Pakku's breakfast was interrupted by a knock. Several decorous seconds later, Tarao stepped through the doorway. "There is a meeting of the king's advisors. Your presence is requested."

Pakku slurped up the last of his breakfast and reached for his coat. Blast it! They were voting to make a move already? After spying on the disastrous meeting where Ola made several good points, Pakku had intended to speak with the king as soon as possible. But the king was preoccupied with something his daughter wanted to do. Today would have been a better day to speak with him. Why did the timing of everything suddenly have to be so complicated?

He followed Tarao to the palace. "Is there anything I should know walking in?"

"You are the only one whose thoughts are not already known. Prepare yourself," Tarao warned. Great. So all of the other advisors had already gotten involved in Ola's scheme, at least a little bit. It would have been nice to be wrong about that.

The advisors were meeting on cushions in the nice, open room above the audience chamber where important official meetings were usually held. This meant the king knew they were meeting. That, in turn, implied that the result of the meeting would probably be taken to him immediately after. Pakku's mood grew more and more sour. He was under pressure to rush around, his breakfast was interrupted, he had to grab a royal messenger and send them to the training grounds so all his morning students could be turned away last minute, which they no doubt would complain about, and now this. "There had better be a good reason to bring my whole morning to a crashing halt," he snapped as he sat down.

"There is," Ola replied. He was sitting where the person in charge of the meeting sat. Wonderful. Just wonderful. "There is suspicion that members of the Avatar's party are in fact traitors who have taken advantage of his youth to sneak past our walls."

Pakku's patience snapped. He could no longer hold himself back in search of the wisest way forward. He'd done enough of that this past week to last him the rest of his life. "You're talking about the young man with the scar and his uncle, aren't you?"

All of the advisors, of which there were about a dozen, watched him keenly. "Yes," Ola said.

"That young man cannot possibly be a traitor," Pakku told them all. "Accusing him of treachery is the same as accusing a water spirit of treachery, since his actions are controlled by a water spirit. The night of the banquet, right after His Majesty told me I was to teach the Avatar, that young man asked me if I knew a way to get rid of troublesome water spirits. I told him he was swimming up the wrong creek and he'd better learn to get along with it instead. He didn't like hearing that, which is why I arranged a meeting between him and the archivist. The archivist told him the same thing. Now I hear that he's been talking openly about leaving the city in order to train with a water spirit. I hope that means he followed our advice."

There was silence after he finished speaking. Most of the others there looked surprised. But there was one that did not. "I agree," Tarao said. "That boy cannot be a Fire Nation spy. He's a waterbender."

Ola's eyes bulged. "What?"

"Last night, my watchers and I witnessed him sneak out of the upper floor of his lodging. He was wearing a strange disguise, pretending to be some kind of spirit being. He made his way to the fountain, where I personally watched him with my own two eyes. He spotted me. He held his hand under the running water, turning it into a sphere of ice. He held it up to me as if to show it to me. He left it behind when he snuck back to his lodging. I examined it; it was newly made ice."

Ola looked furious. Some others looked mildly upset. Most were just confused. Pakku smirked. Ola did not have majority support after all. This meeting had been called in order to sway the rest of the advisors into supporting one side or another.

"If he isn't a Fire Nation agent, what is he?" another advisor asked.

"Yes, I still don't like the influence he's gaining," another one said. "Whether he represents another's interests or just his own, he could still be dangerous."

"You said he acts at the direction of a water spirit?" Tarao asked Pakku.

"A water spirit forced him to come here," Pakku said. "If it hadn't, he never would have come to the Northern Water Tribe."

"Has he said anything to explain the bizarre stories he circulates?" Ola asked. "And what of this disguise Tarao saw him in?"

Pakku shrugged. He knew nothing.

"Fire Nation agent or not, the boy is suspicious," an older woman said. "Not all of the stories about him can be true. Who knows if any of them are? He may have made up the water spirit. We must stick to the proven facts, and the proven facts are that a strange person has come in from outside our city and gained a massive following in less than a week. Even if it risks insulting the Avatar, His Majesty must act. He cannot give them free rein any longer."

There were murmurs of agreement. Ola relaxed. Tarao frowned, but said nothing. Pakku raced to think of something he could do, and realized he had trapped himself. He knew something that the other advisors did not, and had to tell the king about it. It looked like his only chance to tell the king would be at the same time as the other advisors presented their conclusion. Which meant they were guaranteed to find out that he had known this all along. His only option to avoid ostracization or worse was to come clean now.

Pakku raised a hand. "I have more to say." The murmurs quieted down. All eyes were on him again. "When he told me about the water spirit, I decided to verify his story independently. I have been meeting with the archivist to go over old records. We've discovered a precedent. There have been other people in the past who served the interests of spirits. Their backgrounds aligned closely with his story. He may be a traitor with a knack for making up stories and the good luck to have coincidentally invented a story that matches historical records, or he may be another one of those people. I propose that we take this matter to His Majesty, bring up those records, and give the boy a test. If he is one of them, the records will tell us what to do next. If he isn't, we'll know for sure that he is a traitor."

Ola looked furious again. Tarao looked at Pakku with new eyes. Most of the others did too. Disaster was averted.

"All in favor of this motion," Tarao called, raising his hand. Most of the advisors raised their hands. Ola was the only one who did not. "Ola, what is your objection?"

"Do the rest of you actually believe these fairy tales?" Ola asked. "Water spirits may exist out there in the frozen wilds. But this idea of friendly water spirits that watch over us and look out for us is a fairy tale told to comfort children. There are no such things. Anyone who claims to work with spirits is just preying on superstition."

"Very well," Tarao said. "Part of the test will be to demonstrate the existence of the water spirit. The motion passes."

Pakku's heart sank. The elemental spirits, he knew, were aloof and distant. They would never perform tricks to prove their existence. The only thing Zuko could do to pass that part of the test would be to use his own spiritbending powers, and asking that of a half-trained twospirit inside a building made of the element in question…

Disaster was not averted, after all.

.

Zuko wandered around. He was in no hurry. He had no place to be except here, now, walking along the icy sidewalks and spotting the little admiring glances people gave him as he passed. Sometimes they waved at him. He waved back with a smile. It felt a lot like what other people said being home felt like. At the fountain, he paused and looked up at the roof of the building opposite. Nobody was there.

After that, the feeling began to fade. Doubts and questions returned. What was he doing? What was wandering around the city going to accomplish? What was the point? The glances people gave him - they were probably of pity. Confusion at best. What was he doing, strutting around like he was impressive? He must be making such a fool of himself.

Now I believe the opposite of what I believed only an hour ago! What's wrong with me? What do I really believe? Zuko made his way to the edges of the city to think. Following old instincts, he located hidden places where the ice had been carved out or fallen away. He put his hand on the ice, closed his eyes and recalled the last of the dragony feeling. There was still a little bit left. It was just enough to convince him not to give up yet.

Maybe it doesn't mean nothing. If there's a name for what I do, then it has to be worth naming. There has to be something important about it: a way to stop it, or control it, maybe even use it. Can I ride my mind the way I ride water? He took a deep breath and concentrated as hard as he could on imagining that he was a dragon. He imagined that he had wings and a tail and horns and gills. The confident dragonlike feeling strengthened. I'm doing it!

He heard footsteps. Zuko's eyes flew open. He turned to see Kalika walking up to him. A group of four children followed her, one of them holding her hand. That boy's face crumpled when he saw Zuko. He turned and buried his face in Kalika's side while the others gasped in wonder.

"Lee," Kalika said with a wave, "this is my little brother, Kalla. And these are some of his classmates. They're in Master Pakku's junior class. Kalla's been having trouble with his waterbending, and I thought you could help."

"You're a super duper waterbending master, right?" one of the other boys asked. "Way better than Master Pakku!"

They looked so excited. Zuko didn't pay any attention to them. He had eyes only for Kalla, who still couldn't look in his general direction. Kalika gave her brother's hand a shake. "He's upset because he's struggling," she said.

She wants me to help him. But I can't. I'm not what they think I am. I'm no master. The doubts lingered. Zuko still felt muddy inside, his beliefs unclear. He wasn't balanced yet. I could help him if I was the version of me that helps kids. But I'm not! It's not coming! He began to panic. I'm not ready!

None of this showed, of course. He knew better than to show weakness before an audience. And although he was in a muddy state, he knew what the correct course of action was. He forced himself to walk up to Kalla all confident-like, pretending to be one of those versions of himself that could help. "She's wrong, isn't she?" he asked softly.

Kalla looked up.

"You're not sad because you're struggling with your waterbending."

A heartbeat passed. Two. Tears welled up in Kalla's eyes. "I'm sad because I'm no good at waterbending," he choked out. "I'm bad at it and I should give up."

Kalika looked down at her brother, shocked. Zuko smiled. "Show me what's wrong."

Kalla sniffled. "I just can't keep a grip." He turned some of the ice to water and picked it up, started to move it around. His form looked good. But as he swung the water out to his left, it fell and splashed on the ground. He sobbed.

"Mhm," Zuko said in a businesslike manner. "Do you also have problems with waterbending when you don't mean to?"

Where did that come from? Zuko didn't feel in control of himself anymore. His body was holding a confident pose without him. I've totally lost my balance. Uh oh. He was relieved to see Kalla look back up at him, startled. "S-sometimes," the boy answered.

Woah! All at once, Zuko felt as if he'd rolled over inside his body and now he was upright. He and his body were aligned again. I've got my balance back! He smiled, and it felt like he was in control of the smile. "Thought so. I know what's wrong, and I know how to fix it."

Kalla's eyes widened. His mouth fell open. "You do?"

Zuko nodded. "Pay attention to how your arms feel. Specifically, their temperature."

Kalla squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay."

"Now repeat the move you just did, and keep paying attention to your arms."

Kalla picked the water back up and almost immediately dropped it again. "My arms felt different! Colder."

Zuko nodded. "That cold feeling is the source of your waterbending. It comes from your stomach. In order to use it, you have to pull it out into your hands. You're having trouble controlling where it is. That's all."

Kalla looked at him like he was a king, a spirit, a dragon, or all three. "You can fix it?"

"I can help you fix it," Zuko corrected. He looked at the empty ice and whistled. He heard everybody gasp as a large part of the ice wall turned itself to water and flowed forward. It assumed the general shape of a water dragon, then froze. It froze slowly, really playing up the transformation, and the water dragon looked fancier than usual. The membranes of its fins and gills were made of clear ice and everything else of white ice, a touch it didn't usually bother to add. It shook its head and flared its gills, looking majestic. "A ball of water, please," Zuko requested. He looked back. "Make that four."

The water spirit reached out with its barbels. Four balls of water, all approximately a foot wide, rose up into the air and hovered there. Zuko directed Kalla and his friends to face a ball. "I'm going to teach you an exercise to strengthen your control over your waterbending power. Here's how it goes. You will lunge forward and change the ball from water to ice or ice to water. Then you step back and push your waterbending power back down into your belly. Then you lunge forward again, and repeat. You only get one try. If you can't bend the water, you still have to step back and push down. If it doesn't go down, you still have to bend the water. No pauses. Ready?"

Kalla nodded. He took a deep breath, then reached forward and froze the ball of water. His classmates did likewise. I hope this works. It's the waterbending equivalent of doing breathing exercises with candles. That had to be good for something.

Kalla's first few tries were successful. But then, he tried to turn the ball of ice back into water, and it didn't melt. He glanced at Zuko, then stepped back and made a pushing downward motion. His next try was successful. But his problems were beginning to show. The boys had ended up doing the exercise more or less in harmony. While the others were able to melt or freeze their water nearly every time, Kalla's water didn't budge. Sometimes only part of it changed state. In a sheltered nook lit by reflected moonlight, it wasn't possible to see Kalla blush. But Zuko knew he was. He watched the other boys bending their water while Kalla struggled, and felt the embarrassment as if it was his own. Poor kid.

Kalla tried to freeze the ball of water, and only part of it froze. He tightened his hands again. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing.

"Kalla." Zuko put a hand on his shoulder. "You only get one try, remember?"

Kalla looked down, all the more humiliated because he had just been reprimanded by his teacher in front of all his classmates. Zuko's gut twisted. I can't do that to him. "You're a waterbender," he went on. "Not an earthbender. The ocean doesn't come up on a beach and then stop and start digging like a badger mole. It comes up, and then it goes back down, over and over again. The sources of bending work the same way the elements do, so, you have to get it to go back and forth like the ocean." Let's just leave out for now the part where they are the elements.

Kalla blinked. "You mean…?" He changed his stance so that he had one foot in front of the other, widely spaced. With a grunt, he rocked back onto his rear foot. He swung forward onto his front foot and reached out with his hands. The ball froze. Then he swung back and pushed down. His own momentum carried him back and forth evenly, like a pendulum. Why didn't I think of that? Kalla was much more successful now. His failures decreased to every one in three tries, then one in four, then five. The other three boys adopted his method. As Zuko watched them rocking back and forth like the ocean, he realized that they technically weren't balanced. They were always moving. But in practice they were perfectly balanced because the movement was controlled. Kalla had starting breathing in synch with his movements; he breathed in as he rocked backward, and breathed out as soon as he started rocking forward. Because he knew when the change was coming.

A long time passed without an error on Kalla's part. Zuko blinked and realized he had lost count of how many tries had passed. Training with water was strangely hypnotic. He cleared his throat and held up a hand. The boys stumbled out of their rhythms and stood normally. Zuko flicked a hand at the water spirit, who returned all the balls of water to their original places in the glacier. He told Kalla, "Try the move again."

Kalla reached out, turned part of the glacier to water, and began to move it around. He swooped it over to his left. He swooped it to his right. He arced it through the air. He threw it forward. Halfway through its forward motion, it wobbled and fell to the ground. Kalla was not upset. He stared at his hands, then at Zuko, a great big grin dawning on his face. He ran forward and hugged Zuko. "Thank you, Dragonmaster!"

Zuko patted his head. What did he just call me?

The other boys ran forward, too. They looked at him with stars in their eyes and exclaimed how awesome he was, what a great teacher, and so on. They called him Dragonmaster, then ran over to the water dragon and repeated this treatment. "Thank you, Dragon!" The water spirit flapped its fins and wrapped its barbels around them, trying to pat all their heads at once.

After giving the water spirit a great big hug, Kalla turned back. He smiled up at Zuko. "I'm gonna be a great waterbender, better than Master Pakku!"

One of the other boys jumped. He looked up and reminded them that it was nearly time for the junior class. They were going to be late! Zuko watched all the boys run off to their class. When they were gone, he and Kalika stood alone in the little nook in the glacier. A cold wind blew. Shadows deepened. And the water spirit had disappeared.

Why did it disappear?

"Wow," Kalika said. "You are a great teacher, Lee."

Zuko's heart plummeted. He knew the answer. He sprinted past Kalika, bounced off the ice wall, and ran into the city. He sprinted to a canal and leaped onto the water. He picked up the water beneath himself, knelt down to grab it so he wouldn't be flung off, and pushed forward. The city blurred around him as he raced down the canal. The cold air stung his eyes. He saw a turn in the canal and tilted nearly sideways, raising the wave to form a wall as he turned. Then he picked up speed, racing as fast as he dared towards the tunnel.

A boat appeared. It had one passenger. Their eyes widened. There was no time to think. Zuko leaped up and pressed the wave down. He flew over the boat while not a ripple disturbed it below. When he met the wave on the other side, he let his knees buckle beneath him so that he could grab onto the water again and gave the wave a brief push. He stayed balanced.

When he reached the last canal before the tunnel, he didn't bother to slow down. He leaped off and flew through the air again, trusting the water spirit to do something about his landing. It raised pillars of ice. He leaped from one to another, reaching the ground and the tunnel at the same time. He sprinted up the tunnel, whose floor had sprouted a thick coat of fur. The fur cupped his feet, preventing all possibility of slipping.

When he reached the top he stumbled out into the snow and stood there, panting. His legs and arms shook. The water spirit had disappeared because it knew he couldn't stay in the city. He needed to be alone, urgently. And the reason he needed to be alone so urgently was -

Zuko sank to his knees. "I can't be Firelord."

He let those words echo. The air murmured. The snow lay as smoothly as ever. They already knew. They had known for a long time, possibly since he was born. But to Zuko, it was news.

"I taught waterbending," he whispered. "I liked it. I was good at it." I always thought I would be a weird Firelord, or a bad one. But someone who teaches waterbending can't be Firelord at all.

He expected to hurt. His only dream, his only purpose, only meaning was being taken from him. But it didn't hurt. All the things he had ever envisioned - sitting on his throne, directing a war meeting, meeting with advisors - they did not shatter violently. They turned to clouds of snow and blew away. Those visions had not been solid for a very long time. They had been filled with miniscule cracks. Only now did Zuko let himself see that.

"I never could have been. I was always the wrong kind of person. All my trying to go back home and reclaim my throne… It was all for nothing."

He hung his head and sat staring down at the snow. It was dark. Everything was dark. How could the moonlit snow be dark? Zuko realized it wasn't the snow that was dark. It was himself. His inner fire had gone out.

He didn't know how long he sat there in the snow. Time had ceased to have any meaning. What was it except a way to measure progress? Progress towards what? He had failed. There was no future anymore. The air that blew around him meant nothing. The snow meant nothing. The world meant nothing. I don't have a place in it, and I never did.

Hours could have passed, or only fifteen minutes. He wasn't sure if the moon had moved. Why keep track? Nonetheless, at some point the voice of habit told him he should get up and do something. His legs were starting to hurt.

What should I do? For the first time in his life, he couldn't answer that question. It too was meaningless. He stood up so his legs would stop hurting. He stood there and looked out at the snow. It was strangely…restful…not to have to do anything. His mind was quiet. He couldn't remember the last time it had been so quiet.

No. Upon further reflection, he could. He knew exactly when he had last felt this level of quiet and peace. I'm dead. This thought did not scare him. It was really nice not to have to be alive anymore.

He sat in the snow and idly wondered. What now? Do I go back? He imagined going back to the city. The canals. Water, shining softly in the moonlight. It would be so soft, so hypnotic, so tempting…

Zuko gasped. Fear slammed through him, leaving him twitching like he'd been electrocuted. No. No. I can never, ever, ever do that. The city was off limits.

Now what?

.

The water dragon reappeared. It stroked the top of the little one's head with one barbel. It gestured, Come. It had to repeat the gesture and pull on its shoulders, but the little one came. They walked through the snow. They followed the trail of flags for a while. Then they turned off and followed a path that only the water knew. At a place where the glacier had calved recently and the ice slid vertically down to the water, it said, Stay. It knew the little one would stay. The ocean was too violent. It lacked appeal.

The water dragon dove into the sea and swam as a real dragon would, including mimicking waterbending to push itself along. It was not hard to find a fish lurking along the ocean floor. The water dragon grabbed a big one because a big fish would have the most useful bones. Like water, everything that existed always came back around. It was not hard to know what would happen, because it was the same as what had already happened. Nothing ever really changed. The water knew this best of all.

The dragon brought the fish back to the little one, dropped the fish on the ice, picked up and clamped its jaws around the little one's hand. The fire was still inside, even if it could not be felt. The little one twitched as a spark traveled from its belly into its hand and out. The water spirit spit out the spark. It floated in the air, then began to dance in circles. It flared up into a full-sized fire and sat on the ice when it was done. The water dragon held the fish over the fire.

When the fish was cooked, it gave it to the little one on a plate made from ice. The little one held it but did not eat. The water dragon poked it in the forehead until it ate. When it was done, it looked down at the bones. The water spirit knew it would do this, because it had already done it. The little one picked up the bones and placed them in the fire. It had already done that.

Through the little one's eyes, the water spirit watched what happened. The fire consumed the remaining organs of the fish, its eyes and skin, the membranes of its fins, and all the rest until nothing was left but bone. The bones fell away from each other. Nothing happened after that. The bones lay in the fire.

"The first set of bones said everything but my core would be destroyed," the little one said. "This one says that everything will become as strong as my core. I'll heal."

The water dragon nodded.

"How do you heal from being dead?"

The usual way.

"Dead things heal?"

Every one.

The little one snorted. It closed its eyes and fell over. The water spirit pulled a blanket of snow over it and made a pillow. The moon had moved, after all. Soon it would fall behind the peak of the glacier. The water dragon looked up at its beloved small one. It flapped its fins.

It abandoned its dragon form and surrounded the little one with a ring of ice. The fire gnawed at the bones. The air picked up snow and the little one's hair and played with them. The earth was far below the ice, but most definitely there. They all had a wonderful, cozy night.