#but for one zuko’s swamped and pushing himself past his own limits with his responsibilities besides

[ljesaw]

it’s with depression that i fear i have to say, i think for a long time (too long really), zuko doesn’t reach out to his uncle during his retirement in ba sing se, not even for the much needed guidance he could use, because he considers it part of the exhaustive list of reparations the fire nation (and he himself) owes

[swan2swan]

The issue of bloodlines and their burdens is not limited solely to Star Wars. Another story that tackles the issue perhaps even better than the Original Six (and a heck of a lot better than the Sequel Trilogy) is Avatar: the Last Airbender.

I know you’re all thinking of the same character, but we’ll get to him in a bit, because first, we need to study our Original Three protagonists, starting with Aang.

1. Aang is the Last Airbender, but he’s not some Air Nomad Prince; we still have never met his parents, and their legacy is irrelevant because of the monastic order he was raised in, but his heritage is one far more significant than blood: he is the Avatar. He is a reincarnation gifted with the ability to push past the boundaries of those already deemed exceptional. He can bend all four elements, he can enter the Spirit World at will, and he is capable of communicating with his past lives for advice and counsel. This is power people would kill for...and the theme of his story is coming to grips with it. Throughout his story, he rejects it, embraces it, runs from it, succumbs to it, and finally finds a way to balance it with himself. He decides that he is both the Avatar and the Last Airbender, the protector of all four nations and the one responsible for preserving the culture of Air. During all of this, he also balances himself with his titles, retaining his connection to his friends and his love for his family. We learn in the next series that it was a struggle up until the day the died, but he managed to do it...this is what makes him an Epic Hero. From the day he was born, he was destined to save the world, but he did it his way, and never allowed his responsibilities to erase his identity, or his personal attachments to let the world fail. He trusted in those around him and was able to save the world by sharing the burden.

2. Said burden, of course, falls on the shoulders of Katara and Sokka--or rather, into their willing hands. They are, amusingly enough, royalty themselves: Sokka is the son and heir to the chief, and Katara (like Luke) is the last practitioner of a power she inherited from her deceased parent (of course, Kya wasn’t ruling the Fire Nation, but we’ll get to that later). What does this royal lineage get them?

Absolutely nothing. When the Fire Nation ship rolls in and the soldiers storm their village, Zuko doesn’t go around saying “I need to speak to the chief!” and then sit down in a tent with Sokka for a diplomatic discussion: he has the villagers all lined up and bullied  without regard for rank or status. It’s highly doubtful that Hakoda even had any royalty in his bloodline--he was probably just a big, strong man with a smart head on his shoulders who a lot of other villagers decided “hey, let’s follow him and listen to him and let him protect us,” and that’s how he became the chief. With some good strong genes and excellent parenting, he was able to raise his children to be strong, too...and that sums up what those two have going for them. The Northern Water Tribe doesn’t let Katara train because she’s a fellow princess; she fights and claws her way to the top (and then is trained anyway because Necklace Ex Machina, but the fact that it’s a Northern Water Tribe tradition and her grandmother’s migration are all well-done plot points makes it work), and her superpowered healing abilities are also something she masters with a lot of hard work...okay, so Katara’s a little OP, but she works hard, and she’s an example of someone who comes from nothing becoming a superhero.

Sokka, on the other hand, waltzes right into the first derelict island village he finds and says “Wassup, ladies, I’m the most powerful warrior among my people, feel free to ogle!” and is promptly trussed up and tossed to the floor...where he then returns to beg for forgiveness and training, because he learned that his rank, privilege, and power don’t mean a thing in the real world, and if he’s going to survive, he needs to be willing to humble himself and learn. And learn he does--studying hunting strategies, making traps, shadowing guerillas, infiltrating cities, protecting princesses, doing chin-touches, strumming guitars, faking diseases...all until he goes to train with a master swordsman, who does little more than help him to produce a weapon, because by this point Sokka’s seen so much action and drama that he’s a full-fledged warrior. Sokka’s journey is one of a boy earning his position as the heir to his father’s seat: he’s left with almost nothing, but keeps learning and adapting until he’s strong and clever enough to rescue his father from prison. Sokka began with the responsibility of having to inherit his father’s position, and he earned it. 

3. Toph and Suki, the other members of Team Avatar, are also special, but neither of them really has responsibilities; Toph is wealthy and privileged, but her privilege is a cage, and she chooses to reject it to pursue her own goals. She trains Aang, she fights for freedom, and eventually opens a school and forms a security group...and then dumps all that on her daughters and runs away to a swamp, but that is yet another essay. Suki, on the other hand, is very similar to Hakoda: she’s in charge of a bunch of fighting women on some shanty island off the coast of the Nowhere Peninsula, a place so worthless it was the final tidbit on some ancient conqueror’s wishlist, and then it just broke from the land and moved away so it didn’t have to be involved with any drama. Suki runs the gym there. That’s literally what she does. She’s a part-time fitness instructor, part-time policewoman, and eventually she decides that she’s going to go off and help police other parts of the world, because what the heck else is she going to do with her life? Then she hijacks an airship and rescues other heroes during the apocalypse or something. The point is, Toph and Suki could have both stayed home and done nothing the whole time if they’d wanted, but they chose to do more.

4. All right, now it’s time for the one you’ve all been waiting for: Azula! Oh, sorry, were you expecting Zuko? Nah, we’re starting with his sister. Because she is everything Lucasfilm wants a bloodline legacy to embody: wealthy and privileged, proud of her genes and her talents, taught by the best, raised to be the best, and completely ruthless and uncaring...even cruel. It’s Azula who delivers one of the greatest speeches in the show, the speech that sounds like it belongs anywhere besides a Nickelodeon Cartoon: “I can see your whole history in your eyes. You’ve always had to struggle, and claw, and connive your way to power. But true power? The divine right to rule? Is something you’re born with.” The creepiest thing about the speech is that it uproots the classic literary promise of “Anyone can be a hero!” while still maintaining the theme of the show. It can be argued that Azula is right. She’s a main character, one with her own design and color palette, with more than two outfits to her name; the world isn’t going to be saved by Chong the Nomad or the hapless cabbage merchant, and it’s not going to be destroyed by one of the Rough Rhinos or Fire Nation Soldier 13. She coldly delivers a smackdown and leaves not only the lesser villains, but the audience questioning everything: are there those born to lead, and those born to serve? The grim answer the show provides...is yes.

5. This is where Zuko comes in. Prince Zuko. Royalty. Strength. Discipl...disciplin...dis...hehehe...”Discipline”. Zuko. HA. *ahem* No, but really, when we meet Zuko, he’s a fantastic villain. He has a giant metal ship, glittering armor, rippling black hair...and a menacing, terrifying scar. Fire comes from his fingertips, he seethes with rage, and he is Prince Zuko of the mighty Fire Nation: all of the world will tremble at his coming. But for a moment, a soft moment, we see his armor hidden by a cloak in the middle of the night, as he quietly seethes to his uncle about finding the Avatar and restoring his honor, and we hear him muse about his father to Aang, and see hints of a person beneath that.

Everything becomes clear in the third episode. Prince Zuko’s ship, which dwarfed Sokka’s village, sits timidly in the shadow of a line of much larger vessels. Commander Zhao towers above Zuko and wears much fancier armor, and then outplays Zuko in a mindgame. We see suddenly that Zuko’s status as a prince is all but worthless...his own father has rejected him. The scar on his face is not some amazing battle scar, but a mark of shame from a duel he lost--a duel we later learn was lost to his own father. Zuko triumphs in a fresh duel, showing honor and restraint, and a glimmer of kindness and mercy...but he continues to try and defeat the Avatar throughout his journey. Time and again, we see Zuko, this privileged prince, try to overcome the heroes...and he loses it all. He barely escapes being collected by his smarter, deadlier sister, and spends a whole season on the run, forced to conceal his true identity from everyone he meets out of fear and shame. He bears witness to the crimes his people have committed: broken villages, scarred legs, starving refugees. He’s given a choice, then, to stay among them...or to betray them all and return home. In his fear and impatience, he chooses the latter: he rejects goodness and chooses the privilege and power. He returns home, he is a hero, he has his father’s respect, his girlfriend’s love, everything he ever wanted...and this is a story that could not be told if he were anyone else. 

Because then he realizes that this isn’t making him happy--he, too, has responsibilities. So he throws it all away, and marches to his father and tells him, straight-out, that he cannot live in safety and comfort while the rest of the world cowers in terror. He won’t turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. He leaves, flying off, and risks death time and time again, until finally he fights to win back the crown...and almost loses it to save the life of one of those peasants he’d tormented back in another life. Then, he stands tall and takes his place on the throne, and vows to use his privilege and power to better the world...and we see that he does. How? Because he’s royalty. The story is not about how “a good person can make a difference”, but that “people who can make a difference need to be taught how to be good”. Azula boasted about the “divine right to rule” giving power...yet Zuko’s mind was swayed by a peasant girl with a scarred leg, a boy who decided to fight soldiers with a knife, and a young rebel who couldn’t stand the sight of starving refugees. The core of power can be swayed by many who work together...and that’s the point of the show. Everyone has power. It’s how you use it that matters.