought of what his waterbender friend would have to say to her about startling people with somewhat-lasting, lightning-related heart issues. She'd have to be a little more careful in the future.)

The Fire Lord quickly recovered his composure after recognizing her and relaxed his hold on the cinnamon bun. "Oh," he sighed in relief, "it's you, Yin." Yin had been on laundry duty before transferring to the kitchens, so she and he had spoken a few times before and were on friendly terms.

She smiled at the boy, her thin wrinkled face creasing around the eyes. "My apologies for startling you, my lord. Getting a midnight snack?"

"Oh, um, yeah."

Glancing at the pastry, she asked, "Those were your mother's favorite, weren't they?"

He blushed just enough that she could see it by the firelight. "Mm-hm."

"Lady Ursa was a fine woman. It was such a shame when she went missing. She was always so kind to the servants."

The boy seated himself on the counter again and took a bite out of the cinnamon bun. She was struck by just how very small and lonely he looked in the dark, his bare feet dangling inches above the floor. Even the scar which obscured nearly half his features couldn't hide the look of childlike longing in his eyes.

"I'm gonna find her," he said quietly. "Mother's alive. I'll find her someday."

"I'm sure you will," she replied. "From what I've heard, you're rather an expert on finding lost things."

A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, now sticky from the pastry. "I guess I am."

As he finished the cinnamon bun, Yin watched him in companionable silence. He was so young — he would be seventeen in the winter — and yet already he had so much experience, so much wisdom and determination. He was a good Fire Lord, more worthy of the throne than anyone in his family had been for generations. But in the honest silence of the night, he didn't think about his own power or position in life. He didn't hold himself superior to others. He just wanted peace for his country, and a quiet life with his friends and his mother.

She thought that Ursa would be proud of him, wherever she may be. She herself certainly was.

A/N: Random aside: Did you know that Zuko is canonically only 5'3" tall? How adorable is that?