First
Zuko exhaled slowly, causing the flame in his palm to grow brighter, lighting his path. While the mantle of Fire Lord had proved heavy, and it came with stress the likes of which he'd never experienced, he'd found wandering through the Dragonbone Catacombs to be a relaxing pastime. What's more, only the Royal Family and the most revered of Sages were allowed access, so it afforded him a degree of privacy and solitude that he'd sorely missed since taking the throne.
Zuko consulted his roughly sketched map. The Catacombs were, in theory, professionally mapped; in point of fact, the Royal Library contained almost three hundred maps of the Catacombs, all of them between eighty-five and a thousand years old. As the Fire Lord's Private Collection of knowledge and artefacts grew, so too had the many twisting tunnels that ran deep beneath Caldera City; add in the numerous hidden passageways that led through the Palace and beneath it, and it made for a complex stroll.
He turned left and found himself at the centre of a crossroads; he smirked to himself. It was a familiar situation for him. He consulted his map and the smirk slipped away. He'd reached the outer limit of his explorations; he could turn back, return to his chambers and maybe have an early night. He shook his head. He'd slowly been expanding his knowledge of the Catacombs; searching, in a sense, though he had no idea what for.
On a whim, he went straight on, pausing for a moment to light a wall sconce and make a small mark on his map with a stub of charcoal.
As he walked, stopping every so often to add to his crude map, Zuko noticed that the stones that made up the tunnel appeared older; the ash that coated them seemed thicker, darker, and the stones themselves looked to be more worn. He wondered when these tunnels were last walked. He glanced at the floor and took in the dense layer of dust and cobwebs that he was currently leaving footprints in. It had clearly been quite some time.
It was as he turned another corner that he saw the beginnings of carvings on the wall. It didn't surprise him as such; many tunnel walls in the Dragonbone Catacombs depicted scenes from Fire Nation history, some even showed long-forgotten prophecies. Zuko held his flame closer to the wall, squinting in the half-light.
He was unfamiliar with the scene; then again, he thought, he was still re-familiarising himself with Fire Nation lore after so many years abroad. The carving showed a man in robes bowing to large dragon. Zuko gasped when he noticed what sat pinned in the man's topknot. The Crown of the Fire Lord; the symbol of their divine right to rule, as mandated by Agni himself.
He leaned closer, tucking his map away inside his tunic. He reached a hand out to brush away some of the dust and debris that obscured the depiction.
And he found himself in a large tent, much like the command tents the Fire Nation used during the War. Zuko gazed around in alarm. That's when he saw the mirror.
It was fixed to the tent's central pole, hanging at about head height. Just a small mirror, large enough for a man to shave with. Zuko stared into it, unnerved by what he saw. It wasn't his face. Where there should have been a youthful face, marred by the hand of his father, there was a man's face. At least ten years older than Zuko, the dark hair was beginning to fleck with grey at the temples and lines had gathered around the eyes and across the brow. The Crown sat on his head and his eyes were like liquid gold. Just like Zuko's own eyes. The shape was different, though; Zuko had always been told his eyes were like his mother's, except with his father's colouring. Royal eyes. Zuko frowned, and then frowned harder when he noted that the face didn't match his own expressions.
That's when he felt a tugging sensation near the top of his head and a feeling akin to waking after a deep sleep. Then it was as if he separated from himself, drifting away from the body that didn't belong to him. He found himself standing opposite the man, allowing him to take him in fully.
The man was a soldier, that much was plain to see. Zuko had been around warriors his entire life and knew what they looked like. He took in the man's broad shoulders, the muscles that had been hardened in battle, the scars that littered the man's exposed forearms. Zuko even noted one that could've been from a sword slash that went through the man's right eyebrow, narrowly missing the eye.
That's when the man looked straight at Zuko and smiled warmly. Reticent though he usually was, Zuko found himself returning the expression as fully as he could. The man's eyes darted to the Crown atop Zuko's head and his smile widened, going from friendly acknowledgment to amused realisation.
He bowed at the waist, the bow of one noble to another. He said, "Fire Lord."
His voice was deep and resonant, rich and layered. Zuko envied him that. He returned the bow and the greeting. "Fire Lord."
Zuko couldn't help but say, "I—I don't know who you are."
The man laughed and it reminded him of Iroh, deep and full of mirth. Voice still bubbling with restrained amusement the man said, "I didn't think you would. You've come a long way."
Zuko asked, "Is this the Spirit World?"
The man seemed to consider it. He answered, "No, I don't think so. This is… something else. Something in-between, I think."
"Who are you?"
The man nodded. "You must forgive me, the manners of a king are new to me. I am Khazhida, Lord of Fire."
Zuko's eyes widened in shock. He knew the name; everyone in the Fire Nation knew the name. Khazhida the First, Khazhida the Founder, Khazhida the Lawgiver.
Zuko dropped into the bow that a novice gave to a Grandmaster. Khazhida raised an eyebrow at him. He said softly, "Rise to your feet, Fire Lord, you are no less than I."
Zuko stayed where he was, shaking his head. "You—you are so much more. You are the First, Agni's Chosen."
Khazhida couldn't help but snort at that. Zuko's head shot up at the sound, a mildly indignant look on his face.
Khazhida said, "I wasn't chosen. I chose. I saw what our people were doing and I made a choice. Nothing more. I think you know what I mean."
Zuko sat up in a kneeling position, his head nodding slowly. He said simply, "I do."
Khazhida knelt opposite him. He stared deep into Zuko's eyes and a sadness entered his face. "You've seen war. Haven't you?"
Zuko nodded again. He said, "I was born into it."
Sadness turned into a mild anger in Khazhida's eyes. "I fought to put an end to that. I suffered in the hopes that you wouldn't have to."
Zuko shrugged a shoulder and looked away. He offered, "It lasted for a long time. But it seems like war is in our blood. It's our fate."
He couldn't help but think of his actions during the Hundred Year War, not to mention the Harmony Restoration Movement. A hand settled on his shoulder, radiating a comforting heat.
Zuko looked up. Khazhida offered a smile. He said, "Let me tell you a secret, Fire Lord. Fate? There's no such thing. Life is precisely what you make of it. You might be guided and affected by the actions of others, just as your own will affect others, but ultimately; you are the master of your own destiny. The weaver of your own fate. Try and do me a favour, Fire Lord."
"Anything."
Khazhida leaned forward and whispered in Zuko's ear, "Make it worthwhile."
Zuko opened his eyes and stared at the ornate carving of a man bowing to a dragon.