Chapter Text
The silence in the council room stretched thin, like a wire pulled to its breaking point.
Nia stood by the map, the charcoal stick heavy in her hand, and locks of dark auburn hair spilling over the sides of her face. She had just told the Fire Lord that his economic policy, the one he had likely spent months agonizing over, was a disaster.
A Fire Nation General, an older man with a stiff, white beard and stiffer collar named General Shinu, slammed his hand onto the table.
“This is preposterous!” Shinu barked, his face turning a shade of plum. “Who is this girl? She walks in here, a nobody from the Fire Nation, and dares to lecture the Fire Lord on statecraft? Fire Lord Zuko, surely you are not going to listen to this… civilian insolence.”
Nia felt a cold spike of fear in her gut. This was exactly why she had stayed hidden for so long. Men like Shinu, men who loved hierarchy and protocol, were dangerous. She tightened her grip on her satchel, half-expecting to be escorted out by the guards.
Zuko didn’t look at the General. He didn’t look at Nia. He was staring at the map, his golden eyes tracing the black lines she had drawn over his trade routes. “Sit down, General,” Zuko said. His voice was quiet, but it carried the rasp of command.
“My Lord, she is disrespecting the Crown-”
“I said sit down,” Zuko snapped, his voice rising just enough to cut the air. Sparks popped visibly off his knuckles.
General Shinu closed his mouth with an audible click and sat down, though he glared daggers at Nia.
Zuko finally looked up at her. He didn't look angry. He looked... tired. And skeptical. “You say my plan will cause inflation,” Zuko said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “But the Earth Kingdom is demanding reparations NOW, not in five years. If I don't send gold, the Earth King views it as an insult. He views it as the Fire Nation refusing to pay for its crimes.”
He gestured to the open window, where the sounds of the bustling city drifted in. “I have diplomats breathing down my neck every hour of the day. They want a gesture. A tangible payment. You’re telling me to send them… what? Girders? Concrete?”
“Yes,” Nia answered, her voice steadying. She realized Zuko wasn't dismissing her; he was testing her. He needed ammunition to get back at those diplomats. “Let’s look at the psychology of it, Fire Lord.” Nia walked around the table, gaining confidence. “If you send a chest of gold to a village in Omashu that was burned down, what happens? The local magistrate takes a cut. The tax collector takes a cut. Maybe a few coins trickle down to the farmers. They buy food for a week. Then the gold is gone, they are still hungry, and they still hate you.”
Sokka nodded vigorously, his mouth full of dried lychee. “She’s got a point. Gold is slippery. I once lost a whole coin purse in a swamp. Long story.”
Nia ignored him, keeping her eyes on Zuko.
“But,” she continued, “If you send a battalion of Fire Nation engineers, unarmed, out of uniform, to negotiate with the earthbenders, and they rebuild the irrigation canals that your tanks destroyed? That is permanent.”
She leaned her hands on the table, leaning into his space. “When the water flows again, and the crops grow, they won’t thank the gold. They will look at the canal and know who built it. You aren’t just paying a debt, Zuko. You are changing the memory of the war.”
Zuko stared at her. The skepticism in his eyes was warring with hope. “My engineers are… proud,” Zuko muttered, rubbing his temples. “Getting them to dig ditches for the Earth Kingdom without their armor? They’ll see it as a punishment.”
“Then don't call it punishment,” Nia countered instantly. “Call it a Special Operation. Give them a new uniform, give them a medal for ‘Reconstruction Valor’, and let them negotiate with the earthbenders. Soldiers love medals. Feed their ego, and they’ll build whatever you want.”
Aang, who had been listening quietly from his perch on a giant air-cushion, piped up. “It’s like the Air Nomads used to say! You can’t smooth water by hitting it with a rock. You have to flow with it. Helping them build sounds a lot more like flowing than throwing money at them.”
Zuko looked at Aang, then back at Nia.
“General Shinu,” Zuko said, not turning his head. “How much surplus steel do we have in the harbor shipyards?”
The General sputtered. “My Lord? That steel is reserved for the new battle-cruisers-”
“We aren’t building battle-cruisers,” Zuko cut him off sharply. “We are at peace. How much steel?”
“...Thousands of tons, My Lord. Stripped from the old invasion fleet.”
Zuko stood up. He walked over to the map, standing next to Nia.
He was taller than she expected. Up close, the myth of the Fire Lord dissolved, and she saw the reality: he was just a young man, barely twenty, wearing robes that were too heavy for his shoulders. He smelled of smoke and old parchment.
He reached out, his finger tracing the line she had drawn near Ba Sing Se. “If we do this,” Zuko murmured, more to himself than her. “If we send the steel… the Earth King might reject it. He might think we’re trying to build military outposts.”
“He might,” Nia conceded. “That is why you send the Avatar with the first shipment.” She gestured to Aang. “Who is going to shoot at a convoy led by the Avatar?”
Aang beamed. “I’m great at being a human shield! I mean, a diplomatic escort!”
Zuko let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for three years. The tension in his shoulders dropped an inch.
“Infrastructure,” Zuko repeated. He looked at Nia, really looked at her, for the first time. He saw the frayed edges of her sleeves, the ink stains on her fingers, the way she stood with a rigid, practiced posture that screamed survival.
“You didn’t learn this in a textbook,” Zuko said quietly.
Nia froze. “I studied international relations and economics at Shoji, as I said.”
“Economics, yes, but you know how soldiers think, and you know how hungry people think.” Zuko’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion, but with recognition. “You’ve seen the Fire Nation up close, recently.”
Nia didn’t answer. She couldn't tell him she had spent a whole year living in a tenement building with refugees, rationing rice and listening to veterans scream in their sleep while she was studying in university.
“I observe,” Nia said simply. “It is the job of a diplomat to observe.”
“We have plenty of diplomats,” Zuko said, glancing disdainfully at General Shinu. “We have very few observers.”
He turned back to the table. “Sokka. Draft the proposal. Operation… what did you call it?”
“Operation Big Bridge!” Sokka cheered. “Or maybe ‘The Zuko-struction Project’? No? Okay, Big Bridge it is.”
“We send the steel,” Zuko decided, his voice firm. “We re-task the engineers, and General Shinu?”
“Yes, Fire Lord?” The General looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “Get me the inventory of every decommissioned tank in the colonies. We’re melting them down.”
“But—My Lord—our defenses—”
“If we do this right, General, we won’t need defenses, because our neighbors won’t want to kill us.” Zuko turned his back on the General, effectively dismissing him.
He looked back at Nia. The room felt different now. The air was charged with a new energy: movement. For the first time all day, they weren't stuck.
“You said you studied in Shoji,” Zuko said again.
“Yes.”
“And where are you staying in the city?”
Nia hesitated. She thought of her tiny, drafty apartment with the leaking roof a few blocks away from the Council building, the one where the wind whistled through the walls. “I have... accommodations.”
Zuko narrowed his eyes. He had an uncanny ability to spot a lie, or at least an omission.
“The Council needs a liaison for this project,” Zuko said abruptly. “Someone who understands both the economics and the... logistics, someone who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm being an idiot.”
Nia felt her heart rate pick up. “I’m sure you have many advisors, Fire Lord.”
“I have many ‘Yes-Men’,” Zuko corrected, tilting his head toward the sulking General Shinu. “I don't need more people telling me I'm great while the world burns down around me. I need someone who knows how to use charcoal to cross out my bad ideas.”
He gestured to the messy map.
“Work with us,” Zuko said. It wasn't a command, it was a request. “Just for this project. Help us build the roads.”
Nia looked at him. She looked at the scar that marked him as a survivor, and the gold eyes that were pleading with her to help him fix the mess his family made.
She knew she should say no; she knew getting involved with the Fire Lord was dangerous. It brought her too close to the flame, it brought her too close to the past she had run from.
But then she remembered the girl in the mirror this morning. New beginnings.
“I’ll need access to the Republic Archives,” Nia said, her voice steady, bargaining her terms. “And full autonomy on the drafting committee, I don’t want generals looking over my shoulder.”
Zuko’s lips curled upward, an almost-smile. “Done. Anything else?”
“And decent tea,” she added, gesturing to the cold, sad pot on the table. “This stuff is a crime against humanity.”
Zuko’s face cracked into a small, genuine smirk. The first real expression she had seen on him all day.
“I know a guy,” Zuko said, glancing at Iroh, who raised his teacup in a silent toast. “I think we can manage the tea.”
***
The Republic City Archives were less of a library and more of a cavernous warehouse where paperwork went to die.
Located in the basement of the Council building, the air smelled of dry rot, old parchment, and the lingering scent of mildew. There were rows of towering wooden shelves stretched into the darkness, stuffed with scrolls, maps, and binders from all four nations.
“Behold!” Sokka announced, throwing his arms wide as he kicked the heavy door open. “The Hall of infinite Boredom! Also known as ‘Where Aang hides when he doesn't want to sign autographs.’”
Nia stepped inside, clutching her satchel. To most people, this room looked like a fire hazard. To her, it looked like heaven.
“It’s… extensive,” Nia said, her eyes scanning the chaotic piles of scrolls.
“It’s a mess,” Sokka corrected, grabbing a lantern from a hook and lighting it. “The Earth Kingdom filing system is based on ‘Heavy things go on the bottom,’ and the Fire Nation system is based on ‘Burn it if it’s sad.’ Merging them has been a nightmare!”
He led the way down a narrow aisle, the lantern swinging and casting long, dancing shadows.
“So,” Sokka started, his tone shifting from Tour Guide to Casual Interrogator instantly. “Shoji, huh? That’s a long way from the Fire Nation Capital. Nice beaches? Or is it mostly just... coal dust?”
Nia kept her face neutral, running her fingers along the spines of the binders. “Mostly ash. It’s an industrial hub. Not exactly a vacation spot.”
“Right, right. Ash. Classic.” Sokka stopped at a large table covered in maps and dropped the lantern with a clatter. He leaned against a bookshelf, crossing his arms. “You know, it’s funny. You have a very specific accent for someone who grew up in a factory town.”
Nia didn’t flinch. She picked up a scroll, unrolling it to hide her face slightly. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Sokka continued, watching her like a hawk. “You pronounce your ‘R’s like the High Sages… very crisp, very fancy. Most people from the colonies have a bit of a... drawl, like, ‘Hey, pass the hot-squat.’ You sound like, ‘Please pass the ceremonial flame, my good sir.’”
Nia forced a dry chuckle, keeping her eyes on the text. “I listened to my professors at Shoji extensively. Most of them were from the Capital. Maybe I caught the accent.”
It was a good lie, plausible, sad enough to stop questions.
Sokka hummed, tapping his chin. “Professors. Makes sense. I learned to speak Water Tribe sarcasm from a penguin, so I get it.”
He walked over to the table and started unrolling a massive map of the Earth Kingdom coast.
“So, Miss ‘Top of the Class’,” Sokka said, grabbing a handful of flagged pins. “Zuko gave us the green light for the steel convoy. But we need a route that avoids the bandit clans in the Grey Pass. Do you have any bright ideas, or are you just here for the free tea?”
Nia walked over to the map. She studied the terrain. The Grey Pass was a choke point; everyone knew that. But she remembered a report she had read in her father’s study years ago, a geological survey. “Here,” Nia said, pointing to a narrow ridge line north of the pass. “The Serpent’s Spine.”
Sokka squinted. “That’s a goat track. We can’t get tanks up there.”
“Not tanks” Nia corrected. “Sleds. If we wait for the winter frost next month, the mud hardens. You can slide the heavy steel beams down the ridge using gravity and earthbending brakes. It bypasses the bandits completely. They’ll be waiting in the valley while the convoy glides right over their heads.”
Sokka stared at the map. He tilted his head. He traced the line with his finger.
Then he looked at Nia with pure, unadulterated delight.
“Gravity sleds,” Sokka whispered reverently. “That is... that is beautiful. Are you sure you aren’t related to me? Because this level of genius usually runs in my family.”
Nia smiled, a real one this time. “I just like physics, Sokka. It’s predictable… unlike people.”
“Amen to that.” Sokka slammed a pin into the map. “Okay, Serpent’s Spine it is. I’ll have to talk Toph into building the sleds. She hates wood, but I’ll bribe her with fancy jerky.”
They worked in silence for a while, the only sound the scratching of quills and the rustling of paper. It was a comfortable silence. Nia felt a strange tension leave her shoulders. She wasn't used to working with someone who could keep up with her. Usually, she had to slow down, to explain, to soften her intelligence so she didn't threaten the men in charge.
Sokka didn't seem threatened. He seemed thrilled to have a sparring partner.
“Question,” Sokka said suddenly, not looking up from his notes.
Nia stiffened. “Yes?”
“Why the Fire Nation?”
“Excuse me?”
Sokka spun his quill between his fingers. “You’re smart, clearly. You could have gone to Ba Sing Se University. You could have gone to the Northern Water Tribe… okay, maybe not there, it’s freezing, but why go back to work for the Fire Nation government? Zuko is cool, obviously, but... the Fire Nation is kind of a mess right now. Why jump into a burning building?”
Nia paused. She looked at the lantern light flickering on the walls.
Why indeed? Why hadn't she just disappeared into the Earth Kingdom peasantry? Why did she walk back toward the dragon’s mouth?
“Because it’s my mess,” Nia said softly.
Sokka stopped spinning his quill. He looked at her.
“I ran away from it once,” Nia admitted, surprised by her own honesty. “I thought if I ignored it, the smoke wouldn't reach me. But... you can’t outrun your own people, Sokka, even if they’re wrong, especially if they’re wrong.”
She looked down at the map, at the red ink marking the Fire Nation.
“If I don't help fix it,” she whispered, “Then I have no right to complain about the ashes.”
Sokka studied her for a long moment. His sapphire eyes, usually crinkled with humor, were sharp and surprisingly deep. He saw something in her, not the specific secret of her bloodline, but the weight of it. He recognized the look of someone who had taken responsibility for a burden they didn't create.
He had that same look when he talked about his dad.
“Well,” Sokka said, breaking the tension with a grin. “Lucky for us, you’re good at fixing things, and lucky for you, I am excellent at complaining. We’ll make a great team.”
He grabbed a stamp and slammed it down on the proposal with a definitive THUD.
“APPROVED,” Sokka declared. “By order of the Committee of Sleds and Sarcasm.”
Nia laughed. It was a small sound, rusty from disuse, but it was there. “Is that an official committee?”
“It is now,” Sokka winked. “Welcome to the club. Meetings are on Tuesdays. Bring snacks.”
As they packed up the scrolls, Nia felt a strange warmth in her chest. Sokka asked too many questions. He was nosy. He noticed her accent. He was dangerous to her secret.
But as he held the door open for her, babbling about the merits of seal-jerky versus fruit tarts, Nia realized something terrifying.
She had made a friend.