#Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon

[muffinlance]

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Beauty & The Dragon

Beauty & The Beast except it’s Katara and Azula.

“If she could learn to love another and earn her love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then, the spell will be broken.”

Katara’s fingers comb through her hair, an unkempt tangle of coarse, shaggy black. Her eyes are so deep and tantalizingly blue. Wide, pure, and innocent. Her hair is coarse too, but not unpleasantly so, like Azula’s own--probably because the texture is natural on her. She has a kind smile. It is more than Azula thinks she deserves. Katara smiles and presses her head against Azula’s and her hand curls around Azula’s own. Azula feels jittery. 

She doesn’t know how Katara can stand the sight of her. She is barely even human anymore, having only the faintest resemblance. The curse has stolen from her, her charm and allure and it is hard for her to fathom how she’d managed to win the girl over. She hasn’t been exactly pleasant company. 

Azula holds the waterbender tightly, she hasn’t had companionship nor love in ages and, for as nervous as it makes her feel, she welcomes it. She takes a breath and drinks in the feeling of such close human contact. 

Katara’s skin, elegantly dark in complexion,  is rather cool; colder than what she is used to, being confined to a temple cut of the side of a volcano. But it is a kind and pleasant cool. It is so soft, unlike her own skin. In comparison to her, Katara seems so small. 

She smells nice too; like lavender. 

Lavender…

Flowers…

A withering firelily on its last petal. 

Azula turns her head and gazes at the sorry thing. She has moved it from her secret chamber to the entry room table--hopefully one of the few that doesn’t have a human soul locked within. The dying flower is a stark reminder of what she will lose. What her team of serving girls will lose because of her.  

Suddenly anxious and mournful, she looks back at Katara. Despite their rocky and stressful start, the girl has become a means of consolation and soothing.   

.oOo.

Katara rests the backs of her fingers against the princess’ cheek. Her body and face are a mural of deep blue and grey scales, rough to the touch. Her eyes, more akin to a dragon’s than a human’s, seem downcast and hopeless. 

Azula offers her a half smile, one that  is adorned with sharp and jagged teeth that are just as pointy as the curling horns on her head and claws on her hands. She is a tall girl with a bulkier build. 

If Katara were being honest she has to say that she is quite terrifying to behold. But underneath it all she is a rather sweet girl, and highly intelligent. She has a range of talents that begin with firebending and end with things like painting and chess. And for as rough and uninviting as she appears her voice is soft and smooth. Yet she refuses to try to sing, even if Katara is doing it too. 

Katara doesn’t speak. Instead, she offers Azula a light kiss; the first one she has ever given her. Azula seems to go tense and Katara wonders if she should draw back. But Azula brings one of her clawed hands to Katara’s chin and tilts it up to return the kiss. 

Her legs seem to buckle and Katara has to fight to hold them both upright. She is rater certain that Azula is shaking some. 

Katara peers at the firelily and her heart sinks for the girl in her arms. The last petal has fallen. 

Katara does her best to make the former princess comfortable on the nearest sofa. She is barely awake, her eyes only open a crack before they shut completely.  Katara approaches the firelily with hopes to heal it.

Her mouth falls agape; she has never seen anything so beautiful. Like a phoenix, born again, the firelily bursts into vivid flames. Its petals seem to blossom larger and more radiant than before. 

She turns back to the slumbering firebender, a halo of soft, golden light surrounds her sleeping form. She looks to be at peace.  

The light seems to envelop her entirely and Katara has to shield her eyes with her hand until the light dims, leaving a warmth in its wake. Azula still sleeps, undisturbed and unaware of the light. The flames of the firelily have cooled to ashy petals with orange speckles like dying embers. The light around Azula disappears completely. 

With the curse lifted, Azula is much smaller. Smaller than Katara had anticipated. Her skin is pale and much more inviting to the touch. Her hair is long and satiny and falls into a serene and soft looking face. Overall the princess has a more delicate appearance than Katara would have guessed. She’s absolutely stunning.

She stirs some but doesn’t wake, not until Katara sits and that portion of the couch dips.Then she murmurs something. It sounds much more befitting coming from Azula now than it had when she was more serpent-like. 

Azula props herself up and eyes Katara, looking as though she could use a shot of coffee or sugar. 

“Have a nice nap?” Katara asked. 

There is a twinkle of confusion in her eyes. 

“You kind of just fell over.” Katara clarifies. 

.oOo.

“Oh.” Azula replies simply. That would explain why she feels faint and distant. She wonders if it is the impact of the curse settling. She steals a look at the firelily. It looks grey and dead, with only traces of a glow. Yet, it has a full crown of petals. 

Her stare finds Katara who flashes her what she assumes is a reassuring grin. She reaches for Katara’s hand to find that her own is free of scales and claws. Mostly anyhow; her nails are long and filed to sleek points, she supposes that some would call those claws. She pulls her hand away from Katara’s and flexed in front of her face, as though testing that it truly belongs to her. 

“It’s broken.” Katara informs. “The curse.” 

“Completely?” She asks. 

Katara nods. 

“What do I look like?” It has been so long since she’d shattered the mirrors in the temple. 

“Hmm.” She pauses and tucks a strand of Azula’s hair behind her ear. “You have really silky black hair and bright gold eyes.” Her hand cups Azula’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “And your skin is soft and warm, really warm…” She trails off.

“Do you like it?”

Katara laughs a little, “very much.”  She looks up with a thoughtful hum. “Give me a second.” She springs off of the couch and leaves Azula to herself. 

She holds her hands in her lap, trying to get used to the feeling of skin instead of scales. She lets her hair tumble into her face; Katara is right it is long and well-maintained. Katara drops back on to the sofa and hands something to her. 

Azula takes the small handheld mirror. On its surface she see the two of them. Not quite ready to see her own face, her gaze lingers on Katara. Her beautiful Katara with her big blue eyes and generous lips. 

“What do you think?”

“Breathtaking.” It takes a moment for it to register that Katara is asking Azula for her opinion of herself.

“Glad you agree.” Katara laughs again. She has a sweet, charming laugh. And hearing her compliment lifts her spirits and soothes her bruised ego some, she chances a smile. 

.oOo.

It is nice to see Azula smile, and nicer still to see it without the menacing  sharp teeth. The firebender hadn’t smiled in such a long time. Not since the firelily had been reduced to a single unstable petal. But the expression is back and it brings a brightness to her face. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Katara asks. “It has been a while since you’ve left the temple.” 

Azula nods. She looks about the temple. “I should probably buy some new furniture since mine is human again.”

Katara gives the room a once over, “it does look a little empty now.”  She feels a pang of guilt for having completely ignored all of the other people who had been in the room. “Where did they go anyways?”

“Probably outside.” Azula shrugs. “Talking furniture isn’t exactly something that the outside world is used to.” 

“True.” Katara agrees

The princess rises and extends her arm. Katara takes her hand and lets her pull her to her feet. She has to laugh again because she is much taller than Azula now. It is strange to have to peer down at her instead of up. 

“It’s not funny.” Azula grumbles, folding her arms over her chest. 

“It kind of is.” Katara replies. She takes Azula’s hand and leads her to the door. The princess pushes it open and sunlight falls upon her face. She closes her eyes and looks towards the sky. She looks cheerful. Cheerful and wholly untroubled at last.

[silverkat1620]

muffinlance                                                                                                          his second order of business is to let Azula ride a dragon because he is not interested in assassination attempts and he did bring back TWO dragons Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon? you’ve successfully one-upped father’s offer continue to do so Zuzu  and we won’t have any problems Avatar The Last Airbender                                                                                                  

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)

[esmeralda-anistasia]

#his second order of business is to let Azula ride a dragon#because he is not interested in assassination attempts#and he did bring back TWO dragons#Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon?#you’ve successfully one-upped father’s offer#continue to do so Zuzu#and we won’t have any problems

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)

[oojamaflip-whatchamacallit]

#his second order of business is to let Azula ride a dragon#because he is not interested in assassination attempts#and he did bring back TWO dragons#Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon?#you’ve successfully one-upped father’s offer#continue to do so Zuzu#and we won’t have any problems

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)

[bayofalgecirascranes]

#his second order of business is to let Azula ride a dragon#because he is not interested in assassination attempts#and he did bring back TWO dragons#Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon?#you’ve successfully one-upped father’s offer#continue to do so Zuzu#and we won’t have any problems#Avatar The Last Airbender#atla#Zuko#Ozai#Dragons#Ran and Shaw#ficlet

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)