AN: If you have not been warned sufficiently by the Trust Countdown, there is no warning you at all. Enjoy, kids—the next few chapters are nothin' but sunshine and rainbows and frolicking puppy-kittens.

14. Trust (Break)

The Head Clerk looked like he was about to pass out, either from pride or embarrassment. His Fire Lord—the first Fire Lord to directly visit his office during his tenure—didn't notice.

"This is wonderful. Really, great work." Zuko paged through the report, right there at the desk of the lower clerk who'd been compiling enough copies for everyone at the negotiations.

"T-thank you, Your Majesty," the clerk had been sitting as stiff and proper as it was humanly possible to get, but she still managed to jump a little higher upon being addressed.

"Did you get the projected trade numbers…?"

"Appendix E, Your Majesty."

Zuko flipped to the back, and read, and sagged in relief. Idly he rubbed at his arm, trying to work out a slept-on-it-wrong ache. That was what he got for sleeping in the first place. "This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much. What about the Earth Kingdom…?"

Millimeter by millimeter, the lower clerk relaxed, and answered her young lord's questions. Centimeter by centimeter, the other clerks leaned over from their own desks to listen in.

"Really, Your Majesty, you could have just sent a servant," the Head Clerk fretted. "It is beneath Your Majesty's notice to—"

"You've all been working on this for a week," Zuko scowled. "Of course I'm going to thank you in person."

(The Head Clerk flinched, then schooled his expression blank. The lower clerks shared grins amongst themselves, then hurried to do the same before their superior noticed. Either of their superiors.)

"Did you look at the third section yet? We ran a forecast on how different tariff levels would affect the treasury, and—" the lower clerk gave her boss a subtle smirk as she saved him from further compliments.

"This is... it's just… it's perfect. Thank you." Zuko didn't notice he was clutching the report to his heart. The clerks definitely did. Then Zuko bowed to the office at large, and the Head Clerk choked.

"We should have the prison lists by next week," the lower clerk said. "Some of the older records on the Southern waterbenders were from prisons that already shut down, but we think we located the copies. They're getting shipped over now."

"Thank you," Zuko repeated. And bowed again.

He wasn't entirely certain the Head Clerk was breathing anymore, and he wasn't sure what he was doing wrong. Should he… bow lower? But he'd already worked his way up to young-royal-to-honored-elder when the man startled at his first simple royal-to-subject nod. It was like the more polite he got, the paler the Head Clerk became—

The lower clerk winked. "Maybe you should leave before he faints."

"I… sure?"

A very confused Zuko was escorted from the room by a woman only a few years older than he was. She smiled, and slid the door shut behind him. After a somewhat cheeky bow. Then there was a riot of noise from inside the room.

...Maybe he should send a servant, next time. His clerks were weird. But they did really, really good work.

The Water Tribe boy had been right, at that dinner a week ago—Zuko wasn't trying hard enough to make this peace work. So he'd tried harder, and now he was ready to show the Avatar's group how serious he was.

"What is this." Snoozles poked his copy of the report with a skeptical finger.

Zuko scowled, and fought the urge to drag the papers back out of the ungrateful peasant's reach. "I had my people researching potential trade deals we could offer the Water Tribes. The Earth Kingdom, too. We would be willing to offer favorable tariffs on construction materials and staple foods for five years, with open passage for registered passenger and merchant ships through Fire Nation Waters." The peasant wasn't looking impressed. Zuko scowled harder. "That means the western routes to the North Pole. Don't you want open communications with your sister tribe?"

Snoozles held up a hand to interrupt. (At least one of Zuko's advisors drew in a sharp breath at the casual insult.) "Back up. Fire Nation waters?"

Zuko had remembered to bring a map this time.

"You can't just claim the entire western ocean!"

The map didn't please the peasant or his sister or the Avatar, but he was starting to think nothing would. At least his admirals were nodding, looking vaguely insulted that anyone had dared disagree.

"It's the ocean," Zuko said, "between our islands," he tried to break this into peasant-accessible words, "and our colonies. It's our ocean. We're already ceding you back the southern and northern seas, and the Earth Kingdom can have the waters up to twenty kilometers from shores they still control. What more do you want?"

That was not a question he should have asked.

"You have to admit," the Avatar put in, several demands and immediate rejections shouted down by generals, admirals, and advisors alike later, "it's a little worrying to have the country that started the war controlling so many places that would, ah, make it easy to keep going with the war. Not that I'm saying you will! But I'm pretty sure the Earth generals aren't going to believe you like we do. And the Northern Tribe's been salvaging your fleet to build—"

"Aang!" Snoozles interrupted, but not before both of Zuko's admirals started trying to catch their Fire Lord's eye and give him we need to raze the North Pole to the ground NOW stares.

"No," he told them, which left them looking disgruntled and the Avatar's people looking confused, except for Uncle, who was still reading the report and being quiet. He'd carefully taken a seat in the exact middle of the two groups, as he had every day since he'd agreed to just be Zuko's Uncle again. And though he was perfectly happy to discuss strategies during breaks or after the meetings ended for the day, his support at the table generally took the form of not actively disagreeing with his nephew, even though he clearly did. Zuko had forgotten how annoying Uncle could be. It was familiar and infuriating and nice and ugh.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, and resolved to send his clerks some kind of gift and to never let them know how little their work had helped. It wasn't their fault; he'd just… had them researching the wrong things. Apparently. Zuko would... keep trying. These were just the preliminary talks; as long as the Avatar left here not actively hostile towards the Fire Nation, it was a win. Even if they accomplished literally nothing else with the extravagant amounts of time they were wasting on this. They just needed to show enough good faith so that next time the other Nations would feel comfortable sending representatives that weren't legal minors. That would be… that would be great.

And then they could start this all over again, in a room full of unhappy adults, where he'd be the youngest person at the table and the focal point for a hundred years worth of hatred. Yeah, great.

He rubbed at his fingers under the table, trying to work a little feeling back into the tips. Azula was another great part of his life. That he'd taken to visiting her when he needed a break from this maybe said everything.

"Hey, Sparky," Toph said. "How about we stop for tea? My ears are sick of people shouting the same five things."

Zuko's entire side of the table bristled at the little girl's presumption. Zuko… felt pathetically grateful for the excuse. Maybe he could sneak off somewhere private and bang his head against a wall. The blind girl winked towards him, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Winked. Who'd even taught her what a wink was?

Before Zuko could agree, Uncle was talking.

"I am not certain the Earth Kingdom will be able to afford these prices, Zuko."

Uncle, who had been carefully paging through his proposal since he'd been handed a copy.

But still didn't approve.

"What do you mean?" Zuko turned to the same page in his own report, and completely failed to see the problem. "It's not like we'll allow the merchants to price gouge, not if they want to buy from the central stores. That's just… what it's worth." There were benefits to a hundred years under effective military rule: a fairly complete government control over critical food supplies was one of them.

"Do you know how much of the Earth Kingdom burned, nephew?" Uncle didn't usually call him nephew at the table, but he didn't usually miss someone saying the word tea, either.

Zuko tugged his map out from under the peasant's elbows. "The airship fleet came in from the coast at the Wulong Forest, and continued inland until they were stopped outside Yangzhou, though the fires kept spreading until—"

"And what type of land is in that prefecture, nephew?"

Thirteen years of tutor drills came spilling out of dusty corners of his mind. "Jiangsu prefecture's primary exports are rice, grain, and other… agricultural projects."

They'd burned an entire prefecture of food. At the end of summer; before the harvest, and with no time to replant before winter.

Shit.

He'd known that, but he hadn't… known that. It had only been two months, he'd been focused on getting his own people somewhere safe, not on how another country's peasants would eat this winter.

"How bad of a famine are they facing?" Zuko asked, trying not to picture Earth Kingdom villages where food had already been scarce before Ozai had decided to just burn things to the ground, and a boy who'd invited him into his home and a family who'd shared their food with him anyway. People who'd hated him for being just a half-starved banished prince. How many curses had they sent to their dusty gods when they heard of the new Fire Lord? They probably wished they'd let him starve.

He knew what it felt like, to starve.

"Bad. Many will die, Zuko. If the Fire Nation makes no reparations, the war must continue; the Earth Kingdom will not allow itself to starve while the colonies eat. Returning even some of the land would put food back into Earth Kingdom hands, and show how serious you are—"

"Displace our citizens, and give enemy troops our harvest?" One of the advisors snorted. Better for him to say it than Zuko; it gave the Avatar's team someone else to glare at, for a change. Zuko rubbed at his arm, still trying to make that lingering ache go away.

They were all arguing again, and he just wanted to cover his ears and block them out, why did they all have to be so loud, this wasn't helping.

"Stop it," he cut in. "If anyone has concrete suggestions, please speak them. Those who wish to bark like albatross-seals, the guards can escort you to the harbor."

His guards didn't move. Zuko hadn't really meant them too, but it still would have been nice if they'd at least twitched. They wouldn't have assumed his sister was joking.

"Well, maybe you can find a way to share…" the twelve-year-old said. Not the one he was starting to honestly like; the one who'd fought his father and somehow stayed ridiculously naive.

"Share," Zuko deadpanned. "Great idea. I'll just tell my farmers that this year we'll be paying sub-standard rates, and shipping their food off to feed people who hate us, so that in the spring they'll be healthy enough to attack. I'm so glad the Avatar returned, world peace is so easy with your ancient wisdom to guide us—"

"I'm just trying to help—"

"Maybe we can trade," Snoozles put in. "You've got daddy issues, we've got your daddy. How many kilograms of rice is he worth to you?"

"Why would—" Zuko drew in a deep breath and did not try to convince the peasant, again, that bringing Ozai back into the capital was literally the last thing he wanted. "How is that even safe, giving him back to us? Do you seriously think he wouldn't just take the throne and immediately restart the war? Would you rather deal with him?"

"I hear you people have a thing about your bending superiority," the peasant smirked. "Hard to be a Fire Lord without any fire."

Another deep breath, because it was always hard to get air when they were talking about Ozai. "...What?"

The monk rubbed the back of his bald head. "I, uh. Took away his bending?"

Zuko didn't understand, for a moment. No one on his side of the table did. The words were clear enough but they— how— that couldn't be—

Uncle nodded, just slightly.

Zuko had never felt so cold in his life, like whatever embers of flame he had left just banked themselves down to coals, trying to hide from what he was hearing.

"You can take away bending," he heard himself saying. "Agni's gift. You can just… take it away."

The airbender was chattering something back, looking sheepish but a little proud, but it was just… buzzing in Zuko's ears.

The Avatar could take away bending.

Maybe somehow that wasn't as horrifying to waterbenders or earthbenders or airbenders, because the Avatar's group looked a little uneasy (the non-bender still looked smug, of course he did, he couldn't understand), but the Fire Nation side of the table had stopped breathing.

And then they were breathing very carefully, the kind of breaths that stoked inner flames.

Inner flames. Not the earth under their feet or the water of their seas, not the air around them. Inner flames. Agni's gift was their heart, their life, it couldn't be snuffed without killing the bender. Even Zuko's little embers were still there, could still flare if he could just figure out how. To be completely gone—

How was Ozai still alive.

Why would he want to be alive, to be this cold for the rest of his life?

How could the airbender sit there talking of peace when he'd ripped Agni's hand from one of His chosen? The Avatar was the World Spirit, but Agni was the Sun God. The sun shone on his people and kindled flames in the strongest. Death was death, but to have their souls ripped out and their bodies kept living, beyond the sight of their god—

For the first time, Zuko thought of his father not just as a human being, but a frail one, a pitiable one. One who'd been subjected to a twelve-year-old's mercy instead of an honorable death.

Zuko was going to be sick. Or pass out. But he couldn't, because the Fire Lord was Agni's will on earth made manifest, the one who protected the flames. He squeezed his arm and took too-shallow breaths and ignored his people's glances of concern and… got through it.

Was that what the Avatar intended for every firebender who disagreed with him, who he couldn't control? It—it honestly wouldn't make much difference for Zuko, his flames were almost gone, but what about his generals, his admirals, his captains and lieutenants and common soldiers? There weren't many men and women in his armies that the other nations couldn't call war criminals. For many they'd even be right. Zuko had known there would have to be justice along with any talks of peace, but he'd—he'd pictured imprisonment, he'd pictured executions. He hadn't in his worst nightmares imagined a monk with good intentions.

"Sparky," Toph said. "I really think tea time is a good idea—"

Her voice reminded him to breathe.

"Avatar. I must respectfully request that you leave my palace. Now."

"Are you serious?" the peasant squawked.

The waterbender crossed her arms "Told you. They don't do families like the Water Tribe—"

And his own people were shouting back, and the earthbender's face was screwing up like she was about to act her age, and he just couldn't.

"You came to see if we were serious about peace. We are. I have welcomed you into my home, and you have…." Insulted him at every turn. And through him, the Nation and the God he stood for, but he'd tried to be welcoming and polite and not strangle them. "But we aren't getting anywhere, and you're... you're not even designated representatives of your Nations, you're children."

"You're a teenager," the Avatar snapped.

Zuko had heard that one before; less than a year ago, with snow under his boots and the polar wind trying to freeze him and his inner fire warm enough to keep it at bay. It was… easier to remember the snow than the flames.

"I am the Fire Lord." Not the banished prince who'd chased them. But he didn't think the people that needed to hear that would listen to weak protests like I'm not that person anymore. "Leave; when you find representatives who can speak for your nations, please send word. I'll meet with them. But Avatar, you—you don't even know what you did. You are not welcome in Fire Nation lands until you do."

Stay away from my people. He wanted to shout it, but he didn't have enough breath and the monk wouldn't have listened, anyway.

Besides. The airbender was doing plenty of shouting for him. "I spared your father's life."

"You destroyed him." He took a breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth, and very pointedly looked away from the child he didn't particularly like to the one he did. "Lady Bei Fong. If you ever feel yourself underappreciated, your services would find welcome in my court."

"Huh," she said, looking honestly surprised for the first time since he'd met her. "Truth."

"Yeah, kick us out, that's great," the peasant said breezily. "But the Earth Kingdom generals don't want to talk to you, and the Earth King is missing, and you've got our Chief locked up or—or dead, and you killed the Northern Chief's daughter. Just who do you think you're going to find that wants to talk to you, Sparky? We are the peace process. Now give us some nice reparations to take back to the other nations so we can prove you mean this, and we'll see what we can do to open up some minds—"

Zuko's breath was still short and his chest was starting to hurt, but he found enough air to shout. "You did not win the war! Uncle, can you please explain to them how coming to terms works? ...Uncle?"

"There will be no peace while the Earth kingdom starves, Zuko. They will have no choice but to attack."

"Let them," General Daichi scoffed. "We'll just beat them again."

Uncle frowned at his old war friend. "A hundred years of suffering is not remedied by—"

If that was a proverb Zuko was going to light something on fire, even if he had to get spirits-damned spark rocks to do it. "They want Fire Nation food? Let them surrender to the Fire Nation. Otherwise, their own King can handle it. Once you find him and his bear."

That… made the table a lot quieter.

"You are not thinking this through, nephew—"

"Do you think you could do a better job?" Zuko laughed, but it came out more of a snarl-wheeze.

Toph pulled at Uncle's sleeve, insistently. "His heart is doing that thing again. Really bad. Really bad. I thought it was going to stop, but it hasn't—"

"My heart is fine," Zuko snapped. On principle. It certainly wasn't worse than it had been since this stupid meeting started, and his own people could just stop looking at him like that.

Uncle was doing what he did best, and ignoring him. "Miss Katara…"

"Fine, I'll heal the Fire Lord." The waterbender stood, with an extravagant roll of her eyes, her thumb flicking the cork of her waterskin.

Zuko's flinch was instinctive. "Don't touch me!"

He didn't know when he got to his feet, and he didn't know why he could see his arms shaking but couldn't feel them, but he did understand why Azula banished everyone. If that was the only way to make them leave him alone for five minutes (to maybe feel safe, for five minutes)—

"Well, I tried." The waterbender sat back down. Toph punched her in the arm. Not one of the friendly punches he'd seen her give to all of them, even the lumbering bison, but a punch that almost knocked the girl over.

"Try harder, Sugar Queen."

"Perhaps a break—" Uncle's tone was so mild and conciliatory that Zuko wanted to scream.

He settled for shouting. "You are not my regent, Uncle. You can't tell me when to take a break."

"Miss Toph feels you should see a healer, nephew. If not ours, perhaps your own—"

"What good will that do? He'll just say I need to rest and avoid stress." And, oh, not get hit by lightning. Minor details. "Which would be a lot easier if you would all just leave."

"Nephew, it has been a long morning. A long week—"

Maybe they should have taken a break or moved this somewhere private, but if Zuko took the time to change rooms he might not be this angry anymore, and it felt… it felt good. He was warm, hot, his inner fire was roaring again. Not the guttering spark that could barely redirect Azula's off-handed attempts to maim him but real flame. The kind the Avatar could tear out of a person, and was willing to, and thought was better than death.

"You don't get to play Fire Lord, Uncle. You didn't want to be Fire Lord." There were flame daggers in his hands; he hadn't meant to make them, but they'd come to him as easily as they had in any tantrum back on his ship. His breath control was shit, but they still flared in his palms like they belonged there.

"Zuko, you are ill, please—"

"Fire Lord Zuko. I know no one wanted me to be. I'm just the person sitting the throne while you all figure out who you actually want. Father didn't want me, and you didn't even want me to go home, and Azula is probably just going to kill me, but—but I'm here now, and I'm going to do a good job at this if it kills me."

The resounding silence at that, the way servants and guards and advisors of every rank all looked like they understood something he didn't—it guttered his flames back down to coals.

He didn't like this. Whatever was about to happen, whatever that shared silence meant, he didn't like it.

(The little earthbender was trying to physically shove the waterbender at him, but she'd frosted her shoes to the tatami floors and was refusing to move.)

Uncle stood.

"Fire Lord Zuko. Under Agni's sight and before the court, I challenge you for the dragon throne."

"Uncle?" Zuko thought he spoke but maybe he hadn't said anything at all, because Uncle wasn't answering, wasn't listening.

"This is my right as Iroh, son of Fire Lady Ilah and Fire Lord Azulon, Grandson of Mizura and Sozin, whose line is pure and descended from Agni."

"This… this isn't funny."

"The terms are until surrender. The time—"

He caught sight of the Avatar and his group behind Uncle, and their faces were— the waterbender was vindictive, the peasant grim, Toph open-mouthed, the Avatar sympathetic. And there was only one thing those looks could mean. They knew what this meant to him. His face burned with remembered heat and shame and how could Uncle—

"You told them. You told them? ...Of course you told them."

"Hey, he was just trying to humanize you—"

"Why do I need— How much more human do you want me to be, Water Tribe?"

Zuko looked around, but… no one was stopping this, this no one was intervening, he was just as alone as he'd been last time he'd been at a meeting with Uncle and the words Agni Kai had come up, and he felt like this shouldn't be familiar.

"I'm the third Fire Lord this summer," he said. "The Sages will never—"

"The Sages have already given their blessings, Zuko." Uncle was making some weird face, like this hurt him as much as it did Zuko, but he didn't need to be an earthbender to call that lie. "...You could still accept a regent. Or forfeit the throne. Please, Zuko. You have been hurting yourself, and I will not stand by and lose another—"

I am your loyal son.

"Shut. Up."

He didn't want to believe this. It was a nightmare, and he'd wake up and… and never tell Uncle about it, because it was too awful, it couldn't be real.

And if he was anyone else it wouldn't be. But Zuko had a lifetime of experience, and he recognized his shit luck. It had been saving up for this. Clearly.

"That's why you wanted to go to the Fire Temple."

"Zuko—"

"You literally asked permission before going behind my back. I should have seen this coming, right? if I was half the politician my father was, or Azula, or that I should be—"

"Please forfeit," Uncle said.

"I accept your challenge," Zuko said.

It wasn't even going to be a fight, but he couldn't just… Uncle was on the Avatar's side. Didn't anyone else see that? He didn't want his physician and he didn't want to lay down and he didn't want their fake concern or time to think this over, shut up leave him alone, he just— Wanted it done.

It was done the moment Uncle said the words; the rest was just theater. Putting on a show for the court, and then he could go back to his jail cell or a ship or wherever else the new Fire Lord decided to put him.

Uncle set the time. It was either an hour later or the next day, but time was slipping again, like it had in prison. The sun was right there, he found himself just sitting and waiting for things to start, staring up at it, wondering why he couldn't feel it anymore than he had in the dark.

It felt about as real as a play when the servant slipped the gold bands up his arms, never meeting his eyes. It was the woman who always made sure his robes were straight. She did the same for his prayer shawl, and he realized he couldn't remember her name anymore.

She wasn't his servant anymore.

She left him alone, which was her job. Zuko let the shawl fall to the ground and stood, which was his. He'd never thought there could be something worse than turning around and seeing father, but here it was.

Zuko fought. He had to, because falling to his knees and begging never worked once in his life and he was sick of even trying. Because his country needed him. Because fucking never give up without a fight, Uncle taught him that.

Uncle took him down gentle as an owl-cat scruffing her kitten. He held Zuko still as the scowling waterbender approached with her hand on her waterskin. Uncle had ordered Captain Izumi to stand ready to put out any flames, but they hadn't come for Zuko during the fight and they didn't come now. The guardswoman looked disgruntled at the order; probably she'd rather delegate to a junior captain, now that she'd been freed from babysitting.

The waterbender pursed her lips and knelt at Zuko's side. Whatever she did with that water-gloved hand over his chest felt wonderful, because apparently even his body was going to betray him today.

He was laughing. Deep heaving laughs that got stronger after she healed him, thanks for that. He didn't know when that started, but it felt good, too.

"Come on, my boy," Uncle said. "You are going to sleep now, and we are going to talk in the morning. I know it does not feel like it now, but you will heal—"

Zuko slashed out a hand, breaking Uncle's kindly hold on his shoulders. He struggled back to sitting on his own.

"You said you thought of me as your son."

"I do, Zuko."

He managed to swallow the next laugh long enough to speak.

"Thank you for the lesson, father."

You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.

And then he was laughing too hard to get up, and… It felt fucking fantastic, actually. The look on Uncle's face was almost as raw as Zuko's everything, it hurt and he couldn't stop laughing and it hurt.

He tried. He fought. He didn't give up.

He still lost, like he always did.

Was it okay to stop now?

AN: All good chapters start with pulling up "Heart Attack Symptoms" on the ol' Google and quietly checking them off. All you sweet summer children who thought a heart attack was mutually exclusive to something far worse, bless your souls.

I absolutely promise this is Zuko's mental health low point for the story. So go ahead and swallow your hearts back down, down where they definitely won't get ripped out again.

Replies to guests:

breakfast, ch 13: You were not alone in fearing an assassination attempt. And I was sitting back in my chair for all those reviews, like, "Oh children, do you really think I'd give you three chapters of warning for an assasination attempt? Nawwww, those are just going to happen." *trusts that you are now completely reassured*

Amon E. Moose, ch 13: Holy shit. Holy shit. You just single-handedly managed to make Zuko's prison backstory so much worse and I love you forever. I am never going to write anything that disagrees with your head-canon. In fact, I am going to start intentionally teasing Dai-Li-Cask-of-Amontillado details because I wasn't doing that on purpose before but now I am. Congratulations, you managed to be even worse to Zuko than I am. *slow clap of sheer awe*

anthraxtermander, ch 13: I sincerely hope you enjoy having your "power hungry Iroh" wish granted. *cackle*

Unnamed, ch 11: I had to do a hard double-take at your laughter. And then I realized what chapter you were on, and the world made sense again. Glad you're enjoying!

m, ch 13: Don't you innocent-emoji-face me, mister, you are exactly the type of person who would do the thing that I am accusing you of doing. (Your love is noted. ;) )