the crown ain’t worth much
so @byesweetheart and I have been going back and forth like kids in a candy store about ZukAang, which is a horribly under-appreciated ship in the Avatar: The Last Airbender fandom. and what do you do when there’s not enough content for your faves?
you bloody make it yourself.
Ava, this is for you, dear one <3
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender, ATLA
Words: 4,740
Rating: General Audience
Pairing: Zuko X Aang, ZukAang
It was spring when Firelord Zuko, son of Ozai and Ursa, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, at last returned to the royal city from his annual liaison to the Earth Kingdom. The past five-and-a-half years had been hard on the whole world, but particularly on the young Firelord. He was only twenty, almost twenty-one, and already, so much of the world had changed in the wake of the fire Nation’s assault upon the Earth Kingdom. There was so much that needed to be rebuilt, so many years of prejudice and hatred to put behind them, so many bonds of trust that needed to be forged and reforged. Zuko’s father had left an indelible mark on the world. It would take time to heal.
His father…
Inside his palanquin, Zuko curled his fingers into the folds of his robes as his bearers carried him down the ship’s gangplank to the grounds outside the palace. Large crowds had gathered in the harbor to welcome their Firelord home, and the ship’s captain was throwing a fit about security. Much to the captain’s chagrin, Zuko insisted on being seen by people wherever he went. His palanquin was uncovered—he refused to hide behind curtains. He refused to hide the face his people needed to see, needed to believe in.
Zuko raised one hand to his left cheek, touching it gently. He suddenly remembered himself in a dark cave of crystals, miles below a great city, a young waterbender shouting at him about the face of her enemy.
My face…
Yes, his father had left many marks on the world.
The bearers brought him swiftly down the gangplank, then proceeded towards the palace at the heart of the royal city. The young Firelord waved to the crowds outside his palanquin, a little embarrassed at the number of young women screaming his name and throwing themselves at the line of guards. Fortunately, the captain’s soldiers kept the Firelord’s fans at a respectably safe distance. Zuko only shook his head, and he blew the hair out of his face.
As he was marched through the city, a messenger approached the line of guards. He was allowed through, and the young man quickly caught up to the palanquin, jogging beside it to keep pace. As he was unable to prostrate himself while moving, he put his hands together in the formal hand symbol and bowed his head. “Firelord Zuko,” he said. “Forgive this intrusion…”
Zuko waved a hand lazily, sitting back in his cushions. “Not at all, Lee.” He recognized the messenger from the palace. The young man was usually running around from one place to another. He was a trustworthy aide.
Lee bowed his head again. “We’d received word he would be on his way, but he arrived a little earlier than expected, Your Excellency, and we haven’t prepared—”
Zuko sat up, frowning. “He? Hold on, Lee, who’s here? Who comes to the Firelord’s palace uninvited?”
Lee hesitated. He glanced at the road ahead to make sure he didn’t run into any of the guards or loose arms sticking out from the cheering crowd. “Well, my lord,” he huffed, turning back to Zuko. “The Avatar.”
Zuko’s breath caught in his throat.
Outside, the cheers grew dim in the background, the crowds disappeared, Lee’s voice faded, and all Zuko could feel was the sunlight. It broke through the clouds above, falling on his face, warming his hands clutching tight to the edges of the palanquin. His skin grew warm, like a great fire was building within, a burst of energy and light.
“—Yu Dao province,” Lee was saying, “wants to discuss the movement of Fire Nation troops out of—”
“Aang is here?” Zuko interrupted, not hearing a word the man had said.
“Yes, Excellency. Avatar Aang arrived just a day ago.”
“The Avatar has been here a day,” Zuko said, looking directly into Lee’s eyes, “and nobody told me?”
Lee cringed, bowing his head while jogging. “I apologize, sir, but—”
Zuko held up a hand. “Stop!” he shouted.
The palanquin bearers, though surprised, halted at once. Lee paused with them. The soldiers holding people back glanced over the shoulders. Even the crowd seemed to hesitate for a moment, watching, waiting to see what their young ruler was going to do.
Zuko stepped out of the palanquin.
Almost at once, every single person gasped, then dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves before Zuko. Even in their fervor, no one in the crowd would dare stand in the presence of their Firelord.
A soldier hurried forward. “Firelord Zuko, Your Excellency, please, for your safety—”
Zuko turned to the soldier, his eyes narrowed. The man dropped at once, bowing.
The square was quiet. No one spoke, and a slight wind blew in from the harbor, rustling Zuko’s robes. The sunlight fell upon them all, and a great calm fell over the city.
“He is here,” Zuko said softly. He could feel it. It was like the entire Fire Nation had grown warmer, lighter. Like the very world knew the One who’d saved it was nearby.
The one who’d saved him.
Later, the soldier who’d approached Zuko would tell people he actually saw the Firelord smile.
Zuko abruptly pulled his robes over his head, tossing them into his palanquin. They’d only get burned up and in his way. Despite their prostration and respect, several people in the crowd screamed when they saw him shirtless. He faced the palace. “Catch up with me later,” he said over his shoulder to his bearers. “Sorry, but a palanquin is too slow.”
Then he crouched, and he thrust both hands out behind him. Fire blasted from his palms. He shot up and forward, skated over the heads of the crowd, and flew the rest of the way to the front door of his palace.
•
Zuko threw open the palace doors, ignoring the servants and Imperial Firebenders who scurried up to him trying to offer help or service. He brushed past them into the first atrium. “Where is he?” he snapped at one of the servants as he marched towards the guest wing of the palace. He passed red marble pillars and hanging scrolls of past Firelords. “Where’s the Avatar?”
“Your Excellency, the Avatar is, uh, not that way,” the elderly man stammered. Zuko paused, turning back. “Lord Aang wished to—”
“Don’t call him that,” Zuko said, giving the man an odd look. He tried not to laugh at the thought of all his servants gushing over Aang—the “simple monk”—calling him stuff like Lord. “The Avatar is above such titles,” Zuko explained, a little gentler.
The servant bowed his head. “The Avatar,” he continued, “wished to stay somewhere, ah, closer to you, Your Excellency.”
Zuko frowned. He started walking back to the center atrium at the front of the palace. “So he’s not in the guest chambers?”
“No, sir, no he definitely isn’t.”
“Well, where is he?” Zuko demanded.
The servant sighed. “He’s in…your chambers, my lord.”
Zuko stopped walking.
Behind him, the servants cringed. The Imperial Firebenders took a step back.
Then Zuko laughed, and all the anxiety of his recent trip, all the worry and stress melting away at once. He shook his head, a smile flickering across his face. “Of course he is,” he said under his breath.
“My lord, I don’t wish to insult, but it is not proper…”
Zuko glanced over his shoulder at the servant. “You do insult,” he said, cutting the man off bluntly, and the servant bowed his head at once. “Did you know that before I was Firelord, I camped out on deserted islands and abandoned temples with the Avatar?” Zuko asked, the ghost of an amused smile at his lips. “I’d rather the Avatar be by my side, than send him all the way across the palace.” He grinned then, fully, as if at some private joke. “How will I make sure he’s doing hot-squats from my room?”
“H-hot…squats, Excellency?” the servant asked, his face growing redder, clearly trying not to burst into a fit about “propriety.” All Zuko’s servants and advisors seemed to want to do was coach him on how to be Firelord. As if they still didn’t trust him to do the job after all this time. “Are you…his teacher?”
Zuko snorted. “Of course I am. Who else is going to teach that airhead firebending?”
“Sir, it is beneath you to—”
Zuko turned sharply, and the servants and Imperial Firebenders at once dropped to their knees.
Zuko looked down at the servant, his patience wearing thin. “The only thing beneath me,” he said quietly, placing his right hand on the man’s head, “is you, right now. When it comes to Avatar Aang, nothing is beneath me. Understood?”
The man gulped, and he nodded underneath Zuko’s hand. “Yes, Firelord Zuko.”
Zuko turned away brusquely, clutching his hand tightly to his bare chest as he stalked off to his chambers. Where had that come from? That confidence, that…ferocity?
He shuddered. Sometimes, he was afraid there was more of his father in him than he thought. He paused in the center of the atrium, and he looked up at the hanging scroll portraits. His father’s hung right next to the newly installed scroll, Zuko’s own portrait as Firelord. His hand—the hand he’d threatened the servant with—trembled. Maybe the servants coached him so much because they didn’t think he was worthy of the throne. Maybe it was a mistake for him to be the Firelord. Surely there was someone better. Someone who’d not been tainted by his father’s malice.
Unquestionable honor? But I’ve made so many mistakes.
Zuko’s hand grew steady. Looking upon the portrait of his father’s face, he remembered his uncle’s voice.
Yes, you have. You struggled. You suffered. But you have always followed your own path. You’ve restored your own honor. And only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.
Zuko stared at the depiction of his father hanging before him. “I follow my own path,” he said to himself, his voice a hushed breath in the atrium. “There is nothing of you inside me,” he whispered to the picture of his father.
Then he turned, and walked away.
He didn’t look back.
•
Zuko wondered how many of his own doors he’d have to keep bursting into today. He threw open the doors to the royal chambers, the personal rooms for the Firelord. Recently, they were empty a lot. Zuko had been on his liaison to the Earth Kingdom, and Mai hardly stayed in the palace anymore. She was busy traveling around the Fire Nation, studying to rework the prison system. She’d even visited some of the ex-colonies to fight for the release of alleged criminals, working with the Earth Kingdom government and ex-Fire Nation governors to release wrongfully imprisoned earthbenders now that the Hundred Years War was over.
Mai was doing a lot of good for the Fire Nation. Which was why Zuko had decided they should take a break from their relationship.
Mai had thrown a fit, of course, what with happened the last time he’d ended things (poorly). The servants were still finding shuriken embedded in the walls. But Zuko eventually calmed her down enough to tell her he didn’t want to break up—never again. But he did want to give her time to discover herself, so she could be her own person. Zuko knew the politics of being the wife of the Firelord; they’d consumed his own mother. He didn’t want that to happen to Mai. Zuko wanted her to be able to be herself first.
Of course, Mai had always been strong. But Zuko convinced her that one of the best—and hardest—things he’d ever done had been going out on his own for a while.
“You’ll learn about yourself,” he’d told her. “Who you are, and what you want. And if you still want me when you come back, you’ll know right where to find me. I’ll be waiting with a plate full of fruit tarts just for you.”
She’d called him a few more names, and there had been tears. But she knew he said these things out of love. And she’d eagerly jumped at the chance once she decided to reform the prison systems. She was doing so much good, for the Fire Nation, and for herself.
But now, throwing open the doors and entering the royal chambers after a long trip away from home, Zuko felt the slight twinge of loneliness when he imagined the empty rooms.
And then he saw Aang.
The Avatar sat in the middle of the room, on the floor instead of on any of the plush couches or ottomans. He flicked little bursts of air from his fingers at his flying-lemur, Momo. He was smiling, his eyes alight, his clear laugh ringing like the glass bells in the palace banquet hall. He wore traditional Air Nomad clothing: the long, ceremonial yellow robes and a string of meditation beads around his neck. The formal clothing of a fully-realized airbending monk.
When Zuko walked in, Aang’s eyes turned from Momo to the door instantly. His face lit up even more than it already was, and he sprang up on a little puff of air beneath him. “Zuko!”
And all the loneliness, all the hesitation and doubt, all his anxiety—all of it vanished from Zuko’s heart, like a passing storm, like a drifting cloud.
Like a gust of wind.
Zuko ran forward to meet Aang, who leapt for him at the same moment. Aang yelped, Zuko cried out, and they tumbled into each other in their excitement, a tangle of limbs and robes and beads. They both howled and giggled, trying to disentangle themselves as they helped each other up, then sprang into each other’s arms at once. Zuko wrapped his arms around the rough cloth of Aang’s robes, hugging him close. “Aang,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Aang hummed, happily clinging to him. Then suddenly, he pulled away, holding Zuko out in front of him. “Uh, Firelord Zuko,” he said, holding back a laugh. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
Zuko looked down at himself. His robes…the palanquin…
“Ah,” he said after a moment. “You’re right. That’s…hm. Hold on.”
He clapped his hands together. At once, two servants entered the room. If they had anything to say about their Firelord being shirtless while embracing a strange visitor in the middle of his room, they held their tongues. “Yes, Excellency?”
“I’ve lost my robes, Qín Lí,” Zuko said to the one who’d spoken. “Fetch me something to wear so I’m not half-naked in front of my guest.” He noticed Aang’s blush, and he smirked at him. “And bring something for the Avatar to eat. No meat,” he added, nodding to Aang. Aang smiled, bowing his head slightly.
“A bowl of cherries and cream as a refreshing snack, then, Firelord?” Qín Lí offered.
Zuko glanced at Aang. Aang nodded, grinning. “That’s perfect,” Zuko said.
“Wonderful, Excellency.” The two servants bowed out of the room.
Once they were gone, Aang leapt at Zuko again. He hung on Zuko’s arm and beamed. “Zuko,” he said. “I’ve really missed you! How is everything going here in the Fire Nation?”
Zuko sighed, and—shaking himself from Aang’s grip—he threw himself down on the couch near the door, sinking into the pillows. “It’s like I’m building the entire country up from scratch. There’s so many old doctrines to overturn, so many traditions that need to break. Part of the problem that led to the war was intense nationalism, and while I want people to be proud Fire Nation citizens, I don’t want that kind of blind devotion anymore. It’s time for people to choose for themselves…”
He glanced at Aang. The Avatar was staring off into space, watching Momo circle Zuko’s hairbrush on the bureau. Zuko smiled. Of course, he was preaching to the choir. All life was sacred to Aang. In Aang’s eyes, every individual should obviously be their own person. In Aang’s eyes, every individual person held dignity.
Even my father’s life… The Avatar spared even my father.
Zuko chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly. He couldn’t help it. Every time he saw Aang, he could only think of the rage he’d felt towards his father for so many years. His father, who had dueled him, scarred him, split his soul. His father, who had devastated the balance of the world. His father, who he hated.
And then Aang would meet his gaze, and all that rage disappeared into purifying light.
It was like when he’d learned the true art of firebending from the dragons Ran and Shaw. Fire was not rage or hatred, but energy. Light. Life.
Aang saw that same light inside every person. Even Ozai.
Zuko smiled, coming back to himself. He watched Aang for a moment more before clearing his throat. Aang snapped to attention, looking away from Momo on the bureau. “What happened?” he said quickly. Then he blushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, Excellency, I didn’t mean to drift off like that.”
Zuko frowned. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You don’t need to call me ‘Excellency,’ Aang.”
Aang smiled softly. “I should, though. You’re the Firelord, Zuko! Even though we’re friends, I should respect that.”
Zuko shook his head, chuckling. “You still don’t get it sometimes, do you? Aang, you’re the Avatar. If anything, I should be the one to pay respect to you.”
Aang frowned. “But I don’t want you to do that. I’m still me; just because I’m the Avatar doesn’t mean—”
“And just because I’m Firelord doesn’t mean I’m not still me, either. You don’t need to go around calling me stupid titles.” Zuko got up and crossed the room to his bureau. Momo chittered at him and licked his fingers when he offered his hand to the little lemur. He scratched behind Momo’s ears, smiling at his content chirps. “We’re friends first, Aang. Always. Before any titles, we’re friends first.”
He looked at Aang. How many times had they had this conversation over the last five years? Sometimes he thought Aang was too apologetic. He bent too much to other people, deferred to them. He was very respectful, but he was also the Avatar. Honor went both ways, and Aang, more than anyone, was most deserving of people’s respect.
“My great-grandfather,” Zuko said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bureau. “Firelord Sozin thought Avatar Roku should have gone along with his war just because he was a Fire Nation citizen and should’ve stayed loyal to his Firelord. It’s exactly because you’re the Avatar that you don’t need to worry about loyalty to any one nation or ruler. Instead…” He walked over to where Aang sat and grabbed him up by the robes. Aang yelped, but he saw Zuko’s smile and laughed. Zuko wrestled with him for a moment, then got Aang’s head under one arm and dug his knuckles into the top of his shaved head, making Aang yowl like an alleycat.
“Instead,” Zuko said, letting him go with a grin, “try listening to your friends for a change.”
Aang rubbed the top of his head, scowling at Zuko. But he couldn’t hide the glimmer of light in his eyes, the glint of humor. “Okay, okay,” he said, fake sighing. “Geeze, no need to get so violent.”
Zuko laughed, just as the servants returned with a fresh robe for him and a bowl of cherries and cream. They’d also brought a pitcher of chilled lemon-water and two cups of tea. They set the refreshments on a small side table next to the couch Zuko had sat on, then helped Zuko into his robes. Aang watched—fascinated, Zuko figured, by how he didn’t have to do anything as the servants slipped the loose clothes over his body for him, then tied them neatly at the waist. “Have something to eat,” Zuko said to Aang as Qín Lí helped him into his robes, waving to the bowl of fruit and the cups of tea.
Aang jumped up and grabbed some cherries and a finger-swipe of cream. He popped the cherries in his mouth one at a time, smiling delightedly at the sweet juices mixing with the smooth cream. “Delicious,” he sighed, smacking his lips and sipping quietly from his cup of tea.
Zuko sat on the couch and helped himself to his tea and cherries. Aang glided forward on a little puff of air. “Scooch over,” he said, hopping on to the couch next to Zuko. “And don’t hog all the cherries!”
“Will there be anything else, Excellency?” one of the servants asked.
Zuko smacked Aang’s greedily searching hand away from the cherries in his own palm. “No,” he said to the servants. “That’ll be all, thank you.” He paused, then added, “Make sure no one disturbs us for the rest of the day. I’m sure the Avatar needs to rest after his journey. We’ll retire for today.”
The two men bowed, then left, closing the doors behind them.
“Zuko, I got here yesterday,” Aang said. He was making a cherry spin in his hand with airbending. The stupid marble trick he kept showing Zuko, but this time with a piece of fruit. “Someone made me wait,” Aang added, eyeing Zuko cheekily. “But I’m all rested up! No need to retire so early.”
Zuko leaned back into the couch, throwing his arms over the sides. This meant his left arm was behind Aang’s shoulders, if he were to lean back as well. But Aang sat crosslegged on the cushion, leaning forward and chucking cherries at Momo, who was catching them out of the air. So Zuko figured this was safe.
“I know,” he said. “But I’m tired. I just got back. And I’ve missed you a lot! And I…just want you to myself for a while before I have to go out and do all my public, official, Firelord stuff with you in front of the whole palace.”
Aang lowered his hand, still holding the cherry he’d been about to toss to Momo. His face was flushed a little. “Oh,” he said, his voice small. He looked at Zuko. He smiled.
“Good, ‘cuz I wanted you to myself, too, before I have to do all my public, official, Avatar stuff with you in front of the whole palace.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Zuko stared at him. Then he laughed, throwing his head back and really laughing. Aang giggled, then cracked up, and their laughter filled the room like the sunlight filtering in through the lowered blinds on the window.
“Well,” Aang said once they both caught their breath. “Since we’re both so thrilled about doing official business, I think we should put it off until tomorrow. Maybe I am a little tired…” He grinned, chuckling.
Then he leaned back into the couch, and the back of his head rested on Zuko’s arm.
Zuko quelled the slight shiver that ran through his body, and he turned his head to look down at Aang.
They were only three years apart in age, barely. Aang had always been slight in build, smaller than Zuko. But he’d filled out over the last five years. His shoulders were a little wider, his arms a little stronger. Even with the robes covering nearly his entire body, it was still obvious.
It wasn’t like the changes were sudden. It wasn’t like Zuko hadn’t seen Aang for years and years. The gang still stuck together, and met up very frequently. But they were all heroes who’d ended a war of monumental importance. They were busy people. Sokka and Katara were rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe. Toph was teaching metalbending to select agents in Ba Sing Se. They could all go months without being in the same place at one time.
But they made sure to do it, to meet often, to stay in touch, to stay friends. They couldn’t let go of each other, not after everything they’d all through together.
So why was Zuko suddenly so aware of Aang’s physical changes?
Well, he knew, of course.
“Katara and I are taking a break from each other,” Aang suddenly said.
Zuko felt the room around him grow very, very quiet.
“Why?” he asked softly. Then, immediately after, “Are you alright?”
Aang smiled gratefully. “I’m fine.” The back of his head rubbed against Zuko’s sleeve as he turned. He looked at Zuko, smiling that sad, soft smile. “She was the one who suggested it, actually. She said I needed to be free to become the Avatar I needed to be. She said she’ll wait for me until I become who I am, not who I think I’m supposed to be.”
Zuko lowered his head. It sounded like what he’d told Mai. “Katara is very wise, sometimes,” he said.
“Sometimes?”
“Well, there was that one time, with the Southern Raiders…”
“And whose fault was that, again? I specifically remember you being the one to encourage her!”
Zuko pushed away Aang’s finger that he was sticking in his face. “Whatever,” he said. “It’s in the past. How are you feeling about this…break?”
Aang shrugged. He curled up his legs underneath him and huddled in closer to Zuko. Zuko held his breath, then slowly lowered his arm from the back of the couch to wrap it around Aang’s shoulders. Aang seemed to appreciate the comfort, and he leaned against Zuko’s chest.
“Girls are confusing,” Aang sighed.
“Yeah,” Zuko said. “But we love them.”
“We do,” Aang agreed quietly.
Zuko squeezed his arm around Aang a little tighter. Aang really loved Katara a lot. Zuko knew this must be killing him. He felt his own soul ache for the two of them. They were his friends, and he didn’t want either of them to get hurt.
“Do you think,” Aang said, his voice still quiet. “Do you think you can love more than one person?”
The sunlight filtering through the windows was growing a hazy golden-orange as the sun outside sank towards the horizon. Momo lay curled up in a patch of carpet warmed by the sunlight. Cherries littered the floor around him. His tail curled in and out as he snored softy, in and out, in and out.
Breathe, Firelord. In and out. In and out.
“What?” Zuko whispered, his voice as quiet as Aang’s, as if what they spoke of might alert the entire palace to their presence.
Aang looked up at Zuko. “Can you love more than one person at a time?”
Zuko licked his lips. They felt very dry. So did his throat. He swallowed. “Do…do you?”
“I think so,” Aang said. “They’re very close to me, and very important to me. I used to think we’d never even become friends, but then we did. Best friends. We went through a lot together. We learned a lot together, and from each other. But I’m afraid…afraid they don’t feel the same about me.”
“Maybe you should tell them,” Zuko rasped, suddenly extremely conscious of his arm wrapped around Aang. He didn’t pull it away, though. That would be too obvious.
“Maybe I’ve tried already,” Aang said. He wasn’t looking at Zuko. He watched how the sunlight fell into the room: on the lush red carpet; the silken bedsheets; the crimson curtains on the bedposts; the dark cherrywood furniture; the golden tiles around the room’s baseboard. “Maybe I’m just too afraid they’ll reject me.”
Zuko reached up with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Aang’s shoulders. He touched Aang’s chin gently, turning his face towards him. Aang’s eyes were wide, their storm-cloud gray overwhelming him with how terrified they looked, how ancient.
“Aang—”
At that moment, the doors burst open. An Imperial Firebender marched in, dropping to his knees in the doorway.
And Zuko and Aang pulled away from each other. Quickly.
“What is this?” Zuko demanded. He rose from the couch an cleared his throat. “I specifically ordered that no one—”
“Firelord Zuko, forgive me,” the Imperial Firebender interrupted, his voice echoing within his helmet. “But it’s urgent, sir. The New Ozai Society—your father’s supporters—they’re rallying outside the palace gates.” The man raised his bowed head.
“They’re threatening to blow up the royal city!”
[lol, binch you thought. to be continued...]