"It disgusts you, doesn't it?"
"No!" said Mai, betraying surprise, then continued in her normal, mocking manner, "It's a proud sign of all you suffered for the glory of the Fire Nation."
Zuko made a disdainful noise and released her. He hung himself over the balcony, shoulders hunched. "Don't say things you think I want to hear," he said.
"Zuko!"
"Go on," said Zuko bitterly, his back to her. "The court scribes aren't around to record your answer. Tell me it's a mark of weakness and shame. Tell me it's a debt I owe my father for not being the son he wanted." His voice rose steadily, as if addressing a crowd of people beneath the balcony. "Tell me what my father said, that I was lucky to be born!"
"Zuko, stop it," said Mai with impatience, but her voice cracked. "That's not true."
He rounded on her. "Do you even know how I got this?" he demanded, jabbing a finger into the burnt pink flesh around his eye.
The alarm that had flashed in her eyes was gone before Zuko recognized it. "Everyone knows," she said flatly. "You insulted the Fire Lord by speaking out of turn at a war council."
"Yeah, I did!" Zuko punched the banister; sparks flew from his fist. Mai did not flinch. "Do you know what they were talking about?"
Mai folded her arms. "I don't get many invitations to top-secret war councils."
"They wanted to sacrifice a battalion of new recruits as a diversion!" Zuko's voice was hoarse with rage but his face was contorted, as if he could see the troops dying before his eyes. "Men who had just joined the army, out of love for my father and the Fire Nation!"
Mai's mouth opened, her white throat taught, but she didn't respond. Zuko stared at her.
"What should I have done, Mai? Just sat there?"
"Did those troops still die?" Mai interjected, her voice low and husky.
"Yes." Zuko abruptly stopped shouting; his voice became soft and he turned back towards the sky. "That's the reason we won _ so quickly."
"Then it wasn't worth it," said Mai. Her voice was slow and bored again. Zuko turned back towards her. She was leaning against the balcony with careful carelessness, but did not meet his gaze. "You were out of line, Zuko. You were disrespectful, and as your father, the Fire Lord has a right to discipline you as he saw fit."
"No." Zuko made a chopping motion with his fist. "You're saying what you think I want to hear again. Or what you think that I think should be said."
Mai raised her eyebrows. "No, it's the truth."
"That's the dead Mai talking!" shouted Zuko.
"What?"
"Don't you see? Don't you see what's happening to us? In the Fire Nation they'd rather we were dead—rather we were lifeless bodies—like puppets, or dolls, or—or chess pieces—so they can use our bodies for us. Who you are and who I am don't matter. It's what we are—what we are in relation to the Fire Lord."
Mai stared mutely at him. Zuko stared haggardly back. "I thought you understood that. When you make fun of the Fire Nation, of Azula, of me—I thought it was because you understood that. Or is it just a game for you, Mai?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mai said, but her voice was weak.
"What I'm talking about is, why are you even here, talking to me?" Zuko snapped. "Who are you here for, me, or the Fire Lord's son?"
"Why is there a difference?"
"You tell me." Zuko turned his back on her and leaned out over the balcony again.
"I don't know what you mean by 'Fire Nation,'" Mai said scathingly, after a pause. "All I see is a bunch of people who think they have something in common, and like to make a big deal about it."
"That 'big deal' is hurting a lot of other people," said Zuko.
"Those 'other people' never mattered to me," Mai said, her voice flat again. She fell silent, watching Zuko's back as he continued to lean on the balcony. "I could be executed for what I just said about the Fire Nation," she resumed, her voice dismissive.
"I'm glad you said it," said Zuko. He turned around and looked at her. "I believe in the Fire Nation," he said, his brow knitted with emotion. "We're not just a bunch of people. We're—but we're not—" He broke off, his brow furrowed. Mai merely watched him, her face betraying something like concern.
Zuko scowled. "Forget it!" he stormed, and stalked away before pacing back. He and Mai exchanged a long glance.
Mai dropped her eyes first. "I don't know what to do, Zuko."
"Neither do I," he muttered. "I'm leaving."
And he did just that. Mai watched him leave, her eyes lingering on his taught, broad shoulders and the tendons like chords in his bare forearms. He closed the door quite gently behind him, but Mai flinched as if he had slammed it. She closed her eyes and remained motionless against the balcony, listening to his footsteps fade in the hallway.
After she could no longer hear him, a maid opened the door.
"Excuse me, Lady Mai? Your mother sent me to ask you, once Prince Zuko had left—what will you be wearing tomorrow? My lady said that your makeup did not match your sash today, and she was concerned."
Mai muttered something into her hand, her back still half-turned to the maid.
" L-lady Mai?" The maid started forward. "Begging your pardon, but—"
"I said GET OUT!" Mai whirled about and clutched her hand into a fist before her. "Get out!"
The maid squeaked and bolted. The door slammed behind her and Mai, quite expressionless again, her eyes half-open, leaned back against the balcony. Slowly, like an old woman, she let herself slide to the floor and sat with her face pressed to the balcony's cool marble bars.