Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Avatar franchise, and nor do I make any profit from the writing of this fanfiction.
(AN): I've been reading too much Zutara recently.
"Again, Prince Zuko."
Wiping the sweat from his brow, the Fire Nation's sixteen year old prince hefted his dao and plunged back into the whirl of blades.
Sunlight splintered along the polished steel as Zuko darted in, whirling the blade in his right hand to catch his master's single blade and throw it aside in a ringing note. The dao in Zuko's left pulled inwards, point aimed for the gut in a move that would have fatally wounded a lesser swordsman.
Piandao was no lesser swordsman. With a smooth turn of the heel, the blade master left Zuko's stab to go wide. Wiry muscles bunched beneath Piandao's leathery skin, and with a heave he shoved Zuko's other blade to the side, leaving the young man to stumble at the sudden loss of opposing force.
The single blade wove up and around, air hissing as it swung towards Zuko with unrelenting force. Zuko's eyes widened in recognition, and his face was already screwed up into an expectant grimace when the hilt of Piandao's jian slammed into the back of his skull.
Wincing at the pain, Zuko straightened and turned to give his master an absolutely foul glare. "Do you have to do that every single time?" An absent hand rubbed over the newest of lumps he'd received since starting the day's lesson. "At this rate I'm not going to have enough marbles to rub together to remember to eat, much less become the Fire Lord!"
Piandao's face was stern and unrelenting as the sun, and if not for the unsurpassable amused quirk to one corner of his mouth, Zuko might have actually been insulted. "I find it hard to believe you had any marbles to rub together in the first place, Prince Zuko."
Rolling his eyes at his Uncle's old friend, Zuko lifted his blades in wordless challenge and continued the lesson. Piandao had become somewhat of a distant uncle in the three years since Iroh had first arranged instruction for the Crown Prince at the hands of the Fire Nation's most famous swordsman. There was a nostalgic familiarity to every painful bump and bruise, and struggling against Piandao enabled him to continue to improve his ability inch by inch.
Even if technically Zuko was skilled enough with his dao to tentatively be considered a 'master' swordsman amongst commoners and the lower ranks of the nobility. Contrary to Iroh's constant positive reinforcement, Piandao had no problem knocking Zuko about if the blade master felt his pupil had a swelled head – Prince or not.
There was a certain primal beat to the dance of blades, even if the blades were merely dull practice swords. It was no different than the heart pounding exhilaration of pitting flame against flame. Here are my talons. Seemed to bubble up from the forgotten depths of his bones, and Zuko knew the truth in the way every man and woman born in the Fire Nation knew it.
There were many unbelievable legends that abounded in the world. Spirit tales and myths that raised the brows in amused disbelief. Some wonderous, some horrific - and some a little bit of both. The ignorant thought it an old wives' tale when the Fire Nation spoke of mysterious men and women with no recorded lineage and no known family.
For a night, or a lifetime.
But Zuko knew the truth like he knew the back of his hand. The truth every child of the Fire Nation knew. The insatiable passion that burnt beneath the skin, eased by crimson and steel, was the blood of dragons running through their veins. Immortalized in written word and spoken tongue, and the ancient unbent rules of the Agni Kai.
Flame or blade. For even dragons without fire have talons.
A hungry grin stretched across Zuko's lips, fatigue rushing away with every beat of his heart pounding in his ears. Piandao's face was reserved, but the gleam that shone in the old master's eyes was as familiar and wild as the light in his own.
The first man Zuko had killed had been a Northern Water Tribe raider. The Crown Prince had been fourteen then, travelling on a tour of the Fire Nation to get a feeling for the land and the people he would one day rule. Just a boy with a cracking voice, two blades of finer craft than his skill warranted, and a chip of pride on his shoulder.
Too young for war, but old enough to open a man's chest. The blood had speckled his face and armor then, warm and coppery and so full of life Zuko had been able to taste it on the tongue. And when the raiding party had been destroyed and there was naught left but the crimson staining his flesh, Zuko had known why the Fire Nation was winning the War.
It boiled down to the heat rushing through them. Dragon's blood in their arteries, every vessel fit to near bursting with that inhuman ancestry. The wildness made them both less than human compared to every other nation – but also more.
When pain and pressure was on, battle singing and death stalking the field, the Fire Nation won the day. They moved faster. They hit harder. They lasted longer. War made demons of even the best of men, and they were the scarier monsters.
None were more terrifying than the monsters of Sozin's line. For that was what they were Azula's whispered in the night – his younger sister's voice hot and urgent beneath the dark. Monsters with hearts, perhaps, but monsters all the same. Even amongst firebenders and families with more of the dragonsblood than most, Agni's children were simply more.
Only those in the royal line had ever attained the heady heights of bending blue flames. Few outside the line of the Fire Lords, stretching back past the Sun Warriors to the forgotten days, ever commanded the Cold Fire. Agni's blood and Agni's seed ran true.
Agni.
Father of Fire.
Father of Dragons.
Zuko couldn't say if that gave the Fire Nation the right to force the rest of the world to its knees in servitude. But if it didn't even the Avatar – if it ever returned - would have a hell of a time enforcing otherwise.
Sliding her tanto home, Azula spared a glance for the polished glass of her mirror. Not a strand was out of place of her topknot, the crimson flame headpiece denoting her royal status. The black and red armour the clung to her form was rather fetching, if the princess was honest with herself.
In this case, beauty was combined with utility as well. Though Zuko had insisted even since childhood that she looked prettier with her hair free and down. Tilting her head, Azula eyed the light refracting off the headpiece and mused that once she was the Fire Lady she would have the custom done away with. Royalty was the divine blood in her veins and the power of her flames. Not an old piece of beaten metal.
Satisfied with her appearance for the moment, Azula left her quarters and crossed the palace. Servants eyed the princess with trepidation when they thought she wasn't looking, and Azula ruthlessly smothered the urge to incinerate them all. Once they wouldn't have even dared to breathe the same air as her without her command.
But dear Zuzu didn't care for that. Even if her brother wouldn't accuse her of being some beastly creature unworthy of loving or being kind to, Zuko would stare at her with that annoying hangdog look that could have made even the Face-Stealer feel regretful. Besides, burning peasants was rarely all that fun anyway.
Burning the nobility was far more enjoyable, and with some appropriate dirt Zuzu rarely even complained about it.
Quietly slipping into the Throne Room, Azula breathed a sigh in relief at the absence of the Fire Lord. Even if she wasn't late for the scheduled time for the war meeting, Ozai had no issue with arriving early on impulse and then punishing anyone that arrived afterwards for their 'lateness'.
Azula took her place nearest and to the right of the Throne, ignoring the vaguely disgruntled looks on the faces of the old Generals and Admirals. Women may have the right to enlist in their country's armed forces, and even the rare reigning sovereign had been a Fire Lady, but that equality rarely reached into the halls of power. Daughters were still bargained off to the highest bidder, pressured by custom to keep quiet, stay chaste, and obey the men in their life. Escaping into the military removed all power of a father or brother to arrange marriage for a woman, but at the cost of making her unmarriageable even after retirement. Even the reigning Fire Ladies had to marry near male relatives to strengthen their claims to the Dragon Throne.
If Azula was an idealist she might have been outraged. As it was, she only minded insofar as it was an irritant when musty old men refused to give her counsel its due credence in governing or martial matters. But all decisions were made by Ozai in the end, and her father gave Azula's mind the weight it deserved.
So Azula swallowed down the disrespect and contempt weighing in those decrepit gazes, filing them away in the back of her mind. One day, it would be her and her brother sitting on the dais, wrapped in coiling flames. One day, the War would be won and all the experience and laurels the old fools had would be irrelevant. One day there would be a reckoning, and Azula would relish it.
Heat flared as Ozai stepped into the room, light shining dim and red with coiling flames as the Fire Lord ascended his throne. Azula's father settled his broad frame into the carven golden chair, and with a final crackle the flames rose high and obscured all sight of the Fire Nation's sovereign.
"Speak." Ozai's voice rang out, low and austere.
General Mung was the first to speak, wrinkles on his face distorting as the middle-aged officer recounted his findings. "The new factory constructed at Jang Hui is already exceeding quotas. Combined with the production lines at Yagong and what we will be gaining at Zhuge once overhauls are complete, I have every confidence that our supply shortage with be eased enough for the campaign next month."
The conquest of Omashu. Azula could nearly taste the glory of battle already. She had yet to approach Zuko with the proposal to prove their mettle in the field, though she would have to soon if he was to return before the day of invasion. There was every confidence Zuzu would take up the gauntlet.
All she had to do would be mention that the people expected their Prince to prove himself in the War. As every Fire Nation royal since Sozin had – save their Father. Point out that his presence and skill could make a difference – as while Zuko was hardly on her level, he was quite a step above even well trained firebenders. Make sure that rumours of her own deployment made it to her brother's ears, and her sibling would be roaring to go forth.
Ozai would undoubtedly give his permission. The man had no love for any of his children, and what was the use of a tool that was not going to be used? Even if the siblings died Ozai had children by concubines to follow him as Fire Lord.
Azula would place her bets on Fan if she indulged her morbid streak. Her half-brother was ruthless, hungry, and full of a certain low cunning. If Ozai took an interest in the boy, Noriko's spawn might even grow to be a threat beneath the Fire Lord's teaching.
"They say there have been sightings of the Avatar in the Earth Kingdom." War Minister Qin pointed out after a considering silence. "Rumor claims he is an airbending master."
"Rumor also claims that the Avatar was born in the Water Tribes, or that he's a wrinkled old man behind the walls in Ba Sing Se." General Shiyu growled indignantly, pinning his fellow officers with exasperated eyes. "Rumor claims that you can meet the Face Stealer in the mirror on a moonless midnight. Rumor claims the moon is made of cheese. We don't need rumours Qin, we need facts and we need men!"
Embarrassed indignation flushed Qin's leathered cheeks, the grey haired advisor retorting defensively. "I never made any recommendations about what should be done about rumours Shiyu. I'm only passing along what has been said."
"You ought to know better than to pass on old wives' tales!"
Bickering filled the air, and Azula suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
Men.
Like much in their country, Fire Nation ships were made of fire and steel. It was a subtle feeling. Something like mingled home and violence beneath his feet. It almost made Zuko long for a small wooden pleasure craft. The sea was in their blood, just as much as dragons were, and the salt spray tasted like a man's own hearth.
Tainting that homecoming with war felt almost sacrilegious.
Striding down the gangplank, Zuko scanned his golden gaze over the Island of Meizhou. A royal had never bothered to visit the small island along the northern reaches of the Fire Nation in five generations. Yet both the Crown Prince and The Dragon of West made time for the little Lord that ruled it and the few people that lived there.
Digging the heels of his boots into the dirt, Zuko nodded. Both in approval at the good fertile soil and in acknowledgement of the armoured marine standing guard at the end of the plank. "Private Nashi."
"Your highness."
Jerking a chin over his shoulder, Zuko sighed. "Come on, Uncle. Let's go make nice with the common folk." Without bothering to wait for the retired general to give a positive response, the Prince strode off into the beaten dirt streets of the village they'd docked their steamer at. The presence of a navy cruiser moored offshore or of crewmen docking was not that rare of a sight in Meizhou.
Which meant none of the peasantry were aware of the presence of their Prince until he was looming over them, flaming hairpiece and all. Zuko was not given to geniality like Iroh was, and he much preferred listening while his uncle did a level best to encourage the commoners to speak their concerns.
While not much of an idle conversationalist – the viper pit of the capital hardly engendered true friendships – Zuko didn't truly object to speaking to his subjects. They were often unaware of political realities, overarching economic concerns, or the true cost of running the war. But they were still his people, Fire Nation and dragonblood all, and Zuko was sincere in his desire to know their troubles and do his best to ease them.
Sometimes it was as simple as a bag of gold in the hands of a trusty magistrate to be put to use in repairing one public work or another. Time and then it was a a few coins and a hot meal for a man down on his luck. Zuko had even arranged scholarships in his name for little orphan girls to attend academies open to those outside the nobility, or apprenticeships in skilled trades.
Iroh had been proud at him fulfilling his duties to the people. When Zuko initially began to take the time to personally solve the issues of his subjects, the old firebender had sung praises so long it would make a whore blush, much less a reserved young prince. Azula had congratulated him on seizing the initiative to build a basis of popularity amongst the people. Pleased with the 'foresight' he was displaying, his sister refrained from insulting his intelligence for an entire day.
Ozai had probably dismissed it as the whimsy of a weak and compassionate child.
Of all of them, it was strangely Zuko's distant father that was closest to the mark. The first time Zuko had seen a filthy beggar and given him a coin, he hadn't felt it was his duty to take care of his subjects. He hadn't calculated the political benefit of his position in helping the man. He'd simply looked and known.
In one life, this could have been me.
It was said that the most valiant souls amongst the people of the Fire Nation were spared the cycle of reincarnation after death and gathered to Agni's side to live in eternal splendor. If that were true, then in a previous life perhaps Zuko had been a beggar.
Zuko's spirit could have been a beggar, or a soldier killed too young. He could have been a murderer. Mayhaps he had been a geisha once, selling her body to put food in her stomach. Many, many lives he could have lived – doomed or saved by someone else's random compassion. Or maybe his heart was new made in Agni's forge, untested and unmarked by lives lived and lost.
A man could never know.
Forcing a patient smile on his face, Zuko reached out to give an eager young peasant boy an arm clasp. The chattering excitement of an innocent child filled the air as the boy fearlessly tugged his prince along to meet his huddled group of awestruck friends.
Children were so easily pleased, and by the expressions of the adults that had come to crowd along the streets at the whisper of the royal visitors, even grown peasants were given to an easy happiness. Zuko wondered if it could be attributed to an ignorant innocence of the world. Or perhaps the fault was in the nobility for hungering for too much, rather than in the peasantry for their humility.
It made him feel like an ancient greybeard to witness such easy happiness. Here – just like many of the smaller villages dotting the Home Islands – were found people satisfied and content with their lot in life. Compared to the jaded cynics of the capital, the commoners were ever-young. It was a youth Zuko ached to touch, and never would.
Like his forefathers before him, Zuko had touched the ravenous sun and grown old.
(AN): Another 3000 words before I crawl off to bed. And then work tomorrow, bleh. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to feed in more POVs. At the moment, it's just Zuko and Azula. We are at the canon timeline.
Zucest: Hasn't actually happened at this point. Zuko may be a teen boy, but Azula is still his sister and he hasn't really thought of her in that way. Which is why his POVs are totally absent of anything but sibling affection. Whereas Azula made the decision that Zuko was going to be her husband years ago when she was just a child. Which is why her POVs are sparkled with references of becoming Fire Lady, being with Zuko "forever", and even what Zuzu considers attractive in a woman.
Dragon Blood: I owe the concept entirely to Vathara. Shamelessly really. I urge you to read Embers if you haven't. If you're into this fandom and haven't gone through it, you're not even living mate. Despite what Zuko thinks about during his POVs about Fire Nation superiority, it's not actually a justification or measure of being some sort of "superior race". But Zuzu is a Fire Nation Royal, and has been growing up to Sozin's propaganda from the crib, so that's reflected in his thoughts. And for the record, the Fire Lords are actually literally descended from Agni. It's not just hearsay or made up – though many people would insist it is.
Why Isn't Zuko a Scarface?: Because of Azula. In canon Zuko is just this utterly reckless boy doing anything and everything to try and earn his father's love. Such as having his Uncle sneak him into a war meeting and then bursting out when he doesn't actually have the 'right' to offer his opinions. Zuko here however isn't really concerned about earning Ozai's nonexistent love. He's concerned about doing his duty, mastering the dao and firebending, looking after his Uncle and his sister. Which means no begging to be around his father, no careless foolish acts to try and gain approval, or anything of the sort.
Does this follow canon timeline?: Sort of, I suppose? I mean, Zuko isn't hunting the Avatar. Those rumours of the Avatar are actually about Aang though. Zuko's presence isn't needed for Aang to be found, or for the boy to decide to take his waterbending friend on an adventure to find a master to teach them. At this point the Avatar hasn't been confirmed, because Zuko wasn't there to confirm it, and no one cares all that much about yet another wild Avatar rumour, so Aang doesn't really impact either Azula or Zuko's lives yet.