AN: Oh boy! A chapter! Thank you for reading! And also reviewing!
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As morning faded under the blaze of afternoon heat, Katara stayed in bed. She had tucked Sokka's wolf-tail back into a fold in her sash, but she looped her mother's necklace around her wrist so that she could touch the ivory disk - and so that that disk wouldn't be damaged by the iron collar still hanging from her throat. Unmotivated to read or do anything else, she ran her fingertip around the carving in a slow, endless circuit.
Machi had quickly come to oversee the placement of a large copper tub in a corner of the sitting room and, after having it filled, had left Katara alone with her healers. The maids, she said, required review and Sian would be in the infirmary for a while longer. It was heartening that the difference between majordomos was already so stark, but it all made little difference, really.
Katara traced the disk. It felt strange to her healing fingers. Far off and too close at once.
"So you're betrothed, too?"
She didn't look at where Iyuma stood in the doorway, but she heard Sutka shift over in the corner. The older healer had settled there to read by the low light from the shuttered window, ostensibly out of boredom, but it was pretty obvious she was here to keep an eye on her patient.
"No," Katara said to the ceiling. "It was my mother's."
"Oh." Iyuma seemed to hesitate, tapping one finger rapidly on the doorframe, then surged into the room. "Alright, I can't take it anymore."
She knelt quickly at the bedside and, finally, Katara looked at her. The eyes she met were bright, fiercely focused.
"Is it true the Fire Prince makes you… do stuff?"
Katara blinked, confused. "Stuff."
"Don't be obtuse. Does he make you touch him?"
"For La's sake, Iyuma," Sutka muttered. She looked up from her book with no small amount of disgust. "That's not a thing you ask a woman."
"I'm not apologizing for asking her to her face instead of assuming every dirty rumor is true." Iyuma held her head high and peered down at Katara. "It's not your fault if something happened."
"Nothing happened," Katara snapped, then immediately felt guilty for lying. She shifted against the bed while her face burned. "Zuko wouldn't do anything like that. He can be a real jerk, but he's honorable. In that way, anyway."
Iyuma watched her a moment before a skeptical half-smile pulled up one side of her face. "So he really did want you back in this apartment so you'd be comfortable? Not so you'd be close at hand?"
"I guess."
Katara wasn't actually sure why Zuko had been so insistent she come back today. It probably wasn't as simple as either of the possibilities Iyuma was offering, but just thinking about his motivations made her desperately tired all over again.
Iyuma opened her mouth to ask some other question, but Katara was saved from having to answer by the sound of the exterior panels opening out in the hallway. With a bewildered glance at the others, Iyuma made her way to the door and poked her head out.
She popped back in immediately, head down and hands linked before her. "Prince Zuko."
Sure enough, an instant later he stormed through the door. He paid no attention at all to Sutka, who had risen to attention in the corner, but focused instead on Katara.
"What are you doing in bed? It's hardly past midday."
Katara let out a sigh and looked back at the ceiling. Apparently being left alone was too much to ask. "I'm recuperating."
"You're moping."
"I went through a major healing and I had kind of an active morning," Katara snapped. "It takes time to recover."
"You've had six days. Do you want to know what I was doing six days after I was burned?" He raised his chin as if to put his scar even more on display. "I was searching the ruins of the Western Air Temple for the Avatar."
Katara didn't think about it. She was tired and achey and irritable and he just wouldn't stop being so bossy, so superior. So Zuko.
"You? Obsessively stalking a little kid? Shocking."
Zuko narrowed his eyes and crossed the room in three steps. Despite her sputtered protests, he scooped her up off the bed and marched out of the bedroom with her. Katara got a brief glimpse of Iyuma and Sutka's alarmed faces. Sutka actually raised an arm as if to stop him. Then they were gone.
Zuko carried her into the sitting room and Katara had a sudden fear he would dunk her in the tub. Only he didn't do that. He settled her on her sitting cushion at the table and left her there as he strode back to her bedroom. In the hallway, Iyuma and Sutka came into view, squeezing against the wall to stay out of his way. A moment later he returned carrying the basin Katara used to wash her face. He dipped it in the tub and then plunked it down on the table in front of her. Water sloshed over the sides. Katara glared up at him, still incensed but confused now as well.
Zuko glared back. "Teach them."
Katara blinked, glanced at the two healers hovering in the doorway. When she looked back up at Zuko, her eyes kept getting wider.
"They're your people. They need you. Every second you train them could mean the difference between life and death."
He was furious. His yellow eyes flashed and his jaw twitched. He stared down at her like she was standing across a battlefield and he meant to take her off it.
"Are you going to really help them? Or are you just going to throw yourself under the cane for them, too?"
For a moment, the room was silent. Katara couldn't look away from the man standing over her. She couldn't process right now what it meant that he would bully her into this, of all things. All she could do was nod.
"Okay."
Zuko watched her a moment longer, then nodded and swept from the room. In the doorway, he paused to assess Sutka and Iyuma in turn.
"I understand the Northern Water Tribe has taboos. Am I going to have to come back here and tell either of you what I think of them?"
"No, Prince Zuko," they said together in hushed voices.
He nodded again and stalked outside, slamming the panel shut behind him.
Katara heaved a calming breath and watched the two healers hesitantly step into the room. At a loss for how she should feel about this, she settled her hands on the tabletop on either side of the basin. "We should get started. I don't know when Machi will send more maids and this is obviously something you will want to keep secret."
Sutka rubbed the side of her neck as she sat at the table. Iyuma glanced back over her shoulder. "Is… Is this a trick? Is there a chance that he'll 'catch us in the act' later and have us punished?"
"No," Katara said. "Zuko doesn't play tricks. He's…"
What was he exactly? She couldn't seem to put words to what she was thinking of him right now. Insufferable, belligerent, puffed up… fretful…
"Honorable," Iyuma sighed as she sat at the table. "Right. Not that I'm complaining. I just thought if I ever learned to waterbend, it'd be a more rebellious and empowering experience. Not a command from the Fire Prince."
"Has a temper, hasn't he?" Sutka said wonderingly.
Katara only drew the water up from the bowl in a rolling swell. It felt good. Not easy, but soothing and satisfying. Like beating the dust out of the bed skins back home. She felt the change in herself that way. Just faintly lighter. Cleaner.
"Yeah," she said into the stillness, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "the worst temper I've ever seen. But let's forget him for now." She formed the water into a stream and prepared to pass it to her pupils. "A master waterbender must be ready to change direction in an instant…"
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"Zuko, I'm sure you remember my friend Ty Lee. Ty Lee, my brother and his slave."
"Princess Katara of the Southern Water Tribe!" Ty Lee beamed, apparently genuinely excited to meet her. "Everyone's heard of you!"
Zuko watched, nonplussed, as his sister's energetic friend darted around him and began bombarding Katara with questions. The healers had assured him she was well enough to attend this ridiculous party as long as she didn't engage in any strenuous activity. He didn't doubt that she could still easily be exhausted, though, and he had spent the past half hour watching her for signs of fatigue.
When he wasn't searching the ballroom for his father, anyway.
While Ty Lee beamed at Katara and Katara carefully measured her responses, Azula spoke at Zuko's side. "I understand you couldn't get a date, but did you have to bring along the help? People will talk, you know."
"Father insisted." He gritted his teeth. In fact, Ozai had sent a note strongly implying that Katara's absence from this party would be noticed and looked upon as an act of cowardly weakness. The possibility of Zuko's absence had not even warranted mention.
But Zuko would not have missed it anyway. Shortly after returning from Katara's apartment yesterday, he had received an apologetic communique from the naval headquarters refusing to answer his questions about his missing crew on the grounds of the Fire Lord's mandate. Whatever that meant. When he submitted a formal request for an audience with the crown, he had received back a polite but firm invitation to meet with the Minister of Justice instead - which he had summarily done this afternoon, only to be given an oily dose of flattery and non-answers. Zuko was beginning to truly hate ministers.
As much as standing politely next to Azula felt like cozying up to a nest of viper-rats, this party was his best chance of asking Ozai about his crew directly. But approaching an hour in, the Fire Lord had yet to appear.
"Where is he?"
"The Fire Lord cannot be expected to neglect his duties for every frivolity," Azula said crossly. She slanted a look at him and smirked. "Not to worry, though. He'll make an appearance."
He didn't respond, and her smirk faded to something faintly ugly.
"I opened your gift. A set of combs, Zuko? Are you implying my style is too utilitarian?"
Zuko watched her from the corner of his eye. He had ordered the combs from a renowned craftsman who had carved them from mother-of-pearl to match a set he remembered Ursa used to wear. That had been before Azula's brutal lesson on the dueling court, though. Now, he didn't care to admit to having gone to so much trouble for her.
"I would have gotten you a knife but I didn't want to end up with it in my back."
Her mouth curled up at the edges, though she didn't seem to be getting much enjoyment out of this conversation. "Touché, Zuzu. Speaking of knives, someone else you know is here."
He followed her stare to the woman approaching from one of the many clusters of nobles filling the ballroom and was startled enough to blurt out her name.
"Mai."
"Hello, Zuko," she said mildly. The faintest amusement shone through her bored facade.
He hadn't seen his sister's friends since they were children, and the contrast was stark. Ty Lee was taller, but she was still the enthusiastic kid he remembered. Where Mai had been a quiet girl starting to become a bored teenager, now she was a lady of the court. From her precisely executed expression to her immaculate clothing, everything about her spoke of wealth and influence. Even her hand, held lightly to the gentle swell of her belly, was positioned to convey the pride of a noble mother-to-be.
Zuko had expected that he would eventually see Mai again. She had married outside the city, but every noble in the Fire Nation made a point of spending some time in the capital. What surprised him most was how little he felt for the woman before him. She was practically a stranger.
"Congratulations on your marriage," he said, because it was the proper thing to say and he could think of nothing else.
"Thanks," she said blandly. "It was such a huge accomplishment."
Zuko cracked a smile. She looked more like the Mai he had known when she made sarcastic remarks.
"Aren't you going to congratulate her on the baby?" Azula asked. "Zuko does have a soft spot for babies, you know."
She said it loud enough for Katara to hear the cruel reminder. Zuko stiffened.
"That doesn't surprise me," Mai said without so much as blinking at the interpersonal riptide. She peered at Zuko, amused once more, but held the secrets behind her eyes.
Zuko inquired after her family, more to block Azula out of the conversation than out of genuine interest. Ty Lee jumped in with prompts for more details about her life in the provincial city where she now lived, to which Mai responded with pleasant disgust.
"It's so boring there. Nothing to do but practice throwing knives and see how nervous I can make the household staff. But the theater isn't too terrible." Her sharp eyes slid back to Zuko and she smiled, just faintly. "We recently saw 'Love in Winter.' It's sentimental trash like most plays, but the Storm Spirit had some good moments."
Zuko frowned but didn't ask her to elaborate. The instant she had mentioned the play's name, his stomach had clenched hard as a fist. It was obvious she had recognized the parallels to him and Katara. He didn't want to know which moments she had enjoyed, or why.
Luckily, Ty Lee volunteered the latest play she had seen and Azula baldly told them both they were wasting their time on such inconsequential amusements. An unfathomable look passed among them. Mai assessed Azula, then raised an eyebrow at Ty Lee, who looked like she wanted to apologize. Unnerved and bewildered by what he sensed was girl stuff, Zuko had no desire to know what was going on. At length, Mai made her excuses and went off to find her husband.
"I still can't get over how happy she seems," Ty Lee said wonderingly. "I've never seen her aura so rosy."
"Maybe her mind is going soft from the pregnancy," Azula offered with a cool shrug. She turned on Zuko. "No sparks, Zuzu? Didn't you miss your girlfriend?"
Very aware of Katara hovering behind his shoulder - but not so stupid as to look at her - Zuko gritted his teeth. It didn't matter what she thought, not really. The time when things like that had mattered between them was long over and Zuko took this opportunity to stomp that fact into his brain once more. A necessary reminder of the truth of his reality.
"I had bigger things on my mind. You know, with being banished and all."
"I always kind of hoped you two would get back together one day in a big romantic reunion," Ty Lee said, but then shrugged. "But you've both changed so much. I don't think she could make you happy anymore."
"Nothing makes Zuko happy." Azula frowned at him as if he was an amusement fated to disappoint. "Even when he has exactly what he wants, he has to find something wrong with how he got it."
"Sounds like someone's chakras are out of alignment! I know someone who could help you with that. She is so talented - every time I have a session with her, my energy flows so much more smoothly."
"There's nothing wrong with my energy flow," Zuko said sourly, though he was no longer paying attention.
Finally, across the crowded room, he spotted the Fire Lord assuming the raised seat from which he could survey the festivities. Zuko quickly made his excuses and left his sister and her friend behind. He had almost forgotten that Katara was following after him until she spoke quietly at his shoulder. He slowed his pace to listen, though he didn't take his eyes off Ozai.
"How is that girl friends with Azula? She seems so… nice."
"Ty Lee does what Azula wants her to do. She always has. To my sister, that's what it means to be a friend."
Katara was silent for a moment. "It almost makes me feel sorry for her."
Zuko thought about that, though he didn't really want to. "Makes sense. After all these years of going along with whatever Azula wants, Ty Lee probably can't refuse to do anything without facing retribution. She's trapped, no matter how much she smiles about it."
"I meant Azula," she said softly.
Zuko stopped short and shot her an incredulous frown, but she only shrugged faintly.
"It's probably lonely, not having any real friends."
"You know she gave me the idea for you to challenge Zhao to an Agni Kai, right?" he asked very quietly. "She set you up. Like she always does."
"I was the one who lost."
Zuko wanted to argue with her about it - specifically, he wanted to pick a fight with her until she dropped that calm servant's mask and glared at him the way she had in her apartment last night - but this wasn't the place for an argument. He turned smoothly and carried on crossing the ballroom without a backward glance.
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Katara watched Zuko's ramrod-straight back from the corner of her lowered eyes. She wasn't sure why she was here, except to show the gathered members of the court that she was still alive. Only it didn't seem to matter. The nobles didn't look at her the way they had a week ago. Their eyes registered her, then slid past her as they would any other servant.
The servants were another story. Since the confrontation with Pokui, Katara had found herself subtly elevated. Machi gave her space and let her keep only Sian and a rotation of healers in her rooms. The guards remained out in the hallways, not hovering in the entryway as Roshu had. A moment ago, a footman had even offered her wine from his tray while she was talking to Ty Lee. She had declined mostly out of surprise, but it was still new that she would be served refreshments at one of these events.
Whatever had changed, it extended no further than the staff, so Katara walked a step behind Zuko with her eyes down and her head bent forward as she usually did. She could still clearly tell where they were going, and it was no surprise when they arrived at the base of the dais and Zuko bowed. She bowed with him, a single coordinated movement, and tried not to think about who she was bowing to.
The Fire Lord watched his son's approach impassively. "Zuko. How uplifting to see your slave in such glowing health."
Zuko rose from his bow, and Katara rose with him - as much as was proper - but she was burning. She could feel the Fire Lord's eyes crawling over her face, her arms, every inch of skin that was not concealed by her formal tunic and trousers. Blood surged and then drained from her face in a nauseating rush.
"Not one unsightly scar," he went on, and though his voice was low, there was a threat in his eyes when he looked back at Zuko. "I hope she will not forget the cost of challenging a master."
"No, Father," Zuko said tightly. "She won't."
She didn't feel betrayed when he said it, because she sensed there could be no other answer. She sensed, too, that they weren't talking about her anymore, not exactly, and she quailed from the logical conclusion to that line of thinking.
"You want something," Ozai challenged. "Out with it."
As if he had been waiting for this signal, Zuko spoke rapidly. "Father, my crew has been missing since the attack on the palace. I've sent inquiries to every naval-"
"For their treason, they were imprisoned and will remain that way."
Zuko was silent for one stunned instant. "Treason? Those men served me closely for five years. They're loyal Fire Nation seamen."
"Are they?" Ozai asked coldly. "Or did they help your traitorous uncle and his war party slip into Harbor City? Was it ever you they served, Zuko?"
"Yes. It was."
His conviction stabbed into the ground between them like a flag. Katara felt it, and she saw the Fire Lord's fingers flex on the arms of his grand chair. Zuko, though, went on.
"If anyone asked them, I have no doubt they would provide a reasonable explanation."
"As all traitors do."
The grim words rattled down Katara's spine - because the Fire Lord looked flatly at his son as he said them. Then, in the next moment, he tipped his head to one side.
"Very well. Since it matters so very much to you, I will permit you to visit your men in the Harbor City jail where they are awaiting tribunal. You may ask them yourself. Write up a report of your findings for my consideration."
"Thank you, Father." Zuko bowed in gratitude - and Katara bowed along with him, though she kept her eyes subtly watching the Fire Lord's curl-toed shoes.
"Do take an armed escort," Ozai said, low and silky once more, "and your slave as well. The rising heat has fed the unrest in the lower city. It's becoming quite dangerous."
Zuko thanked his father again, and bowed again, and Katara followed after him through the party and out into the quieter, cooler corridor. As the noise of the gathering faded away, her anxiety gnawed more ferociously upon her. They were alone now, and she stared at his back as he strode ahead, as the distance between them gradually increased.
The pointed shoulders of his formal robes made him look bigger than he really was, and she couldn't stop seeing that right now. She couldn't stop seeing the pale side of his neck above the high collar, the pulse still beating hard there.
Zuko abruptly realized she was falling behind, and stopped and looked back at her. He held out his arm for her to lean on. "Are you tired? Do you-?"
"I hate the way he talks to you."
Zuko stared at her, and Katara felt herself blush in the wake of the blurted words. His cheek reddened too, but the side with the scar stayed the same, too twisted and damaged to react. Then all at once he scowled and turned to walk on. "I don't know what you're talking about. He's giving me a chance to help my men."
Katara followed, walking more quickly than was comfortable to keep pace. "You believe in their loyalty and he wants to take that away from you."
"The Fire Lord can't always afford mercy. When he reads my report, he'll understand that it's warranted in this case."
"He's already made up his mind, Zuko."
He turned on her and bared his teeth. "Stop it, Katara."
Katara stared back at him and wondered if it was worth the energy it would take to go on. Just like his father, Zuko's mind was made up, and he was going to believe what he wanted, what he needed to believe to keep living this life. In his eyes there was a brittle light he was trying to disguise as anger, and - she could see it, now - a fragile thing he was trying to drive out of himself. Faced with the deep wreckage in him, and with his every failure and betrayal up until this moment, Katara knew it was futile to argue with him. Pointless to even try.
But yesterday he had helped her. He had been just and decisive. Considerate, even, though she had hardly noticed it in the moment. And then, when she had needed it, he had given her a shove. It embarrassed and annoyed her that it was him of all people to do it, but she couldn't deny the result. Each time she had raised the water today and led her students through the movements of the first form, her body had felt stronger and her mind clearer. More her own.
So Katara drew a breath as the futility and despair assailed her, and then she let it all flow out and away. It didn't go far. The doubts clung to her, stubborn as seagrass, but they no longer seemed like the only true things. It didn't matter if Zuko refused to listen. Katara could only choose to speak or be silent, and silence hadn't done much for her lately.
Besides, she owed him a shove.
"Trusting trustworthy people makes you strong," she said, feeling the truth of it in her bones. "But the Fire Lord doesn't want you to trust anyone, Zuko. He wants you to be less than what you are, because that's the only way you'll go along with the things he does."
A peculiar look came over Zuko's face, as if she had yanked a rug out from under him and he couldn't decide whether to rail at her or grab hold of her to steady himself. For that one heartbeat, she could see it in his eyes, how desperately he needed to be steadied. Then it was gone, and he only watched her for signs of further treachery.
"Trusting trustworthy people?" he finally asked, only a bit scathing. "That sounds like touchy-feely Water Tribe stuff."
"Wisdom is wisdom," Katara said primly.
She was no longer looking at him, but from the corner of her eye, she caught the upward tick of his mouth as he turned away and continued on down the corridor. He did not glance back at her or offer an arm again, but his pace was easier than before. Katara followed in his shadow, trying not to notice, and trying not to care where his mind had gone in that teetering instant.
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Zuko arranged for the palanquin and armed escort to depart early the following morning, but even just barely cresting the horizon, the sun bore down with cruel intent. The curtains were tied open to catch the breeze during the journey down the switchbacked road, but as they entered Harbor City, the captain in charge of his escort dropped back to suggest they be closed.
"There have been some violent incidents, your highness. Thrown garbage. Bottles, sometimes. I doubt anyone would dare strike at a member of the royal family, but there's a first time for everything."
Behind him and to one side, he felt rather than saw Katara shift uncomfortably. Probably, she was remembering her last walk through the lower city, when someone had tried to throw a rock at her and Sokka. But Zuko was not afraid.
"Leave them open," he said, frowning straight ahead down the wide avenue and the scattering of workers going about their business there. Their eyes lifted and latched onto him. "I wish to see my people."
They continued down the avenue and then turned onto the street that would take them most directly to the city jail. At what he saw, Zuko grew steadily more unsettled. Off the main avenue, a few stalls were set up to sell fruit or roasted meat. They did a healthy business, but dirty children hovered nearby like hungry gulls, and the peddlers watched them coldly even as customers came and went. Guards patrolled everywhere, idly swinging their billy clubs. At the sight of them, the children scattered. Their tiny bodies vanished among the shoppers like smoke.
"Is school just for rich kids in the Fire Nation?" Katara asked in an undertone.
"No. There are public schools in this city."
"Then I guess everyone's just playing hooky today."
Her sarcasm grated on him, but it struck a chord too. Something wasn't right, here. It wasn't right that there were so many guards on patrol along this street, either. Of course, the city watch would arrange for a safe route to take the Heir Apparent through the city, but he was beginning to get the feeling there was a lot more going on here than he was being allowed to see.
"Captain," he said, summoning the man from where he marched with the forward unit. "Take us down the dock lane."
Just the way the soldier's eyes widened told him too much. "Your highness, that's a very dangerous part of the city-"
"Do it."
At a loss, the captain marched ahead and directed his guards to turn down a side street. It was considerably narrower and sloped downward, marred here and there with heaps of refuse. Overhead, laundry had been hung out to dry like vines roping through a canopy. After a few blocks, they turned again to take the wider street that would eventually circle down to the docks. Here, Zuko began to really see what was going on in this city.
People huddled in the shadows of each alley. A lot of people. There were mothers holding scrawny, still children, and children holding just themselves. For the most part, though, they were men, missing limbs or an eye. Many still wore their hair in a military topknot despite their ragged clothes.
As Zuko passed, their dim eyes fixed on him. Light flashed into them. Hope or hatred, or some desperate twisting of both together.
They began following him.
He could not look back without appearing nervous, but he heard the scrape of crutches, the steadily building rustles of ragged cloth and bare feet on the paving stones. A baby's persistent cry.
Zuko did not move, but his fingers twisted into the fabric on his thighs. It was clear many of the men were veterans, but what were they doing living on the street like beggars? Weeks ago, when he had visited Lord Gan for tea and they had discussed the "homeless presence" and the treatment of veterans, he had brushed up on the numbers and been ready to argue the Fire Lord's case, as was the role of the Heir Apparent.
Now, looking at so many gaunt faces, he was ashamed to have performed that duty. The numbers couldn't be right; they didn't tell this story. More and more people climbed to their feet and hobbled to join the crowd following him, and Zuko felt the weight of them settle on his shoulders, one by one.
"You have to help these people."
Katara's whisper was thick with feeling. He didn't turn to look at her, but he nodded stiffly in reply.
"Get them food. Shelter. They could die in this heat."
"I know."
"Then you have to do something."
He did look at her then, a hard look over his shoulder. "I will. But we have to stay calm right now, or this situation could turn really bad for everyone."
Katara stared back at him, and he could see the doubt in her tired eyes. She wanted him to do something, but she was not certain that he could, or maybe that he would. Zuko frowned and straightened.
"You need to trust me. Remember?"
For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then, faintly. "I'm trying."
It was all he should have hoped for. It was all she had promised. Even so, it stung. Zuko absorbed that, and stared straight up the street, over the heads of the tense guards.
Finally, the city jail appeared ahead. More armed guards waited there, and they formed up into a barrier surrounding the palanquin where it settled in the street. Zuko emerged and took two steps toward the low entrance, a door with bars set in a small viewing window, but then he stopped. He turned to look at the gathering crowd.
There were not as many as he had thought, but more were trickling down the street. They stopped well clear of the wall of guards. For now.
A portly man in a snug uniform bustled out of the jail and, bowing deeply, approached. "Your highness! Such an honor to be visited-"
"Take me to my men, Warden," Zuko snapped, and marched past him through the door. Katara held her post closely, so the warden had to follow behind her as they entered the jail, then hurry around to get in position to guide the way.
The jail was two cramped levels connected by wrought iron walkways and stairs. The cells were not large, but half a dozen prisoners were held in each. They shouted and laughed coarsely among themselves until a guard walked past, rattling his club along the bars. Then there was silence - or mutters, whispers, Zuko's name passing from cell to cell.
At the far end of the lower level, a couple of large enclosures were filled with prisoners. There were too many bodies for so few beds and benches, so several of them sat hunched on the floor. When Zuko stepped into view, they all scrambled to their feet to bow. Their faces were achingly familiar. Soldiers and engineers and the helmsman, all bedraggled and crowded together.
"Prince Zuko!" Lieutenant Jee stepped up to the bars and offered a salute. Dressed in stained prison clothes and with the burden of his internment sagging his face, he still managed to hold himself like an officer. "We knew you would come, sir."
Seeing the breathless way these men watched him now, Zuko doubted that very much. They had begun to think he had forgotten them. It was no wonder, really. They had been rotting in this jail for nearly two weeks. For all they knew, he had left them here intentionally.
And now Zuko had arrived - not to free them, but to ask their side of the story. As if he did not already know it. As if Iroh, aware of the fallout, would do anything but hijack the ship. But Zuko was to pretend he did not know these things. He was to ask, and in doing so inflict a new insult on the servicemen who had followed him through five years of exile. He was to write up a report and await the Fire Lord's decision. He was to defend the Fire Lord's policies against his critics, and if he would do things differently, he was to keep it to himself. That was what a good prince and loyal son would do. Follow, support, obey.
Before the war meeting, Zuko had been able to believe that he could perform those duties and still enact change. He had researched countless reports to develop a realistic plan that would bring order and peace to the Earth Kingdom, and he had waited until the perfect moment to present that plan to the war council. All of his caution and preparation had come to nothing. There could be no suing for peace. There could be no treaty. Ozai wanted nothing less than total submission. And barring that, annihilation.
For a week now, Zuko had busied himself with studies and worries about Katara and the rearrangement of his household staff, but it was all a distraction from the fact that his mind never rested easy. When he woke sweating in the night, the nightmares that hounded him took only one shape. A mountain-sized beast with embers for skin and a voracious furnace of a mouth, gulping down every person he had ever known. Zuko watched their faces every night, screaming for help while he sat frozen on his dais with a crown pinned in his false hair. Last night, after receiving the Fire Lord's permission for this visit, he had watched his crew - the men standing before him now - vanish into that blinding-hot maw.
When he jolted awake, his mind had hammered with certainty. After all of these months of doubt, of fighting so hard to hold out hope, it was frightening how easy it was to admit the truth.
The world wasn't going to survive Sozin's Comet - not even the Fire Nation. His homeland was changing every day in subtle, irreparable ways. Iron collars. Bombs from the sky. Crowds of desperate people. Harbor City was suffering now. Loyal soldiers and innocent people were suffering now.
And Zuko was to submit to the hobble of loyalty and do nothing.
He wants you to be less than what you are, because that's the only way you'll go along with the things he does.
Zuko turned his head and looked at Katara as if she had said the words out loud again. Her eyes were cast down but she was watching the men in the cell, and she was watching him. Like his crew, she doubted him - how could she not, after everything he had put her through - but it was like she had cut to the bones of his own suspicions and laid them out so he could no longer deny the form they took.
Because Zuko knew he was changing in subtle, irreparable ways, too. He felt himself eroding toward something, some final form. The thing he was trying to become, the perfect prince his father wanted, would proudly stand at the Fire Lord's side and scorch all life out of the Earth Kingdom. He could feel it inside him, that monster growling to be set loose.
But that wasn't Zuko - or at least not all of him. It was less than what Zuko truly was, what he could be.
He heard Jee clear his throat, but it sounded so far away. Katara glanced up at him in an unspoken question, and for a moment their eyes met and held.
Rain struck through with sunlight, a silent thunder mumbling through him. Suddenly, Zuko knew exactly what to do.
"Warden," he snapped. "Release my crew."
The man's hand brushed the keys at his hip before he hesitated. "Your highness, the tribunal is-"
"Canceled. These men are loyal soldiers, and I won't tolerate further insults to their honor. Open these cells or I will see to it that you take their place."
The warden jumped to obey. The jangle and scrape of keys was the only sound in the jail as every guard and prisoner watched, stunned. Zuko felt their eyes on him, waiting to see what he would do next. Katara's eyes were on him, too, but he tried not to notice that.
The moment the door swung open, Jee emerged and bowed hand-over-fist. "Prince Zuko, I think I can speak for all of us. Thank you-"
"Later, Lieutenant." Zuko turned on his heel and marched toward the exit. "Round them up. We have somewhere to be."
Jee snapped to the task, rapping out orders and seeing that the crew formed up into neat rows. Zuko didn't bother to look back. He knew his Lieutenant was a capable man - and besides, he had much larger problems to face now.
The first of them presented itself the instant he stepped outside.
The crowd had swelled to choke the entire street in both directions. Guards still held their ground in a protective box around the palanquin, but the margin between them and the onlookers had narrowed to mere inches. They were trapped.
And at the appearance of their prince, a hundred voices rose to plead - and to curse him.
