Fanfic #214 the field beyond right and wrong by chaoticsandstorm(AvatarTheLastAirbender)

This fanfic is an au where Zuko was the genius firebender from the beginning. I really like this fic because it has an interesting character analysis based on the au elements and it has interesting oc characters.

Synopsis: "He isn't their commander. Not really. He's just the prince who was stupid enough to commit treason in front of the entire War Council, and now everyone is suffering for it." Azula isn't born as the prodigy. Zuko is. This changes their loyalties more than one would realise, and just might change the outcome of the war.

Rated: M

words: 49k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457408/chapters/72357960

Here's the first chapter:

Chapter Text

"Beyond right and wrong there is a field.

I will meet you there."

- Rumi

Zuko can't remember the last time he wasn't sunburned. It feels like a lifetime ago. Now he sweats underneath the burning sun, hauling ropes across deck.

It's stupid. They're on a metal ship, they don't need ropes. Anything that needs securing could just be welded to the floor. When he suggests this to Lieutenant Jee, the man treats him to such a withering gaze that Zuko gives up immediately. Part of surviving on the same cramped ship for two years is knowing when to quit. If Zuko continued pushing, he would lose his advantage from the incident with pai sho. Lieutenant Jee was playing against Uncle, who had paused for a tea break. Lieutenant Jee made desperate eye contact and silently conveyed that if Zuko helped him throw the game, then he would owe Zuko a favour. Any favour - so long as it gets me away from this Agni-forsaken game, so help me spirits.

Zuko has no intention of using that favour today. Favours don't come by easily on the ship and he would have to be a fool to throw his away so easily. It's the only form of currency they actually have in abundance. As tempting as it is to get out of manual labour, Uncle has been talking about setting an example and leading from within. Work with your men. Not around them, Prince Zuko.

He doesn't feel much like a prince these days. Sweaty, mostly. Or cold. It depends on which waters they're sailing through. They once entered Water Tribe territory- or near to it- and Zuko honestly thought he would freeze to death before they could leave. One crewman took pity and helped bundle Zuko in a spare room with as many blankets as they could muster. Zuko spent the week alternating between shivering himself into probably the worst illness of his life, and standing on the railings declaring furiously that he was the absolute picture of health. The crewman tried coaxing him from the railings with offerings of food and blankets, circling his position like they were hunting penguin-seals and not trying to convince their teenage commander to step off the railings before he could fall deliriously into the water. Lieutenant Jee laughed himself into stitches when he saw, then rubbed his face and made Zuko swear solemnly never to do anything like that again. Zuko only repeated what he said on the railings - that he was the picture of Agni-damned health and Jee couldn't do anything about it. He also said some other, ruder things that in hindsight Zuko should never repeat if he wants to keep his mouth soap-free. Cursing has always been allowed on the ship, tolerated by his long-suffering uncle. But it doesn't mean that Iroh approves of Zuko's un-princely language.

"There are better ways for a young prince to express himself," Iroh mentions whenever he overhears Zuko. "You must learn to control your language and your temperament. Only then can you control yourself."

Zuko responded with even more cursing once Uncle was out of earshot. It felt petty and vindicative, but also secretly thrilling. Zuko was never allowed to swear in the palace. He was never allowed to do anything. Zuko's role was to train himself into the ground and sit without speaking, like the extra in a play who never gets lines. Cursing feels good. Zuko nearly broke a plate in shock when he first heard the crew using that kind of language, but he quickly adjusted. They have rubbed off on him more than he would like to think. He once stubbed his toe in the middle of the night and caught himself the door to Agni and back. Maybe not a very princely act like Uncle wants, but Zuko doesn't feel very much like a prince these days.

Sailing aimlessly for two years has been almost nice. If you could get stockholmed into liking literal exile, then Zuko thinks it would have happened to him. There are no expectations on the ship beyond the basics - keep your quarters clean, do your own laundry unless you can wrangle a favour from someone in exchange for them doing it, and eat whatever is served because spirits know there is never enough money for food. Uncle tries sneaking his portions onto Zuko's plate when he thinks Zuko won't notice. As do the rest of the crew. Zuko protests that he has enough to eat already, thank you very much, but whenever that argument comes up all they have to do is look pointedly towards the budgeting board.

The budgeting board became A Thing, officially, after Zuko was tired of spreading his papers across his desk and squinting to read the small print. His eyes aren't bad, exactly, but his left eye doesn't open all the way anymore. If he doesn't look at the writing from a particular angle then everything becomes a peripheral blur. Zuko swept up the papers and stormed into the mess hall, then pinned the whole damned lot to the- very much solid, ship-holding metal Zuko, what were you THINKING- wall. The earliest risers of the crew only blinked at him then silently returned to their coffee, and Zuko finally had enough space to look at the numbers without feeling like they were crammed inside his head. Nothing is impossible for him. Only frustratingly difficult at times.

"Did that help?" Akane remarked sarcastically from the corner, because Akane has never passed up the chance to be an asshole in her life. She loves picking on what she sees as Zuko's needless dramatics.

Zuko scowled and blustered his way through the interaction, but eventually admitted to Uncle that the wall really did help, DON'T tell Akane.

Lieutenant Jee returned the following week with a haphazard slab of fired clay from offshore, which he assured everyone could withstand Zuko's antics. ("Hey!" Zuko shouted, but was ignored.) The crew argued amongst themselves over who would get the dubious honour of taking upon additional chores - a matter settled by Lieutenant Jee cracking his knuckles viciously and assigning it to Isao and Ryung.

"Really?" Isao whined.

Lieutenant Jee shrugged. "You've been sloppy with your paperwork recently. Maybe this will give you an incentive to be better."

The two combined their pitifully small brains and dragged it, screeching, across the floor. Lieutenant Jee shouted at them for damaging the board and they paused to shrug at their officer, then resumed positioning it against the wall. Zuko tried ignoring them for all of three minutes, whereupon he finally caved.

"That's not where you should be putting it!" he insisted loudly, forcing himself between the board and the wall. "If you idiots put it here then my papers are within range of food splatters!"

Under Zuko's careful direction, they hammered the board into the wall and strung up his papers. It looked like an official board, Zuko had to admit. Like something Admiral Zhao might have in his office, only made out of a proper material and not cheap Earth Kingdom clay that Lieutenant Jee bought using his personal pay.

They stood back to admire their work, reluctantly satisfied. The others gathered around to see how the project ended, by now having gathered quite a crowd.

"Pretty good," Lieutenant Jee said.

"Excellent indeed," Uncle smiled.

"You didn't even do anything," Ryung sighed.

"The joys of command, dear crewman. You do all the work and I get all the credit."

Ryung only sighed more heavily.

The budgeting board became A Thing after Jee bought it and officially made it part of the ship's stores, but to Zuko it only became A Thing when he first cried over the damn thing. Food is expensive. Uniforms are expensive. Fuel and medicine and equipment and all the other miscellaneous items required for running a ship are also, you guessed it, expensive. Zuko honestly thought he had lost his mind the day he found himself sitting on the floor in front of it begging for mercy over the cost of a damn cooking spoon.

Uncle helped him quietly off the floor and told him that the issue would be resolved. Zuko had gestured wildly towards the budgeting board and made a series of noises best described as a dying scorpion-armadillo. He may have cried some more. The details are fuzzy. In the end, Iroh held him tightly and said, firmly, that he would make the problem go away. Then he sent Zuko to listen to Ryung play the tsungi horn, and Uncle went to Lieutenant Jee. The pair came back with brand new cooking equipment, two month's cushioning for the budget, and a determined set to their jaws that Zuko still doesn't know what to make of.

Come to to think of it, he hasn't seen Uncle's crown for a while.

Being the commander of a ship is a lot less impressive than it sounded when he was listening to the admirals in the War Room. They made themselves sound essential and noble and esteemed, like they were somehow above the conflict but paradoxically the first in the line of fire.

"Our lives are at stake," they used to insist. "The Fire Navy would be nothing without us."

Maybe that was true for the admirals and Zuko is just too young and dumb to understand. But mostly, he thinks leadership is just a whole bunch of paperwork. When something goes wrong, the crewman say well why don't you fix this Zuko, except Zuko can't fix this because if he does then he has to fill out two different forms to sign off on it, except those forms can't be actioned without repairs to the other broken part that he's been pretending doesn't exist because they don't have the money, and if Zuko starts thinking about money then he has to think about how to politely beg his father for some, or steal, or something-

Leadership is hard. When Zuko expressed this to Lieutenant Jee, the older man looked at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Welcome to my world," he sighed deeply. "All of the blame and none of the credit."

That sounded about right. In the early days Zuko just yelled and hoped for the best, because that was what father did only in a lower voice and with a lot more fear-inspiring authority. Zuko copied his father as much as he could, down to the way he sat and the way he pinned people with such a flat stare that it always felt like he could see right through you. He got Zuko to confess many a misdeed that way. I'm sorry I skipped training, father. I'm sorry I talked to mother. I'm sorry I helped Azula. Then Uncle politely pulled Zuko aside- back in the days when he was still Iroh and not Uncle, not yet- and told him that if he wanted to be thrown overboard in a mutiny, then he was right on track. If not, maybe don't impersonate your widely despised father.

The hostile glares of the crew assured Zuko that Iroh was right. He apologised to them later. Now things are fine and Zuko isn't trying to act like Ozai, only the leader of the ship and the resident princeling. As much as one can still be a prince without a title, or a homeland, or a crown.

Zuko could live without the palace. He could live without the fancy food and clothes. He definitely doesn't miss the training and the constantly strained muscles, because Teacher Jiang would never take no for an answer when Zuko said that the next set of katas were too advanced, that it would take too much from him. But he misses some things like an aching tooth. The stall by the palace gates that sold candied cherry blossoms in spring, the baby turtleducks that always snuggled up to his hands, the way the servants would always gossip when they thought he couldn't hear and would accidentally spill the most incredible secrets.

His sister. He misses his sister. Father told him not to think about her – that as the younger, unremarkable child, she has no business occupying his mind. She isn't worthy of attention. But father doesn't trust Zuko anymore. Maybe he decided to give Azula a second chance, after all.

It worries him. Azula was born with a weaker flame than Zuko's. She is all sharp corners and slanted smiles, and some days he thinks no one will ever truly believe him when he tells them how cunning Azula is. All they can see is how she was born with a flame that burned a dull, average red, rather than Zuko's own white. Zuko loves her. He has faith in her. But he wonders if she can withstand all the additional training he went through, should father resume trying to force her into becoming a prodigy. Azula was never bad at bending, but there is a difference between being a good bender and being born a prodigy. Sometimes Zuko questions if his father understands that you cannot force someone to become one. It's just something that happens. No amount of screaming or training will make magically make Azula progress ten years in prowess. It's not possible. What concerns Zuko even more is that Azula seems to think it is. She always hung onto father's every word. He told her it was her fault for not being good enough. That if she just tried harder then she would be a prodigy like Zuko.

Everyone knew that Zuko wasn't the child Ozai wanted. He was strong in bending but lacked ruthlessness. He preferred playing with the stray animals that wandered into the palace to focusing on his lessons. Father killing the animals didn't make Zuko focus harder. It just made him afraid.

Zuko was intended as a test run. Ozai wanted to see what kind of children his alliance with Ursa could produce. When Zuko threw his first sparks and stunned the court, Ozai immediately began trying for another child – their fate to be determined by their bending. Heir, or spare. The second child himself, Ozai believed that the bloodline would show through stronger the second time. He was not content with the son he already had. He wanted someone even stronger. The perfect future weapon, loyal first and foremost to their father. But Azula's sparks were red. Strong, but an average and dull colour. Ozai failed. Just as easily as he dismissed Zuko, he returned to him.

"You will train with private teachers from now on," he said. It wasn't an offer. It was an expectation. Zuko tried his hardest to meet those expectations, right until he was banished.

"I'll take good care of your crown while you're gone," Azula reassured him before he left, smiling sweetly. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes that told him she may not be entirely sincere.

Zuko nearly opened his mouth to tell her that just because he was going away didn't mean he had lost his status as crown prince, but then a terrible pain lanced through his head, just behind his eye. He curled his face into his hand and struggled not to cry while Azula's smile slowly slipped off her face. Zuko breathed shallowly through his nose while Azula stood in silence. When he looked up again, episode over, she was gone. He honestly doesn't know what else he expected.

Zuko finishes tying the ropes and heads to the observation deck. Lieutenant Jee isn't there - sleeping, maybe, they've all been working at odd hours of the night to fix various leaks - which means Zuko is alone. He kneels on the floor and goes through his breathing exercises. Being on the sea gave him a nausea he still cannot shake, even after two years. Lieutenant Jee says he's a hopeless landlubber. Uncle says it's probably in his mind, with a sad expression Zuko feels uncomfortable looking at. The rest of the crew just think it's hilarious that Zuko still gets seasick, and like to taunt him in poor weather.

Jerks.

Zuko is honestly sick of the ocean, and of not being able to see through the water. He longs for land. He wants to be able to stand on his feet without worrying that any moment he will be catapulted into action by a thoughtless wave crashing into the hull, or a surprise breakdown of their engine.

He's tired. Of course he is. It's been two years of nothing. No letters from father- exchanged over his head and going instead to Lieutenant Jee, who only shakes his head firmly when Zuko asks and calls the letters no good. Zuko thought they would end the exile quickly. It was only a matter of time, he told himself firmly. Father couldn't keep him away forever. Zuko would find the perfect way to break the influence of the rumours over father's mind, and Zuko could return home and be welcomed.

Zuko thinks fleetingly to a line from a poem his mother once forced him to read. I bow my head and think of home. It was by a famous poet whose name he has now forgotten, but when he looks into the sinking depths of the ocean he thinks he finally understands the poem's meaning. Zuko is homesick. The moon glinting off the waves at night remind him of the flash of his mother's hair ornaments as she smiled and waved him towards her.

Now there is no mother. There is no home. Only the stupid sun that burns at all hours of the day, and an unending list of chores. He feels stuck. Trapped in this funny little life of his, the same existence day in and out. There are no expectations of him, which also means there are no expectations of him. Everyone is just waiting for the moment he throws the towel in and returns to father. They think he is wasting his time - like a little pet who could leave at any time but won't.

Father told him not to return until he learned his place. There were no other instructions. Zuko touches the edge of his scar and thinks, faintly, that his place is below Ozai. Nothing else matters to his father. Zuko was a threat, so Ozai removed him. Azula stayed because no one has ever looked twice at her.

Uncle knocks on the door. "You are needed below," he says, stroking his beard with the kind of studied casualness Zuko has come to fear. "There has been a, uh, minor problem with the maps and the water."

"I thought we waterproofed them," Zuko groans as he clambers to his feet. "We can't keep losing maps like this! They're expensive!"

"Indeed they are," Uncle hums, and Zuko knows he is thinking disapprovingly to all the varied maps Zuko has bought in the past, most of them second-hand scraps from retired sailors.

What is Zuko supposed to do? Their maps keep getting damaged. Water, fire. One particularly profound incident with the boiler room. There's no point in buying good maps when it feels like the crew deliberately finds ways to destroy them, sometimes. He's watched Uncle drink tea with his back calmly turned as they loudly danced over the maps. Maybe it's a conspiracy to piss Zuko off. He wouldn't be surprised. No sailor is ever above petty revenge, and especially not Akane when she feels deprived of her share of coffee.

Zuko silently vows to find whoever damaged the maps this time and throw all their socks in the ocean, then retrieve them and stuff them inside said person's pillowcase. Enjoy wet socks and a wet pillow, traitor.

Uncle keeps telling Zuko that as the commanding officer, he is supposed to be above such vengeances.

"In the army, you can joke with your fellow officers," Uncle advised sagely. "But never those above or below you. It is not good for your image as a leader, Prince Zuko."

Zuko laughed when Uncle told him that. He laughed hard. The only thing that has made the past two years tolerable is the ever-escalating prank war between everyone on board, and Uncle can pry it from his cold dead hands. He isn't their commander. Not really. He's just the prince who was stupid enough to commit treason in front of the entire War Council, and now everyone is suffering for it.

He didn't mean to commit treason. Really. It was all a misunderstanding that spiralled out of control, ending with his father's thunderous voice. Those stupid rumours hadn't helped.

Ozai didn't challenge Zuko to an Agni Kai. There was no need. Zuko's actions were evidence enough for the court, even without an honour duel. His intentions were clear. Zuko was put on the most neglected ship they could find and the court merely sat back and watched. Zuko hoped that if father had time to think things through, if he gave Zuko the chance to explain, then the decree would be reversed. But they gave him no time. Zuko was gone before the sun could cool on Ozai's anger.

He heard some of the crew whispering when he first arrived. They think that his scar comes from secret battle - maybe a private Agni Kai, they mused - or an incident just before his exile. A training accident? Carelessness with his own fire? Or perhaps a more permanent expression of Ozai's disapproval.

Zuko doesn't like thinking about his scar. It's there, of course. He can never be rid of it. He sees it in the reflection of his spoon, the water, the steel walls of the ship. But he doesn't like thinking about how he got it. If it were an Agni Kai, he would admit his failure like a true prince. But it wasn't. He didn't. Ozai hadn't even told him he was displeased before he reached out and burned Zuko.

It doesn't matter anymore. Zuko follows Uncle down to where the crew are boldly pretending that nothing is wrong and that no maps are damaged, despite the clear destruction laying behind them. Zuko's maps lay dripping on the floor. Isao carefully shuffles to cover the sight.

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who did this?"

"It was my responsibility, sir," Lieutenant Jee declares loudly, standing for once at perfect military attention. Jee always had a strange sense of humour. "I take full blame."

The crew stifle their laughter. Ryung snorts loudly then pretends otherwise. They look from Jee to the ocean and laugh again. Zuko pinches at the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. They are making fun of him. He can feel it.

"Just-" Zuko waves his hands. "I don't care that you were in charge, okay, I just want to know who did it. You should have stopped them! That's your job."

The crew bristles. Zuko was only trying to reprimand them for ruining yet another map, but he watches a silent wave ripple through them. Suddenly they seem more angry than amused. Zuko doesn't understand why. They were the ones making fun of him and destroying his maps. They have no right to act like he said something wrong.

Lieutenant Jee doesn't move. "I was in the officer in charge, so I will handle this."

Zuko narrows his eyes. He looks uneasily between Lieutenant Jee and the crew. Lieutenant Jee would usually take any chance to throw his crew under Zuko's raging komodo-rhino path, then sit back and laugh at their anguish. Zuko assumed that his sudden refusal to name names was a joke - a mocking imitation of military protocol. But the crew seem tense. Their eyes look straight ahead rather than wandering lazily around the deck. Akane is the only one who meets his gaze, eyes defiant and body deliberately relaxed. What are they expecting? An attack?

Fine. If Lieutenant Jee suddenly wants to pretend that this is still a proper Fire Navy ship, then Zuko will indulge him.

"Unacceptable, Lieutenant. I expect you to retain tighter control of your crew. This cannot happen again."

Lieutenant Jee's expression remains unchanged. His hand twitches by his side. The crew, still standing towards the back, tense further. Uncle sighs in familiar disappointment and steps forward to intervene.

"Prince Zuko, I assure you that this was an unavoidable accident. It was down to ill-timing and the ocean's whims. No man can control the waves. And Lieutenant Jee-" Uncle turns to him solemnly, straightening his back. "I apologise for my nephew. He has not mastered command yet."

"Understood, sir," Lieutenant Jee responds stiffly.

Zuko gets the sense that it is very much Not Fine, and looks to the ocean instead of handling the situation further. Uncle is managing. He will recover the maps and scold the crew in his 'I am disappointed in you but only because I know you are better than this' voice, and smooth things out between Zuko and Lieutenant Jee. He always does. So Zuko just- checks out mentally. Watches the birds. Listens to the perpetual creaking of the ship and wonders when he will stop making mistakes every time he talks to the crew as their commander.

Father told him he was born to rule. He would lead the Fire Nation well after Ozai's death, and continue his father's legacy. Zuko was born with white flames. That had to mean something. Father waited for Azula's flames to manifest then discarded her in disappointment when she wasn't strong enough. Father entrusted Zuko with the position of heir and assigned him private tutors and long training sessions. Everyone called Zuko a prodigy. Father always said that respect is not given or earned. It is demanded.

When Zuko relaxes around the crew, they joke with him and do things like helping him set up the budgeting board and running numbers. Only when he tries acting as their commander do things fall apart. He can see it in their eyes. In those moments, Zuko turns from teenaged exile to dangerous progeny of the Firelord. They watch him train with wary expressions. Zuko limited himself to training only at night, when everyone else was asleep. He doesn't like seeing their fear. But he needs them to take him seriously as a commander - which means occasionally enforcing his position. They turn sour and resentful before him, like rotting fruit. Bruising at the lightest touch and exploding outwards.

People in the palace always treated him as an extension of Ozai. They were one and the same; interchangeable. Until the ministers started taking a personal interest in him. Zuko's crew are fine with him, joking and teasing, right until they are reminded of his status. They share the opinion of those in the palace. Zuko is only another limb of the Firelord. He may be exiled and out of favour for the moment, but everyone knows Ozai will take him back eventually.

Uncle places his hand on Zuko's shoulder.

"I suggest returning to your room," he says quietly. "Until the crew have had a chance to settle."

It isn't a suggestion at all. Not really. Zuko listens for the underlying steel and brushes off Uncle's hand. He doesn't need more people pretending to be on his side. There was enough in the palace.