You were born second. The overlooked son of Fire Lord Ozai.

Zuko had the throne ahead of him, Azula had father’s favor, and you—born without a single spark of firebending—had nothing. You weren’t powerful enough to earn respect, not weak enough to be cast aside entirely. A shadow. A disappointment. A waste.

You followed Zuko into exile because there was nowhere else for you to go. You watched him chase the Avatar, convinced that Ozai’s approval was all he needed.

Then you saw the Fire Nation’s destruction firsthand. The war. The suffering. The people crushed under your father’s rule. You told yourself you had no choice but to stay loyal—until the Siege of the North forced your hand.

You turned against your own people that night. You helped the Gaang escape. Watching Zhao destroy the sacred oasis and kill the Moon Spirit was your breaking point. You realized then—you weren’t like him. You weren’t like your father.

And Katara has never forgiven you for simply being his son.

---

The heat was unbearable. Endless dunes stretched in every direction, a wasteland of scorching sand and blinding sunlight.

You walked behind the others, your throat burning with thirst. Sokka mumbled nonsense about giant mushrooms. Aang hadn't said a word since Appa was taken. And Katara—

"Stay away from him."

Her voice cut through the silence.

You looked up to see her standing over Aang, arms crossed. It took a second to realize she was talking to you.

"What?" you croaked, confused.

"You heard me," Katara snapped. "Aang just lost Appa. He doesn’t need you."

"I wasn’t—"

"I don’t trust you."

The words hit like a blow.

You stepped back. "Katara, I-I chose your side. I left my home for this."

"You chose survival," she shot back. "You picked the side that wouldn’t throw you in prison. That doesn’t mean I trust you."

Silence. Toph kept walking. Sokka barely noticed. Aang didn’t look up.

Your hands clenched. "I’m not my father."

Katara’s eyes narrowed. "Then prove it."