Winter Night

His mother brushed into the room, eying her son with a radiant smile. "Oh, Zuko, it's beautiful!"

The boy moved uncomfortably in the new parka: dark indigos of royal colour. The hemming was polar-rabbit and the stark fur tickled his skin. His gloves were too thick and he felt hot and restrained. Zuko reached in and fixed the collar of his shirt. His new boots gripped the floor tightly, gridded soles taut with friction. "The belt's too tight," Zuko whimpered.

"You just had breakfast," his mother laughed, kneeling down and giving his stomach a pat. The pit in Zuko's gut almost worsened at the touch, and he felt he would go green.

"Perhaps the master's too cold, to be shivering like that," his footman noted.

His mother's eyes flickered with something worried. She took his hands into hers. "I'm not cold..." Zuko protested. He grit his teeth, trying to bite past his quivering jaw. Slick, icy tendrils slowly eased in his stomach. Just tell her, he thought. Mother, I've been hiding things from you. Please don't make me go back. I don't know how he knows but he does. I was careful, and Peti was, too. We tried. He can't know. No one knows...

His mother beamed. His throat itched with the words. "Mom..." he managed while the footmen took their leave.

"Zuko?"

The boy suddenly felt so small. His cheeks flared. "Mom, what if... What if someone..."

A maid swept into the room. "Lady Palena, the time!"

His mother glanced at the sun. "Spirits," she cursed, and all but dragged him through the door.

"Mom, what if—!"

"In the gondola, on the way there," she hurried. Her hand sought his as she guided him down the stairs. Zuko tugged behind her, towed along. His chest felt hollow, like there was a hole where there had once been fire.

Outside, the snow fell in gentle flakes. An ocean breeze had eased in from the south. His father stood waiting at the gates, grinning wide and proud. Zuko looked towards the ground in shame. Tell them, he urged. Tell them how it happened, like it happened. Be honest. You owe them that.

The canals weren't far, and the platform was already filling with noblemen. He picked through all the faces: all of them were distant relations, at best, since power was kept in the family. Others were merchants, wealthy rulers who traded with the Earth Kingdom, like father. Zuko bowed his head. His mother held his hand reassuringly. He had never felt shyer.

"Kanook!" a voice boomed, and Zuko startled. The tall, broad figure of Uncle Noktul stepped through the crowd. His severe, bony wife followed. "My brother! And Palena! Ah, the little Zuko."

Zuko normally would've bristled at 'little', but felt no such defiance. His uncle smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. "Eh, you'll make a fine young lad. Show us your muscles."

Zuko lifted his arm, and his loud uncle laughed. "Ah, those come with time," he chuckled. His austere aunt remained tight-lipped, eying Zuko closely. She had the kind of stare that made him shrink behind his mother, holding onto her dress with a small fist.

"Asiaka," his father greeted with a gracious smile.

She glanced at him. "Pleasure."

"Ah, don't mind her," his uncle cut-in. "Just worrying over the son, is all."

"No need to worry," his father assured. "I hear that the boy has grown into quite the waterbender! Top of his class. I think he's almost guaranteed a duel."

"He's had it in the bag for a while, that's for sure," his uncle laughed. "We couldn't be more proud!"

Zuko hid behind his mother. "He's been feeling a little shy this morning," she excused.

"Ah, well, he'll grow out of it soon enough," his uncle reassured. "Nothing yet?"

His father answered for him. "Nothing. He's just not a bender."

Firebender. Pakku's words haunted Zuko. His hands began to sweat and his mouth went dry. Not even Peti's parents knew. He just wanted to fall into a hole again and never come out.

"Well, the city needs more soldiers," his uncle provided with a forgiving smile. "Zuko might just make one yet."

Asiaka narrowed her eyes at Zuko.

Suddenly, Zuko's parents seemed to change. "We best be on our way," his father excused, nodding politely. His uncle nodded and smiled, waving as Zuko was led closer to the docks. His aunt was cold-faced.

Zuko's father spared one glance over his shoulder, muttering under his breath, "Charming woman." He took Zuko easily under the arms and lifted the boy into the gondola. Zuko couldn't help but smile. Peti was nothing like his mother, and for that he was grateful.

"How did they meet, anyway?" Zuko's mother asked, stiffening with her hands out as the gondola rocked. His father seated himself beside Zuko, holding the boy tight across the shoulders. The boat drifted forward, snowflakes landing like lilies on the water.

"Arranged marriage," he huffed. "But Noktul had some choice. He wanted a son, and a waterbending son. It was said that the Lady Asiaka was the most beautiful woman in the whole tribe with waterbending heritage, and so he chose her." His father grinned. "Little did he know I was to marry the most beautiful woman of all." Zuko's mother blushed, chin sinking close to her furs. The gondola passed slowly beneath a bridge, joining the rows of other boats of councilmen.

Zuko hung his head. "Did you want a waterbending son, dad?" The pit in his stomach grew.

His father's stark blue eyes softened, and he leaned to give him a gentle hug. "I wanted a family that I could love until the end of my days," he replied, tucking Zuko's head beneath his chin.

"But—but what if..." Zuko felt close to crying. "What if I was a nonbender...is that better?"

Zuko's father shared a glance with his wife. She shrugged subtly, leaning forward to rest a hand on her son's lap. "Do not wish to be something you are not."

His hands shook. "What if...what if someone knew?" He felt sick.

"Hush," his father said quickly, keeping his voice low. "No one knows. Don't speak of such things."

"But what if?" Zuko begged.

"Let that day come when it comes," his father answered. "But you are our son, and you have never looked twice at an element, water or not. Is that understood?"

Zuko's throat ached, so he nodded instead, looking down.

"We shall speak no more of this," his father said, releasing Zuko and folding his hands in his lap. The cold settled in Zuko and he hugged himself. You win, Pakku, he thought.

You win.

Four Years Ago

The wind wailed in the night. Their little icy alcove was feeling the chill. Zuko huddled in a ball beneath fur blankets, his father tending the fire between attempts at stacking blocks of ice higher around them.

"Blasted storm," he muttered, black hair fraying in the loose gales. The young boy shivered, staring at his father. The polar dogs whimpered and paced, the quietest of them curled next to the councilman's son.

His father turned back to the boy and allowed a smile. "Not quite what you expected, I'd imagine," he said. Zuko shook his small black head. "Hunting trips are often not about the actual hunt," Kanook sighed, nudging the hot, struggling coals. "Battling weather, battling luck, battling impatience."

"And hunger," Zuko added in a little voice.

"Ahh, you see, but we came prepared," his father grinned, and threw him a small knapsack. "Snacks, for the growing child." Zuko dug in eagerly.

Something howled in the distance. The tall man froze, narrowed eyes searching the dark. Zuko felt needles in his gut, staring at the thin doorway.

Then the polar dogs barked, hackling with a snarl. His father made a motion to grab his spear. "Get down," he ordered, and Zuko obeyed without question. The howls were sounding closer. The boy hid beneath the blankets as his father fanned the flames, bending low over him.

"Shhh," he soothed. Zuko nodded and kept quiet. He thought of his mother, safe at home. Noktul and Peti were miles off on their own excursion. The seconds passed at an excrutiating pace...

Beady yellow eyes shone in the darkness. His father tensed. Something growled, deep and throaty like rumbling waves, then the wolves fell through the crack! Snapping and snarling and large! His father roared and sprang into action, the dogs rising to his side. The dogs weren't cowards, and neither was his father, yelling and fighting tooth and nail to defend his son.

The wolves lunged, more fierce and stronger than their hunting dogs. Fangs sank into the throat of their alpha. Zuko cried out, tears welling.

A wolf went for Zuko, but his father shattered his spear over the wolf's head with a thundering crack. The wolves retaliated, finished with the dogs. The weight took his father by surprise. He went down. A claw raked his neck. He cried and thrashed, grasping for the broken spear. Another wolf ensnared his arm. Blood stained the snow.

"Dad!" Zuko wailed, but his father's head smacked against the ground, rolling unconscious. The wolves growled and turned on the boy, their golden eyes wide. Predatory.

"No, no..." he begged, stepping out of the blanket, pleading for his father. "Dad? Get up, please get up!"

The lead wolf snarled and made a move towards Zuko.

"NO!" Zuko screamed, heart exploding in a fury he didn't know how to control. A heat took him and burned in a long ich down his arm. He threw out a fist and a jet of flame shot out. The wolves panicked and ran, howling and burning into the night.

Zuko staggered back and watched breathlessly the wolves struggled through the door. Then they were gone, and the light vanished. The night was suddenly darker than it had ever been, but the heat lingered in the air.

Zuko collapsed in a sweating, shaking, crying mess. Large arms wrapped him up and he buried into his father. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I didn't want them to get you, I couldn't help it..."

Blood ran down his father's collar, and he was weak, fighting to hold his son, his precious child. A firebender.

"Zuko, you need you need to focus, I need you to listen to me," he urged between his teeth, and the shaking boy did, wide gold eyes teary. Kanook glanced towards the snow-covered coals. Mustered his courage. His father grabbed Zuko's hands and pulled them to his neck, over the bloody wound.

"I need you make fire," he wheezed, panting through the pain. "You're going to burn my wound shut. And no matter how much I scream I need you to keep going until every part has melted. It's going to be scary, but I need you to be brave. Right now, please. You need to do this, and then it'll be over. It'll be all over."

The wolves never came back. Zuko spent the night curled against his unconscious father, hands bloody and trembling. And in the morning, his father bandaged himself wordlessly, stuffing what they could carry into bags, and left the dogs for dead.

"Dad, I'm a firebender," Zuko said, but his father grabbed his face and held him close.

"You don't tell anyone," he growled fiercely. "You tell no one at all. You don't hint, you don't show, you don't glance twice at fire. You will not firebend ever again. I burnt myself to close the wound, using coal. You hid while the wolves attacked."

"Dad..." Zuko whimpered.

"No, you do as you're told!" he snapped. "This is for your own safety! If they discover you're a firebender, they'll take you away and it'll destroy me and your mother! Do you understand?! Zuko! Do you understand?!"

Zuko nodded, bawling.

"This is the end of it," Kanook dismissed, turning towards the open tundra. Zuko could make out the shadows of men on the horizon, dogs barking and howling. Noktul and Peti. "You are my son, nothing more."

Zuko shut his eyes and let his father lead him forward.

He never felt more ashamed.