Chapter 1: The Heir

Zuko woke up in pain.

He squinted in the dark, and for a moment, with the absence of windows, it seemed like he was back on his bunk on his ship. Then he remembered that was a year ago, and so much had happened since then. His memory was hazy; he recalled waiting with bated breath in an earthen tunnel, pleading with Mai, Katara clutching her stomach, fighting with Azula.

There were sconces on the wall with small flames that did little to illuminate the room but as his eyes adjusted, he saw there was not much else except the bed he was lying on and an iron door. The walls were also made of metal and realisation dawned. A prison cell.

He struggled to sit up, grimacing as his whole body ached. He was still dressed in what he wore the day of the battle but there was a telling black scorch mark in the centre of his tunic. He pulled the ruined fabric up and even in the dim light he could see the tree-like lesions feathering down from his chest to his navel. Ah, yes, he remembered, Azula had gotten him good.

He didn't understand how he was still alive but the pain unmistakably proved he was.

The significance of his current predicament hit him. If he was here, in a Fire Nation cell, then his father had won. Aang was most likely dead. Toph and Katara had been there too – he had seen Toph go down hard and not get up. And Katara… there had been so much blood…

Grief overcame him, as his good eye stung with tears.

Without a view to outside, it was hard to know how much time had passed; he might have even fallen asleep again once or twice.

A jangle of keys outside his cell broke the silence. The door creaked open and two masked guardsmen walked in, one holding keys and the other with a torch so bright just looking at it hurt.

Zuko should have been offended that they only sent two but, in his current condition, he reflected that even one would have been enough.

"Prince Zuko," one of them warned though he strained to hear him. "Your wounds are quite severe. We would advise you not to resist as we have been asked to transport you with minimal harm."

Transport him to where, he was tempted to ask except his throat was far too raw to comply. They helped him to his feet though Zuko could not stand straight with the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. They stood either side to brace his weight and guide him down more dimly lit corridors until they ascended winding stairs and stood outside a wooden door. They knocked and entered without waiting.

He expected a torture chamber – if they were planning on executing him, it would be somewhere public after all – though he was uncertain what information he could possibly share. Fortunately, there were no such devices in sight.

Instead, there was an abundance of candles and a large table in the centre with leather restraints. A man in white and red robes had his back to him but by the time Zuko was laid upon the surface, he had approached and held a brush and a small clay jar.

Calmly, he instructed the guards to remove the prince's tunic and restrain him. In the low light of his cell, Zuko had missed the dark purple bruises spanning his ribcage but the lesions were still bright red marks across his torso resembling the same lightning bolt that caused it.

With his brush, the man applied the sweet smelling paste to various points on Zuko's chest then stuck dried flowers to those same points. It burned when he lit it but the bitter tasting herb he told Zuko to chew "for the pain" quickly distracted him.

It was pointless for Zuko to resist; he was still dizzy and in pain with no idea where he was, or where the others were.

While Zuko's head spun, various other poultices were applied and incense burned. A cup of amber liquid was offered and he drank greedily. Upon reflection, as his eyelids grew heavy, it may not have been the smartest thing to do. He knew at least they had no intention of killing him. Yet.

As the pain began to fade, Zuko almost wished he would not wake up.

There was most definitely a significant improvement when he next awoke. The upgraded sleeping conditions might have had something to do with it, as he found himself in soft silk sheets with feather pillows.

Though he hadn't yet looked, he was already aware of a weight at the end of the bed. He wasn't sure what to expect, but she would most certainly not have been his first guess.

"Mai." His voice was raspy and his vision was still blurry but by the time he had sat up and rubbed all traces of sleep clear, she was wearing her customary frown – although one that had not been customary for him, before he had done what he had done.

He was not in the cell, or in the herbalist's room; it was his old bedroom with the large four-poster bed and the large windows that overlooked the courtyard, untouched from when he last slept here, albeit with his decorative broadswords removed from his wall.

Mai's eyes dropped to his chest but Zuko knew her gaze was on the slightly faded blemishes rather than any admiration for his physique. Her frown deepened and she stood, tucking her hands in her long sleeves. No doubt she had a stash of sharp daggers hidden within reach.

"I was to bring you to the throne room as soon as you awoke," Mai said monotonously as if he had not seen the flash of emotion when she observed his injuries. "I don't think I need to warn you what will happen if you're a pain."

With the thought of what his father would have in store for him in a public setting, Zuko felt like being petulant. "I don't care what you do to me, it won't be any worse than what waits for me there."

"I never said anything was going to happen to you," Mai replied.

It took a few moments for Mai's revelation to kick in. "Who?" Zuko asked eagerly, his fingers clutching the sheets as if it was a new lifeline.

For the sake of the world, he should have hoped it was Aang. But he was not the first person that he dared to hope was still living after all they had been through together.

Mai rolled her eyes at him then pointed with a long, sharp nail to the bundle of clothes on his dresser.

"Put that on and meet me outside, if you want to find out."

The throne room was almost as he remembered with sweltering heat from the flames that separated the Fire Lord from those beneath him. However, the blue flames were new, as was the smaller frame that sat upon the red and gold seat.

Zuko's eyes swept the room in confusion, looking for the tall form of Ozai. He would never allow someone else to stand in for him, even for a moment, even to play an awful trick on his son. It felt like Zuko had just stepped on the trigger of a trap, and he was just waiting to be taken out.

"Thank you, Mai, you may leave us now."

Mai bowed, "As you wish, Fire Lord Azula."

The figure on the chair stood and the blue flames parted. She walked through the gap in all her elaborate robes and with that smirk that seemed to hardly ever drop from her face. Why would it? Azula always won.

"Azula? Where is Father?"

"That's Fire Lord Azula." Azula corrected with a haughty tone and pointed to her large golden hairpiece. "Father is dead," she continued matter-of-factly as if she had said it multiple times, "Unfortunately, the Avatar put an end to his blaze of glory." It sounded like a well-rehearsed line.

His stomach sunk. Ozai had done terrible things, and Zuko had been one of his many victims but rather than relief, he felt dissatisfied. He had wanted to prove to his father he was wrong, to demand to know what he had done to his mother, to take out his own revenge on that man that had caused him so much pain.

All he had was questions. "Why aren't I locked in a cell?"

Azula met his question with a sly smile. "It doesn't really make sense for me to lock up the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation now does it?"

Zuko's brow furrowed, "What? Why would you do that?"

"Well," she drawled. "Admittedly it's been a while since I was in the presence of children, I have no interest in them. Though I do excel at most things, motherhood is not for me.

"You and Mai though," she teased with a glint in her eye. "I imagine you would make cute babies. With your angst and her apathy, I won't have to worry about giggling children at least. You know she was heartbroken when you left, right? For one moment I thought she might betray me but fortunately for her, she's smarter than that. Although I do think if you made a move she'd let you come crawling back."

Zuko frowned. From the wake up call he had had this morning, he doubted Mai would ever let him close to her again. She undoubtedly deserved more than he could give her and he did not want to hurt her anymore.

Shaking those thoughts away, Zuko moved the conversation back to his main purpose.

"Is Aang… Is the Avatar alive?"

"Jeez, I didn't kill any of your friends, Zuko. Though I should have, as they have all tried to attack me. Fortunately for them, they all serve their purpose to me better alive than dead. Killing the Avatar will just continue the cycle and the Bei Fongs are an influential Earth Kingdom family. As for the waterbender, well, she will be a useful bargaining chip for the Water Tribe pests. They are all safe in their cages, and will stay that way. Unless you decide to cross me again."

Azula had indeed won, like always, but there was something else she always did. "How do I know they're still alive?"

Azula nodded to one of her guards and something blue and maroon was thrown at Zuko. Thankfully he was recovered enough to catch it, recognising the carved pendant immediately.

Katara's necklace. He knew how important this was to her, how she would fight tooth and nail to keep it. The blue ribbon was stained with dried blood.

"Katara was seriously wounded," Zuko said, attempting to quell his racing thoughts. Trying not to imagine the worst if Azula had this in her possession. "And this doesn't prove any of them are still alive."

"Fine," Azula sighed, "Have it your way. You can visit your little water peasant if you are so worried." She turned to one of her soldiers. "Fetch Mai, will you? She'll accompany Prince Zuko to the cells."

He would rather she didn't, but it didn't seem to matter what Zuko wanted. Azula clearly, understandably, didn't trust him alone. It was just awkward that his ex-girlfriend had been chosen as his babysitter.

Waiting and fingering the silk ribbon absent-mindedly, Zuko worried what he would find in the cells.

"Uh-uh-uh," Azula admonished before he moved to the door and gestured to the same guard that had thrown Katara's prized possession. "I'll be taking my trophy back please. I won it fair and square." Zuko looked at the necklace in his fist, knowing how much it meant to Katara, but knowing more was at stake here. He couldn't openly defy Azula without risking Katara suffering the consequences. Begrudgingly he tossed it back to the soldier, who caught it with ease.

He was escorted down more corridors alongside three guards and a silent Mai, heading further and further underground. He wondered why they weren't being held at the Boiling Rock but then that wasn't Azula's style. He remembered her burning the wings off butterflies then observing them closely as signs of life slowly faded away.

He could only hope Katara was not in a similar state.

'NO LIQUIDS' was marked on a sign just by the iron cell door the guard stopped at. He took out some iron keys and held the door open. Zuko glanced to Mai. She did not look her usual bored self, but was schooling her expression carefully.

"What are you waiting for? Permission?" she asked, obviously impatient. He considered himself permitted, and entered the cell.

He found Katara curled up on the metal cot, shivering. He hadn't realised how cold it was down here, able to regulate his own temperature, but without her furs and skins it was clearly affecting her. The pallor of her face was worrying but far more troubling was the metal handcuffs that held Katara's arms ramrod straight behind her back and fixed in place. Her fingers were blue.

Zuko ignored his audience to kneel by the bed. "Katara," he whispered.

Katara stirred and winced as if in pain. Cerulean eyes fluttered open then widened as she took in her visitors. She shifted, almost trying to roll into the wall the bed was up against to get away. Her bewilderment quickly gave way to anger as her chapped lips pulled into a scowl.

"Get away from me," she hissed in a raspy voice.

Maybe she was still disorientated from her injuries? "Katara," he tried again, "It's me, Zuko."

She looked at him head to toe as if assessing whether he was in fact who he claimed to be. By the way her brow furrowed, she did not like what she saw.

She had to be delirious – the blood loss, the position she was kept in, dehydration, the cold; she could not survive like this. She glared when he reached behind her to feel the pulse in her wrist. He could hardly feel it. "Fetch a healer," Zuko ordered one of the guards. "And some water."

"But—" he tried to argue before Zuko interrupted.

"You've restrained her so that she can't bend, but she still needs fluids." The guard still did not move, so Zuko tried another tactic, turning to Mai. "Please, she lost a lot of blood."

Maybe it was guilt from causing the blood loss – though Mai had undoubtedly injured people with her weapons before (or worse) – or maybe Azula had been right about her feelings, but Zuko got what he wanted when Mai turned to the man with a look that could kill.

"Are you seriously refusing an order from your Prince?" It worked, and the soldier scurried off.

"Thank you," Zuko gave Mai the first smile he had had in a while, but she did not return it. Instead, she watched him wrap a blanket around Katara's shivering shoulders with an unreadable expression.

Yes the tense shift is intentional. It felt right for the battle to be in that style and originally I kept it going but then it just didn't feel right with non-action scenes.

Thanks for the feedback on Toph's perspective on the battle – it was a bit of a fun challenge for myself.

Next: The Sceptic