Sketch By Me! Thought I'd give y'all a bit more Fem-Ayaan!

.

•───────•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☾☼☽∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•───────•

.

Ayaan and Sokka were together throughout the early morning planning their next moves. Honest opinions were shared, and the younger felt a lot closer to his brother than before. He'd always understood his thinking better than most, and having him be more honest and open with him was a dream.

He may not have been well-versed in emotional support, but Sokka was damn sure determined to do his best. When the aspiring warrior set out to do something, he stayed consistent until he was proven wrong. And if he was proven wrong, while he'd be hurt by it, he was man enough to apologize (with his brother's presence as assurance, of course).

Ayaan knew that too. He was... happy to know that his brother was so willing to listen to him. Though he wouldn't scare him with his inner thoughts. Those, he would keep to himself.

He was... fine. Yeah, he'd be fine with just this.

He can manage his emotions enough to not lose it as he almost had back at the mining village. As Sokka had mentioned, it was more likely for them to get into trouble throughout this journey. He should trust himself more, and trust his siblings more, right?

Right?

"Come on." Ayaan made his way back to camp, urging Sokka to follow, which the younger did eagerly. "The north is still very far."

"Yeah," Sokka recalled the more updated maps they'd gotten. Man, those Phantom guys were amazing! Sokka had to give props where they were due. Whoever made this map was practically an artist. "The route we'd have to take goes right through Fire Nation territory. I'd rather go a different way, but..."

"We can't afford to waste more time." Ayaan finished. They needed to get stronger, and finding a master for Aang, and in turn, Katara, was the best way to do that.

For now, though, he had to deal with a pacing Aang, who seemed a bit worried about something. "Aang? What's wrong?"

"A lot of things would have been easier if I knew waterbending." He said, "But I have no clue how to do anything and we're still weeks away from the north pole!" His contemplative gaze met Ayaan's, "What should I do?"

Learning the elements was one of the most important things for the Avatar to do. It was like, their whole thing, right? But Aang's been sitting pretty with only his airbending in his arsenal!

It felt like it wouldn't be enough with just that. He needed to start working on being the Avatar, but how was he supposed to do that? He had no idea, and it had been worrying him to no end.

On Kyoshi, in Omashu, on the rig, it had become clear to him just how important the Avatar was to people. It felt like a punch from Ayaan whenever he thought about the fact that he was nowhere near strong enough to live up to those expectations of him.

It had been a hundred years... For that long, he'd been on ice. Frozen, stagnant. He knew he needed to make up for lost time.

"Calm down, Aang." Ayaan, bless him, gave him a gentle pat on his head. "You're doing fine. You have improved greatly."

"I guess..." Ayaan's been great at teaching some techniques he could use with his staff. His overall strategy and combat with it had improved by leaps and bounds! But he knew what Katara had been speaking about earlier when she'd said he couldn't teach some things well.

Katara hadn't meant physical fighting skills. She'd been talking about waterbending.

While Ayaan was great when it came to weapons and martial arts, waterbending was an area he just could not teach well. Aang could tell that Ayaan wasn't as taken to his waterbending as Katara was. Aside from hunting, he tended to rely on it less than his spear and natural fighting.

That didn't mean that he didn't practice with it and tried to teach them. The air nomad knew that he did his best to try. But rarely were they able to follow what he did for his own bending. His and theirs were different in ways he couldn't understand.

While the more tame things like "streaming the water" worked well with a bit of practice, the other things he could do usually fell flat for them. He'd told them the theories and observations he'd attained from watching other benders, as well as Aang's own input which made figuring it out a bit smoother. That seemed to work better.

And that's where he had trouble. The things that worked for them didn't do as well for Ayaan, either. They couldn't use the same movements to freeze a patch of water or create the spikes he does for traps, just as he couldn't properly perform the same tricks that Katara could.

Aang, as the most spiritual presence there, could tell that there was something fundamentally different going on there.

It was less like Ayaan was 'bending' and more like he was 'commanding'. There was a dominance in his movements that felt... familiar.

'Why, though?'

Why did it feel like he'd seen it before? He'd mustered up the courage to ask Ayaan if he felt the same, and was surprised by his answer.

"That feeling is the reason I trusted you enough to bring you back to our village when we first met," Ayaan answered.

"Is that how you knew I was hiding something, too?" When the blessed youth nodded, Aang held his arrow in disbelief. "I'm not going crazy! But," He turned to Ayaan. "I hadn't met you before then, right? There's no way I could have."

"Maybe in one of your lives before, you knew someone like me?"

"Maybe..."

Ayaan patted him on his shoulder. "Do not stress over answers you don't have. It's better to focus on what you do know instead. We'll figure it out, together."

"Yeah." Aang was relieved to have someone like Ayaan around. "Together!"

Aang couldn't have asked for more when he found a brother in Ayaan. Maybe when they made it to the northern tribe, they would finally get some answers to their many questions.

For now, though, he needed to find something that worked.

"If you want," Katara, seeing his dilemma, voiced her thought, "I can try to teach you some of the stuff I know." So far, since Ayaan could do more, they relied on him more for teaching. What was the harm in her giving it a go, too?

"You'd do that?" Aang couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face. Katara would be teaching him? That... sounded amazing. He'd love nothing more than for her to teach him. Spending time with her was great!

"Of course!" She beamed, "We need to find a good source of water."

For some reason, Ayaan had the urge to point his spear at the bald monk, again. How many times was this now? Why'd it seem like there were stars in his eyes whenever he looked at his sister? What's with that smile she was giving him back?

"Ayaan," She called, breaking him from his thoughts, "want to be my student this time?"

She sounded so eager to teach, who would he be to say no? "Sure. I know of a river nearby."

The two youngest in their group cheered as they headed for Appa. It was a short trip, but Appa loved it anyway.

Anytime spent with his humans was great in his opinion. He knew that being in the air soothed Ayaan, so he'd often nudge the young man to take him flying. It was their small bonding time before they left for a new place.

In recent days, Appa and Momo had noticed Ayaan's increased amount of stress. Being the intelligent beasts that they were, they knew that this wasn't normal, or healthy, for their human. Cuddles and flying were working great to ease him, though. They'd continue to do that forever if they had to.

Plus, Ayaan groomed them regularly and gave them their favorite treats! Of course, they were going to take care of him, too.

.

•───────•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☾☼☽∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•───────•

.

Zuko was fuming, as per usual, as he shot yet another blast of heat towards his current sparring partner, his Lieutenant, Lee. Thinking about it, how many 'Lee's did his nation have, anyway? Every other person had the name, it was maddening.

But that wasn't the reason he was pissed at the moment.

He's lost the trail, yet again, on the Avatar and that infuriating water tribe peasant. Again, he'd been humiliated by the man, and he was wearing a damn dress.

How the hell did he make a fool of him in a dress of all things?!

"Haah..." He sighed. He needed to focus on the now. Being angry about his loss would do nothing to find their traces, but it was a lot easier to be angry than to be calm.

Meditating hardly did anything for him, but his uncle insisted he centers himself. To find 'balance within', or something. He hardly saw the point. What he needed was strength, strategy, and skill.

'Balance within himself' wasn't giving him a damn thing except more anger issues cause what the hell was he even trying to 'balance'? All he had was this mission. His honor was gone, and so was his home, his title, and all of the things that he thought he'd never lose.

There was nothing in him but anger and the pride that every firebender was cursed with. Whenever he tried to 'balance' or whatever that was, he felt like a joke. He could hear Azula laughing at his misery, the same as she did when he received the scar that marked him a failure.

Those lessons suspiciously sounded like Avatar talk and that alone left him a volcanic explosion of rage. But maybe that was a good thing. He could rely on his anger. It gave him drive, power, and focus. Concentrating on his sole goal—capturing that literal kid that he still couldn't believe was the Avatar he'd been forced to search for—is what's kept him going this long.

That, and his uncle being with him, but he is never going to say that out loud. Ever.

"Good form, Prince Zuko." He heard his uncle praise him. The round man was sitting just a ways away, a piping hot bowl of soup with a side of his favorite drink before him. "Your breath control is steady, and your understanding of the basics has definitely improved."

Hearing that, he halted. A little bit of anticipation crept into his voice as he asked, "Does this mean I'm finally ready for the advanced set?"

"Maybe." Seeing his uncle's smile, he knew the real answer. He had to stop himself from showing any form of pleasant surprise aside from a smirk, as he usually did.

He looked away a second later though. His uncle's knowing eyes seemed to read him like the easiest book. He could hear the man chuckling and he didn't hide his irritation (though that may have been embarrassment but he was never going to call it that. He was irritated, end of discussion).

"Let's end the practice for today," Iroh said, taking in a hefty spoonful of his soup. It was well-seasoned, nice, and fresh. He definitely had to thank their chef, as he did every day, for preparing such a wonderful lunch. "Won't you join me for a cup of tea?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. His uncle wouldn't be his uncle without having some type of tea with him all the time. "I have no time for tea." He gritted, his usual answer, "I'll be in my chambers."

"Alright then. Rest well, Nephew." As usual, his uncle didn't take any of his perceived anger to heart. He was just as calm and understanding as he always was.

Lieutenant Lee, who was a bit worn out from sparring with the youth all day, hesitantly raised his hand, "May I join you, sir?"

Iroh positively beamed, "Of course!" What's better than having tea? Sharing tea with company!

Zuko did not smile as he closed the deck door listening to his uncle's happiness. No, he had things to take care of. More important things than tea and spending time being lazy with his uncle.

Walking the familiar halls of his ship to his room, his thoughts wandered. It was normal, he was always thinking of something. There was never a time he could simply just be. No, he had no time for that.

He had to become stronger, more battle smart. He figured out not long after leaving that forsaken island why he'd lost. That warrior—No, Zuko had enough respect for him to acknowledge that he had a name: Ayaan—had played him like a fool during their entire exchange.

The bruise on his stomach may have long healed, but the wound on his already fragile pride did not. And then he lost their trail not long after, he was irate enough to constantly breathe out smoke.

His uncle somehow managed to calm him, however, by giving him one of his lessons in history. Normally, he'd be bored to death learning about historical figures and spiritual nonsense from him.

But this particular topic was different than what he'd learned about the Avatar.

"Have you ever heard of a Blessed Child, Zuko?" His uncle suddenly asked.

"Of course I have," He said bitterly, "That's what the scholars and my father always called Azula. Why?" He hissed.

What relevance did any of that have to getting bested by the same peasant?

Iroh simply put his hand on his nephew's shoulder. He was certain that his boy was feeling frustrated right now, if the puffs of smoke he was letting out said anything. "Sit, and I'll tell you."

It took him a moment, but Zuko listened. They sat together on the floor of his room, the candles he'd lit while meditating still flickering like his emotions.

"Azula was indeed thought to be blessed. You see, it was said that when a firebender receives the blessings of a spirit, the flames that they can create would become innately hotter than normal. Since her flames burned blue from such a young age, she was seen as such."

"Again," The flames of the candles sparked and flared, "What does this have anything to do with me? I already know how much better Azula is. It was rubbed in my face constantly!"

Within the deepest parts of his mind, he wondered if his uncle was turning out like the others. Belittling him in comparison to his oh-so-special sister.

But he should know his uncle is better than that.

"Azula may be a skilled prodigy," He agreed, "but a blessed child is an entirely different breed. I would know. I battled one such individual."

"You... did?"

"Yes, but before I tell you about that, I want you to understand something, Zuko" He was stern but gentle, "Your worth is not measured by others, but by you, and you alone."

He could see that his nephew found that concept difficult. Since he was banished, his sense of worth and purpose were stuck on finding the Avatar and restoring something he never truly lost.

Iroh wanted him to see that it was not him that was honorless, but the man he was honestly embarrassed to call his blood. But that would be a long time from now, he knew that. There was too much hurt and anger within his nephew to see the truth now.

All he could do was be there for him and gently guide him to the right path.

"The finest jewels aren't ready-made items," he continued, his presence exuding the sense of calm and understanding he was known for, "Everything starts as just a stone. But if you are willing to wade through the rough, to put effort into what you know could be, then you'll find that simple stone transformed into a treasure of your own design."

Zuko calmed slightly. Even if the world was his enemy, he knew, deep down, that his uncle would always be there for him. He buried that knowledge beneath his anger and focused on the present, however, wanting to know more about his uncle's past encounters than a bit of wisdom he, then, wouldn't understand fully.

So, with a roll of his eyes, he pressed, "Tell me more about this battle you had."

Chuckling good-naturedly, as he always was, Iroh indulged his nephew's curiosity.

"It was my earliest years in the army, but I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I had yet to reach the rank of general, still a spry young man, ambitious and eager to prove myself. The unit I was a part of traveled to what we thought was a water tribe stronghold located somewhere near the northern pole.

"No one had been able to raid it, everyone returning as if they'd seen something horrific." Iroh gave a shiver, "The truly horrific thing was that there was no tea! Not even a cup full, during that trip. It was absolutely awful; weeks of travel without so much as a—"

"Uncle. Focus." Zuko deadpanned. Of course, even then, he was still obsessed with tea.

"Ehem. Excuse me." He quickly resumed, "We were too stubborn to give up, however, and soon enough, my unit was sent. When we got there, we couldn't understand what the others had been through."

This 'stronghold' wasn't much. A small corner surrounded by ice and snow. It seemed but a simple home on the edge of the territory. Iroh, in his youth, couldn't understand why his commanding officer at the time was so desperate to secure a place so... insignificant compared to others he knew of.

"We had no clue what we would be up against." His expression went back to being thoughtful, an almost haunted sense of awe gradually coming to his face. "But it was not long until we found out."

Iroh took a piece of parchment and a brush, dipping it generously in the ink as swift, practiced movements danced across the clear canvas. He was... painting?

"It was as if the land itself was against us." He whispered, focusing as the memory echoed in his mind, "Dozens of soldiers, eager and skilled, myself included, struggled against a single individual."

That information left the young firebender flabbergasted. "What...? This person was alone? No allies, nothing? Just him? And he was winning against you?"

"Yes, we stood no chance of winning, that day. Everything was against us. Everything." Iroh stated absolutely, though if you looked closely, one could see the misty nostalgia in his eyes.

"He had a strength that left those envious and afraid," He may not have been as versed in the arts as most, but the memory was too vivid for him not to be able to accurately depict. The brush continued to glide across the page. "Hair that blends into the snow, eyes that reflect oceans and storms. No matter how long we fought, I could not get the upper hand on him."

Zuko found the description eerily similar to a certain warrior he was hating on right now. He remembered how his armor caved in on itself as he was launched away. His abdomen sported a hefty bruise as his armor couldn't fully protect him from that warrior's fist.

His bare hand had done that to him.

How could any normal person be that strong?

He had a gaze that infuriated him, too. It didn't matter if his face was covered in paint. Both times that he'd met the warrior, his eyes were clear. Blue pools of swirling color, watching his every move with a strategic analysis that left him feeling like prey before a predator.

A gaze that felt familiar with the amount of rage they hid behind a false calm. The amount of control the warrior must have had in himself to be able to rationally think and act while keeping all of it locked away... Zuko didn't see himself, couldn't see himself, ever having such amazing control.

Even now, as he tried to calm his nerves to a peaceful null, the candles by his bedside flared and flickered.

"It is true that every few generations one that can be called blessed is born. Azula is one such individual. That is true." Iroh said, breaking him from those thoughts.

Yes. It had been a normal occurrence. Everyone adored Azula. They bypassed him, the crowned prince, to view his more accomplished, blessed sister. They made sure he knew it, too. Every day, every meeting, every glance, they made sure to remind him who the favorite was.

"But there is a reason that no matter how much talent she may have, she and the truly blessed can never be called the same." Iroh finished his painting, presenting it to his nephew.

What Zuko saw left him unable to process anything. It left him questioning the things that he knew and saw from the world he'd grown up in.

Upon the canvas, it was like the world was made of ice, glades of white with etched edges of black ink. Just beyond it revealed the silhouette of a man. His hand was outstretched as if to command troops, but the land of snow was his army. It was his sword, his shield, his domain. It seized every enemy before him, and a spear of clear ice aimed at the throat of a young man at the forefront.

"What... is this?" He simply couldn't understand what he was seeing. It rivaled the tales he'd heard of the Avatar's capabilities in bending, but at the same time, it was different.

He could feel that something was different.

Iroh, his uncle, was called a prodigy during his prime. His control over his bending and martial arts technique was ahead of its time, and he'd known it. He'd been arrogant then, ambitious to prove his worth and skill.

But that day... "I learned the difference between prodigies and the truly blessed that day."

The day he witnessed a miracle and a terror, was the day he was humbled, starting his journey to be the man he is today.

"And from what I could see from the young man who travels with the Avatar, he is the same."

Zuko felt like he aged a few years in the wrong direction as he comically looked between his uncle and the surprisingly impressive piece of art. "He never did anything like that. What even is this?"

'What kind of horrific scene must this have been in person?'

"Ayaan is infuriatingly strong, but nowhere near that. He's annoyingly persistent, frustratingly skilled, but I've never seen him waterbend... that."

Dragons of ice and wolves of snow, distinguished in a way that was almost sentient as they rushed the throughs of enemies. Their leader, their master, their commander, pointing his spear of ice down at a youth Zuko could only perceive as his uncle.

'What the hell kind of fantasy madness bullshit is this??'

"He has the potential to be."

"...What?" The prince felt like his brain was trying to solve an equation from fifty years into the future. His golden eyes studied the painting, turning it as if there would be answers on the other side. "He has the potential to do what? How?"

This looked like something an Avatar that lived for a good hundred years should be able to do. Not some Water Tribe peasant. Even if he was frustratingly skilled. What the hell?

Iroh smiled, as if reminiscent of something. It was something quietly sad, an expression Zuko wasn't used to seeing on his uncle's face. "Because he is a blessed child."

"...How do you know that?"

Iroh, in a bit of cryptic omittance, did not answer that question. His eyes seemed to tell a thousand tales as to how he knew, but Zuko, inexperienced and immature, couldn't ever hope to understand them.

This is when he knew that his uncle was about to be frustrating. Damn old people.

"You have found yourself a very capable, and possibly terrifying, rival, Nephew."

"Rival?" Zuko didn't entertain that thought in the slightest, and he pointedly ignored the knowing look Iroh sent him. "Never. I plan to completely defeat him the next time we cross paths. I will take the Avatar and restore my honor, and we will be able to go home. Who cares if he has the potential to do some fantasy bullshit. He hasn't come into that strength, and I will get stronger enough to defeat him the next time we meet."

He pointedly ignored how Iroh's knowing smile seemed to grow. Though he lightly chastised, "Zuko, we may be far from home, but you should still mind your manners."

"Tsk."

Iroh laughed. "I will leave you to your rest. Goodnight, Nephew."

"...Night, Uncle."

He hardly got any sleep thinking about what-ifs.

'Rival, huh?'

Zuko did not admit that he did consider the waterbender a rival.

.

.

Iroh sat on the deck, watching the sun set on yet another day. Zuko is the only person he'd ever told that memory to, and there was a reason for that.

That day, he was lucky to have been spared. He was lucky that the person he met had been kind. Strong, fierce, an absolute nightmare to face, but kind above them all.

Maybe he saw something in Iroh that he spared him? The now wiser and older man wouldn't know.

He had many more encounters with that individual. Some were accidental, others intentional. Each time he wanted to spar against him. The older man—Iroh was sure that the man was older than him by at least a few years—always indulged him. He pulled no punches and gave him no openings, but Iroh grew and matured through every meeting.

It was as if his very presence enlightened him somehow. He was detached from the world in a way that brought out Iroh's innate spiritual curiosity. Years went by and he continued to change.

He gained a loving wife and son. He went on journeys that enlightened him to his true purpose; years of tempering and subtle guidance as he slowly found himself on the right path.

Through all of that, that person went from being an enemy he couldn't beat, to a rival that helped him grow, until eventually, he became a treasured friend.

As he left the deck, turning in for the night, his calm expression shifted into one of remorse.

'A friend... I wish I could have saved.'

.

•───────•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☾☼☽∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•───────•

.

More content is available on my Patreon, and my commissions are open on Kofi.