Chapter Text
The fate of Team Avatar changed the day their paths crossed with a lethal shadow. You had been watching them for a while in that Fire Nation village; the Avatar's presence was obvious to someone with your senses, but you had no intention of turning him in. After all, he was an airbender, just like you. However, your neutrality vanished when an imposing assassin, known as Combustion Man, ambushed them right in front of the colossal statue of Fire Lord Ozai. Seeing the imminent danger, you had no choice but to intervene.
You jumped into battle without hesitation, cutting through the line of fire and catching everyone off guard. Your movements possessed a superhuman fluidity that the Avatar instantly recognized. When you soared through the air with absolute lightness, defying gravity without the need for a glider, it became clear that you mastered an advanced evolution of airbending. But what truly left the group stunned was your arsenal: firearms gleamed in your hands—a rifle, a shotgun, and two pistols; tools of metal and gunpowder that complemented your lethal fighting style.
With a coordinated combination of gusts of wind and precise shots, you managed to temporarily bring down the combustion giant, giving the group a vital breather. In that instant of chaos, the Avatar stopped in front of you, panting, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Run, Aang, run!" you shouted, urging him to follow his friends.
"Come with us!" he insisted, reaching out his hand to you.
"I can't... this is my life," you responded firmly, shaking your head.
"No, it's not," he replied, looking at you with determination.
"Well, then let's go," you said, giving in with surprising speed.
Later, far from danger and under the cover of night, the Avatar and his companions formally introduced themselves. The curiosity in the air was palpable, and it didn't take them long to ask about your identity, eager to discover who their mysterious savior was.
You raised an eyebrow, amused by their persistence and the absolute seriousness on their faces. "Don't be fooled by my harmless appearance. I am a multiversal entity, capable of conquering entire realities if I set my mind to it. You cannot gaze upon my true form, for your brains wouldn't be able to process it."
An awkward, heavy silence stretched between them. Sokka blinked, completely bewildered. And then, you broke the tension with a giggle.
"Hahaha... I was just kidding. I'm... a contract killer," you finally confessed, with a tone serious enough to wipe any trace of joviality from the air.
Thus began your journey alongside the Avatar. An unexpected path that would drag you straight into the heart of the rebellion against the world order. Your history, however, was a far cry from the peaceful monks of the past. Although you were an exceptional airbender, your skin lacked the traditional blue arrow tattoos; you had been born an orphan in the heart of the Fire Nation after the extinction of the nomads, and since the age of fifteen, you had to learn to survive on your own in the shadows.
In the underworld, your name commanded reverent respect: they knew you as Opaline. During your assignments, you always hid your identity behind a white lace blindfold over your eyes—a signature trademark that became synonymous with mystery and menace to anyone who crossed your path. Your style was aggressive, relentless, and merciless; you didn't care how much blood was spilled, nor did you bother to clean up crime scenes or avoid collateral damage. Your marksmanship, forged through a year of intense experience, was flawless. You mastered the rifle, the shotgun, and the pistols with surgical precision. You had always kept your airbending under lock and key as a secret, but Aang’s sudden intrusion into your life had forced you to unleash your true potential.
After actively supporting the failed invasion plan during the Day of Black Sun, the retreat had led the group to seek refuge in the inhospitable Western Air Temple. Fatigue and frustration weighed heavily on everyone, but the real storm erupted when you returned from a brief absence and found out what had occurred at your base.
"You did what?!" you exclaimed, fury bleeding into your voice.
Katara took a step forward, her brow furrowed and her eyes burning with pure indignation.
"You don't understand, it's Prince Zuko! That lunatic has been chasing us all over the world."
"Prince Zuko?! The Prince of the Fire Nation?!" you gasped in surprise, your eyes widening with enthusiasm. "The ultimate bad boy, hahaha! I bet he’s terrifying!" you added with excitement.
"Exactly, he's a maniac... he can't be trusted," Katara replied coldly.
"He helped me when Zhao captured me," Aang said seriously. "He got hurt doing it."
"Or he could have done it to capture you himself," Katara countered, incredulous.
"What about freeing Appa? He wasn't lying," Toph intervened firmly.
Sokka rolled his eyes and snorted sarcastically. "Oh, wow... he might have an endless criminal record, but at least he doesn't mistreat animals."
"All I'm saying is, with the family he has, he could be a lot worse," Toph insisted, crossing her arms. "You guys are missing the point: Aang needs a firebending teacher."
"I don't want Zuko to be my teacher," Aang responded curtly.
Toph snapped.
"Ugh! I'm starting to wonder who the blind ones really are around here!" she yelled in frustration.
Seeing the perfect opportunity to stir the pot, you decided to intervene, raising your voice with a distinctively theatrical flair and a radiant smile.
"Only one thing is clear here... I am destined to meet him!" you exclaimed with a beaming grin.
"Meet him?... Meet who?" Aang asked, utterly confused.
You clasped your hands against your chest, striking a pose of absolute, dramatic romanticism worthy of the finest performances at the Ember Island Players.
"Him! Please tell me you’ll decide to introduce me to him! Prince Zuko! The most handsome, coveted, and powerful man in the Fire Nation! Our eyes would meet, our hearts would melt. Our courtship will be magnificent! He will ask for my hand in marriage, and obviously, I'll say YES! We’d have a royal wedding, fit for a princess—which, haha, is exactly what I’ll become by marrying him. He's the man of my dreams! Aang, I can't believe you kicked him out and are keeping me from meeting my true love. How could you?! Hmpf!" you dramatized, crossing your arms.
Although your words were a deliberate exaggeration to tease them and pressure them into reconsidering, deep down, the rumors regarding the banished prince's good looks genuinely sparked your curiosity. You knew you were the same age, a detail that added an intriguing layer of fascination to his figure.
A deathly silence fell over the campsite.
"...What?" was all Sokka managed to utter, completely lost as he processed the speech.
"My decision is made," Aang affirmed, shaking his head, unyielding.
"Ahhh! Have I taught you nothing about how a man is supposed to succumb to female blackmail?!" you exclaimed, indignant. "You need a teacher, and you have him on a silver platter, but you're ignoring it!"
"It doesn't matter. I'll find another teacher... or I'll defeat Ozai without firebending," Aang declared stubbornly.
The next day, underworld affairs demanded your attention. A new contract reached you through your network of contacts: you were to execute a man who had been harassing and terrorizing the women of a nearby small village for months. The mayor himself, desperate, had funded the bounty to rid them of the scum. For Opaline, the job was a simple formality. You tracked the target to his hideout and eliminated him with your signature cold precision, leaving the mark of your lethality in the air.
For your return, you soared into the sky using your airbending, traveling at an enviable speed. Your technique was unique and highly polished: you generated constant, spiraling currents of air beneath your feet, granting you absolute freedom in the heavens. You could move at high speeds, stop dead in your tracks at will, or even sit directly on thin air, letting the wind itself hold you up like an invisible throne while you gazed upon the world from above.
Although you knew perfectly well that Aang was an airbending prodigy, the concept of free, self-sustained flight was a bit too revolutionary for someone who had spent the last hundred and twelve years trapped in an iceberg. Because of this, you dedicated part of your time to teaching him how to polish that advanced technique, using his blue glider for support. However, your training regimen went far beyond wind currents: you had the firm intention of instructing him in the art of firearms.
To you, your pistols, rifles, and shotguns were not mere artifacts of steel and gunpowder; when combined with your airbending, they transformed into a harmonious and deadly discipline. By utilizing subtle air currents, you could double the speed of bullets mid-flight, unpredictably alter their trajectory mid-shot, and even generate pressure vacuums that rendered every strike mathematically impossible to dodge. In your hands, weapons were not alien tools, but a direct extension of your own element.
Upon returning to the Western Air Temple after completing your mission, you headed straight toward your provisional room. The physical and mental exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on every single one of your muscles. The bed, which you had left perfectly neat and tidy, seemed to call to you with an irresistible sweetness. You threw yourself onto it without a second thought and covered yourself completely with the sheet, sinking into its warmth as if you wanted to disappear from the real world. You had barely closed your eyes when soft yet energetic knocks resonated against the wooden door.
"Who is it?" you asked, your voice thick and drowsy, without moving.
"Ah! You're back. Can we come in? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team," Aang’s lively voice replied from the hallway.
With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up until you were sitting on the mattress. The sheet still covered you completely from head to toe, giving you the appearance of a small, sleepy ghost.
"Come in, you can enter..." you mumbled half-asleep, slurring your words.
The door opened with a slight creak.
"Were you sleeping?" Aang asked, his tone dropping a bit as he noticed the white lump beneath the sheets.
"Yeah... sorry, I was about to pass out," you murmured while lazily starting to uncover your face.
You blinked several times to shake off the heaviness of sleep. Your vision was still a bit blurry, but gradually, the silhouettes in the room began to focus, revealing the newcomers.
"Reader, meet Zuko. He's going to be my firebending teacher," Aang announced with a beaming grin from ear to ear.
Upon hearing that name, your heart skipped a sudden beat.
"The bad boy is back!" you exclaimed excitedly, the adrenaline instantly chasing away the lethargy... until your eyes cleared completely. You observed him closely, analyzing his face, and furrowed your brow. "Wait a minute... I know this guy..."
"Yeah, he's the one you defended yesterday," Aang explained, scratching his head. "You got mad because I let him go."
You leaned forward, crawling a bit over the blankets to close the distance and inspect him with greater scrutiny. Your face ended up mere inches from his as you examined him with absolute fixity.
"I need to remember or I won't sleep... hang on..." you whispered, leaning in a little closer.
Zuko didn't back away; he held your gaze with a rigid, hard-to-ignore intensity, though bewilderment crossed his features.
"No... I don't know you. I... I thought I did," you finally admitted, tilting your head, visibly confused by the false familiarity.
Zuko looked away, visibly uncomfortable, and scratched the back of his neck as a faint blush crept onto his skin.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reader. Though... something about you does feel familiar. Sorry for interrupting your rest."
It was at that exact moment that you realized your position: by having crawled across the bed, you had left Zuko with a rather clear and direct view down your neckline. Noticing the prince's shyness and your own posture, you immediately straightened up, sitting on your knees with much more composure.
"The pleasure is mine. I'm glad Aang finally got a teacher... but how did you guys end up accepting him?" you asked, playing dumb while using your fingers to tame your messy hair.
"He stood up to Combustion Man. Thanks to him, we're finally rid of that guy," Aang explained, notably satisfied with the turn of events.
"Oh, I see... if that's the case, it puts my mind at ease," you said softly, feeling the warmth of the room drag you back into lethargy. You let out a loud yawn, completely defeated. "Well... I'll wake up for dinner."
"Alright, get some rest. You too, Zuko. Come on, Sokka will show you to your room," Aang indicated before turning around.
Before the door closed completely, you ventured to flash one last knowing smile at Zuko. The Prince of the Fire Nation received it out of the corner of his eye with a slight stoicism, but did not utter a word. As soon as the hallway fell silent, you let yourself fall backward and buried yourself beneath the sheets again, instantly drifting into a deep sleep.
At the other end of the temple wing, Zuko found himself at a mental crossroads. He couldn't shake the strange certainty that your face was already a part of his past. Sokka reluctantly guided him to the austere room he had been assigned. Once alone, Zuko carefully placed a small framed portrait of his Uncle Iroh on the windowsill, seeking an anchor of peace in that simple object. This was after having received an extremely explicit and chilling warning from Katara—who had watched him like a hungry hawk, making it clear his head would roll at the slightest misstep.
He dropped onto the mattress, exhausted by the events of the last few days. For a brief moment, the image of Mai flashed through his mind. Had she already read the farewell letter he left for her at the palace? Those lines put an end to what they had; not out of a lack of affection, but because his sense of duty prevented him from dragging her into the abyss of his own treason. It was his twisted way of keeping her safe. With that tightness in his chest, he closed his eyes and gave in to rest.
In your room, the unconsciousness of sleep opened the doors to a long-buried memory.
In your mind, you were a child of barely five years old again. You were standing in front of a crystal-clear pond in the Fire Nation gardens. Next to the water, a boy your own age timidly observed his own reflection. You approached with light steps and innate curiosity, leaning over the liquid mirror; for a fraction of a second, your childhood silhouette blended with his. The boy startled upon noticing your presence, jumping up and taking a couple of steps back, frightened.
You tilted your head, amused, and advanced toward him, but the little boy spun around and fled in a hurry. Smiling, you followed him closely until you saw him take refuge behind the long black dress of an elegantly poised woman with a kind gaze. She was conversing with the headmistress of the local orphanage—a common scene in your early years, as that noble lady used to visit the orphaned children frequently, as if looking out for each and every one of them.
You approached with typical childhood innocence. The boy clung tightly to his mother's skirt, trying to make himself invisible.
"Zuko, this is the girl, Reader," the boy's mother said in a remarkably sweet voice, caressing his hair.
You smiled timidly, looking up at the imposing yet warm woman.
"He's very shy, isn't he?"
"Yes, perhaps he won't be so shy if you greet him yourself," the orphanage headmistress responded with an encouraging tone.
Taking a decisive step forward, your face lit up with a massive smile.
"Hi, Zuko!" you greeted him with overflowing enthusiasm.
But the boy, overwhelmed, hid even further behind the fabric, reluctant to show his face. Your smile faded a bit, replaced by a disappointed pout.
"Zuko, I said hi..." you murmured with a hint of childish sadness.
His mother leaned down to him with infinite patience, though applying a subtle firmness to her tone.
"Well? Aren't you going to answer her?"
The little boy shook his head, stubborn and embarrassed.
"What? Are you scared?" she insisted, teasing his pride.
The boy shook his head again, this time with a rougher, more defensive motion. Then, the woman gently took him by the shoulders and, with sweetness, placed him right in front of you.
"Then come closer, go on. Say: Hi, Reader."
Your eyes shone with expectation once more. Little Zuko swallowed hard, looked down at the ground, and in an almost inaudible whisper, muttered:
"...Hi."
A clean, happy laugh escaped your lips. Nimbly, you reached out and gave him a quick tap on the shoulder.
"Tag, you're it! Run!" you exclaimed, stepping back, amused.
Zuko looked at you completely bewildered, frozen in place. You tapped him again, laughing heartily at his confusion.
"Tag! Run, it's your turn! It's your turn, hahaha... Hi, you run, I tag you, okay?"
The boy blinked, processing the rules of a game that seemed entirely foreign to him.
"What's wrong?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity. "Don't you know how to play?"
That very afternoon, amidst laughter and childish explanations, the two of you forged the first link of a deep friendship.
At the same time, Zuko's dream in his cold room took the shape of the exact same shared past.
In his memory, the setting had shifted slightly. Now he was seven years old, walking again with his mother along the tree-lined paths. In the dream, your current figure materialized right in front of him; your heart experienced a surge of nostalgia upon recognizing him at that age, and unable to help yourself, you stepped so close that you could count the freckles on his childhood face.
"Hi, Zuko..." you said, blinking rapidly to hold back the emotion, offering him a timid smile.
Taken by surprise, the boy took a clumsy step backward, tripped over a stone in the path, and ended up sitting abruptly on the ground.
"Hi, Reader," he said from the dirt, waving a loose hand with a blatant mix of embarrassment, shyness, and relief at seeing you.
"Hehehe, I almost didn't recognize you!" you teased affectionately, amused by his eternal clumsiness.
Zuko jumped to his feet, dusting off his pants while his face lit up with genuine pride.
"Really?" he asked, puffing out his chest and trying to look imposing. "I think it's because I can firebend now and... I'm taller! Do you notice?"
You examined him from head to toe with a raised eyebrow, comparing your current heights. In reality, you were still the exact same height.
"Well, I... uh..." you murmured, holding back a laugh so as not to hurt his feelings.
The rest of that memorable day passed in games, races, and hidden chases among the forest trees, as if time and royal titles held no value whatsoever. Every laugh left a trail of warmth that seemed to float in the autumn air.
As evening fell, the time to leave inevitably arrived. You approached him with a soft smile, imbued with an early melancholy.
"It's so good to see you again, Zuko..." you whispered, feeling your chest tighten at the imminent separation.
The little prince looked at you with eyes shining with gratitude and nodded, treasuring deep within his soul the echo of a day of authentic happiness.
You sat up abruptly in bed, your breath coming in short gasps and your heart pounding wildly against your ribs. The agitation wasn't born of fear, but rather from the sudden revelation that had just shaken your mind. Now you remembered everything with absolute clarity. Zuko was that boy from your dreams—the very same shy little boy who, over ten years ago, had stolen a sweet and innocent first childhood crush from you. After a decade of distance, chaos, and scars, it was no wonder you hadn't recognized him at first glance beneath the threshold of your room.
You shifted your gaze toward the large window carved into the stone; night had completely reclaimed the sky above the temple, painting the ruins in shades of deep blue and heavy shadows. Determined to head out for dinner, you threw off the sheets and adjusted your outfit with meticulous care. You wore a white corset, tightly laced up the front with an impeccable ribbon, from which soft sleeves flowed and fell gracefully around your arms. The long, fiery red skirt featured two daring side slits that revealed your legs with every step, all fitted to your silhouette by an elegant golden belt. It was a provocative ensemble—a design you had borrowed from a courtesan house during one of your travels and adapted perfectly to your lethal, free-spirited style.
You left the room with measured, silent, and elegant steps, nearly floating down the stone corridor with the natural grace of an airbender. And then, as if destiny were intentionally weaving the threads, you saw him. Zuko was walking in the opposite direction down the very same hallway.
His steps met yours. Both of you stopped dead in your tracks, face to face, keeping a cautious distance but without breaking eye contact. His face was now marked by his signature, imposing burn scar—a trace of cruelty that made you hesitate for a split second. But your intuition and your heart were not mistaken. Those eyes were still the same.
"I remember you, Prince... I remember you..." you whispered softly, your voice steeped in memory and restrained emotion, allowing the cadence of your words to float through the air and reach him.
The silence of the hallway became thick, almost palpable. For a brief moment, it was as if time had frozen around the two of you while you examined each other, searching for traces of childhood among the wounds of maturity.
You took a couple of steps toward him. Your stride was feline, calculatedly slow, allowing the fragrance and magnetism of your presence to fill the narrow corridor.
"Hello, Zuko... Don't you remember me?" you whispered again, closing the distance and locking your eyes directly onto his.
The heir to the throne of the Fire Nation stood practically paralyzed, his breath catching and his jaw slightly tensing at your proximity. A sly, mischievous smile formed on your lips as you noticed he still kept that endearing clumsiness completely intact.
"I'm Reader," you added with a soft coo, taking the final step until your faces were nearly at the same level, forcing him to process your name.
Zuko took a step back, somewhat clumsy and startled, as if the weight of the past had taken him by surprise and he didn't quite know how to react to the woman standing before him.
"Hahaha, now I really almost didn't recognize you," you said with a touch of playfulness, resting a hand on your hip as your skirt swayed gently. "I'm glad you're okay... Let me refresh your memory."
"I..." Zuko began, his voice trembling with a hint of hesitation before his words regained their characteristic firmness. "I also remembered... that I met you at the orphanage, back when I used to accompany my mother on her visits."
A sincere, shared smile lit up your faces. For a beautiful instant, the years of war, the distance, the spilled blood, and the royal titles seemed to vanish into the temple air, leaving only the silent and unbreakable connection that, without even knowing it, you had shared since childhood.