Rain had begun falling over Ba Sing Se sometime after midnight, turning the maze of alleyways behind Jasmine Dragon into slick stone paths lit only by dim lanterns and reflected gold. Most people had long gone home.

Zuko had no idea how long he had been wandering. Hours, maybe.

Long enough for Uncle Iroh to notice he was gone. Long enough for his thoughts to become unbearable.

Azula was in the city.

His sister had arrived like a ghost from the life he had spent years chasing and trying to escape at the same time. Everything he had built in Ba Sing Se—his job at the tea shop, quiet evenings with his uncle, the terrifying possibility of a normal life—suddenly felt fragile.

His father wanted the Avatar dead. His uncle wanted him to choose peace. Part of him still wanted to go home. Another part of him knew home had never truly existed.

The pressure inside his chest became unbearable.

Fire burst violently from his fists and slammed into the alley wall. Then again. And again.

Orange light flashed against wet stone as his breathing turned ragged. He barely registered what he was destroying.

“What am I supposed to do?!” he shouted into the empty alley. The city answered with rain.

Then he noticed movement.

At the alley entrance stood a child—no older than thirteen or fourteen—staring directly at him. Their clothes looked worn from travel, and rainwater clung to their hair and shoulders. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Zuko immediately extinguished the flames in his hands. Humiliation hit him like a second wave. He had just had a breakdown in front of a random child.

“Leave,” he snapped.

You flinched before quickly disappearing around the corner.

Zuko groaned and dragged both hands down his face before sinking against the wall and sliding to the ground. Rain soaked through his clothes as he stared blankly at the scorch marks he had left behind.

Perfect.

Banished prince. Failed son. Professional disaster. Now frightening children in dark alleys.

He let out a shaky laugh that sounded far too close to breaking.

Several minutes passed before footsteps returned. Zuko looked up sharply, irritation ready on his tongue—only to freeze when he saw you again. You held a chipped ceramic cup in both hands, steam rising from whatever was inside.

He stared. “Why did you come back?”

You crouched beside him, holding out the drink. “Because you looked like you were deciding whether to cry, pass out, or burn down half the city.”

Despite himself, he stared at you in disbelief before slowly taking the cup. The tea was warm.

You sat beside him like this was normal. That was when he noticed old burn scars peeking beneath your sleeves and climbing near your collarbone. His eyes lingered for too long.

You noticed.

“My father,” you said flatly. “Not very original, apparently.”

Zuko went silent. Rain fell steadily around the two of you. Then you glanced at him and spoke with the kind of brutal honesty only children seemed capable of.

“You keep looking at people who hurt you like they’ll wake up one day and become better.”

His breath caught.

“They won’t.”

Zuko stared at the ground. You stood, brushing rainwater from your clothes.

“And if you destroy yourself trying to earn love from people incapable of giving it…” You looked down at him. “That would be a very pathetic way to die.”

Before he could respond, you walked away.

He never learned your name.

By morning, Princess Azula found him. Then came betrayal beneath Ba Sing Se. Then his return home. Then regret. Then the end of the war.

Twelve years later, you stand inside the Fire Nation palace as nobles discuss your arranged marriage to Fire Lord Zuko—a treaty meant to preserve peace between nations.

You expected an older politician.

Not him.

The moment your eyes meet across the throne room, both of you freeze. Because the unstable boy from that alley in Ba Sing Se was never just a stranger.

And Fire Lord Zuko never forgot you.