One Hundred Days
Rating M (R)
Day 5

"Your majesty."

He sat in the chair, his hands chained behind him. Staring down at the table, he did not honor his interrogator with a response.

"Come now, Prince Zuko. Is this anyway to treat an old friend?"

Zuko looked up. His eyes glared venom.

"We were never friends."

A fist slammed across his face.

"That hurts me, your highness."

Zuko spat, glaring up at his captor. The older man scowled slightly before a smirk graced his features again.

"Zhao, you're going to pay for this."

Zhao kicked Zuko's chair over, and he fell to the ground roughly. He grunted, refusing to give Zhao anymore pleasure than he was already receiving.

Yanking his ponytail, Zhao pulled Zuko up to face him.

"You miserable little shit. I know it was you underneath that stupid mask. That's why I went to the trouble of blowing up that pretty little ship of yours and fished you out of the water."

Zuko stayed silent.

"Suit yourself."

Zhao shrugged. He kicked Zuko in the abdomen, hard. He picked him up and threw him against the wall, a tight fist at his neck.

Zuko glared back. Zhao increased the pressure on his neck, but Zuko did not cry out.

Zhao frowned. He dropped Zuko, who fell to the floor and coughed a bit as he caught his breath.

"It's not over, Prince Zuko."

Zuko glared up at him. A single second passed before Zuko growled loudly and blew fire at Zhao's face. He easily deflected it, of course, but the act of disobedience was clear.

Zhao yanked Zuko up roughly by his ponytail until their eyes were even, at full height.

"No, Zuko. You're going to pay. Dearly."

Zuko wished it all would go black from there. But it didn't. He wished and he prayed to Agni that the gods would be merciful and knock him out.

But mercy is only reserved for the weak. The strong have to endure.

And endure he did. Right up until he was tossed bleeding into his new cell. Right up until she looked at him with those eyes and looked away again.

She guiltily sighed. He could have sworn those eyes had a glint of blue in them.

Somewhere in that sea of grey had to be the blue. Somewhere, somewhere.

She moved toward him, and with a touch only a healer could possess, wiped clear his forehead of blood.

He was right, those eyes were blue.

Then, and only then, did he pass out.