The relentless churning of the ship's engine echoed through the hull, a pulsing heartbeat that struggled to drown out the sounds of the crew's anxious movements. Overhead, seabirds glided effortlessly through the crisp, salty air, their carefree cries a jarring contrast to the palpable tension that had settled upon the vessel. The men hustled about their tasks, their gazes furtive and their footsteps hurried, as if the very walls might somehow betray the weight of the recent atrocities that had transpired. Sokka stood at the prow, his eyes fixed on the horizon, the endless expanse of the ocean a silent witness to the turmoil that now consumed them all.

Behind him, the muffled sounds of heated discussion drifted from the ship's interior. Katara and Zuko were locked in a tense debate, their voices occasionally rising above the creaking of the vessel and the crash of the waves. Sokka knew they were debating the fate of their unexpected prisoner – Zuko's own sister, Azula, now blinded and helpless in the wake of Katara's desperate gambit.

Sokka sighed, running a calloused hand through his hair. The memory of Katara's bloodbending, the sickening sight of Azula's ruined eyes, still sent a shiver down his spine. He understood the necessity of her actions, the willingness to cross a line in order to protect those she loved. But the moral weight of that decision was a heavy burden, one that threatened to press down upon all of them.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Sokka turned to see Iroh, the venerable Dragon of the West, join him at the ship's prow. The old general's expression was somber, his eyes reflecting the turmoil that no doubt roiled within him as well.

"A difficult decision lies before us," Iroh murmured, his gaze sweeping across the endless expanse of the ocean. "One that will test the strength of our convictions, and the limits of our compassion."

Sokka nodded, his own resolve hardening. "Azula tried to kill us," he said, his voice low and intent. "She's a threat, both to us and to the people we care about. Can we really just let her go, knowing what she's capable of?"

Iroh sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his own experiences. "There is wisdom in your words, Sokka. Azula's ruthlessness is a danger we cannot ignore." He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "And yet, she is also my niece, a member of my own family. To condemn her to certain death, or to imprisonment without the chance of redemption... it is a heavy burden to bear."

Sokka felt a pang of sympathy for the old general, recognizing the conflict that must be tearing him apart. Family ties were a powerful bond, one that could often obscure the harsh realities of the world.

"So, what do we do?" Sokka asked, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "Leave her on some remote shore, hoping she finds her way back? Or keep her captive for... who knows how long?"

Iroh turned to face him, his expression grave. "That, young Sokka, is a decision we must make together. For the path we choose will have consequences that echo far beyond the scope of our own personal struggles."

The sound of the cabin door sliding open drew their attention, and Sokka tensed as Zuko and Katara emerged, their faces etched with the weight of their deliberations.

"We've reached an agreement," Zuko announced, his voice measured and devoid of the usual fury that so often consumed him. "But it is one that will test the limits of our resolve, and the strength of the bonds we have forged."

Sokka felt a chill run down his spine, an unsettling premonition of the challenges that still lay ahead. Whatever decision they had made regarding Azula, he knew it would be a pivotal moment, one that would shape the course of their journey and the battles yet to come.

As the group debates Azula's fate, Iroh contemplates the best course of action. He knows that simply leaving her on some remote shore would be akin to a death sentence, and he is reluctant to condemn his own niece to such a fate. However, the prospect of keeping her captive aboard the ship also raises concerns.

The discussion around Azula's fate continued, each member of the group grappling with the moral implications of their options. Sokka could see the conflict etched on his sister's face as she wrestled with the weight of her previous actions. Zuko, too, seemed torn, his usual fiery demeanor tempered by a newfound sense of uncertainty.

"We can't just leave her stranded somewhere," Katara argued, her brow furrowed in concern. "As dangerous as she is, she's still your sister, Zuko. Abandoning her to certain death isn't the answer."

Zuko nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "I know," he replied, his voice laden with emotion. "But keeping her captive aboard this ship... it goes against everything I've come to understand about my true purpose." He paused, his expression softening. "Perhaps there is another way."

Iroh, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward, placing a weathered hand on Zuko's shoulder. "My nephew speaks wisely," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "We must find a solution that balances the need for safety with the possibility of redemption."

Sokka considered the options, his mind racing. "What if we drop her off at the edge of the Fire Nation?" he suggested, his voice hesitant. "Somewhere remote, where she can make her own way back to the capital, but without immediate access to resources or allies."

Katara's eyes widened, a flash of uncertainty crossing her features. "Are you sure that's wise?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "Azula is cunning, and she'll stop at nothing to regain her power and status. What if she comes after us again?"

Zuko shook his head, a glimmer of resolve shining in his eyes. "No, Sokka may be right. Leaving her in a precarious position, but not one that ensures her certain demise... it's the best we can do, given the circumstances."

Iroh nodded in agreement, his expression pensive. "It is a risk, to be sure. But one I believe we must take. Azula's redemption, if it is to come, must be her own journey to undertake." He turned to Zuko, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You, of all people, should understand the power of such a path."

Zuko met his uncle's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. With a deep breath, he turned to face the others, his resolve steeled. "Very well. We'll drop Azula off at the edge of the Fire Nation, and let her find her own way back to the capital."

The decision made, the group set a course for the designated location, the weight of their choice hanging heavy in the air. Sokka could see the unease in Katara's eyes, the lingering fear that Azula might somehow find a way to return and threaten them again.

Zuko steeled himself as he made his way below deck, the familiar weight of his boots against the metal floor a constant reminder of the burdens he now carried. The air grew thick and stale the deeper he ventured, until finally, he reached the holding cell where Azula was being kept.

He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the latch, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Part of him recoiled at the very idea of confronting his sister in her weakened state, the memories of their tumultuous past casting a long shadow over the present. And yet, another part of him – the part that had been forever changed by his encounter with Avatar Roku – felt a sense of obligation, a duty to at least attempt to reach the fractured soul that lay on the other side of that door.

With a deep breath, Zuko steeled himself and pulled the latch, the heavy metal door swinging open with a protesting groan. The dim light from the corridor spilled into the cramped space, illuminating the huddled figure of Azula, her once-regal features now obscured by the crude bandages that covered the ruined sockets where her eyes had once been.

"Azula," Zuko said, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a painful mixture of concern and resentment.

The fallen princess stirred at the sound of his voice, her head turning towards the source of the intrusion. "Zuko," she rasped, her tone laced with a scathing contempt that sent a shiver down his spine. "Come to gloat, have you?"

Zuko clenched his jaw, tamping down the flare of anger that threatened to consume him. "I'm not here to gloat, Azula," he replied, his words measured and controlled. "I...I just want to understand."

Azula let out a harsh, mirthless laugh that quickly devolved into a ragged cough. "Understand?" she spat. "What is there to understand? That I've been bested, humiliated, by a pair of Water Tribe peasants and their pathetic excuse for a prince?"

Zuko felt a pang of sympathy, despite himself. Azula's pride had always been her greatest strength and her greatest weakness, and now it lay in tatters, a bitter reminder of her own fallibility. "That's not what I meant," he said, taking a cautious step forward. "I want to understand you. What drove you to this point, where you were willing to destroy everything, even your own family?"

Azula's expression twisted into a cruel sneer. "Oh, Zuzu, always the sentimental fool," she hissed. "Don't you see? I did it for the Fire Nation, for our family. To restore our rightful place, to ensure that Father's vision for a new world order would come to fruition."

Zuko shook his head, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and pity. "But at what cost, Azula? How many lives have been shattered, how much suffering has been inflicted, all in the name of our father's twisted ambitions?"

"Don't you dare lecture me about suffering," Azula snarled, her body tensing as if she might lash out, despite her current helplessness. "You, who has always been the weak link, the disappointment. You have no idea what I've had to endure, the sacrifices I've made, all to prove my worth to our father."

Zuko felt a pang of guilt, memories of his own failures and struggles bubbling to the surface. "Maybe you're right," he conceded, his voice softer than he intended. "Maybe I don't understand the depths of your anguish. But Azula, can you not see that this path you've chosen, it only leads to more pain, more destruction?"

Azula's mouth twisted into a snarl, her features distorted by a fury that seemed to radiate from every inch of her being. "I can see nothing!" she screamed, her voice raw and guttural. "Thanks to that... that whore, I'm trapped in this darkness forever!"

Zuko recoiled, taken aback by the sheer venom in his sister's words. For a moment, the Azula he remembered – cold, calculating, and utterly in control – resurfaced, a stark contrast to the broken, vulnerable figure that now lay before him.

But as quickly as the outburst had come, it ebbed, Azula's body sagging with the weight of her despair. Zuko watched, his heart twisting, as tears began to well up from beneath the crude, bloodied bandages, trailing down her cheeks in glistening rivulets.

Azula fell silent, her ragged breathing the only sound that filled the cramped cell. Zuko seized the opportunity, pressing on. "Azula, I..." he began, his voice laced with a mixture of empathy and uncertainty. "I know this must be... unbearable for you. But you have to believe that there is still a way forward, a chance for you to reclaim your life, your destiny." He paused, his gaze searching for any sign of recognition in his sister's sightless face. "There is a chance for redemption, for finding your own purpose, beyond the shadow of our father's expectations."

For a long moment, Azula remained silent, the only indication of her inner turmoil the slight trembling of her bandaged hands. Then, in a voice so soft and vulnerable that Zuko barely recognized it as hers, she whispered, "What if it's too late for me, Zuko? What if the price of my ambition has already damned me beyond the possibility of redemption?"

Zuko felt a pang of sympathy for his sister, the raw anguish in her words cutting through the layers of hostility and pride that had so often defined her. He opened his mouth to respond, to offer some measure of comfort or reassurance, but Azula's reaction caught him off guard.

Azula's body tensed, her hands balling into trembling fists as Zuko failed to respond from sheer surprise. For a moment, the vulnerability that had cracked her facade seemed to melt away, replaced by a surge of raw, unadulterated fury. "Don't give me that pathetic attempt at sympathy," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You have no idea the depths to which I've fallen, the sacrifices I've made in service of our family's legacy."

She turned her face towards him, and though what once was her eyes were hidden beneath the bandages, Zuko could feel the weight of her malicious gaze boring into him. "Redemption?" she scoffed. "That's the language of the weak, the failures. I am Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation, and I will not be reduced to groveling for the scraps of mercy from my weak, banished brother."

Zuko recoiled, taken aback by the sheer venom in her words. Gone was the fleeting moment of vulnerability, the tentative openness that had hinted at the possibility of reaching her. In its place was the Azula he had known for so long – ruthless, cunning, and utterly unyielding in her pursuit of power.

With a heavy sigh, Zuko rose to his feet, his expression weary but resolute. "Then so be it, Azula," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of pity and finality. "When we reach the Fire Nation, we will leave you to your own devices. It is a path you have chosen, and one you must now walk alone."

Azula fell silent, her ragged breathing the only sound that filled the cramped cell. Zuko hesitated for a moment, torn between the lingering hope that some shred of his sister might still be salvageable and the grim acceptance that her fate was now sealed.

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"I hope, for your sake, that you find the strength to break free from the darkness that binds you," he said, his words carrying a somber weight. "But the choice is yours, Azula. The rest of us cannot remain tethered to your quest for vengeance."

With one final, lingering look at the defeated figure of his sister, Zuko turned and made his way towards the door. As he stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, though the ache in his heart remained.

Zuko knew he had to return to the others, to tend to their wounds and prepare for the challenges that lay ahead. But before he rejoined the group, he paused, allowing himself a moment of quiet reflection. The path forward was uncertain, fraught with obstacles and moral quandaries that threatened to test the very limits of their resolve. And yet, Zuko found himself strangely buoyed by a renewed sense of purpose, a conviction that had been forged in the crucible of his encounter with Avatar Roku.

Zuko ascended the steps to the upper deck, the salty sea air a welcome respite from the oppressive atmosphere of Azula's makeshift cell. As he approached Iroh's cabin, he could hear the muffled sounds of voices, a mix of concern and quiet deliberation.

Pushing open the door, Zuko found Iroh, Katara, and Sokka gathered around a table, their faces etched with a palpable tension. Iroh looked up as Zuko entered, his weathered features softening with a glimmer of understanding.

"It's done, then?" Iroh asked, his weathered features etched with a hint of resignation.

Zuko nodded, taking a seat across from the trio. "Yes, uncle. We'll leave Azula at the edge of the Fire Nation, once we reach the mainland."

Katara's brow furrowed, her gaze flickering with a mix of concern and uncertainty. "Are you sure that's the best course of action?" she asked, her voice tinged with trepidation. "Azula is dangerous, and she'll stop at nothing to regain her power."

Sokka placed a reassuring hand on his sister's arm. "It's the only way, Katara," he said, his voice low but resolute. "We can't keep her captive forever, and we can't bring ourselves to..." He trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air.

Iroh nodded, his expression solemn. "You both speak the truth," he acknowledged. "Azula's redemption, if it is to come, must be her own journey to undertake. We can only hope that the path we've chosen will give her that chance, however slim the possibility may be."

Zuko leaned forward, his gaze earnest. "I tried to reach her, to appeal to whatever shred of humanity might still exist within her. But her pride, her thirst for power..." He shook his head, a flicker of sorrow crossing his features. "It's consumed her completely."

Katara reached across the table, her hand grasping Zuko's in a gesture of understanding. "You did what you could, Zuko. We all did.”

Zuko's gaze shifted to Katara, his expression a mixture of disbelief and trepidation. "You... You're a waterbender," he said, the realization dawning on him. "All this time, you've been hiding that from us?"

Katara's eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. "I... I had to, Zuko. You have to understand, the Fire Nation has been hunting my people for years. I couldn't risk exposing myself, not when so much was at stake."

Zuko recoiled, the memories of his nation's atrocities against the Water Tribes flooding his consciousness. "But you used that... that power against Azula," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and revulsion. "The way you twisted her body, her eyes..."

Iroh placed a calming hand on Zuko's arm, his expression grave. "Zuko, you must remember that Katara acted out of necessity, to protect us all from your sister's ruthlessness."

Sokka stepped forward, his features etched with a rare seriousness. "Zuko, we are all in this together now, Katara included. She's been our ally, our friend, through all of this, despite our short time together. Just as you've had to confront the legacy of your family, she's had to grapple with the weight of her own heritage."

Zuko's gaze shifted between Katara and Sokka, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he couldn't help but feel a lingering terror at the sheer power Katara had wielded, a power that seemed to defy the very nature of the world. But on the other, he remembered the warmth and compassion she had shown him, the way she had stood by his side even when he was their enemy.

"I... I don't know what to say," Zuko admitted, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that was so rarely seen in the once-proud prince. "I'm grateful that you saved my life, Katara. But the thought of that... that bloodbending..." He shuddered, the memory of Azula's agonized screams still haunting him.

Katara reached across the table, her expression earnest. "Zuko, I know this must be terrifying for you. Believe me, it's terrifying for me too. But I would never use that power against you, or any of you. I did what I had to in order to protect us all, to stop Azula from hurting us further."

Zuko met her gaze, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes. "I... I know," he said, his voice low. "I know you're not like her, not like the Fire Nation. You're..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You're different."

Katara offered him a small, tentative smile. "We all are, Zuko. We're on this journey together, to find a better way forward. And I promise you, I will never use my bending to harm you or the others. You have my word."

Zuko nodded, his features still etched with a lingering unease, but also a glimmer of trust. "All right," he said, his voice steadier than it had been moments ago. "I... I believe you, Katara."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cautious understanding. Sokka and Iroh exchanged a relieved glance, grateful that the delicate situation had been navigated with care.

As the tension in the room dissipated, Zuko found himself pondering the larger picture, the weight of their mission weighing heavily on his mind.

"Well..." he began, his gaze shifting between the members of the group, "I wonder where the Avatar is, anyway."

As Zuko mentioned the Avatar, a highly localized cloud of tension instantly reappeared within Sokka, manifesting in the slight but sudden stiffening of his posture as he continued idly scratching his back.

Iroh, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat gently. "The Avatar's whereabouts have been a mystery for some time now," he acknowledged, his tone measured. "But I have no doubt that our paths will cross again, in due course." He solemnly stroked his beard as he continued "Ah, but I believe a brief respite is in order, don't you think?" he said, his voice warm and measured. "I couldn't help but notice a lovely selection of dried meats and fruits in the galley earlier. Perhaps we could all use a moment to refresh ourselves before continuing our discussion."

Zuko nodded, his features softening slightly. "That... sounds like a good idea," he conceded, his gaze flitting between the others.

As if on cue, one of the ship's crew members entered the cabin, carrying a tray laden with a variety of savory and sweet delights, offering a respectful bow before placing the tray on the table.

The group gathered around, their earlier tensions momentarily forgotten as they eagerly sampled the assortment of treats. Sokka, in particular, seemed to find solace in the familiar comforts of the hearty fare, his previous unease melting away with each enthusiastic bite.

In the days that followed, the ship continued its steady course towards the outskirts of the Fire Nation, the four companions passing the time in a mixture of quiet contemplation and lively discussion. Zuko found himself drawn into the group's dynamic, his once-rigid demeanor gradually softening as he witnessed the camaraderie and resilience that bound them together. Iroh, Zuko and Sokka all practiced their firebending in an increasingly coordinated fashion, while Katara tended to practice her waterbending, now that she could do it openly.

As the ship's prow cut through the familiar waters of the Fire Nation's coastline, Zuko felt a familiar weight settle upon his shoulders. This was the moment they had been preparing for, the point of no return in their quest to confront the darkest remnants of his nation's legacy.

With a steadying breath, Zuko turned to face the rest of the group, his expression resolute. "We're here," he announced, his voice low but unwavering. "It's time to decide Azula's fate, and chart the course for what lies ahead."

The others fell silent, their gazes shifting to Zuko as they waited for him to continue. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Zuko cleared his throat and stepped forward, his eyes sweeping across the assembled crew.

"Men," he began, his tone commanding yet tinged with a hint of empathy. "You have all served this ship with honor and loyalty, but now you find yourselves in a precarious position. The decision we are about to make will have far-reaching consequences, not only for us, but for all of you as well."

Zuko paused, his gaze settling on each of the crew members in turn. "When we disembark, we will be leaving Azula behind, on the outskirts of the Fire Nation. This is a choice that weighs heavily on all of us, but it is one we believe is necessary, given the circumstances."

Zuko took a deep, steadying breath, his expression grave. "Now, you all must make a choice that will echo through the rest of your lives," he said, his voice laced with the weight of the decision before them. "You can choose to stay on this ship, turning your back on everything you've ever known."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "If you do, you will be considered refugees, outcasts from the Fire Nation – hunted, reviled, and if this war doesn’t end, forever severed from the people and places you hold dear."

Zuko's gaze swept across the assembled crew, a flicker of empathy flickering in his golden eyes. "Or, you can return to the mainland, risking the wrath of both Azula and my father, Ozai. It may be your last chance to see your families again, to hold your loved ones one last time before the tides of war sweep you away."

He held up a hand, forestalling any immediate responses. "I cannot promise that choice will be any safer. Azula is merciless, and my father's reach knows no bounds. But at least you would return, with the hope of reconnecting with all that you've fought to protect."

Zuko's expression softened, a trace of vulnerability creeping into his features. "I know the weight of this decision, the agonizing uncertainty of it. But I also know that each of you is a man of honor, a servant of the Fire Nation. And it is that sense of duty, that unwavering spirit, that will guide you to the path you must take."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crew once more. "Whatever you decide, know this: if you choose to stay, you will be welcomed as part of our band of allies, and you will have my unwavering trust and gratitude. But the choice is yours, and yours alone."

The air grew thick with tension as the crew members exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of Zuko's words settling upon them like a heavy mantle. Iroh stepped forward, his weathered features etched with empathy and understanding.

"The path ahead is perilous, my friends," the old general acknowledged. "But it is also a chance to forge your own destiny, to stand for something greater than the narrow confines of our nation's ambitions. The choice you make here today will echo through the ages, a testament to the strength of your convictions."

The crew fell silent, the weight of Zuko and Iroh's words hanging heavy in the air. For a long moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull as the men exchanged troubled glances, their brows furrowed in deep contemplation.

Amidst the murmurs, a lone figure emerged from the crowd, his steps slow and measured. It was one of the elder crewmen, his weathered features etched with a lifetime of hardship and experience.

He cleared his throat, commanding the attention of those around him. "I have not much time left in this world," he began, his voice low and steady. "The aches in my bones, the weariness in my soul – they whisper that my days are numbered."

The man paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his fellow crew members. "And yet, the chance to see my wife, to hold my daughter one last time..." His voice wavered, a glimmer of tears shining in his eyes. "That is a gift I cannot bear to part with, not when the end draws near."

He turned to face Zuko and Iroh, his expression resolute. "I will take the risk, even if it means facing the wrath of the Fire Nation. For the sake of those I hold most dear, I cannot turn away from this chance, no matter the peril that awaits me."

As the old sailor finished speaking, nearly half of the crew stepped forward, their faces etched with a similar determination. Zuko watched in silence, his heart heavy with the weight of their difficult choice, but also with a profound respect for the strength of their convictions.

The remaining crewmen exchanged solemn glances, their loyalty to Zuko and Iroh evident in their resolute expressions. Zuko knew that their decision had been no less agonizing, but their willingness to continue on this perilous journey spoke volumes about the trust and camaraderie they had forged.

With a nod, Zuko addressed the assembled men, his voice steady and unwavering. "You have all shown remarkable courage in the face of such an impossible choice. Those of you who have chosen to return to the Fire Nation, I wish you the very best, and I hope that you are able to find the solace you seek in the embrace of your loved ones."

He turned to the crew members who had decided to stay, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And to those of you who have chosen to continue on this path with us, I am honored to have you by my side. Together, we will face the challenges that lie ahead, united in our purpose to bring about a better future for all."

The ship glided into the simple port in the dark of the night, the crewmen who had chosen to return to the Fire Nation gathering their meager belongings and preparing to disembark. Zuko watched them with a mixture of empathy and sorrow, knowing that the choice they had made was no less difficult than the one faced by those who remained.

As the former crew members bid their farewells and stepped onto the dock, Zuko took a deep, steadying breath. It was time to confront Azula, to leave her to her own devices in the hopes that she might find the strength to chart a new course for herself.

Zuko descended the steps to the lower deck, the familiar weight of his boots against the metal floor a constant reminder of the burdens he now carried. As he approached Azula's cell, he could hear the sound of her labored breathing, a testament to the toll her injuries had taken.

Pushing open the door, Zuko stepped into the dimly lit space. "Who's there?" Azula rasped, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation.

"It's me, Azula," Zuko replied, his tone level and measured. "We've arrived. It's time for you to... go."

Azula's brow furrowed, a flicker of fear passing across her features. "Go?" she echoed, her voice rising with a desperate edge. "Go where, Zuko? What are you saying?" Her hands gripped the edges of the cot, her knuckles turning white as a rising panic gripped her.

Zuko took a step forward, his expression unreadable. "We're leaving you here, Azula," he said, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "This is your chance to find a new path for yourself."

Azula's body tensed, her hands balling into trembling fists. "Leave me here?" she cried, her voice laced with a raw, visceral fear. "But I can't see, Zuko! Where are you taking me? Are you going to leave me to the wild animals?" Her breath came in ragged gasps as the terrible realization sank in.

Zuko reached down, gripping Azula's arm and gently guiding her towards the door. “Just come now" he said, his voice tinged with a hint of reassurance, though his heart ached at the sight of his once-proud sister reduced to such a state of terror.

As they stepped out onto the dock, Azula's unseeing gaze swept across the unfamiliar surroundings, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. Zuko paused, taking in the sight of his sister – maimed, vulnerable, and utterly lost.

"Azula," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "You're not in the wilderness, Azula. We're at a port, a proper town. There are people here who can help you, if you're willing to accept it. This is your chance. It may be the only one you have left. The choice is yours."

Zuko gazed at her for a long moment, a flicker of something akin to pity, or perhaps even love, shining in his eyes. Then, with a final nod, he turned and made his way back to the ship, leaving Azula standing alone on the deserted dock, her future now hanging in the balance.

In that moment, he saw not the ruthless assassin, but the scared and broken young woman she had become.