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Non-Pokémon favored equilibriums

Pen

the cat is mightier than the pen
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favored equilibriums

Fire Lord Iroh understands that balance is necessary. (An Avatar: the Last Airbender AU).


*fire*


Since the exile, Father has become selectively deaf. When the men tell him that rations are running low, he doesn’t hear. When the men tell him that the last storm did a number on the main mast, he doesn’t hear. And when they tell him that no one has seen the Avatar in a hundred years, he doesn’t hear that either.

Zuko does what he can. He follows the sailors on their maintenance rounds. He goes ashore in Fire Nation territory to beg supplies from the outposts. He trades fishermen's wives coin for stories.

Now he bows in front of Father. He doesn’t wait to be acknowledged before he speaks: if he did that, he would be waiting forever.

“I heard from the traders that Kyoshi Island has been buying up expensive foods, like they’re preparing for a large celebration. Kyoshi doesn’t have any holidays this time of year, though. It’s odd. I was thinking, the last earth-bender avatar came from Kyoshi. What if they’re celebrating because the Avatar has returned? Maybe we—”

Fool. I told you to find me the Avatar, not to monitor peasants’ eating habits. Your sister would bring me facts, not half-bitten speculation.”

“Azula’s not here right now, Father,” Zuko says carefully.

This is another thing that Father is not always able to hear.

“Where is she? She should be back by now.”

“She’s—” Zuko fumbles. There’s no good way to answer this question. The truth will get fire flung in his face, but Zuko’s rotten at lying. “She left, Father. She went back home.”

Father lifts his head slowly. His hair is long and he has not been tending it. In the firelight, Zuko can make out a thick sheen of grease.

“Who says this,” he asks silkily, with all the threat of a venomous snake.

“Commander Zhao did.”

Father’s head tilts in interest. “And did you burn him for that slander?”

“No, Father.”

“Worthless. Azula would not stand for any slight upon my name.”

Zuko can’t hold it back any longer. “Azula betrayed you. She snuck off in a raft in the dead of night. Zhao told me she’s renounced your name and pledged her obedience to—”

“Lies!” Fire sweeps across the floor. Zuko flings himself to the side. He’s lucky—only his sleeves get singed. “Lies! You are envious. Your sister has always been your better: more capable, more powerful, more loyal.”

Each word comes accompanied with a stab of flame.

Zuko runs. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the boiler room, deep in the bowels of the ship. He sinks down on the ground, panting. For a moment, he remembers Uncle’s warm hand on his shoulder, his parting words: you will always have a home with me, nephew.

“Azula, the loyal one,” Zuko repeats bitterly. “Then why is it me who’s still here?”


.earth.


When Toph is eleven, Ba Sing Se falls. It happens just like that. One morning, the sun rises over the walls and the Fire Nation comes along for the ride.

Ba Sing Se falls, but very little changes at first. Mother and Father get stricter about the curfew, even as they stay up later themselves. Bending vanishes from her tutoring schedule. Then, one morning, Toph is shaken awake early.

They’ve been summoned to the palace, Father says.

Dressing takes place in a hurry. Toph’s draped in her gauziest gown; soft-toed slippers are forced over her feet. When Mother applies blush to her cheeks, Toph can feel her hand trembling.

She must not, says Mother, under any circumstances, admit that she can bend.

Toph agrees in a small voice. Five nights after the invasion, she’d snuck out to Earth Rumble’s stadium. It was open-entry night, but the stands had been deserted. Toph had left without going inside.

The ride to the palace takes place in silence. A few times, Mother says, “Do you think—” and Father hushes her with a grunt.

It’s not only the Beifong family that has been summoned. As they walk into the audience hall, Toph feels the vibrations of many bodies. Nobody is speaking, but she can hear the private thunder of their hearts. Mother’s grip on her hand tightens.

The minutes pass. Feet are shuffled, whispered conversations flare up and out. Then a gong sounds, and seven people enter. Most of them take up positions on either side of the throne, but one of them ascends to it.

“Esteemed families of the Earth Kingdom,” a rumbling voice calls out. “Greetings to you! I am sure you are wondering what the events of this past week mean for you and your families. I can tell you in one word: they mean change. But change may be bad or good. I entreat you to view this change as an opportunity. I promise you, the Fire Nation has the greatest respect for the Earth Kingdom’s history and traditions.”

Toph stops listening. First, because it’s boring. Second, because something more interesting is happening overhead. Cracks snick quietly through the ceiling, directly above the spot where Toph and the rest are standing. She tilts her head upward.

A few things happen in quick succession. A large chunk of stone dislodges itself from the ceiling. People start to scream. And Toph raises her hand.

She’s had bigger boulders flying at her head. This one is no trouble at all. She slows its speed until the block is frozen in place. There’s no good space to stick it, so she just keeps it there, hanging in the air.

The screams subside. The people around her shuffle backwards, until Toph’s alone at the center of a wide circle.

“Well, well,” says the rumbling voice.

“Your eminence!” It’s Toph’s mother speaking. She rushes to the front of the room and falls to her knees. “There must be some sort of mistake. My daughter is blind, anyone you ask will confirm this. She is being framed.”

“Seems to me,” a new voice pipes up, “that she’s blind and she can bend. Can bend damn well, from the look of it. You got a name, blind bender?”

The voice is female, young, and far too cheerful. Her footsteps are so light that Toph can barely track her movements.

“Toph,” Toph says defiantly. She wonders how much time it will buy her to chuck the block and run. There’s a lot of earth here. If they don’t have benders with them, she could jam the doors behind her to block pursuit. But she can sense movement on the ceiling, and the edges of the block are too precise for it to have fallen naturally.

She’s not the only earthbender here.

“Nice to meet you, Toph. How old are you?”

“Eleven,” she says, raising her chin.

“Eleven! And catching half the ceiling like it’s nothing. Your parents must be proud of you, huh?”

Toph says nothing. The ceiling block starts to rock dangerously.

“My name’s Ty Lee. Commander Ty Lee. I’ve only been around Ba Sing Se a couple of days, but I’ve noticed some funny things. Your army, your elite troops—where are the girls, I asked myself? Kind of scared me, to be honest. I thought, are they all off hiding somewhere, about to slit our throats in the night?”

There’s a smile in the commander’s voice, like she wouldn’t say no to a late-night throat slitting session.

“But then I asked around and everyone told me, oh no. Girls in the army? It wouldn’t do. Girls are like gems; you admire them, you don’t make swords out of them. What do you think about that, Toph?”

“Diamonds are harder than steel,” she says, wishing she could cross her arms. “Maybe they should make swords out of them.”

The commander laughs. The sound’s genuine, not mocking, and Toph relaxes despite herself.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself. The Fire Nation doesn’t believe in that kind of nonsense. We value anyone who’s strong, anyone who’s hard-working and committed. We’re putting together an elite cadre. Best fighters from all the kingdoms. We could use someone like you.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“Sure am. It’ll be progressive, it’ll be cool, and you will be officially licensed to hit people with rocks. What do you say?”

The silence is gaping as Toph considers, the block of ceiling spinning idly over her head. No one’s talking, but she can feel the weight of their attention. Hearts thrumming, feet tapping, blood pounding, all for her—all because what she does next matters.

Toph decides that she likes the feeling. She likes it a lot.

She slams down the block and cracks her knuckles. “I say, when do we start?”


| air |


Aang isn’t sure what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. The Fire Lord’s chambers are cozy and well-lit. The floor mats brim with overstuffed pillows; cheap knick-knacks compete for space on crowded shelves.

There aren’t any guards, either.

“Avatar Aang.”

He spins so quickly he almost loses his footing, summons a protective burst of air—and falters.

“Please don’t,” says the Fire Lord, smiling. “You’ll spill the tea.”

Aang stands, his glider held out awkwardly, as the Fire Lord sets down a tea tray on a side-table and begins to pour out two cups.

“The air nomads drank butter tea, I believe,” the Fire Lord continues, his voice light and easy. “An acquired taste, I’m told, and I have never had the chance to acquire it. So I hope you will pardon me if I serve you a nice boring sencha.”

Aang finds his voice.

“Maybe you should have thought about that, before you murdered them.”

The Fire Lord’s face falls. “Your pain,” he says, “must be such that no words can do it justice. Still, I will say what I can. I am sorry for your loss, which was also a loss for the world. Fire Lord Sozin represented the worst qualities of fire: capriciousness, cruelty, thoughtless destruction. We all live in the shadow of his legacy.”

“And what about the Water Nation?” Aang demands. “That wasn’t Sozin. Your men killed Katara’s mother, just because she said she could water-bend.”

“I admit that I erred with the Northern Water Tribes,” the Fire Lord says quietly. “I erred in trusting my brother Ozai. When I learned what he had done, I exiled him from our nation. You know the conclusion of that story, I believe. Or are my friends wrong that my nephew kept you company, for a time?”

Aang remembers Zuko’s face, deathly pale when he removed his mask. In the end, Zuko had only been willing to say two things about his father: that Zuko had killed him, and that he had deserved it.

“You’re saying you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to hurt the Water Tribe. But, you’re at war with them.”

“I am very glad to meet you face to face, Avatar Aang. I fear that distance has done us no favors. My brother sought to capture you out of the wrong-headed notion that your head could buy back his place in our nation. But I do not want you captured or killed, Avatar. No, far from it! Aang, I am asking for your help.”

“My help,” Aang repeats. He feels . . . disorientated, like Appa’s tumbled into a particularly twisty dive.

“Please,” the Fire Lord says politely, “sit.”

Aang sits. He takes the cup of tea the Fire Lord offers him and sniffs at it. Maybe it’s poisoned.

The Fire Lord sips at his own cup with a content sigh.

“Balance,” he says. “So often we use that word as an answer. But I rather think it’s a question. What does it mean for the world to be in balance?”

“The Four Nations,” Aang says warily. “The four elements, living together in harmony.”

“If you weight a scale with two gold coins on one side and two silver coins on the other, have you achieved balance?”

“No. Gold’s heavier.”

“Precisely. Gold and silver have different properties, which must be taken in account to balance them. Now, I have tried to study elements beyond my own. But I will not claim expertise when I sit in front of a master! Tell me, Avatar, are all the elements the same? Or do they each have unique properties?”

“They’re not the same,” Aang says slowly. “Air’s flexible. Water is too—I found it the easiest to learn. Earth’s different. It doesn’t yield. And fire—”

The Fire Lord meets his eyes knowingly.

“Yes,” he says. “Fire. I said to you that Sozin embodied the worst aspects of fire. But there are other aspects, too. Fire is life and heat. It is ambition and drive. My people are strivers. They are not content to pass their lives in isolation, to labor unseen and unremarked, within fixed and pre-determined borders. They wish to spread. For that is the nature of fire too.”

“That doesn’t justify what you’ve done.”

“No, it does not. But it explains it. And this brings me back to my point about properties. Is it balance to constrain the element that by its nature spreads? I do not love war. But expansion is in my people’s nature, and when we seek it, violence seems inevitably to follow.

“This is the question I pose to you, Avatar. This is the problem I hope you can help me solve. If the Fire Nation is driven back into our borders, it will only be so long until a new leader seeks to expand them. War upon war, generation upon generation.

“Many years ago, I almost lost my son outside the walls of Ba Sing Se. As I kept vigil by his bed-side, I asked myself, is this balance? Or is there not another way, one that embraces the beneficial aspects of our element? A world in which each of the nations can devote themselves to what comes most naturally?”

“That’s the world we had before the Fire Nation started a war.”

The Fire Lord hums. “Perhaps. But your experience was somewhat unique, was it not? As the Avatar, you traveled between the nations, experiencing each of their charms. From what I have studied of the time, that was not typical. The nations lived largely in isolation aside from the brief exchanges of traders. I do not think that kind of world is an ideal one. Our differences strengthen us. Have you not found that to be the case?”

Aang bobs his head hesitantly.

The Fire Lord spreads out his arms. “I do not claim to have all the answers. That is why I want your help, Avatar. You see a nation of aggressors and believe that we neither want your help nor need it, but in fact, we need it most of all.” A sudden smile crosses his face. In a far less serious voice, he adds, “Though if you let my tea get any colder, you may learn why they have called me the Dragon of the West!”

Aang stares at him. Then he picks up his tea cup and takes a cautious sip.


~water~


“That’s it?”

It’s Sokka who speaks. Katara can’t seem to manage words. The anger’s sloshing and pounding inside of her like all the world’s oceans have found their way into her lungs, into her heart.

“After all this, you’re going to just, what, let the Fire Nation rule the world? Because, stop me if I’ve got this wrong, it’s been a bit hard to follow this insanity—all the rest of us are destined to be subjugated? What part of that is balance, Aang?”

Aang looks upset.

Aang looks upset, and he looks twelve, and when his mouth twists beseechingly, it’s the Fire Lord’s hand that comes to rest comfortingly on his shoulder, not Katara’s.

“There doesn’t need to be any more fighting,” Aang says.

“There doesn’t need to be any more death,” Aang says.

“There’s been so much harm done, but it can end today,” Aang says.

“Revenge isn’t balance,” Aang says, looking at her, the Fire Lord smiling behind him, and that is—how dare he—

Katara’s arms move like twin snakes. The Fire Lord’s smile freezes.

It’s easy, as easy as it’s ever been, to pull here and twist there, so that the Fire Lord drops to his knees.

The gust of wind strikes her in the stomach.

“Don’t, Katara,” Aang says. His legs are spread out in a defensive stance. “I know you’re upset, but you’re not thinking straight.”

“There is nothing wrong with my thinking,” Katara grinds out. Still, she makes a show of keeping her arms at her sides as she stands up again. It’s enough to make Aang relax—the moment he does, she sends a rope of water lashing around the Fire Lord’s leg.

This wasn’t supposed to be her fight, but it’s always been her war. Aang has no right to decide that it’s over.

Aang doesn’t strike her again. Instead, he scrunches up his face and begins to tug at her water. He’s a less skillful waterbender, but in a straight tug-of-war, he’s strong. The rope snaps. As the water scatters into droplets, Katara twists her hands and transforms them into a volley of ice darts, which rise into formation behind her.

The Fire Lord does nothing. His arms are clasped together under his sleeves. He looks attentive and interested, like he has chanced into watching a particularly riveting play.

Katara hates him, in that moment, more than she has hated anyone in her life.

“I won’t let you hurt someone who’s not fighting back,” Aang says, his eyes pleading.

“Not fighting back? Do you even hear yourself, Aang? As we stand here, there are thousands of Fire Nation soldiers attacking my people in his name. It doesn’t make a difference whether he’s personally spitting fire at me or not!”

“It does make a difference,” Aang says. His voice is removed, a little soulful—that tone he gets when he thinks he’s talking about something lofty. “Peace starts with small steps. Everything else follows from that. I’m going to make it all better. Without fighting. That’s the air nomad way.”

“Katara.” Sokka’s hand is on her arm, his voice low in her ear. “This is hopeless. We’ve got to get out of here. Warn the others, tell them—”

“Yes,” she says, getting into position. “You go. I’ll distract them.”

“Katara—”

Go,” she says, closing her eyes, and lets the ice shards fly.


*fire*


Aang leads the procession into the throne room. He looks different, but it takes Zuko a moment to work out why. It’s the robes. They’re made from Fire Nation fabrics, stiff and heavy. They don’t flutter with his every step the way his monk’s garb did.

Zuko once heard a story about an artisan so skillful that he was able to clothe a butterfly in gold. The butterfly looked beautiful; it never flew again.

Aang steps onto the dais. When he takes his place next to the Fire Lord and the Crown Prince, everyone bows.

Aang promises a new era of peace, prosperity, and balance. Behind him, the Fire Lord nods. Applause breaks out, loud enough to shatter walls.

After, there’s a feast.

At the royal table, Lu Ten ladles another heaping portion of hot pepper tofu over his rice and sighs. “I’ll miss this in Ba Sing Se,” he says between mouthfuls. “What do they even eat over there, dirt?”

His boisterous laugh rings through the hall. Zuko hunches over the table. Most days he prefers Lu Ten’s good-natured cheer to Azula’s honeyed barbs. Tonight, though . . .

“No,” he says quietly. “Not dirt.”

Mai’s hand wraps around his own under the table.

“Well, to hear Father go on about it, you’d think they didn’t eat at all—just drank tea, tea, tea, day in and day out.”

“Don’t act like you have it so bad, prince,” Azula interjects, smiling. “You’ll be ruling the jewel of the earth kingdom. If the food’s bad, you can just have them change it. I’m going to be stuck out in the South Pole signing the water tribe armistice. Nothing but oily fish for days.”

“We could trade,” Zuko says without thinking.

Mai’s grip on his hand tightens. Lu Ten and Azula both stare.

“I’d have thought you’d be happy to be home, Zu-zu,” Azula says with dangerous sweetness. “It was so forgiving of Uncle to let you return. I hope you’re not ungrateful.”

“I know administering the provinces doesn’t sound exciting, but it’s important work, Zuko,” Lu Ten chimes in. “When I’m Fire Lord, I’ll need to be able to delegate tasks like that to you.”

“You’re right,” Zuko says slowly. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to being on the move.”

“It’ll do you good to settle down,” Lu Ten declares. He glances between Zuko and Mai, and winks. “Children are good for that, I hear.”

This time it’s Zuko’s turn to take Mai’s hand under the table, until it relaxes from a fist.

The conversation moves on. Zuko looks around the hall, until he spots Aang and the Fire Lord, circulating between tables. No one has said where Aang will be going, or at least, they haven’t said it to Zuko. And Zuko hasn’t asked.

All the lamps have burned down in the house by the time he and Mai get back. Zuko relights a few with a half-hearted flick of his wrist. Mai sits down on the bed and begins to tease apart her braids.

There’s something simmering under his skin, a feeling or a sensation that he doesn’t seem able to name.

“The Northern Water Tribe,” he says finally. “Did my father really act alone?”

Mai’s hands pause their movements. “What do you want me to say, Zuko?”

“The truth.”

“Your father had no orders to do what he did,” Mai says firmly. Her voice drops to a whisper. “When you set a fire in a forest, you don’t have to tell it to burn.”

Zuko watches the torchlight flicker gold and red off Mai’s hair. “What do I do?”

“You come to bed. It’s late.”

“And after that?”

Mai’s silent for a long time. “Maybe Lu Ten’s not wrong,” she says finally. “Not about—that. But. We deserve a little happiness. After everything. We deserve it.”

“Yes,” Zuko says.

He quiets the torches and shutters the window.

They go to bed.
 
Last edited:

Negrek

Abscission Ascendant
Staff
It's been a lot of fun watching this come together--and so fast! If you ignore the years of prepwork, I guess. :P

Not a lot of big changes here, but I really enoy the ones you have made! Lots of fun little details. I especially like the way you introduce the premise of the AU, with Iroh casually mentioning how his son almost died once... Of course, Lu Ten eventually shows up in the flesh for anyone who missed that bit, but I like how blink-and-you'll-miss-it the initial introduction is.

I also quite enjoy the changes you made to Zuko's second scene in particular. Azula manages to be so Azula despite only having a few lines of dialogue. Good luck at the South Pole, Azula, I'm sure nothing bad's going to happen there.

But I REALLY like the "we deserve a little happiness" send-off. Everybody's just coping the best they can. (Not that they have anything to cope with! The Fire Nation's winning the war, the Avatar's on their side, and Zuko has a safe and cushy life ahead of him. Everything's great!)

One thing that really stood out to me on this reread is how much Iroh likes to rest his hand on people's shoulders, heh. I'm not sure if "For a moment, he remembers Uncle’s warm hand on his shoulder, his parting words: you will always have a home with me, nephew." is new in this revision or not, but I really enjoy it. That mixture of (presumably) genuine affection with subtle manipulation, brrr.

I like the changes to Toph's scene, and I'm very glad you didn't have to give up Ty Lee to make them! The line about hitting people with rocks was important to preserve. I like the moment of silence at the end of the scene, as well as Toph's reaction to it, but it did feel a bit odd to me that after Toph's mom's initial "she's totally not a bender!" outburst, Toph and Ty Lee can go back and forth without anyone interrupting. I can imagine Iroh giving Toph's parents an amiable smile that would shut them up and Toph wouldn't notice, but it seemed a little odd to me that they basically vanished.

Really fun AU and a tight little fic to show it off with. Enjoyed reading this a lot!

Minor typo sorts of things:

She rushes to the front of her room and falls to her knees.
*the room

Her footsteps are so light on the floor that Toph can barely track her movements.
What's "on the floor" doing for you here?

“Nice to meet you Toph. How old are you?”
Comma before "Toph."

As the water scatters into droplets, Katara twists her hands and transforms them into a volley of ice darts, rising into formation behind her.
This is pinging me as some kind of misplaced modifier--I keep wanting to make it "ice darts, which rise into formation..."
 

WildBoots

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smol scream
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Yup, it's a two-fer. Wanted a task I could tackle in a short amount of time.

I think some of the finer details are lost on me because I haven't rewatched AtLA in a long time and my memory of it is more big picture than specifics in order. That said, I do think you painted each character here well! Which says a lot when character is so often about what people choose, and here we see these characters making some pretty different choices from what they do in canon. I can also see places where writing DD has flavored how you approach this story even though it's a totally different fandom—which I don't think is a bad thing! Some of the descriptive language and physical details that work well for Lance really serve you here too.

These scene breaks were fun! Different from what you usually do, but really suited the story.

He follows the sailors on their maintenance rounds.
This is so earnest. It really gives me the sense that he lacks experience with boat stuff specifically but also that he doesn't know what to do with himself more generally.

He trades fishermen's wives coin for stories
If we were wondering whether it was a Pen fic ...

The wording (stories as opposed to rumors) is so you, but it also feels very appropriate for Zuko, who would absolutely have reason to be interested in local gossip. I imagine it might be more than just a way to hunt down the avatar but something to do in an otherwise monotonous phase of his life.

When Toph is eleven, Ba Sing Se falls. It happens just like that. One morning, the sun rises over the walls and the Fire Nation comes along for the ride.
This is so snappy.

Nobody is speaking, but she can hear the private thunder of their hearts.
Wow, that's pretty metal.

There’s a smile in the commander’s voice, like she wouldn’t say no to a late-night throat slitting session.
This is so very appropriate for her.

He feels . . . disorientated, like Appa’s tumbled into a particularly twisty dive.
This was one of those moments where I saw the throughline from DD to here very clearly.

“Balance,” he says. “So often we use that word as an answer. But I rather think it’s a question. What does it mean for the world to be in balance?”
Man, his conclusion is so nasty but in isolation this line is really lovely. It IS a good question!

In the abstract, he's right: perfectly balanced scales actually aren't equitable in situations like, say, race in the US; black folks in particular have suffered a lot of wrongs that still need to be compensated for beyond "affirmative action exists now, so everything is fine." But, of course, in ... not the abstract, he's proposing the opposite: stack the deck even more in favor of the team that's already been winning.

Is it balance to constrain the element that by its nature spreads?
Lines to use next time I play a military-heavy faction in Twilight Imperium.

Katara’s arms move like twin snakes. The Fire Lord’s smile freezes.

It’s easy, as easy as it’s ever been, to pull here and twist there, so that the Fire Lord drops to his knees.

The gust of wind strikes her in the stomach.
The motion and physicality here was especially good!

“You’ll be ruling the jewel of the earth kingdom. If the food’s bad, you can just have them change it. I’m going to be stuck out in the South Pole signing the water tribe armistice. Nothing but oily fish for days.”
Wow is sending Azula there ever a bad idea.

“You come to bed. It’s late.”

“And after that?”
This passage was so clutch because it seems to really handily sum up the core of this fic. Most of the cast (minus the obvious exception of Katara) are making the easy choice to accept the ostensible good in the situation before them even though they know that isn't and can't be enough of an answer. And yet ... it does seem to be all the answer Zuko manages to come to, because he sure does just go to bed and let it ride out. He's disquieted enough to ask "And after that?" but not enough to push a second time.

Even though Iroh is such a gentle guy in canon, I can totally see how he could've been this person had he not be the one in exile. It humbled him. And it reminds me of how, lately, I've been thinking about human expansionism and whether that's just human nature or something else. Like, I think given the opportunity and opposable thumbs, deer would totally reshape the world into the image that best suited them, even if doing so brought about their own destruction. When there aren't enough predators to keep them in check, they overeat and wreck ecosystems. It's not so different from human overexerting the natural resources available to us. So, I wonder if Iroh is wrong in saying it's just ~in their nature.~

Though, of course, that doesn't justify giving them the keys to the castle. 🙃 Iroh points it out himself: fire has more than one nature.

But, man, Iroh is a much harder force to want to fight than Ozai. It's easier to want to cooperate with someone who smiles at you than someone who scowls. So, unfortunately, this rings true.

Fun read, nicely done!
 
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kintsugi

golden scars | pfp by sun
Location
the warmth of summer in the songs you write
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she/her
Partners
  1. silvally-grass
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There’s something really captivating about your AU stories. I think it’s the way that you rearrange/emphasize the pieces to make everything worse, while it feels like all the pieces are still roughly the same–no one’s out of character in this, Iroh still drinks tea, we still get the crossroads of destiny and the triumphant coronation, and yet somehow fascism wins. I hesitate to call Harbinger AU but I think they share this aspect of your writing (without a human heart is the other obvious sibling)--the worldbuilding, and its wrongness, feels almost like a character, which lets you use these really richly-packed scenes.

Wordchoice is really good as always. I think my favorite bits were Zuko not waiting to be acknowledged because he’ll be waiting forever, “Aang looks upset, and he looks twelve”, and the gilded butterfly, but overall the prose is captivating and there’s a strong sense of inevitable flow from start to finish here.

earth–this is really where dread started to set in for me. Zuko, and especially early exile Zuko, feels enough of a loose cannon that anything he does can sort of be handwaved as, well maybe it’s not that far-reaching. And Ba Sing Se is always in a rough spot, so maybe it’s not that big of a deal. But there’s a quiet sense of urgency that starts to build; I really liked the image of Toph being forced to wear shoes, how her mother’s hand trembles with the makeup. Bossbabe Ty Lee’s speech really twists the knife–“your parents must be proud of you” feels just a little too on the nose for it to be entirely genuine, and it quickly gets into the heart of the Fire Nation’s success here: there are other things that the elements could learn from one another, turns out sexism is actually really stupid if bending exists and is distributed evenly (a/n kint recognizes sexism is stupid in general, just that it’s even moreso easy to poke holes in if there’s a massive power equalizer). It’s just, you know, equality doesn’t mean oppressing men and women, but Toph can’t know that because she’s eleven.

air–what I love/hate about this is how it rapidly spirals out of Aang’s story and becomes Iroh monologuing. Which is quite the point. I really love how Iroh uses all the right words here; it’s one of those things where using the keywords of the ingroup really helps badfaith infiltrations since, turns out we’re all a lot better at picking out who’s got the right flags rather than whose meaning is correct. Does he genuinely believe what he’s saying? That’s the worst dilemma for me lol; obviously the answer doesn’t matter for the purposes of outcome, it’s implicit that he at least knew what tactics would win him the war, but does he really believe this is equal? ugh. I especially love how Iroh’s not actively in the wrong for all of this; it does feel like he’d be good at covering his tracks even in his fascist years (or that he’d still learn cunning without empathy). Sozin’s the bad guy for hurting the air nomads, Ozai’s the bad guy for the water tribe incidents. But Iroh’s capitalizing on it, and if you light a fire in a forest you know what’s coming next.

water–this one just has such a good sense of tension and urgency to it. I think it works better on reread because all of this buildup is to a cutaway to a totally fine and normal dinner where everyone is happy, why’s everyone so worried?? And I especially like the role-reversal because it feels like you’ve still captured the conflicts of everyone’s characters during the big dramatic Act 2 betrayal. Aang (and Zuko) are both conflicted about their relationship to the war and just want personal peace (Aang even wants more peace!), and in general both believe the Fire Nation can give them something that the rest of the world can’t (turns out the Fire Nation can’t either, pesky detail). Katara (and Iroh) both serve as voices of reason throughout the series and it works really well to just swap them here, though it’s fun to see how much more violent Katara is than series!Iroh lol. And, yeah, Iroh really twists the knife here, I hate that he doesn’t feel the need to fight (and probably recognizes he shouldn’t). Feels very Palpatine in the throne room, which isn’t a look I would’ve believed for Iroh before reading this.

fire–I really love the hidden information going on in this conversation, especially after so much of this has been people frankly stating #onlyfacts. Zuko and Mai’s opinions on things are really clear, but are Lu Ten and Azula happy with this change? Zuko mostly and Mai manage to keep up the facade. There’s so much double-speak going on even before Azula opens her mouth lol. And ultimately I think Zuko wants to believe these things, and Mai wants to want to believe these things–turns out the fascism ending is not actually the one where people feel good.

Mai’s silent for a long time. “Maybe Lu Ten’s not wrong,” she says finally. “Not about—that. But. We deserve a little happiness. After everything. We deserve it.”
I keep returning to this line and Toph’s scene with girlboss authoritarianism. I think you really capture how tempting the Fire Nation can be, how sometimes giving up your own freedoms so that you can take more from others feels progressive and justified and ultimately deserved--or how you need to say these things so that you can feel okay with the actions you’re taking. It’s something that I think you needed to sell and land for this fic to work (because, again, it’s fascist Iroh), but it’s also just such a foreign thing for me in fiction–I think there’s a tendency, myself included, to want to discredit/hide the “good” bits of auth regimes because it risks feeling like you’re justifying the regime, but that implicitly erases why and how it’s tempting to join the cause in the first place, even if those people aren’t explicitly trying to champion hurting people.

good fic upd8 more ship ash and katara pls

Zuko repeats bitterly. “Then why is it me who’s still here?”
tbh this is a cosmic constant for him
 
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Okay, so let's see: Iroh is Fire Lord, and he has exiled Ozai to search for the Avatar. Ozai dragged Zuko and Azula with him (even though Iroh said Zuko was welcome to stay with him!), but Azula bailed and left her poor brother alone with daddy dearest. Well that's a heck of a start.

Definitely believable that Ozai would've descended into single-minded obsession with finding the Avatar if that was actually his job rather than something he could delegate to Zuko/his soldiers. So single-minded that he's even in denial about Azula scarpering, though? Yeowch. Just the one conversation is more than enough to drive the obsession home...

"Azula, the loyal one," Zuko repeats bitterly. "Then why is it me who's still here?"

oof

One morning, the sun rises over the walls and the Fire Nation comes along for the ride.

Love that phrasing. Casual and a little snarky and perfect for Toph-narration. Also really enjoy how tactile the descriptions in Toph's section are; the difference in experience to the sighted characters comes across really well. Ty Lee trying to recruit Toph is great. And probably terrible, because oops! Now she doesn't have Earth Rumble any more and her best outlet for her desire to really enjoy bending and exercise her freedom is the Fire Nation army.

Definitely wonder about the "not the only earthbender here"... what happened? Did the Fire Nation already recruit a bender and have them try to test those gathered to see if anyone would be useful? Was someone trying to crush the Fire Nation contingent and wasn't concerned about who got caught in the crossfire? (Given the way things turned out in the end, the former seems more likely to me.)

Zuko once heard a story about an artisan so skillful that he was able to clothe a butterfly in gold. The butterfly looked beautiful; it never flew again.

Dang, what a metaphor for Aang having sold out here. Always on point with the little stories that tie so beautifully into the bigger picture; lovely.

"When you set a fire in a forest, you don't have to tell it to burn."

oooooooof

Iroh was just such a Good throughout the series that one can so easily forget what he did, canonically, come so close to being before his son died. This look at how things would've changed—or, more properly I suppose, not changed—feels so dissonant, and yet it makes all the sense in the world because, well. Like I said, this is what would've happened had nothing changed! The way his gentle calmness is still entirely present but is being warped around into subtle manipulation is terrifying. "Oh, but it's in my people's nature to conquer" is a transparently terrible claim to make from where we're standing, and yet if there's anyone out there who could make it sound almost sensible, really make you believe that it's part of a peaceful path forward—especially to an emotionally distraught twelve-year-old—Iroh's a hell of a candidate. And it's plenty believable that he doesn't really want to see bloodshed, aside from that which he deemed was necessary to achieve his desired outcome (which makes it so much better, of course, total thumbs up good job yep yep).

All the characters were still so very much themselves through all this, not just Iroh. Toph being so open to this new opportunity to really be herself (even when it gets twisted around into her joining an authoritarian army); Katara clinging so closely to her ideals and to her anger (but needing to direct it toward not just Iroh but to an extent Aang). Azula is... well, she's Very Azula, and I can't help but wonder what exactly she was up to after bailing on her dad and baby brother. Something else Iroh put her up to? Who knows, with her, honestly.

And Zuko... welp. He even killed his dad to try and get away from him and figure out what's right, did end up traveling with Aang for a time after that, and for it all to end up like this? (And how much of what happened after Zuko went along with Ozai's exile was Iroh already planning on...) No wonder the poor guy's still just as lost at the end as he was at the beginning. That's rough, buddy.
 
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