- Three Years Ago -

Children weaved through the bustling streets, laughter reaching greater heights as time passed. Merchants shouted their offerings to those who were unfortunate, or fortunate, enough to be within ear-shot. A third wave of Fire Nation soldiers — or rather, lackeys, seeing as they were insufficient to conquer in any sort of battle judging by the missed targets and loud intelligible words arising from a newly-implemented training field — flinging fire balls aimlessly. Luckily, of all the stray shots, none of them hit any person strolling aside. Lord Ozai did not luck out this time around with skilled troops, not that it would have deterred him from doing as he pleased with them.

The sun cast a golden glow upon the ravishing city, yet inside the young naive prince, a storm brewed. The weight of his father's dark deeds pressed heavily on Zuko, burdening his conscience more with every passing year. Clear, it was reluctant to ease any time soon. The questions gnawed at him: if the Fire Nation initiated the attack, why blame the Water Tribes for defending themselves? Why murder the Tribes over self-defense?

Pathetic, disgusting, and meaningless, Zuko thought of the whole idea. Forcing all who walked the earth to bow down in his father's presence or face death. A slow one at that, like a predator toying with its prey. But that was how things were whether or not it was mutually accepted. And Zuko disagreed, as if trying to compete against his sister to be their father's greatest disappointment. He knew he would never continue nor finish what Lord Ozai ignited half a decade ago, even the thought of it made the young prince flinch mentally. He couldn't. He won't. Bloodshed was not his calling. Confronting his father was not an option then, he was told time and time again to not "meddle in the adult conversations." He's a different person now, more morally-rounded, resilient, and empathetic. It was as good of a time as any, given that Prince Zuko reached what his father believed to be a suitable age to become the new sovereign of the Fire Nation, despite his sister Azula being the true heir. In a sense, he had finally gained power and a voice.

Above the life below, the Prince Zuko stood out on the terrace, gazing out at the capital he called home. The Fire Nation. A kingdom that once prided itself in passion and freedom since the dawn of time and space itself, turned enemy of all who encircled it the moment it considered greed and power should be above all else. A healthy portion of those who descended from the Fire Nation, shared this ideal. Enough to not care that their leader was a murderer. But peace was a dream that did exist, a dream of a past Zuko hoped to revive.

Fingertips curled as he dug what was left of his loyalty to his tyrant of a father into a clenched fist pressed against either side. Carving out indents into each palm. Zuko was as resentful as he was furious. Flames burst from both hands, encasing both in a reflection of the sun before charring the ground beneath him. The smoke filled the air around him.

Revenge nestled itself into its newest victim. Zuko felt compelled to seek the solace in the guidance of his father's brother, closest advisor, and their shared confidant — General Iroh. His uncle Iroh was a father figure to the prince, especially given that Lord Ozai failed to be one to his only son, offering sage advice and a listening ear. This time would be no different. But there's no way to soften the blow of being against a Fire Lord's beliefs.

Prince Zuko summoned his courage, which was also at war with his worry.. He rehearsed his plea as he walked across the grand hall. It was embellished in maroon, gold, and rose intricate tapestries all throughout, depicting the glory and power of the Nation, however today, they seemed to mock Zuko's inner turmoil with every step towards his uncle's study.

As the Prince entered, the courtiers who met his presence bowed respectfully, their eyes following him in entwined curiosity and admiration. Normally, Zuko would acknowledge those around him but there was no time for pleasantries. He ignored their gaze, his focus fixated solely on his uncle who buried himself in maps and scrolls sprawled over the length and breadth of the study. Iroh's eyes centered on one scroll. What Zuko assumed to be the upcoming attack the soldiers were training for, though the Prince felt it would be unsuccessful. Iroh must have gathered everything for a night of compiling strategies.

The sole fireplace in the far corner and a single lamp Iroh had situated a lilac scroll under provided the only sources of light in an otherwise somber study. Flames crackling by the farthest part of the room offered Zuko the much-needed warm embrace as it drew extended shadows that danced across the walls surrounding him, his uncle, and the meddlesome glances of the squires. Shelves of ancient books and documents created an atmosphere of wisdom and secrecy. As the sun began to hide away from sight, Zuko approached with caution.

General Iroh's attention flickered over to his nephew, followed by concern as he observed the distress etched on his nephew's face.

"Uncle," Zuko greeted, his voice quivering just a bit, yet laced with urgency. He cleared his throat. "May we speak in private?" Half directed to his father-figure, the other directed at the uninvited guests who accompanied the two.

A brief glimpse behind him and Zuko found that his undesired audience had positioned themselves away from the royal pair. Good, at least they were mindful enough to give them space.

Iroh's eyebrow arched in surprise, though he nodded as this was nothing new, consoling his nephew. "Of course. What troubles you?" he asked, his tone masking his wonder.

Zuko held his breath, longer than anticipated, juggling all possible variations of what he knew was factual. He had to confront his doubts, thus, confirm disagreement with one of his father's first orders as Fire Lord. But first, test the waters. Uncle Iroh should be the first to know. He prepared himself for the conversation. The betrayal he felt he would be contributing to. In order to minimize the likelihood of anxiety dominating, he cut out the fluff and build up, releasing his breath and the tension that joined it. It clouded his entire being for too long. And so with care and resilience, Zuko voiced his convictions.

"Uncle," Zuko spoke, more sure of his stance. He continued, parroting his thoughts on the terrace, bracing with preface. "...I can't carry the weight any longer. I won't end up like my father..."

Iroh's brows furrowed and slight frown appeared as he leaned back against the chair that seemed to hold him hostage for the time being. "Son, you can't pay any mind to those who criticize your ability to reign, especially your sister. She's lucky to still be in line for Fire Lord, critically injuring a soldier out of pure malice." He replied, unbeknownst to the unrest that ravaged his nephew's heart. "It's not a good look for a Fire Lord, but she can only blame herself."

Zuko drilled his feet to the ground. He was unwilling to shake his opposition against his own father. "Uncle, the bloodshed of the Water Tribes…it haunts me, the innocent lives lost. The murder caused by our own people. I can't condone my father's actions anymore."

Iroh's face hardened, his frown turned to a firm grimace. Eyes pierced into the aura of his nephew before him as he slowly rose from his chair, in an attempt at intimidation, despite it being met with no reaction from the young prince. Iroh's tall and hulking stature stole more space than the oxygen that served the planet. Had anyone else but Zuko been in the same vicinity as he, they would have receded into nothingness, or fear, whichever came first. "Innocent!?" he said, slamming his hands on the desk of scrolls. The general bolted his index finger at his nephew's chest, knocking the young man off his balance for a second. "The Water Tribe chief murdered the former General in cold blood. Your father did what was required to protect the honor of our Nation. To preserve our legacies!"

Zuko's eyes filled with tears of anguish. His jaw and throat clenched in unison, the warmth of the fireplace now mirrored the fury ready to engulf his hands at any moment. Innocent. His uncle's words echoed inside, then burrowed itself amongst the other claims his uncle reputed. "How can I stand by and allow his decrees to continue? Is power truly worth the lives of the innocent." Zuko said, only his rage was of compassion and fairness. "How can I be a worthy leader if I don't rectify the past?"

The general's eyes fell. They rested on the desk below his cooling hands. Not only did he fail to empathize with his nephew he loved as a son but now the night was sure to last much longer than it should've. If they weren't ripped or crumbled beneath his taut fingers, or floating towards the floor, manuscripts were scorched in varying degrees. Amongst them was the velvet lavender scroll explicitly separated from the others. Wedged under a paper weight couldn't protect it. He sighed, whether it be his own way of non-verbally apologizing, or to ease unwarranted tension. Either way, Zuko could tell his uncle was fighting an internal battle with himself on how to proceed: double down on his shared beliefs with the Fire Lord or consider the alternative — Lord Ozai being an unjust murderer and unfit to rule an empire.

"...and what if people knew of my father's true intentions?"

Iroh looked up, narrowing his eyes at Zuko.

"...Or what if he does succeed and obliterates everything and everyone but us?" Zuko continued. "There'd be nothing to have power over before we are forced to turn on ourselves and be at each other's throats."

Iroh took a deep breath. He softened his eyes slightly as his heart bore the weight of loyalty to his brother Ozai. "Zuko, you must understand the complexities of war, what made the Fire Nation what it is to this day. Questioning your father's decisions is tantamount to defiance against the Fire Lord and our Nation itself." And like that, his decision was made: double down.

"My 'father' is a murderer"

"Zuko" Iroh berated. "Be mindful of your words. Spreading accusations of the Fire Lord is dangerous and naive…especially for someone who is to reign an entire kingdom one day."

Edged with defiance, Zuko pressed on. "If you won't help me fix this. I'll do it myself. Its time to make amends for the past... for our past. "

Iroh's disbelief was shadowed by a gaze of sadness, worry creeping its way in. "Zuko, I understand your desire for justice. But this path you want to embark on will lead you astray. Will lead you into trouble. Do not let vengeance blind you from your destiny."

Zuko darted from the room, dissatisfied by his uncle's response. Iroh was always someone he held close due to the fact fatherhood was never a priority over power for Ozai. However, like him, Iroh chose power and loyalty over an innocent life. Though in two drastically different ways. Considering how Iroh lacked to interject when the announcement of the Water Tribes raids came about, his reaction should have been expected.

Prince Zuko had to fix this. He had no choice but to. Regardless of what he chose to do, it only mattered how he chose to do it. Confiding in his father would be the same result, or worse. Rallying against his father by gathering the support of the people as himself would not only create suspicion too great to be ignored, but if it came out that the Fire Lord's son was the one who orchestrated the eventual overthrow of Fire Lord Ozai, Zuko would not be spared to see the aftermath. A prince, the prince and heir to the throne being the face of defiance was sure to cause more harm. War would prevail with or without the presence of the prince. But what if it wasn't the prince…? That's when he pieced it altogether one-by-one — a disguise.

That same night, Zuko donned a mask. Royal blue and ivory depicted a dragon's face that melted exquisitely into the brilliant night sky, any likeness to red and his nationality — and possibly identity — would be at risk. Another means to conceal his true self, his niuweidao made its debut as Zuko veiled his masquerade, fading into the twilight.

Meanwhile just outside General Iroh's study, a wide-eyed young man stood, mouth agape, hovering about. Another individual who valued their own secrecy, a rogue courtier. Only his loyalty was to a different royal, the true heir — Azula.

XXX

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've read, edited, and completely rewrote this chapter far too many times. Hopefully, I did not miss an error. Apologies if I did. I'm currently searching for a beta-reader, however, I have not found one who caters to what I'm looking for in a beta-reader. A little discouraging but it is what it is.