Almost a year later.
Zuko had passed the age of nine. He was growing taller, and his martial arts was becoming a terrifying blend of Northern Shaolin and the surgical precision of chi-blocking. His "finger gun" technique was a secret he guarded jealously, practicing only when he was certain of his solitude. He also learned to dial back the power, creating small, piercing shots that could puncture armor without blowing his own hand off.
But with age came the timeline.
Zuko sat in the palace gardens, feeding the turtle-ducks. He watched the leaves turn brown and fall into the pond.
News had arrived from the front. The Siege of Ba Sing Se's storyline was about to unfold. General Iroh was planning to hammer at the walls of the Earth Kingdom's capital. But before this was going to happen, some of his army decided to return to the nation.
Why this was important was because Lu Ten was one of the men in that army.
Lu Ten, Iroh's son and Zuko's eldest cousin, was the only family member Zuko had yet to see since first coming to this world. Truth be told, he was also the only family member who wasn't a psychopath.
In the original tale, Lu Ten would die in the siege. His death would break Iroh, causing him to abandon the war and return home a changed man. It would clear the path for Ozai to demand the throne.
Zuko tossed a piece of bread into the water as the ducks fought over it.
He could save Lu Ten if he honestly felt like it. If he did, Iroh would likely conquer Ba Sing Se, the Fire Nation would win the war decades early, and Ozai would never become the next fire lord.
Zuko would also remain a prince, perhaps a General. Yet the problem with all that was he would never be the supreme ruler.
And Iroh? Iroh would never join the White Lotus.
Zuko dusted the crumbs from his hands. There was only one decision to make here: Lu Ten had to die.
The narrative required sacrifices. To build the ideal world he wanted, one where he sat on the throne with absolute power, the pieces had to fall exactly as they were meant to.
"Zuzu!" he heard a voice call out. When he turned, Azula was running across the grass with a cruel smile on her face. Their days were hardly spent with one another. Mainly because she was away at school. Once, she tried to challenge him, but he refused, making her upset. "The fire lord wants to see you. He looks mad."
Zuko stood up, brushing off his robes. He didn't feel fear on account of the fact that all of his actions had been masked quite nicely.
By the time he approached the throne room, it was discovered that Azulon simply wanted to hear Zuko's advice on the matter of Ba Sing Sei. This was quite surprising, to say the least.
After giving his take on the matter, Azulon was a little displeased, and Zuko was excused from the room.
Interestingly, Azula was listening in on the conversation. She gave him a mischievous look, wishing to know why Azulon wanted to hear his opinion on matters involving adults.
"Leave me alone, Azula. I'm busy..."
The response made her pout, prompting her to call him names. Since he didn't fight back, it only made her leave in contempt.
Zuko soon stood on the balcony of the royal palace, watching the ships load in the harbor. The timeline was rigid. History—or at least, the script of this world—demanded that General Iroh fail.
Zuko had no intention of changing that. That's why he had told Azulon exactly what Iroh was planning to attempt anyway. And since it matched what Iroh said, Azulon had felt unsure of things.
Now before the pieces were swept off the board, Zuko still needed to extract one last asset.
He found Iroh in the officer's quarters, packing a trunk with more tea sets than tactical maps.
"Uncle," he said, stepping into the room.
Iroh turned as his face lit with excitement. "Prince Zuko! Have you come to wish your old uncle farewell? Or perhaps to sneak a pai sho tile into my luggage?"
"Yes, actually. Before you leave for the Earth Kingdom, I'd like to understand the advanced forms of lightningbending."
Iroh paused to study his nephew. Over the last year, he had only heard the boy transform from a clumsy child into a prodigy of frightening calm. He honestly couldn't make heads or tails of whether this was good or bad.
"Lightning," Iroh mused. "It is a dangerous thing, Zuko."
"Surely you know I can learn it..."
Iroh sighed, but he gestured for Zuko to sit. "Very well. Since I have heard that you've excelled at a lot of things lately, I suppose it is only right that you understand."
For the next half hour, the room was silent save for Iroh's voice. He explained the dangerous dance of separating energy.
"Fire is like life," Iroh said, moving his hands in slow, circular motions. "But lightning… lightning is the cold-blooded fire, as I'm sure you remember during our last tea session. To generate it, after you have separated the yin and yang energies within you, you must crash them back together and recreate the balance."
'Positive charge, negative charge, and ionization,' Zuko knew.
"The critical thing," Iroh warned with a grave expression, "is peace. If you have inner turmoil or your mind is clouded, the energy will implode."
Zuko almost laughed. Inner turmoil? That was the old Zuko's problem. The original character was a mess of daddy issues and misplaced honor. The new Zuko didn't have those handicaps.
Plus, he already experienced having something blow up in his face on more than one occasion.
But Zuko wasn't satisfied yet. There was the other half of the equation.
"Uncle," he pressed. "What if someone shoots lightning at me? How do I stop it?"
Iroh stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. "You're very smart to have asked. But... that is a technique I am still developing."
"How so?"
"I have been studying the waterbenders of the Southern Tribes. They do not meet force with force. They redirect it and let the energy flow through them."
"Show me..."
"I cannot," Iroh admitted. "I have the theory, but without a waterbender to observe, I have not perfected the movement." Then he gave a comical smile. "Besides, it is too dangerous to attempt!"
Zuko frowned internally. That was the bottleneck. To learn redirection—the ability to catch a bolt and fire it back—he needed to understand the fluid dynamics of waterbending. But the Fire Nation had exiled the waterbenders years ago. The only ones left were rotting in prison, weak and dehydrated, or hiding at the poles.
Zuko therefore ran a quick calculation. Could he demand a prisoner be brought to him? No, that was too risky. Ozai would ask questions. Could he travel to the poles? Impossible at his age. Or rather, his mother wouldn't allow it.
That meant he would have to wait.
"I see," he said, masking his disappointment. "Then I'll focus on generating instead."
"Good," Iroh smiled, though the worry lingered in his eyes.
A knock on the door soon interrupted them. A young man stuck his head in. He had the same broad smile as Iroh, but with the sharp jawline of a soldier in his prime.
"Are you ready, father?!" Lu Ten called out. "The tide's turning, so we need to board ASAP."
Iroh's face softened into pure adoration. "I am coming, my son."
Lu Ten looked at Zuko and grinned, stepping into the room to ruffle the boy's hair. "Long time no see, little prince. Been hearing a lot of good things about you from the Earth Kingdom. Ya doin' alright?"
Zuko looked up at Lu Ten. The man was vibrant, full of nurture, and the future of the Fire Nation that Iroh dreamed of.
"I'm okay, cousin Lu Ten..."
'But you're a dead man walking...'
There was no pity in the thought. It was just a fact, dry as dust. Lu Ten was a plot device. His death was the catalyst for everything that allowed Zuko to eventually take the throne. If Zuko warned him—if he told him about the flank attack or the trap at the wall—Lu Ten might survive.
"Try not to conquer the palace while we're gone, alright?" Lu Ten teased.
"Would even think of it," Zuko steadily replied.
"Sheesh, Zuzu. Ya sure seem more mature since I last saw you."
Lu Ten winked as Iroh placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder one last time. "Practice your breathing, nephew. I will bring you a tea set from Ba Sing Se on our return."
"I look forward to it..."
Zuko watched them leave.
Six hundred days. That was how long he had until the news would come. That was also how long he had to perfect the remainder of his skills.