Toph knew that her feelings towards her parents were complicated, to the say the least, but she had expected more when she was brought before her them. Poppy was attending to various business letters while Lao busied himself reading a book over a cup of tea. The guard who had nominally escorted her bowed deeply in a greeting and, though he opened his mouth to give a report, Poppy waved him away without a thought.
The last time she'd seen her mother… It had been years ago, after Toph had helped Aang and the others give a proper beat down to Xin Fu and his cronies. Her father had bemoaned how he'd given her too much freedom, but Poppy had made the decision.
We are doing this for your own good, she had said. Toph could still hear her mother's voice ringing in her ears in the moments when insecurities and doubts rose up within the earthbender. To know that her parents hadn't been able to give her even an inch, to know that they had been unable to respect her enough to make even the smallest of choices… It was a wound that hurt deeply.
That pain was all but gone as she stood before them now.
There had been a plan once. There had been a set course of action that Toph would take to try to minimize the chances of her parents sending those bumbling idiots after her again. That plan was tossed out of the window for one simple reason: her mother didn't look up at her as she approached. Without her seismic sense, she wouldn't have known that—while the shuffling of papers ceased, and Poppy hummed somewhat curiously—her mother's eyes still scanned the letters spread across the desk.
"I'm taking a trip," she announced brusquely, squaring her stance and crossing her arms. That startled both of her parents into looking up. Her mother opened her mouth and Toph could almost hear the excuse-me-young-lady that was sure to follow, but Toph wasn't done. "I'm taking a vacation away from you two because I'm done. I'm done pretending to be this fragile, little pet you try to keep locked up in this gilded prison. I'm not fragile, and I'm not weak. I'm an earthbender—the greatest earthbender in the world—and neither of you will ever see that. So I'm going to walk away and you are not going to follow."
"Young lady—" The lecture was imminent. Toph wished once again that she could see because she couldn't help but wonder if steam was shooting out of her mother's ears yet. "What are you talking about? This foolishness—"
"It's not foolishness, Mother. It's me finally deciding to live my life the way I was always going to. I love bending. I love fighting. And I'm damn good at it. So I'm going to do it. I'm not asking for your permission. I'm giving you notice."
"Toph, darling, listen to yourself! You're simply not able to make these kinds of decisions for yourself—"
"Why? Because if you had it your way, you'd be making every decision for me until the rest of my life? Or at least until you find some snot-nosed rich kid to sell me to so he can make my decisions for me? No thanks. That isn't me."
"Toph, what your mother means—"
The plan had been entirely scrapped, but Toph stormed out of the office feeling lighter than she had in years. She could feel her parents fretting back and forth to each other, summoning guards and tightening security around the perimeter just-to-be-secure, and she laughed. It was a cold, derisive sound as it echoed through her room, keeping her company while she quickly changed into travelling clothes, throwing whatever she could in a bag and hefting it over her shoulder. She didn't keep much money in her rooms since it wasn't as if either of her parents expected her to go shopping alone, but she had more than enough to keep her fed until she hit Omashu.
Content with her packing and sensing the estate guards beginning to converge towards her rooms, Toph kicked the rug in her bedroom to the side and sunk swiftly into the earth. With a few careful movements, she began tunneling her way out of the house and away from Gaoling, without a single thought of returning. She wasn't leaving her family behind her, after all; she was going to find them. Zuko and Katara. Their images were burned into her mind, the only friends who had seen her and stayed at her side when the rest of the world had fallen apart, and her heart ached to know they were so far away. With any luck, they would have regrouped already. Toph's thoughts drifted towards the fallen members of their group, to Aang and Sokka and Suki and the ache grew so sharp it nearly took her breath away. She set a breakneck pace to Omashu. Her family would be there soon.
Zuko was relieved by the knowledge that leaving Katara's side had been astonishingly painless. He had been certain that, after seeing her again in this world full of opportunity and potential, there would be some desperate refusal to be parted with her for even a moment. When he was more or less dismissed from the village by the wary looks of Katara's kinsmen, he was pleasantly surprised to know that the comforting assurance that he would see her again in the morning was enough.
Less comfortable was the realization that his assurance was not unnoticed. Zuko and Iroh had started back towards the Salamander, but they hadn't even made it aboard before Iroh—still reeling and overwhelmed with relief that Zuko was healed—had quietly made comment.
"Lady Katara seems to be a fine young woman." His words wouldn't have been unusual to the most casual observer, but Zuko would later be able to see the red flags that indicated his uncle had been fishing for information. In the moment, however, Zuko was too in his own mind to resist falling into the trap.
"She is," were the far too definite words that escaped him in a half-sigh. As soon as the words were said, Iroh's face shifted into something proud and happy and intensely curious—the same sort of foolish glee that had filled the man when Zuko had been invited to dinner in Ba Sing Se a lifetime ago—and Zuko knew he'd been made.
"I feel you've come to a crossroads, Prince Zuko," Iroh continued in a tone so careful it awoke the shame buried in Zuko's stomach, stirring up the memories of how he'd berated and fought against his uncle's guidance for far too long. The man standing before Zuko now wasn't exactly the uncle he'd said goodbye to outside the Earth Kingdom capital. This was a man who hadn't watched Zuko's slow and bitter fight towards redemption.
"You're right, Uncle." There was no indecision lingering in Zuko's voice, no room for argument or anger as he acknowledged the truth in Iroh's words. This Iroh might not have seen his progress, but the bitter failures he'd suffered along the way in that life were washed away as well. Zuko had the opportunity now to try to correct the mistakes that had haunted him for so long; he wouldn't waste it. He was at a crossroads, and he would turn down the correct path now. "… I have a lot to think about."
Iroh was quiet, but the air between them was tightly wound with unspoken hopes and concerns as they returned to the ship. Coming aboard the Salamander was a bizarrely difficult experience and, combined with the strange tension keeping his uncle's company caused, Zuko found himself announcing that he was going to bed and he was relieved of all scrutiny for several glorious hours.
The next morning, Iroh found Zuko meditating on the deck of the ship beside a small table. A pot of tea, two cups, and breakfast had replaced the games Iroh typically played on the surface, and the retired general couldn't help but let the surprise widen his eyes as Zuko smiled up at him sheepishly and confessed that his tea-making skills weren't up to Iroh's usual standard but that he'd made a pot anyway.
"Did you sleep well, Prince Zuko?" Iroh found himself asking as he took a seat across from his nephew, accepting a cup of jasmine tea with some reservation. Jasmine tea leaves were very delicate—the water could not get too hot, else the herbs would be scalded and bitter. Even if the water were within the correct temperature range, steeping the leaves for too long would scald them as well. Jasmine tea was one of Iroh's favorites partially because of the care and attention it required, so he wasn't expecting overmuch from Zuko's tea but the young man was—to Iroh's immense surprise—awaiting a critique before answering Iroh's question. The retired general took a cautious sip before a surprised hum escaped him. It was delicious.
The quiet pleased noise was enough for relief to relax Zuko's posture and he at once began to speak, though the words still stubbornly fought against him.
"Sleep didn't come easy," Zuko confessed slowly. Too much had been on his mind, not with all the rushing of his thoughts on how this exact conversation would go. He'd been fighting with the balance of truth and lies that he was sure to have to dance, because surely time travel or self-reincarnation would be too fantastic even if his uncle had spent time in the Spirit World. "It's been nearly three years since we were home… I want to go home, but I can't do it on the path Ozai set any more."
"What are you saying, Prince Zuko?" Iroh had straightened, tea forgotten, when Zuko had so casually and intentionally referred to his father by name. Zuko was hyperaware of the breeze against his skin, aware of shifts in the air around him as he forced his breathing to remain steady. The words were there. He'd spent hours practicing them the night before, and what must have been days in the time before with Katara and Toph his audience.
"I thought that I lost my honor, that I could get it back by delivering the Avatar to my father, but I can't. Even if he'd welcome me back, restore my place, I will not put a child in his path… We've been travelling for nearly three years, Uncle, and I've been so angry. I took that anger out on you, and you've never deserved it. I'm so sorry, I—" His practice meant nothing as Zuko's eyes drifted unintentionally towards Iroh's face and the sheer weight of emotion on the retired general's face interrupted Zuko's thoughts. His voice cut out abruptly, and he forced his eyes down to collect himself.
Iroh's hand reached out to gently rest against his arm before he was fully composed, and Zuko took a shuddering breath.
"All those glorious lies about the war… We've been travelling all over, and we haven't seen a single place where life is improved by the war. It's only going to get worse if it isn't stopped."
"This is the decision you've made?" Iroh asked softly, tone indecipherable. "If you pursue this, if you aim to stop the war in opposition to the Fire Nation, you will be a traitor."
"I'd rather be a traitor than try to pretend that what our family is doing is right." The decision was already made. Zuko couldn't pretend to be something that he wasn't anymore. He was never the heir that Ozai wanted, but he learned a long time ago that that didn't define him. The watery look in Iroh's eyes when Zuko finally gathered the courage to look up again was much more powerful and important than any of the cruel words Azula or Ozai had ever offered him.
"Will you be going to the village to see Lady Katara?" Iroh asked after a long minute. Zuko wasn't sure if he was relieved or concerned that Iroh's attention shifted so quickly from 'world-changing discussions of rebellion' to 'girl that caught nephew's eye.' Still, Katara's name coaxed a smile out of Zuko before he could smother it and he allowed himself to nod.
"Katara mentioned that Water Tribe life starts late, so I was going to head down after breakfast… Did you want to join me?" Iroh's answer was clear when he lowered his half-full cup of tea and got to his feet with a bright grin.
"Let's be off, then!"
With fond exasperation, Zuko climbed to his feet and happily let his uncle keep up a steady chatter as the two moved towards the loading ramp to get back onto the ice. They made their way towards the village, but there was a new structure built out of ice just outside of the village walls that drew their attention as they approached.
Katara waited outside with an apologetic smile and its construction immediately made sense to both firebenders; her brother would not allow her to board their ship and her people could not bear for them to be within the village, so the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe built a structure removed from both where she could meet them. Zuko felt the urge to reach out to her, to apologize or console her—or possibly himself, he wasn't sure—but Iroh was still ever-watchful so he instead simply nodded and walked in as Katara pulled up a fur that had been hung in the doorway as a barrier to the wind. The structure inside was simple, with only one small room that was unfurnished with the exception of a table made from carefully swept ice covered in furs, no doubt carried in from the village.
Sokka was there, as Zuko had expected. He never doubted Sokka's dedication to his sister, even though that bond had confused him when he had first observed it. The Sokka before him wasn't the same man who Zuko had enacted a breakout of the Fire Nation's most secure prison with, but Zuko could see a glimmer of that heart in Sokka's eyes when he watched over Katara.
While his conversation with Iroh had gone better than he had expected, Zuko did not have the luxury of planning his first meeting—his reunion—with Aang. He had assumed that Katara would be mediating any early conversations and had been relying on the fact that Aang probably wouldn't want to interact with him that much before Zuko had the time to wrap his mind around the airbender's presence. Seeing the Air Nomad, half-hidden behind a table furthest from the door, there was a new depth to Katara's apologetic smile.
Aang was the one who caught and held Zuko's attention after he catalogued the presence of the Water Tribe siblings. There was a stiffness in how the boy held his body as he peered curiously at Zuko, and the tone the boy took when he was the first to speak nearly made the firebender flinch.
"Hi there." The enthusiasm of a boy who hadn't known the fate of his people was gone. Though he was lacking the outright fear of the Water Tribe villagers, Aang looked at Zuko with guarded grey eyes. His voice was calm, level, as if he were speaking to Koh the Facestealer instead of a friend. Although, Zuko reminded himself firmly, Aang had no reason to see him as a friend just yet.
"Zuko, this is Aang. He was flying around the glacier this morning," Katara said, loud enough for all to clearly hear it. Aang, clearly not having expected to be outed, flinched. "He saw the Fire Navy cruiser that was marooned early in the raids."
"Is it true, then?" Aang recovered admirably, his eyes wide and searching as he looked to Zuko. It hurt to see, but there was already a sort of trust in those grey eyes, nearly overshadowed by a desperate plea. Zuko wouldn't break that trust, not ever.
"It is. A hundred years of war," he confirmed quietly. He looked over to Iroh, who was beginning to grow concerned as the topic shifted into more dangerous waters. "A war we're all losing… I didn't see it clearly before, not really. Not until…"
"I saw it too," Katara added suddenly, beginning as Zuko's voice trailed off. She smiled sadly towards the prince and—to the surprise of everyone in the room but Zuko himself—took a firm hold of his hand. "The balance of the world is shifting dangerously. It's been breaking down since this war began. We have to fix it. We're going to fix it. Aren't we?"
Zuko was aware that every set of eyes in the room fixed on him in that moment, but his attention was on Iroh. The general was scarcely breathing. A private conversation on the ship was one thing, but a public declaration was quite another. This was the moment, then. The moment where Zuko began changing the momentum.
"We are," he agreed decisively. Katara wasn't the person he needed to convince most, however, so his eyes shifted to Iroh. When the old man solemnly nodded, an immense weight lifted from Zuko's chest before he turned to face Aang. "Balance has to be brought back to the world. We can't do that without you, can we?"
"I—" Aang was an animal caught in a trap, terrified and back into a corner. Zuko worried all at once that he'd pushed too far, too fast, but then Katara released his hand and wrapped Aang in a tight hug. Aang was still for a long moment until his arms lifted to return the embrace.
"You might be the avatar, but that doesn't mean you have to do this alone. We'll be there, every step of the way…" Katara pulled back far enough to smile brightly at the boy. "Think about it! Air, water, earth, fire—we cover most of that just with us here. At this rate, there's a master earthbender just waiting to be scooped up."
"Hold your artic camels, Katara. How did this go from give-the-jerkbender-a-check-up to let's-go-save-the-world time? Would it kill you to be normal for once in your life?" Sokka demanded, as if all at once he realized what was going on around him. "You sound like—you're seriously talking about destiny right now?"
"Well, you and I did find the avatar after a hundred years," Katara pointed out, stepping away from Aang to cross her arms in Sokka's directions. "And Zuko and I both were hit by the spirit energy. Not to mention that Zuko's ship was sailing so close by! It's sounding a lot like destiny to me. The only question is if you're in. I'm sure there'll be a lot of other, less friendly jerkbenders along the way."
Katara very happily ignored the venomous look Sokka shot towards Zuko, as if Zuko were truly the most despicable thing that could be placed near his sister's path. Still, there was something about knocking firebender skulls that could always be relied upon to bring a smile to Sokka's face. When he finally did begin smiling in that somewhat dazed way, Katara dreamed that the battle was won, leaving only one question remaining. When do we leave?
Reality was less easy than that, though, so she settled for returning her brother's smile before turning to Zuko, schooling her features.
"Sokka is right about one thing. Up," she ordered abruptly, pointing a finger towards the fur-covered table. Zuko scowled at her, aware without even without looking at the man that Iroh was grinning. Katara didn't relent or back down as she looked at him expectantly. Zuko approached the table with all the air of a man walking to the gallows, already imaging all of the mortifying questions and observations Iroh was sure to share the next second they were alone. Two could play at that game, however, and Zuko hid a grin as he unfastened the tie holding his shirt together, causing a vivid blush to color Katara's face. He hopped onto the table, skillfully ignoring Sokka's sputtering complaints.
Aang and Iroh were both contemplative as Katara drew water from the thick ice that made the floor and pressed her radiant touch to Zuko's chest. Iroh carefully evaluated the strange, though not unpleasant, situation that had begun to unfold in front of him. In his youth, Zuko had a child's infatuation for one of Azula's playmates, something shallow and born largely of proximity. Whatever was blooming between the prince and this engaging young woman was entirely different, something both powerful and informed by an indescribable connection. With it pointed out to him so suddenly, Iroh could see the touch of fate in his nephew. It terrified him to know how something as strange as a spirit sickness could inspire such sudden change in the boy, but Iroh drew comfort from the fact that Zuko had so quickly and improbably found an ally in Katara. With luck, he hoped this connection would anchor Zuko, keeping him on his true path despite Iroh not being able to sway him in the past.
Aang was still scrambling for purchase in this brand new, terrifying world he'd awoken to. The terrors Sokka seemed so sure of—the threat he insisted that the firebenders represented—couldn't be what the world had turned into while he'd slept. Aang had been certain of that fact. He had been confident that Sokka had been exaggerating or wrong, but then Aang saw the beached cruiser. He couldn't ignore it, then. There, right in front of him, was the indisputable evidence of a conflict between Fire Nation and the waterbenders who lived in this isolated land. So maybe the war was real. That didn't mean that it had lasted as long as Kanna described in her no-nonsense manner, however. He couldn't have been asleep for a hundred of years! He just couldn't have. He was still a kid! If he'd been in the ice for that long, there would have been some sort of sign. There had to have been.
But then Zuko spoke. Zuko spoke and the look in the prince's eyes was one that Aang was still struggling to process. The pain and shame that had colored Zuko's voice as he confirmed a hundred years of pain, of loss… It had to be real. But if the length of the war was unexaggerated—if it was real—what other stories were real?
There wasn't grief in him yet, but there was fear that was just as devastating as Aang's thoughts turned to his people. The ambiguity tugged at him, pulling him home. He needed to resolve the fears that were settling in his chest. Looking towards Katara didn't give Aang any sort of clarity, but he couldn't help but stare at the glow of her hands as she assessed Zuko's condition. In a quiet corner of his mind, Aang wondered if she'd be able to calm any of the turmoil in his thoughts. He had awoken to a clear sky, but he was still trapped in the storm.
There was one thing in this world that Aang was able to turn to for familiarity. He didn't know how to respond to talks of the war, nor could he relate to the cultural fears that informed the actions of his new friends, but there was something that hadn't changed in the last century: the softness that he could see in Zuko's eyes as he watched Katara working. It was unspeakably relieving to Aang to see it, even if he wasn't quite sure why. A world without love, whatever shape that love took, was one that he couldn't begin to envision. No matter what else this world could throw at him could be handled with time, so long as this one thread continued to tether him to it.
"Perfectly healed," Katara reported after a long moment, opening her eyes to smile at the soft expression on Zuko's face. She moved her hands away, absently tugging at his robes to pull the fabric so that it shielded his chest from the cold again. "Have you tried bending since waking up?"
When Zuko shook his head, Katara glanced to their audience to gauge their attitudes. There was a worry in Iroh's eyes, but it was directed at Sokka. The warrior was tense with his mouth set in a hard line, but Katara didn't sense immediate danger. When she looked to Aang, still lingering on the far side of the room, she was startled to see that the airbender's gaze was already on her face. The avatar flinched as he tore his eyes away, a light blush coloring his face. Time had given Katara better perspective on the boy's early feelings for her, and distance had cleared away the confusion that his loss had brought down on her. She loved Aang, but she had never truly been in love with him. Still armed with that conviction, she smiled with fondness for the airbender. She would be clear from the beginning. She wouldn't break his heart with her indecision, her worries.
Zuko had been afraid to firebend again. He could feel his chi, reactive and ready as usual, but he worried about how his uncle would have responded. He knew himself with a clarity he hadn't experienced before meeting Rhyu; he was sure that his flames would still reflect that change. Still, Katara was looking at him with the same strength of conviction that had been in her eyes after Awyr had brought news of the fall of the South Pole—the conviction that had burned in her eyes when you've-done-nothing-wrong and I-will-never-hate-you had begun to echo in his ears louder than all the self-loathing his fraying mind could muster.
He took a breath and opened his palm towards the ceiling. He reached for the connections within the air around him and, with a quick shake, the space above his hand filled with a vibrant blue flame that danced and crackled as it filled the room with light. There was an awed wow from the avatar, which earned a sharp jab to the ribs a la Sokka, and Iroh took a startled step back.
"That's… new," Zuko forced himself to say, keeping his tone light as he looked at the flame. He carefully allowed the flame to grow, stretching and shivering at his call, before he closed his hand and extinguished it. He looked to his uncle. "I feel stronger. Centered… All this time searching, trying to regain my honor…I was looking in the wrong places."
He turned his gaze towards Aang, who was still looking somewhat mystified even though Sokka somehow wrangled him into a loose hold, covering his mouth and stopping him from investigating the firebender. Katara immediately began scolding her brother to release the avatar, and the warrior jumped immediately into a tirade. Aang, escaping Sokka's grasp effortlessly in the moment of distraction, cautiously put himself between the two to try to diffuse the situation and a warmth bloomed in Zuko's chest.
It wasn't perfect—it wasn't whole yet—but he was beginning to feel like home again.
Published 22:24, 3.14.21