Prompt: Aang Didn't Know Zuko Was Raising A Baby Dragon

Prompt: Aang didn't know Zuko was raising a baby dragon

Aang tilts his head. He doesn’t lower his staff, because—because Zuko, but he doesn’t try hitting him again, either. At least, not anywhere near his chestplate, which the other boy is very suddenly defending like there’s a second Avatar inside.

“Do you… have something in there?” Aang asks.

“NO!” shouts Zuko, who definitely has something inside his armor. It makes a kind of scrabbly-paws-on-metal sound and then—

“Do you have a dragon in there?” Aang squeals. 

And maybe in retrospect he should have thought more before bouncing towards the fiery teenager, but in Aang’s defense there is the cutest, tiniest, fluffiest little maned dragon head he’s ever seen trying to peek out of Zuko’s neckline. And anyway, the other boy is way too busy backpedaling and trying to push the dragon’s snout back inside to Capture the Avatar, so. So Aang absolutely shoves a hand at the dragon’s nose for it to smell him, because that’s how you greet them—

—Or is that praying mantis-dogs?—

And then there is a Fire Prince squawking and shoving him away, which is definitely not a bending move, but not before a little lizard tongue tickles Aang’s hand which is so cute.

“Uh,” says Sokka, lowering his club. “I. I am not actually sure how I’m supposed to be reacting, here.”

“We’re fighting,” snarls Zuko, who is cupping protective hands over the dragon, and definitely not fighting. The dragon has wormed one stubby little leg and an adorably oversized wing out, and seems enthusiastically set on more. 

Which is the point where Zuko’s uncle finally catches up to them, at his usual leisurely pace. If he wasn’t with Zuko, Aang would maybe think that the older man wasn’t all that invested in catching him.

“Nephew, do you…” And then he catches sight of the dragon.

Zuko pales.

“Hello, Uncle Backup,” says Sokka, grabbing Aang and Katara’s arms. “And that’s our cue to go go go.”

Zuko chases them. Because he’s Zuko.

Zuko… gets ahead of them. Which is not very chase-y?

Zuko vaults into Appa’s saddle ahead of them and holds his hands up as Katara threatens him with a hovering stream of water. He… doesn’t seem to be leaving, or attacking, and his uncle is running after them way faster than Aang is used to, so. Yip-yip?

Katara and Sokka sit down, once Zuko’s uncle looks very small under them. Zuko keeps his hands up. The baby dragon is flapping its free wing appreciatively in the rushing air. And chirruping really cutely.

“So,” says Sokka, slowly. “You… needed a ride?”

“I don’t—” Zuko starts to shout, before lowering his volume, even if his tone is exactly the same. “I don’t need a ride.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka, even more slowly. 

Zuko continues to keep his hands up. His dragon is trying to squirm the rest of the way free, and has decided that gnawing at his chest plate is the way to do this. It’s making pretty good progress against the black and red paint. The metal, not so much.

Aang keeps glancing back from Appa’s head. “You, um,” he says, suddenly realizing that You seemed scared will probably just lead to more shouting. And fire. Which there has been a really noticeable lack of, and Aang kind of wants to encourage that. 

“Did your uncle not know about the dragon?” he asks, instead.

“Uncle is the Dragon of the West,” Zuko says, more quietly than Aang has ever heard him say anything. And also like it’s a full explanation. But judging by the equally confused looks on Katara and Sokka’s faces, this isn’t just another thing he’s missed during the past hundred years. 

The baby dragon huffs at its lack of progress. And flops, like an over-cooked and very dejected noodle, against Zuko’s chest. 

Zuko swallows. And stops glaring at any of them, because he’s no longer meeting their eyes. He lowers his hands, slowly, and works a shoulder strap free. It’s enough for the dragon to puddle limply down into his lap, where it curls into a very alert spring. 

“Do you know how someone gets the title dragon?” Zuko says. “By killing a dragon. Uncle thought he killed the last two. And father was—he was so mad, not that uncle killed the last, but that he killed two. That he didn’t leave some glory for the rest of our family.”

Sokka clears his throat, after the obligatory awkward silence. “Your family is… kind of messed up, huh?” 

“What was your first clue,” says the Fire Prince, his scarred face deadpan.

His very prominently scarred face.

Oh. 

Katara crosses her arms. Which makes her look grumpier, but she’s not able to bend as quickly like that, so Aang knows she’s feeling less going-to-waterwhip-you grumpy and more prove-me-wrong grumpy. 

“If killing it would be so glorious,” she asks, “why haven’t you?”

“It— She— She’s just a child. It wouldn’t be honorable,” Zuko says, straightening his back.

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka.

But Aang. Aang grins. “Hey! I’m a child, too!”

The Fire Prince groans, and drops his face into his knees. His dragon climbs up onto his head and, using his ponytail approximately like a tree branch, stretches both her wings out, and lifts her little nose to the wind.

(You can also read this and other prompts on AO3.)