A/N: I've changed the rating of this story from T to M. I have future plot points that may cross that line, so it's just in case my definition of inappropriate doesn't match 's. As always, comments or feedback is appreciated!


Zuko

Footsteps echoed and rang in Zuko's ears and he and a posse of guards made their down down into the depths of the prison cells. It was the day after the royal wedding and, although Zuko felt that post-marital bliss, his drive to punish the group that had launched an attack on the throne boiled within him to the point where he felt it unreasonable to delay. Not many prisoners were held within the walls of the royal palace, but those that were were kept far away from any human contact. The dripping of some unknown water source added a sinister feeling to the dungeon-like wing of the palace. They made their way down to the furthest cells-guards filled cells starting from the back and moving forward-before a guttural voice greeted them from the darkness.

"Hello, Fire Lord."

Zuko froze before slowly approaching the furthest cell and looking down at its inhabitant.

"Hello, father."

A disturbing grin spread across the fallen Phoenix King. His slick raven hair blocked the majority of his face, save for the sharp point of his chin and the chapped lips that spat venom into each word. His beard, having grown longer than the hair atop his head, was as sharp as a dagger and only emphasized the wickedness of his harlequin smile. As he lifted his head, Zuko noted the depth of the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. Being locked in the same cell for years had taken its toll on his already poor mental state, and Zuko could see the underlying insanity pulsing from his golden eyes.

"Come to see your old man?" Ozai teased.

"Not this time," Zuko responded, refusing to give Ozai any form of emotional response. "You're not the one I'm here to see."

"Ah," Ozai exhaled gruffly, "You're here to see my new friend. We've become quite acquainted, him and me. I hear he's quite the wedding crasher. Congratulations, by the way. Sad I couldn't attend," he said vilely.

Zuko suppressed the urge to retort. He turned without a word to the cell across the small walkway containing his other prisoner. The unnamed man was sitting cross-legged facing the outer wall of the cell, his tray of food untouched.

"Are you ready to speak to your Lord?" One guard questioned.

The man did not respond.

"I've heard of your organization. The Scarlet Sodality, am I right?" Zuko calmly asked.

Still no response.

"Your group has made your opinions very clear. Your message has been heard, believe me. Unfortunately for you, I get the final say. Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is your new Fire Lady. Bend the knee to Katara and me, let us know the location of your fellow gang members, and your punishment will be minimal. That's your first option. Your other option is this: remain in this prison cell until the day you give us the information we need. You will not be given a trial nor any opportunity to leave. You've committed an act of treason, attempting to murder your rightful monarch. Let the guards know when you're willing to speak."

Zuko turned to walk away before a surly voice interrupted his exit.

"You are no true Fire Lord."

The prisoner slowly turned his head to meet Zuko's stare. Zuko reapproached the cell.

"What was that?"

"We support the true heir to the Fire Throne."

Zuko couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the man. "The true heir?"

"She will return," the man hissed, "You and your waterbender slut will not rule us."

Zuko slowly crouched to eye-level with the man, who had crawled to the cell bars during his spiteful declaration. The hostile glare from the scarred face caused the confidence in the prisoner to falter.

"Let me make this very clear," Zuko said slowly and sternly, sharply enunciating each syllable, "You will die in this cell. That is, unless you give us what we want."

"I'll take death. I won't talk."

"Oh, you'll talk. But I didn't say it'd be willingly," Zuko growled menacingly. His protective instinct had kicked in almost animalistically, defending what was his with a fire. A sadistic chuckle was heard from behind him.

"My, my," Ozai tutted, "The honorable Fire Lord Zuko threatening torture? Maybe you really are my son."

"Guards," Zuko spoke, his eyes not leaving the gang member, "If my father speaks out of turn again, silence him."

Ozai's smirk did not waver, but he spoke no further. For as evil as he was, he was a smart man. He knew how to expertly manipulate those around him into doing his bidding, tricking Zuko on more than one occasion.

Zuko stood and led the guards out of the prison cells. Once back in the royal office, flames flew from his breath as he exhaled in frustration. He snatched the gold crown from his high bun and flung it across the room with a yell. No worry of it breaking entered his mind; this wasn't the first time he'd thrown the chunk of precious metal at a wall. A long strand of hair had been yanked from the bun during his moment of aggression and fluttered in front of his face from the pants of air escaping his lips. He looked the pinnacle of madness, and he reminded himself of his sister.

Azula.

The true heir?

Zuko dwelled on this realization. Azula had been the Crown Princess following his banishment, and Zuko only gained the title of Fire Lord after she forfeited their Agni Kai by attacking Katara. Was she the heir the imprisoned stranger had referred to?

Azula had been in an asylum since his coronation, committed after her mental breakdown over her defeat. Although she was quite literally insane, Zuko still sympathized with his sister and yearned for her recovery. The doctors had sent reports of improvement, but not enough progress had been made to guarantee a nearby release. Was the Scarlet Sodality planning on breaking her out of the asylum and using her to challenge his claim to the throne? Surely not. Even a true fire nation supremacist could see that she was not fit to lead. The concept of mental illness was still extremely stigmatized within the fire nation; no "mad monarch" had maintained the support of their people for the entirety of their reign. Still, the shoe seemed to fit.

Zuko sat at his desk and began writing a letter to the institution, ordering heightened security measures to keep his sister under lock and key. After sealing the letter with the fire nation crest, he handed it over to his most trusted advisor and instructed them to ensure its arrival at the asylum. All precautions needed to be taken, not only to protect him but the people he cared for.


The next day, Zuko decided to pay another visit to his guest in the prison cell. He hoped that his empty threat of torture had sat in the man's mind overnight and worn down his defenses, that Zuko could get the information they needed to track down the gang leadership. Aang wouldn't have approved of Zuko threatening the man the way he did, but if he had learned anything from his father, it's that pain worked to get what you want-or, rather, the potential for pain. He hated seeing a glimmer of his father's eyes in the mirror so he tried to think of them instead as being his mother's, wherever she was in this world.

Zuko and his guards trekked their way back into the deep dark prison cells, revisiting the shadow of madness that it cast over its occupants. It was early in the morning; the first beams of sunlight hadn't even crested the horizon, not that it mattered where they were going. In the cells, there were no windows, no sign of life outside the stone walls. Was it fair to condemn men to the inevitable insanity the isolation caused? Zuko had to remind himself that only those of the utmost danger were stored in this place, other minor criminals being graced with the city jail.

When they arrived at the very end of the corridor, both of the only two prisoners laid asleep, curled up on the ground with their backs facing the metal bars. The bulkiest of guards pounded on the metal bars of the gang member's cell. He did not stir, and Zuko assumed that he was purposely ignoring them. The guard made a second attempt at waking the man, creating enough noise to awaken Ozai.

"Rise for your Lord!"

Again, there was no movement. Zuko squinted at the man and slowly noticed a complete lack of movement from the figure in the dark.

"Open the cell," Zuko ordered, panicking.

"But my Lord-"

"Damn it, I said open it!"

A different guard struggled to detach the king ring from his belt and hurried to find the correct key. Ozai was now standing and grasping a metal bar in each hand, watching intently. Once the door had been unlatched, Zuko rushed into the cell to check the man himself. Upon rounding the figure his eyes caught a glimpse of a foam puddle on the ground below the jaw of the dead man. The copper eyes were bloodshot and strained, capturing the disturbing stare of the man's final, pain-filled moments. Zuko almost vomited, catching the liquid deep in his throat and rushing out of the cell.

"My Lord?"

"...dead. Some sort of poison," Zuko murmured, "A suicide."

Maniacal laughter echoed in the cramped space. Ozai was staring at Zuko, reveling in his pain.

"Can't even keep a prisoner alive long enough to torture him, oh mighty Fire Lord?" His laughter continued, rising in volume.

Unable to produce a response, Zuko simply waved his guards toward the body, to which they got to work disposing of it. In a trance-like state, Zuko trudged his way out of the prison cells, Ozai's cackling playing on a loop in his head. Had Zuko killed this man?

What felt like minutes went by before Zuko heard his name being called. The voice sounded as though it were underwater, muffled by some sort of dense substance in the atmosphere. The fogginess only cleared when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

"Zuko?"

His new brother-in-law had found him, a concerned expression on his face.

"Sokka, what are you…" Zuko trailed off, forgetting what he was going to ask.

"Gee, buddy, are you okay? We've been looking all over for you."

How long had he been wandering? Glancing out a nearby window, the sun was high in the center of the sky. Was it already high noon?

"I… don't know."

Sokka wrapped his arm around Zuko's shoulder. "Let's get you back to your room. A good nap always fixes everything. Man, two days in and Katara already has your brain turned to mush. Can't say I'm surprised, but I expected you to last longer."

Zuko chuckled internally, but wasn't sure if the sound actually made its way out into the open air. Soon enough the pair had reached the royal chambers, where Katara was inside pacing the length of the room. She perked her head up at the sound of the door opening and a wave of relief rushed over her face when she saw that Sokka had found Zuko.

"Thank the spirits you found him," she sighed as she rushed to embrace her husband. Touching Katara seemed to break Zuko's trance, for as soon as her arms were wrapped around him he began to tremble. Katara must have shot some sort of facial expression toward Sokka because Zuko heard the door latch shut, leaving the newlyweds alone in the room.

Zuko's body slunk down the length of Katara until he was on his knees gripping her thighs. "Oh Zuko…" Katara murmured as she stroked his hair. "What happened?"

The two stayed silent, Katara patiently waiting for Zuko to explain. Finally, Zuko rose and kissed her fiercely, interrupting anything she was about to say. A soft mewl escaped her as her mouth was ravaged by Zuko's tongue. His large, calloused hands clung to her skin and locked her frame against his, swallowing her whole in the process. His fingers tangled in her hair and pulled with enough force to yank Katara's head toward the ceiling as his lips dove to meet her neck. His teeth nipped at the delicate skin and Katara's muscles twinged before melting under the scalding heat of his touch.

Whatever this was, this aggression exploding from his core, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. In one moment he felt like a hollow shell, void of emotion, only to suddenly transform into some kind of brute. Katara, with her compassion and strength, appealed to his senses like a moth to the light. He needed her.

"Zuko…" Katara whined softly, "Not that I'm not enjoy this but-oh spirits-where is this coming from?"

"I need you to tell me if I ever become my father, Katara," Zuko mumbled into her body, still furiously consuming her.

Katara froze under him and pulled his head away from her collarbone. Zuko attempted to rejoin his mouth to her, any part of her, but she held him firmly at arm's length. "Of course you're not your father. You could never be like him."

"You can't say that for sure," Zuko said uneasily, "It's possible. I'm his son, I could have it in me…"

"Zuko," Katara said, perturbed, "What is this all about? You know you're not your father. You proved that a long time ago."

"Yeah, well, things have changed," Zuko murmured under his breath as he made his way to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and tucked his head between his hands, shoulders resting on his upper thighs. Katara joined him.

"What things?" Katara asked. When Zuko did not respond, she began to draw circles on his back. "We're a team now. I can help you, if you just let me in."

Zuko's hardened gaze finally rose from his lap and instead locked onto Katara. "A man died today."

"Who?"

"The prisoner from the wedding. He killed himself," he said roughly.

Katara's face twitched with shock. "But why?"

"He feared I would honor my word."

Katara looked at him hesitantly, intimidated by his darkening eyes. "And... what was that, exactly?"

"I told him he would die here if he didn't speak. That there would be torture involved, if need be. I didn't even think twice before I threatened him." He felt Katara pull away from him. "I wasn't actually going to go through with it! But telling him I would just seemed so, I don't know, effective? He was vicious, Katara, saying things that just set me off. But now he's dead, all out of his fear of me. I was acting like my own father."

Katara paused, deep in thought. "How did you say he died, again?"

"Poisoned himself," Zuko said gravely, "I found him with a foaming mouth on the floor of his cell."

"And where would he get something like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he'd been locked in a supervised cell this whole time, how did he even get any poison?"

Zuko thought on this for a moment. "He must have had it the whole time," he murmured.

"Exactly. Zuko, going into their assassination attempt, I don't think he was ever planning on leaving the palace. Did you notice he had no weapons on him, despite being a nonbender?"

His brow furrowed. "A suicide mission? But why? How would this gang benefit from a member getting locked in a cell? He didn't reach any other part of the palace."

"Maybe they thought he could manage to sneak out?" Katara suggested, "It would be easier to murder us from inside the palace."

"No," Zuko said as he shook his head, "I don't think that's it. He wouldn't have taken the poison so soon if that were the case."

"What could he have possibly accomplished in the less than 48 hours he was here?"

Zuko stiffened. "There was one thing…"

"What?"

"Well, he mentioned that they don't support you as Fire Lady…"

"That's no surprise," Katara scoffed, rolling her eyes, "We already knew that."

"He also said they didn't support me as Fire Lord."

"Now that's new. Did he say why?"

"He told me that they support the 'true heir' to the Fire Throne."

"What does that even mean?"

"I'm not sure what he meant," Zuko said contemplatively, "At first I thought they were referring to Azula. But if he wants to be technical, then I am the 'true' heir, since I'm the previous Fire Lord's first-born child."

"Do you think he meant Ozai? He's not dead, maybe they recognize him as their leader."

"He said 'heir,' Katara. Besides, my father wasn't my grandfather's first-born. Technically, he shouldn't have even ascended the throne."

Katara's eyes bugged. "You don't think they mean Iroh, do you?"

"Uncle? He's too well known for his pacifist ways for a fire supremacy group to rally behind the idea of him as Fire Lord."

"Well, if we can't even figure out this riddle, what was the point in even warning you?"

The two sat in silence, mulling over the whole situation. They were stumped. What was the point of sacrificing a member for no point other than to forewarn Zuko of the "true heir"? It seemed like a waste of a life, even for a murderous group of racists. In theory, if they were planning an uprising, it would have probably been in their best interest to keep it hidden from the royal family. So what was that man doing by purposely getting captured and drug to the prison cells?

With Zuko's brain still rattling, Katara grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight.

"Look, whatever comes our way, we'll deal with it. I mean, after ending the 100-year war, I think the group of us could handle anything. In the meantime, please try not to worry about turning into a mini Ozai. Angi knows that's seal shit."

Zuko chuckled and accepted Katara's incoming kiss. The moment was tender and soft, unlike earlier. Lips still locked, Katara gently stroked her thumb over Zuko's face from the bridge of his nose to his ear, passing over the textured surface of his scar. He found that Katara's touch felt comforting on the crimson skin. He hadn't let another soul feel that bitter reminder of his father's cruelty, but made an exception for Katara when she offered to heal it all those years ago. Since then, only she had permission to lay a hand on it, and he had grown used to the sensation during her consolation. Like a dog with its food, his body had practically been trained to relax whenever Katara's fingertips met the scarred tissue. Even when she wasn't solacing him the physical connection would amplify his joy. He was addicted to her touch, but that fact wasn't limited to his face.

The two flattened themselves against the mattress and Katara continued to comfort him until they fell asleep in each other's embrace.