Ice crunched under the elderly man's booted feet as he stormed his way down the canal system. People moved to clear his path, knowing that when his face was contorted like this, he was all willing to throw anyone in his way into the freezing water. A small scroll was clenched in his withered hand. Arriving at the healing tents, he threw the door open and glared into the room.
"I need to speak with you. In private. Now."
The eldest healer merely smiled, motioning for her assistance to leave for the day. The young women looked upon the man with trepidation in her eyes, before bowing quickly and fleeing. "Now, Pakku. Was it really necessary to startle my apprentice like so?"
Pakku didn't answer that question. He simply jutted out the scroll for her to take. She did so, the smile leaving her face as she looked upon the White Lotus broken seal. Opening it, the line of her mouth only grew more and more tight.
"Well," Yugoda sighed, rolling the scroll back, "that makes things more complicated."
"More complicated?" Pakku's eyes narrowed in irritation. "That's your response. The Avatar is the prince of the Fire Nation. I feel like that is more than a simple complication."
"I read as such." She turned back to her table, setting the soaking echinacea leafs onto the rack to dry. "Was Piandao able to give any more information?"
"Unfortunately no. He wrote that he'll follow up as soon as he can. He's looking to get his contacts back into the court. But has been unable to do so. They've been keeping a tight watch over the youngest prince. I doubt we'll be able to reach him. There's a meeting being held in Ashiya concerning this. I'll need you to leave tonight."
Yagoda sighed. "He's just a child. My youngest granddaughter must be older than him."
"That boy will grow. As will his power. There's no telling what destruction he will bring."
oOo
He didn't know what strings his mother pulled to get him permission to come and go in the vault of records as he wished. But it was a luxury he wasn't going to question. Especially when thinking on it, reminded him too much of the irritation in his father's eyes. He was just going to savor the seemingly endless collection of tombs that rested on the shelves.
There was an entire back wall full of records on previous Avatars. His mother had showed him the scrolls nestled in the back corner during their first visit. He had been spending every free moment he could grab running his hands through the pages. Centuries of Avatar spirits were kept track of. With each one he read, he felt closer to the spirit resting inside of him; closer to himself.
In a span of a few weeks, Zuko had managed to read through nearly sixty works. There were gaps here and there, Avatar's at the early beginnings of history that had nothing but a name and date recorded. Others had entire lives recorded into the pages. He had been marveled at the life of Avatar Ayumi who fostered trading around the world. Avatar Yayoi, who mastered in spiritual settling. Avatar Tadame, who grew flowers known to be so beautiful that people wept at the sight of them. Avatar Kibo, who united the very beginnings of the Earth Kingdom. Avatar Masahiro, who stood beside the founding Fire Lord as the Fire Nation was built around them. Avatar Kyoshi who ended a vicious conquers attempts.
The last few Avatar's had a more tragic record.
Avatar Honoka had been born into the first day of war. There wasn't much record on her. She had been born the day of the Comet in the Southern Water Tribe. The women had been in her late twenties when her life was ended. She'd been untrained, new to her Avatar journey when Fire Lord Sozin's quest for the Avatar found her. Waterbenders had been rounded up at a steadily growing speed she could no longer ignore. An attempt to rescue her fellow tribesman ended with a knife through her torso.
A diagram of the waterbender cells was crudely drawn at the end of the book. The hanging cages and thick chains used to hold the benders stood out in dark ink against faded pages. There was a record kept of the deaths the day of Honoka's attack. Twenty-three Fire Nation guards had been killed that day. The forty-six waterbenders she had been attempting to rescue had been slaughtered in retaliation.
Avatar Daichi, the last cycled Earth Kingdom Avatar, had a long record of Fire Nation resistance in his records. He had been a plague upon their troops for many decades before his capture and death. Caught, hands and feet crushed under the very stone he first commanded, and imprisoned in irons deep below the keep, Daichi had remained for six years before he managed to break from the chains and end his own life. The date of death, the last moments of the man's life, was the same day Zuko breathed into the world. The day when the Avatar Spirit was reborn into the young prince.
Zuko rubbed at his wrists, imagining what must have gone through the man's head as he slit his.
He had no desire to read those records again.
There was only a small record on the Air Nomad Avatar. He had died unnamed on the day of the Comet. The only information was that he had been young. A child who died after slipping from the Avatar State.
He found himself returning to the life and records of Avatar Roku as it gave off such a familiar heat every time he held it. He had read it cover to cover, by firelight the night his mother had given it to him. He read it again. As he flipped through the pages once more, it only left him with more questions.
"And what are you doing all the way up there?"
His Uncle's voice broke him from his trance. Zuko slipped the book into his bag, and grabbed a hold of the tree branch he sat on as he peered down into the courtyard. Iroh smiled up at him.
"Just reading." Zuko replied.
"Well, if you are not too busy, would you be willing to come down. I've had some tea and snacks brought, and would love for you to join me. And I'm afraid I'm far too old to be climbing that high."
Zuko grinned. Slipping his bag onto his back, he carefully but quickly climbed his way down from the cherry blossom tree. His feet his the ground with an airy grace. He walked beside his Uncle to a low table by the pond.
"Does your mother know you're in these trees?" They sat beside each other, facing a pond full of turtleducks as a servant set down the tea kettle and two glasses. She set a plate of manju and butter cookies along with it.
Zuko shrugged, taking a manju and popping it into his mouth. "She says to just not go too high up."
Iroh chuckled at his nephew's youthful actions. He poured the tea into their cups. It smelled strong and herbal. It was hot against his tongue and tasted vaguely of hot chili spices. "This is one thing I miss on the front. There is nothing as good as home brewed Fire Nation tea."
Zuko took his cup, smelling the familiar scents. "What's the front like?"
"It's nothing you'll have to worry about any time soon." Iroh rested a large hand on the boy's thin shoulders. He gave it a tight squeeze, taking note of how sharp and bony he was. Zuko looked at him, the question still embedded in his gaze. "It's not all glory and triumph out there. War is messy, and violent and unforgiving."
The tea caressed the back of Zuko's throat as he sipped it slowly. His gaze drifted onto the family of turtleducks swimming a few feet from them. There was a few new babies hatched among them. Their new feathers were fluffy and vibrant. They looked upon the unknown figures with curiosity and slight fear. The older ones, the ones very familiar with Zuko's presence by the pond, paid them no mind. Zuko set the tea down, grabbing one of the butter cookies. He snapped it, gaining the attention of the creatures. Tossing a few chunks into the water, he smiled as they nibbled at the pieces.
Iroh only smiled brighter at the young child. "With all hope, this war will already be over, long before your old enough to join."
"But isn't that my destiny?" Zuko asked, quickly shifting his gaze. "To secure a future for the Fire Nation? To win us this war?"
Iroh sighed, knowing exactly where the boy had heard such a statement. "Destiny is a funny thing, Prince Zuko. Often times, the one presented before us, isn't the one we inevitably take. You are young. Still growing in your own. Do not worry about destiny just yet. Enjoy your remaining years of childhood. There will come a time when you're as old as me, that you'll long for such youthful times."
Zuko thought over the words. The book about his great-great-grandfather was still in the bag resting beside him. His thoughts went back to the final pages of the man's life. Roku had died, unable to prevent a war that he so stood against. And now all those generation later, his spirit rested inside the child who everyone said would bring final victory to them.
His growing questions were still unanswered. He doubted he'd be able to get the answers he sought from those around him.
oOO
It was a week later, the day after his eighth birthday, that Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten returned to the front. They were making their way for Ba Sing Se. His uncle proudly declared that by the end of the year, the great city and all of the Earth Kingdom would be broken under their heel.
His grandfather had given his support and blessing and wished them a steady victory. Azula had snagged Lu Ten and made him promise to bring her home something cool – not the stupid doll he sent last time. Their cousin had chuckled, smoothing down her hair and promising to bring her home the biggest and shiniest knife he could find. Ursa scolded them both gently about knifes and young children. Ozai hadn't given much response, other than to give his support.
Zuko had stood to the side, watching with forlorn as his family got ready to separate again. Lu Ten noticed his distance, and dropped beside his young cousin. He knelt before him, and gave the boy's shoulder a gentle nudge. "We'll be home soon, cousin. I look forward to seeing how much you'll have grown."
Zuko surged forward, wrapping his arms around the man's large shoulders. "Come home, please."
Lu Ten embraced the boy, holding him close to his chest. "I can assure you Zuko, it'll take more than those Mudeaters to take me out."
Nodding against the fabric of his shirt, Zuko took in the reassurance. When they had to split for the father and son to head off, Zuko kept his fist clenched tight as the ship sailed off.
If the waters were strangely rough, and seemed to pushed them back towards port, no one thought anything on it.
oOo
An assassin got all the way to the capital. Prince Zuko was in one of the outer courtyards, leaning against a tree as he read the text assigned to him. The afternoon sun beat down heavily on him as he tried to keep his eyes open. The history was so boring. He wanted to toss it into the water and go do anything else. That was not an option. The additional tutor his parents hired for him would have been furious if he failed to answer her questions again. So he trudged on, eyelids growing heavily as he read about rebellions.
There were three guards stationed to keep an eye over him. There was often a guard near him, but having three was strange. The young Avatar was rarely out of their line of sight. They had even begun to follow him into the vault of records, taking away the one place of freedom he had found.
The first guard dropped with a heavy thud. His metal armor crunched against stone, as blood poured from the gash in his throat. There was a flurry of movement as nearby servants fled and an alarm rang out as the second guard collapsed, his skull bounced against the pathway. The remaining guard moved, throwing herself between the boy and the petite black clad figure standing just over the second guard.
"Surrender," the guard shouted, resting into a harsh stance. Zuko rose to his feet, stuck between the tree and pond and the guard.
The assassin chuckled under her breath. Black fabric started at her toes and ended with a mask covering the lower half of her face. Dark brown hair was tied in a tight braid reaching just below her shoulders. A dagger was safety nuzzled in the sheath at her hip. A second dagger was in her hand, the tip of it stained. "Step aside. I'm here for the Avatar. Not for you."
The guard moved, sending a wave of fire at the women. It happened all to quickly for Zuko to keep track of. The guard's fire burnt the assassin's shoulder but it didn't stop her. She embedded her dagger through the other women's neck, withdrew it, and spun the now dead woman into the tree.
Zuko's eyes were wide as the murderer stood just a foot from him. The deep brown of her eyes looked upon him with almost pity. "Sorry, kid. Can't risk you growing up."
The dagger swung through the air. Zuko threw himself to the side, crying out as the silver blade cut into the corner of his shoulder. The boy was on his knees, a drop of blood falling from the cut and landing in the grass. A second and a third added to it. The cut stung.
Sharp pain tore through him as the women knelt over him, and pulled his head back by his high phoenix tail. His hair gave protest as her fingers wrapped around it. The blade was placed upon his throat. "May the Spirits guide your journey."
A dozen guards and his father appeared in his line of sight. Threats were screamed for her to release the prince. She was surrounded, and had no way to escape. A frown crossed her lips, recognizing her oncoming demise, she started to slide the blade across the boy's throat.
The moment the blade touched his skin, a sharp wind grabbed at the assassin and threw her back. The very earth under their feet shock with such intensity that the fountain cracked. Water spewed from the busted stone. The assassin turned to the boy, fear crossing her face.
Zuko's eyes were glowing an unnatural blue. He was on his feet, his face face blank. Despite the shaking of the ground that prevented anyone else from having solid footing, the boy stood firm. The grass under his feet was burnt to a crisp. The tree he had been resting against had caught ablaze, the leaves falling down in light flames.
The Avatar moved, his hand jutting forward, grasping control of the wild flowing water. He pulled back, clenching his fist. The water spiraled through the air, wrapping around the woman's torso like a tentacle. She screamed, the tentacle encasing her. It snapped back, dragging her into the broken stone of the fountain. She rested face down in the bubbling water.
Ursa stumbled through the torn up courtyard. Her dress caught on a broken section of pavement. Ripping it free, she carefully picked her way through the rubble. Zuko hadn't moved, just remained facing the still assassin. The tree beside him cracked as a flame licked from its bark.
"Zuko!" She screamed over and over again. It blended together until her son's name was nothing more than one long cry against her lips. As she grasped his shoulders, falling onto her knees, the boy's gaze slipped onto her. The warm gold of his eyes was still hidden behind the eerie blue glow.
"It's okay honey. You're safe. You're safe. Come back to me."
Zuko wobbled once, before completely collapsing. The shaking of the ground and the whirlwind of air subsided as the glow faded from the small child. Zuko's shoulder's trembled as he curled against his mother's torso. She ran a hand over his hair, the thick black locks having tumbled from its ribbon. A rasp escaped the boy's lips as the avatar state calmed inside him.
Ursa looked at the destruction around them. Three guards lay dead. The assassin in the pond was dragged out, water dripping from her blue lips. She gave no movement. Ozai withdrew from the woman, his eyes leveling onto their unconscious son.
"Is she..."
"Dead," Ozai answered flatly.
Ursa gave a sob as she drew her son closer. The cut on his shoulder was slow bleeding. He gave a soft whimper as his eyes fluttered open. Soft gold looked at her. "Mama..."
"Hush, sweetheart." Ursa pressed him closer as she felt the boy struggle from her grasp. "It's all alright."
"What happened?" His words were slurred. Long lashes danced against her dress as he slipped back from consiousness "Mama..."
"If we could harness this power..." Ozai seemed to be speaking to himself.
"No!" Ursa's grip grew tighter. "He's a child. It's too dangerous."
Ozai glared, motioning around at the destruction. "Leaving him untrained is too dangerous. Do you see this? He destroyed all of this on accident. He took a life. Imagine if he had control over this power."
Ursa didn't look at the destruction; the burnt tree, the cracked stone, the gushing fountain, the crumbled sections of the building. The courtyard was in complete ruin. Because of her son.
A body lay just a few feet from them; water filled her broken lungs, a gash against her skull. Because of her son.
"He learns nothing of this," Ursa stated, eyes falling on the assassin. "He's a boy. I will not have him know the extent of this. It will break him."
In a mess of rubble, Azula popped her head out. Her gaze fell onto her brother, before trailing towards the corpse. The guards began to clear out the mess, but not before the young child got a good look at the shattered skull and blood soaked brown hair. She bit her lower lip, watching them carry the bodies off. Her hard golden gaze returned to her brother, who breathed slowly against their mother's chest.
oOo
Jeong Jeong burned the parchment in his hand after reading it. He cursed the spirits above for this placement of the Avatar. To think that the Fire Nation now had the most powerful being growing up in the capital, with the very blood of Sozin dripping in his veins. It was an unspeakable horror. He grew more and more thankful that he no longer resided within that nation.
"Now, now my friend. No need for such overreaction. The news can't be that bad."
Jeong Jeong rolled his eyes onto the man beside him. He was a near recruit to the order; a young firebender who deserted the army just a few months prior and now worked to slip Jeong Jeong's information. He still held an optimistic light to his eyes. "The Avatar is prince Zuko. He's already triggered the Avatar State twice now. A women died this last time."
The shine left the young man's eyes. "Spirits… that's… we're fucked."
Despite the vulgarity of the phrasing, Jeong Jeong couldn't disagree with the fact. "I'm leaving tonight. Something must be done."
That was all that he said on the subject. The firebender made his way through their encampment, keeping his expression firm and emotionless as he made his way to his tent. The prospect of this new Avatar was truly a tragic one. He had spent enough time bowing to the whim of the Fire Lord and his bloody quest for world control that he didn't need much imagination to come up with the propaganda being pressed into the boy's mind. The longer he remained under the thumb of his grandfather, the more dangerous the child's ideal would become.
Finishing packing what few items of value he kept upon him, the deserter made his way towards the eelhound keep. They needed to work quick.