Zuko had never been on the open seas before.
Yes, he had taken short excursions by boat to visit Ember Island, the site of the royal family's main vacation property, but never so long a trip as to reach the outer islands.
To be honest, what he'd seen had been surprising.
Zuko had no real concept about what most of the Fire Nation outside the Capital was like. He'd heard snippets from his uncle and people around the Caldera, but none of that could prepare him for the sheer diversity present among the people of the various islands. The Caldera was colored almost uniformly in reds and golds, but that was certainly not the case out here. Many of the small fishing settlements he'd seen on the smaller islands featured people sporting blue and green garments interspersed with red, reflecting the various geographies of their homes while still maintaining a Fire Nation aesthetic. As the prince had observed the places the ship passed, he had even witnessed small differences in the firebending exhibited by their respective residents, noting the contrast between the squarer stances and solid strikes characteristic of the Caldera form and the wavelike motions of the outer islands' styles.
Intrigued, Zuko thought back to the lessons Iroh had provided him about the diversity of the old Fire Nation, a set of essentially independent states that had been sequestered together by a crafty, domineering king. That past certainly reflected in the present state of the many territories making up the current nation.
It's strangely beautiful.
In the days immediately succeeding the Agni Kai, Zuko had fallen into a dazed funk characterized by long periods of silence and occasional bursts of intense ire. He had refused all attempts at fraternization made by the crew, only ever responding kindly to attention from his uncle. Over time, however, his frigid attitude wore away. The bright sunlight and lull of the waves had an oddly cathartic effect, soothing the rawness of his feelings. This, in combination with the salty air and new sights, inspired a feeling of freeness in Zuko. He couldn't entirely forget the pain of the last week and his sudden, forced departure from the Capital, but he could appreciate the new atmosphere around him, one not so bogged down by the formality and undercurrent of tension characteristic of life in the Caldera.
Yes, Zuko thought to himself.
I'm not here under ideal conditions, but I can make the best of it.
Despite his new, relatively lively attitude, things weren't all sunshine and rainbows now on Zuko's ship. His uncle had still been tight-lipped about the exact details of what the prince's mission was to be.
"You'll be receiving further training when we reach our destination, Zuko." Iroh said.
"For?" the young man queried.
Iroh seemed to mull over his options before providing his nephew with a vague response.
"Many of the tasks your father has outlined for you will involve extreme discretion, my prince. Much of your training will focus on imparting the required skills to you."
Zuko's eyes narrowed.
"You're not going to tell me what exactly Father is having me do until we get to wherever we're going, are you?"
Iroh opened his mouth as though about to speak but ultimately chose not to, sighing softly instead.
"It would probably be for the best."
Zuko certainly had not thought so at the time, and he didn't now either. He'd stormed off after that confrontation with his uncle, angrily expelling fire in short bursts from his nostrils.
The incident had been fairly early in the journey.
Truth be told, there was much more about Iroh that was irritating him lately than the contents of their spat. When they had first departed from the Caldera, Iroh had seemed strangely apologetic for the events leading up to the Agni Kai with his father, acting as though the proceeding had been a great tragedy.
What was so tragic, though?
Father just did what he had to.
Really, it wasn't as though Ozai had burned him or anything. Motivations aside, Zuko had spoken out of turn, and he accepted the fact that he'd ended up disrespecting the Firelord with grace. The consequence was fair, and he would undertake whatever mission was delivered to him. There was no need for Iroh to treat Zuko as though he was the victim of some great injustice.
For the first time, the young prince wondered if his uncle had a reason for inserting the little snippets he had in some of their past conversations, about having compassion for the errant nobles and exposing him to influences from the other nations. Was the old general sympathetic to parties that detracted from the Firelord's authority? Was that why he hinted at Ozai having done something wrong by dueling his son?
Zuko shook his head quickly. He was being nonsensical. Every lesson Iroh had given him had proven useful in some way, providing insight as to how best to defend himself and deal with the political workings of his country. There was no way the man would be traitorous like that.
He did up and leave the siege at Ba Sing Se because of the death of one man.
Face twisting in self-disgust, the golden-eyed boy looked to the deck of the ship. How could he have such thoughts about Uncle? He was starting to act like Azula, thinking up the worst imaginable possibilities for people's motivations.
Looking out to sea once again, Zuko noticed that the sun had begun to set, bleeding out streams of orange, yellow, and violet across the clouds. The waves glittered with golden sparkles, and in the distance, he could make out the line of a landmass approaching.
Settling himself on the cold deck, the prince crossed his legs and took a deep breath.
Never forget who you are.
Zuko wasn't someone who'd doubt his own family for no reason other than doubts that had sprung up in the wake of a few complex conversations.
Closing his eyes, he allowed a small flame to ignite in his hands, waxing and waning along with the swelling and deflating of his chest.
oooo
They arrived in the dead of night.
The sound of bells ringing woke Zuko out of the meditative trance he'd entered. His eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the significantly lower light level, but he soon made out what appeared to be a campground dotted with tents, cookfires, and small groups of men huddled in clusters, muttering quietly.
Zuko quickly made his way down to the hold to see men unloading the ship's provisions out onto the island's small dock. From his place in the hold, he could make out more features of the camp, seeing what looked to be a small barrack and armory in the distance past the tents. In actuality, it seemed that the island was somewhat sizable, there being a small mountain in the distance past which the opposite shore was presumably located. The entire expanse the prince could see of the land beyond the camp was shrouded in dense forest.
This is certainly quite the place.
Iroh soon approached him and gestured for them to head out themselves, and they made their way into the torch-lit settlement toward a modest tent toward the back of the collection of shelters. As they passed, Zuko could see a strange medley of men passing him by, dressing in all manner of dark, camouflaged clothing and with paint on their faces.
Soldiers?
One such man caught the prince's eyes, dark brown eyes meeting gold before he swept away into the reaches of the camp near the dock.
Zuko scoffed lightly.
Flighty lot they are.
Iroh and the prince entered their tent quietly, and the latter took quick stock of the items they had been provided. There were two simple beds with clean if somewhat threadbare sheets covering them. A small lantern, sitting atop what seemed to be a set of drawers, lit the abode. Tucked away in the back-left corner was a desk littered with all manner of scrolls.
The general turned toward his nephew and began to speak.
"We won't be spending a great amount of time in here Zuko, so don't worry too much about the lack of amenities."
Zuko nearly bristled at the implication that he would complain but noticed the mirth in his uncle's eyes.
"Well, I assumed so, especially since you said I'd be getting training here." he replied.
"When's that going to start?"
Iroh sat down on the bed and smoothed over the sheets.
"Early tomorrow morning, nephew. I'd suggest you try to get some sleep because you'll likely be called to meet your instructors before first light."
Silent for a moment, Zuko contemplated the possibilities of who these people might be.
"Alright."
Soon enough, the boy drifted off into a fitful sleep.
oooo
Zuko is gone.
In the gray twilight hours before sunrise, Azula lies awake in her bed, contemplating the events of the last few days.
I'm not sure when he'll return.
To be honest, she had not expected her brother's departure to affect her so much. The cessation of her old routine, which had come to include an inordinate amount of time spent with him, left her feeling…listless. For the last few days, she'd been wandering the palace aimlessly, occasionally stopping to attend her lessons but paying them no meaningful amount of attention.
It seemed that she would be forced out of her slump, however.
As she lay in bed, Azula's mind turned to the summoning she had received by way of a servant last night, a summoning for a meeting with her father. She'd been instructed to wait for the Firelord in her room as he would attend to her at his nearest availability. Azula was surprised and somewhat apprehensive. The Firelord did not make calls to people's rooms without a very good reason.
Time passed quickly in the haze of mixed boredom and apprehension that surrounded her. A resounding knock sounded on Azula's door and she knew that her audience with Ozai was upon her.
Here goes.
She walked slowly toward the door, seeking to draw out the time she had before having to face the Firelord. Eventually, she grasped the ornate doorknob and gave it a twist.
A creak sounded as the door swung into her room, and dread settled in Azula's stomach. Looking up, flinty eyes stared down at her, completely at odds with the strange smile on Ozai's face.
It was an unsettling combination, indeed.
Backing from the portal, Ozai beckoned her forward and it was almost as though she was a puppet being drawn forward by an invisible string. Azula could feel herself almost being compelled despite her body straining to stay back in her room.
Nonetheless, she moved, beginning to scurry behind her father as he swept away into the depths of the palace.
oooo
Iroh roused Zuko before he normally would have woken.
It was still in the twilight hours, gray sweeping across the forested expanse of the island. Zuko rubbed his eyes vigorously before making his way about his morning routine, quickly cleaning himself up in preparation for the day's activities.
Iroh ushered him out of the tent to a group of dark-clothed men waiting outside, all looking impatient. Patting his nephew's shoulders, the general did his best to put on a reassuring expression before turning back into the abode.
Zuko felt as though he didn't need it.
Despite the ominous atmosphere of the place, he wasn't terribly afraid of whatever was to come. It was his father's will, after all.
The shadowy men led the prince along a narrow pathway cutting into the forest, trees forming a dark canopy above them. Zuko could hear the chirping and screeching of several animals in the shadows, creating an eerie cacophony. As the group progressed, the prince was able to make out a vaguely sooty smell in the air, and before long, the air took on the vaguely hazy appearance that it did whenever a source of smoke was in the area.
We must have moved rather far across the island.
In little time, the party came upon what seemed to be a small, individual campsite in a clearing among the trees. The main shelter appeared more permanent than those in the main settlement, looking more like a cabin than a temporarily pitched tent. A campfire lay before it and a small shack could be seen a little to the side, possibly to dry meat.
Abruptly, Zuko's entourage, which had previously been ensconcing him in the center of the group, parted and moved to stand in a line at his back. Turning to look back at them, the prince found that they had seemed to melt into the shadows of the trees. Not immediately visible, but Zuko could feel the weight of their stares resting on him.
He turned again to focus on the settlement.
I'm here to meet one of my…instructors.
That was what Uncle Iroh had said he would be doing today, right?
The boy felt a twinge of anticipation. In light of the last few years' events, learning had come to hold a special place in his heart. It was the pursuit of knowledge that had led Zuko to where he was today, presumably in better condition than he would have been had he remained complacent and allowed himself to wallow in ignorance.
Seating himself on the grass, Zuko awaited the emergence of his new teacher.
The sounds of meandering wildlife and the cool atmosphere of the early morning began to lull Zuko into a sort of half-awareness. His eyelids drooped and his posture slumped as he waited for whoever this new master was to make his appearance.
Unaware of precisely what was going on around him, the prince was shocked when a deep voice began to rumble in his vicinity.
"Ahem."
Starting in his seated position, Zuko fell back onto his hands and stared, wide-eyed, at the man before him.
He was moderately tall, with dark skin and gray hair tied back into a bun. He wore nondescript robes and a scabbard at his waist, which presumably contained a katana. The man had crinkles around his dark eyes that suggested he smiled often, but his mouth was currently set in a stern line.
"Good morning, Prince Zuko. My name is Piandao, and I am to be your sword master for the foreseeable future."
Zuko's jaw went slack.
"The Piandao? You…are to be my sword master?"
A twinkle of amusement gleamed in the older man's eyes.
"Well, I don't quite like being called the anything, but yes."
Zuko still stared at the man in barely constrained awe. Shaking his head slightly, Piandao beckoned to his pupil.
"Follow me."
The tan swordsman led Zuko past his cabin toward the shed. Opening the door, Piandao waved the prince inside. There were tiny gaps in the construction of the leaves that allowed scatterings of light to seep in and strange shadows to flit about. Zuko could make out the light glinting off what seemed to be a large collection of swords mounted on standing racks around the small construct.
Piandao came to a halt in the center of the room and waved his arms about expansively.
"You're going to be spending a fair bit of time almost solely in my company, training, and I've brought you here to choose a weapon."
Something became strikingly clear in Zuko's brain.
"Why am I going to need a weapon? Won't I be able to bend in the course of whatever…missions…I'm sent on?"
Piandao seemed a little surprised by his pupil's query.
"You surely surmised that what you'd be doing here would be covert? Your father doesn't intend to advertise that he's having his son out in the country taking care of his more…unsavory business. Your disappearance from the Caldera combined with sudden reports of a powerful bender engaging in what essentially amounts to thuggish enforcement? It would be –"
Piandao stopped, his own eyes widening. He'd noticed a flash of shock and dismay in Zuko's eyes, indicating quite clearly that he hadn't been aware of the exact truth of his mission.
"Zuko –"
"My Uncle has been quite tight-lipped about my exact reason for coming here." the prince ground out in a clipped tone.
"What is it?"
At that moment, Piandao thought that the boy very much resembled his father. He spoke in the same self-assured, commanding manner as though there was no possibility of one failing to do as he wished.
The swordsman cursed inwardly and mourned his brief lack of tact and assumption of what Iroh had filled the boy in on.
"Your father wanted you to learn respect, respect for his values. He was displeased with your valuation of the troops' lives over what he believed to be a viable strategy. So, he's sent you out to become accustomed to his way of conducting business in the Nation."
Zuko, eyebrows furrowed in thought, motioned for his master to continue.
"Your lessons about the nobles were meant to provide context for what you'll be doing here. Receiving weapons training, training in stealth and espionage, all so you can surveil noble houses the Firelord and his agents suspect of treasonous activity. In some cases, you'll receive directives to…take action to prevent further indiscretions on their part."
Piandao took a moment to survey the impact his words had had on the boy. He seemed to be lost in thought, his face a stormy mix of doubt, hurt, and anger.
Father wasn't just angry about my interrupting he thought.
He disapproved of what I said.
Zuko was feeling somewhat lost. Did his father have such a fundamentally different value system from his? Even Azula had said that the strategy Bujing proposed would be wasteful of already-scarce new recruits.
None of that really mattered now, though. He was in this whether he liked it or not. He had to succeed to return home. Whatever misgivings he was starting to have about the way the war was proceeding could not be meaningfully addressed until he returned to the Caldera, to court.
Taking a breath, he exhaled a small burst of flame. Staring Piandao straight in the eyes, he straightened up.
"Show me what you have to offer."
Seemingly relieved, Piandao motioned to one of the shelves on the leftmost wall.
"This is the collection of katanas I have on hand. Most are crafted by me, but some are sourced from other smiths around the Fire Nation and beyond."
Peering closely at the blades, Zuko took a moment to study them.
They were obviously finely crafted, most a deep, blue-gray color with fine grains and a healthy shine to them. That being said, the…singularity of each blade stood out to Zuko.
They're all so…one-dimensional.
Having learned such a variety of bending styles by this time, Zuko found that he wanted his chosen weapon to be similarly dynamic. More unique and unpredictable than a katana.
Sensing his discontent, Piandao looked at him meaningfully and swiveled his eyes around the entire shed, gesturing to Zuko to simply mill around the collection until he discovered something to his liking.
Gathering his meaning, Zuko started to meander through the shelves, peering at various scythes, short swords, daggers, and more. The glint off of a particular piece caught his eye and he started, head swiveling around quickly to get a better look.
On the shelf sat a pair of broadswords, twin blades tapering outward from narrow handles into sweeping curves.
"An interesting choice." Piandao remarked, seemingly having appeared behind the prince from nowhere.
"The twin broadswords are really not two weapons at all. They're two halves of the same whole, used separately in distinct patterns that weave together perfectly to provide a simultaneous defense and offense. That is, of course, in the hands of a master."
Something about the blades resonated with Zuko.
Two halves of the same whole.
The idea seemed significant for some reason, like it applied to him personally. Why, however, was a mystery.
Turning to Piandao, Zuko reached out and grasped the handle of one of the blades.
"When do we start?"
oooo
"Sit, Azula." the Firelord intoned.
Ozai pulled out a chair in his study for the princess to sit on.
"We have much to discuss."
A low fire crackled behind the Firelord's desk, casting dull orange light around the room and making shadows dance strangely around its corners.
Slowly, Azula eased herself into the chair.
"I've noticed how much…closer… you have seemed with Prince Zuko recently."
Azula tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling slightly.
Why is he bringing this up?
Ozai smiled in satisfaction at her discomfort.
"I must say that I'm quite surprised. It seems like such a short time ago that you doggedly pursued every opportunity to humiliate your brother and prove yourself better than him. Where did that fire go?"
Azula winced inwardly.
He thinks my relationship with Zuko shows that I've lost some of my ambition.
"Father, I –"
"Silence." the older man bit out.
"Azula," he began to drawl, "I would think that you understood just how unacceptable many of Zuko's behaviors have been, especially recently. He's inherited so much from his mother, the misguided sense of compassion for others, selectively expressed, of course, and unwillingness to take necessary action. That should have been readily apparent to you long before now, long before he went so far as to demonstrate his foolishness publicly by criticizing my favored strategists."
The Firelord had begun to pace behind his desk, stopping to fix his piercing gaze on the girl before him.
"Do you wish to be like him, Azula?"
Azula felt like something was roaring in her ears. Maybe it was the sound of her own mind being rended in two.
Do I want to be like…Zuko?
The thought had frankly never occurred to her. In the past, she'd seen him as the weaker, clumsier sibling incapable of producing anything worthy of Father's satisfaction. Now, however, things were…different?
He saved me.
Zuko had shown what seemed to be genuine care for her, going so far as to risk his own life to ensure that she didn't immolate herself with lightning.
"You are thinking that, perhaps, being like your brother wouldn't be so bad." Ozai said sarcastically.
"You are thinking that he saved you. Don't you think, Azula, that maybe he was doing it to make you feel indebted to him? To ingratiate you toward him?"
Azula's immediate reaction was disbelief. Zuko didn't have that kind of cunning in him! But…
Mother always put on a kind face. She still thought I was a monster.
Maybe Zuko is not so different.
The Firelord grinned openly at the obvious conflict roiling within his daughter.
"It's clear that spending so much time around your brother has caused you to stray from the path you are meant for, Azula. That doesn't mean that your course cannot be corrected, however."
Walking behind the chair she occupied, Ozai placed his hands on the princess' shoulders.
"I will be taking time to tailor your education and training to ensure your…proper progression."
Leaning down to speak closer to your ear, he spoke again.
"The first step is teaching you to produce lightning."
Raising to his full height, he circled back around to his desk and slowly lowered himself into it, smiling darkly.
Azula could make out a dry, bitter taste in her mouth.
oooo
Zuko had been trudging behind Piandao for what had almost certainly been hours.
After choosing his weapon, Piandao led him back to the cabin and they shared a small meal with some tea. Afterward, the older man said that they would be traveling out into the wilderness to reach a training ground that he had prepared.
Zuko had not been expecting it to be so far from the master's main encampment.
Dusk had fallen, the sun having a rich orange color and giving the trees around them the illusion of appearing black. They had made their way through the forest, trekking through a variety of elevations and dense vegetation in an endless rhythm.
Finally, they approached a clearing in the woods through which light shone in greater volume.
In the small meadow lay another building, smaller than the cabin Piandao stayed in but still sizable enough to house what Zuko assumed was training equipment. A series of log posts lay scattered around the ground, as well as mounts for torches.
Piandao continued on before turning to face the prince in the center of the clearing.
"Normally, we would be journeying here early in the morning to start your training at daybreak, but today, I wanted to do something different."
He motioned for Zuko to come forward.
"For a firebender, and a rather strong one like yourself, wielding a weapon often seems alien. A firebender is unaccustomed to the notion of trusting a weapon for defense when he has his bending readily available at all times. I've brought you here as darkness approaches so you can get an introduction to the idea of trusting your blade. I'm tossing you into the deep end so you can overcome whatever inhibitions you may have."
Piandao beckoned Zuko forward again.
"Take the swords out of their scabbard. Leave the scabbard on the grass – it's unimportant right now."
The prince obeyed, dropping the scabbard and grasping one sword in each hand.
"Now," Piandao said with a smile on his face, "give them a swing."
Zuko, unsure of exactly what to do, remained standing in a square stance. He took a short swing with his left blade, simply swiping his arm outward and allowing the blade to follow. The motion felt awkward, and he instinctively knew that it was wrong. It was almost as though he was leaving the other half of his body dead at his side, an unmoving weight that should have been doing something.
Without any prompt, Zuko shifted his stance so that more weight lay on his back leg. Bringing his left blade to the fore, he attempted something different. Stepping forward quickly with his front leg, he swept the left blade forward and quickly placed it over his shoulder before slashing again with his right blade.
The motion was still unpolished and sloppy, but the natural follow-through of the right blade after the left felt more…intuitive.
Looking at Piandao, Zuko was surprised to see the man looking at him appreciatively.
"Seems like you have a better feel for those swords than I would have expected." he said mirthfully.
"Keep going."
Zuko continued to experiment with the blades until dark, sweeping them back and forth in paired motions while shifting through a variety of stances. The rhythm of the swings reminded him of the way his fire whips swirled back and forth. On occasion, the prince would attempt to strike one of the log posts littered around the clearing, using both blades together to slash twin gashes into the wood.
As the night began in full, Zuko found himself surprised by how at ease he felt with the blades. In the cover of darkness, with no torchlight illuminating the expanse of the field, he would have expected himself to feel uneasy and fearful while handling such dangerous weapons. But no, he was having fun.
Piandao eventually called a stop to his activities, coming over and clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"You've shown some promise today, my Prince, but that doesn't mean that this is going to stay easy." His expression grew serious. "To become a great swordsman is to have exceptional discipline. Discipline is what you'll need to polish the techniques that may be easy for you to get started on but require more to make effective."
He gestured toward where Zuko had left the scabbard and began to walk back in the direction of the main encampment.
"Now come on! We'd better get moving so we can get started on dinner!"
Grinning, Zuko hurried after his new teacher.
