Author's Note: Hi, people. I'm not dead, but I have had a very involved week or two—life happens, sorry for the delay. If I do die unexpectedly, I apologize in advance for the unexplained cease in updates. Enjoy the chapter, the next one *hopefully* won't be such a long wait.

The lighting in my nightmare was shockingly bright. There were no shadows anywhere.

I was running, stumbling really, too slowly through solid black snow, my feet unable to find enough purchase. The chaos around me was muted, although I could still see the faceless villagers screaming.

It was nothing like my own memories of the Water Tribe village—instead of a neat semicircle of tent-like structures, I was running through a labyrinth of blackened, tattered, empty, burned out homes. I was terrified, but I didn't know of what.

My lungs were burning, and my legs ached with exertion. Black-stained snow was falling around me, steadily dyeing my clothes and skin an ashy gray.

I reached my destination, though I hadn't had one in mind, and hastily pushed my way inside. The inside was filled with a flat light that somehow didn't touched the man-shaped shadow facing away from me, and I was too distracted by this indistinct figure to more than glance at the woman on the ground at his feet.

Neither regarded me when I came in. "Excuse me," I tried to say, but no sound came out of my mouth. I came closer, moving around the shadow man to try to get a look at his face; before I could, I caught sight of the woman's face, and I was hit with a mixture of love and fearful apprehension.

It was my mother.

"Don't hurt him, don't hurt him please, please, don't hurt him…" she begged the shadow, not acknowledging me.

The shadow very deliberately raised a hand, and a ball of bright orange fire appeared in his palm. The light drove the shadows off his figure, but I still could not see his face past the brightness of the fire.

Mother's eyes had gone wide, but she set her countenance firmly and ordered, "I will always be watching—don't you dare hurt him!"

A torrent of fire erupted from the man's hand and engulfed my mother, who let out a bloodcurdling shriek, the sound intensifying until my ears refused to pick it up any longer and a blank, whining non-noise was all I could hear. I threw myself against the man's arm, trying to turn his fire away, but he reacted as if I weighed nothing, simply ignoring me. I watched, transfixed in horror, as a charred, blackened corpse gradually replaced the familiar image of my mother.

When the fire had done all it would do, it died down to a small tongue of flame in the man's hand, and he roughly shoved me to the ground.

"Wait, what're you—?" I tried to say, but the thought cut off as I looked up and was finally able to see the man's face. All of a sudden, it was a much more familiar nightmare.

"You will learn respect," he hissed. "And suffering will be your teacher!"

He struck.

I woke screaming, clutching the left side of my face as my flesh blistered under the terrible heat. I was covered in cold sweat, my legs tangled in my bedding. I had bolted straight up out of my uneasy sleep and now sat looking at a tired, worried Uncle steadily regarding me from across the room.

"Are you alright, Prince Zuko?"

"Yeah, yeah, just a—just a nightmare," I gasped, rising.

"Where are you going?" he inquired.

"Fresh air," I said as I threw a cloak on over my nightclothes and slid shoes onto my feet.

"Do you want company?"

"No."

I heard a sigh as I was going out the door. I didn't mean to slam it behind me.

The torchlight in the corridors of the ship wasn't much better than the lighting of my nightmare. I almost ran through them, relieved when I finally emerged onto the deck. Still very far south, the air was cold and thin, but the view of the stars was spectacular; it wasn't something I had been much bothered to notice back at home amidst the lights of a lively capital city.

I saw Appa asleep near the ship's bow, and I tiptoed around him so that I could watch where we were going. The air temple was still a long way off, but this particular vantage afforded less view of all the problems aboard my ship and more of the celestial light reflecting off the water.

I decided not to think about my nightmare beyond questioning why the normal dreams faded quickly and the horrific ones never did. I suspected the answer, but decided it wasn't good to dwell on.

Reality was…hard. It seemed that it always had been, and that it would all be so much easier if I could just live the rest of my life here, under the stars.

It would be easy as…easy as giving up.

That's who you are, Zuko: someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard.

That's who you are…

Who you are…

Never forget who you are.

Remember this, Zuko: no matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.

Zuko, my love, listen to me.

Remember this, Zuko.

Remember.

Never forget who you are.

"I won't," I whispered to the phantom in my memory.

"You won't what?" a voice asked from behind me.

"Gah!" I nearly jumped overboard. I turned to see the Avatar, reclined on the nearest of his bison's forelegs. "Aang, what're you doing out here? It's the middle of the night!"

"I was sleeping, but I missed Appa, so I came out to visit."

"Oh. Alright."

"What are you doing out here?"

Why lie? Real trust was hard to build on nothing but lies, and a faltering in his trust would be devastation to my agenda. "I had a nightmare."

"What about?"

"The past." I was feeling extraordinarily vocal tonight.

"I've been having nightmares about the past too," Aang admitted, looking down. I could see a person who definitely had his demons.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?" Because that was what Uncle always asked.

"Not really. You?"

"No."

Aang's eyes slid shut, and his head dropped to the white pillow of his bison's fur. "Zuko," he asked haltingly, "What does the world think of me?"

"They don't know you yet, Aang."

"But what do they think of the Avatar? What do they expect of me?"

"I can't speak for the whole world, but from what I've heard, a large number of people believe the Avatar is dead. They expect never to meet you."

"Why did you look for me then, if everyone thought I was dead?"

"It was my commission to find you and bring you back to the Fire Nation," I explained. "I looked for you for three years without anything to show for it; it was hopeless, and a part of me knew it was hopeless. I only kept looking because I had to—my honor as a prince hung in the balance."

"Well, I'm glad I could help," Aang said, smiling. He nestled further into the fur, looking remarkably young for a hundred-and-twelve-year-old.

And…there was the guilt. The betrayal of Aang might very well make me a terrible person, but what choice did I have? And why was I even subject to the rules of decency that governed the world, when the world had so clearly and adamantly rejected me? When the Father Lord and his predecessors had been allowed to exempt themselves? When my sister ignored the rules entirely and never received a whisper of reprimand?

I felt as though it had something to do with Uncle.

By right, I should be able to create my own standards by which to judge myself, which will include a clause allowing for the coldhearted betrayal of friendly, trusting children when personal honor demands it. Because I could do that, and my decision to allow it made it right—just like my forefathers, I would place myself above the rules.

I was right. I could not be wrong—I made the rules. I was the Fire Lord-to-be.

...It wasn't right. I just couldn't lie to myself that effectively.

"Zuko," Aang asked around a giant yawn, "What do you think of me?"

My response was automatic, but my delivery was perfect, learned from the best. "I believe you to be one of the most vitally important people to the world; as the Avatar—"

"No," he interrupted me. "You've told me what you think of the Avatar. What do you think of me?"

I paused a beat. Azula would…no…Uncle would say…

"I don't know you that well, but I think you're a great kid. You have patience, amity, and a sense of accountability that I didn't possess at your age. You're bright—you are quick to comprehend and ask meaningful questions."

Aang's smiling gray eyes peeked out at me from under eyelids heavy with sleepiness.

"Hmm…Uncle likes you because you like Pai Sho."

His eyes drifted shut.

"Sokka likes you because you're a boy close to his age who is receptive to his advising—the other 'warrior boys' of the Southern Water Tribe had been about four years old. He finally has a peer who isn't his sister."

Aang might have been asleep at that point, but I obviously hadn't said all.

"You do know that she loves you—idolizes you even? It's because you are the source of her hope. The world isn't kind to her as it is; one way or another, she's lost both parents to this war. She's stuck in indefinite isolation in a community with no peers and no adventure. She has lived in fear for the safety of her remaining loved ones. You are new, different, exciting, and she believes that you can change the world, make it a better place for confined little Water Tribe girls. Why wouldn't she love you?"

Just as I was starting to ramble, I noticed that the young Avatar had indeed succumbed to sleep.

It wasn't right, but I was still going to do it—I had to. I decided right then and there, as I watched the airbender asleep on his bison, that I would see this through and dwell no more upon the rightness or wrongness of an inarguably necessary course of action.

I watched the Avatar for a moment and sighed. I had come out here to clear my head, and that endeavor had failed entirely. Taking one last lingering look at the distant stars, I returned to the warmth of my bed and sleeplessly awaited the morning.

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