Chapter Text
II. Recall
The black Fire Nation emblem seemed to stare back at Zuko. He suddenly became very aware of how he breathed as he recalled the last time he had entered this room.
“Enter.”
That one word was enough to make his legs feel like they had turned into concrete. No no, it’s not the word making me feel this way. It’s the source of the voice—it’s Father’s voice.
Nobody besides the Fire Lord was ever allowed to enter the throne room unless their presence was formally requested. Even after Ozai assumed the throne, Zuko and Azula couldn’t just visit unless they were summoned. Not that the throne room was a choice spot to meet, but with the untamable curiosity that pricked the minds of children as it often did, the pair did wonder at times what went on behind that curtain. Zuko’s father and late grandfather Azulon received all guests and visitors in that room, as well as conducted general meetings with the council there. It was in that room where that war meeting had occurred. Zuko’s scar seemed to tingle and he willed the sensation to stop, swallowing hard as he took the first few steps inside the grand hall.
Despite the two long rows of flames that burned whenever the Fire Lord was present (which was often), the room never felt stuffy or overbearingly hot. Perhaps it was because they were firebenders, maybe it was merely the grandiose size of the place, or it could be due to some masterfully designed ventilation system that had been incorporated into the architecture when the palace was built. Zuko never thought to ask why that may be. It sounded like a stupid question even in his head, he realized.
He scanned his left and right, the two guards matching his pace behind him. The massive pillars were many and still bore their golden bases. The dark, tiled flooring reflected the orange glint of the flames that stretched closer to the tips of his toes with each step he took forward.
Finally, he set his eyes on the direction he’d been procrastinating—straight ahead. Zuko wasn’t prepared to meet his father’s gaze after all these years, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to meet the sight of his back either. He was standing stock-still and fixated on the bas-relief dragon behind the throne. He hadn’t even bothered to turn around and look at me.
It seemed like minutes had passed before they finally came to a point before the dais. As he began to kneel, he remembered himself as a young boy, coming to this exact spot with his family to kneel before Fire Lord Azulon. Sometimes, they conducted periodic checkups on their firebending progress in this room before him. A bitter taste grew in his mouth at the memory. He could almost picture a younger Azula in front of him, leaping and weaving through her firebending forms with precision and ease.
The two guards behind Zuko raised their spears and set the end of the handles back down on the ground in unison. A loud thud reverberated throughout the room, and the image of young Azula vanished.
“You are dismissed,” said the Fire Lord.
After a synchronized, 45-degree bow, the two guards turned to exit the throne room to remain stationed outside the entrance. Their armor clanked with each bound as they marched back, not a step out of beat. The curtain fluttered as it was moved aside, the faint sound reverberating throughout the room before quickly fading. Now, he was alone.
Zuko had just noted how it had never felt stuffy in the throne room despite the flames. Now, however, he felt like he would suffocate. A drop of sweat began to form on his forehead and he briskly wiped it away, not daring to take his eyes off of his father’s back for a second in case he turned around. He couldn’t let his father see that he was nervous, even though he felt like he turned white as a sheet.
Even with the rows of bright flames, the throne room hall was so tall and wide that the flames couldn’t illuminate a few sizable portions of the room, especially around the shadows of the pillars. Zuko began to imagine figures forming in those dark corners and crevices that he couldn’t see. He felt like the room could cave in and swallow him whole all while dozens of pairs of eyes watched from the shadows.
Aside from the crackling of the flames, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and the breathing he fought hard to keep measure, no other noises could be heard. He looked down for just a moment to see his hands balled into fists on his lap, repeatedly clenching and unclenching. He willed them to relax. His gaze darted back up, and his father’s back greeted him once again. He was partly relieved he didn’t have to meet his eyes, but still, it felt off. Why won’t he look at me ?
Zuko swallowed a lump in his throat. He couldn’t help but envision when he spoke out of turn, and he suppressed the thought of the events that followed. He refused to make that same mistake and speak first, even if it was just him and Father and not a war meeting. Who knew what constituted speaking out of turn now? One side of his face was still unmarred, leaving plenty of room for another mark of punishment. But who said just his face could be targeted? Father could leave his mark elsewhere, or do something more… permanent. Zuko paled even further. The lack of acknowledgment from his father left his thoughts running amok in the silence. He didn’t know what the conditions on Crescent Island were now. Was Father sending him to certain death? Would he get there only to find out his superiors had orders to beat him if he so much as had one toe out of line, one wrinkle in his bedspread?
Even if the words to come out of his father’s mouth were orders for his execution for failing to capture the Avatar—even though he hadn’t been given a deadline for the mission—he would take any certainty over the unbearable uncertainty that came with waiting now.
He felt another bead of sweat begin to form when Ozai finally spoke, “Azula managed to find you quickly.”
Zuko paused and resisted the unexpected urge to scoff. He shouldn’t be surprised that his father greeted him for the first time after his banishment with an off-handed compliment for Azula.
“Um, yes, Father,” he said uncertainly, hating how small and feeble he sounded.
Ozai then turned around, and Zuko’s breath caught as he took in the sight of his father for the first time in three years. Granted, not much had changed. He carried himself with the same cold confidence, and his hair was long and thoroughly kempt with no grey in sight yet. A familiar, scrutinizing look he seemed to reserve just for Zuko also remained in his eyes, albeit subtly restrained.
“Father, why did you send Azula to come get me?” Zuko asked gingerly, somewhat surprised he had the bravery to speak to him, much more to raise a question. He made it a point to focus more on the Fire Lord’s forehead instead of his eyes.
“Once Azula had heard about the plans for your conscription, she volunteered to be the one to personally collect and escort you back to the palace,” Ozai said evenly.
Azula learned well from Father , Zuko thought bitterly. They both were able to expertly mask whatever their true feelings were, and it was infuriating to be the one on the other end furiously trying to decode their demeanor. Was Father angry at him? Was he—? Wait.
“Father, I don’t believe I understand why I’m being sent to the military. If your concern is about my fighting abilities, I didn’t spend one day aboard that ship resting. I trained my fighting and firebending for hours every day with the crew members and Uncle Iroh.”
He deliberately left out the lectures Uncle would give him regarding his firebending. Basics, Zuko. Your stance, Zuko. The power comes from the breath, not the muscle, Zuko. Basics, basics, basics —he never heard the end of it. Even though Uncle refused to teach him more advanced techniques, he had capably beaten any of the crew members that he faced in a sparring match. Master your basics first , is what Uncle would say each time Zuko came to him requesting his tutelage with more advanced forms. Zuko still couldn’t see why he needed to master the basics. His basics were fine . He was ready. He had been ready for the longest time, and he did get much better. He was also very proficient with dual swords, but that was a fact he needed to leave out even more. Hell, he was getting so impassioned just thinking about Uncle’s stubbornness that he was already formulating an argument as to why he should get to advance. It was almost enough to make him forget that his father was standing before him. Almost . He couldn’t get carried away with that now.
Ozai moved to the cushion and settled into a cross-legged position. Lotus position, actually . He could hear Uncle’s correction sound in his head every time he didn’t refer to the sitting position correctly.
He had to stop thinking about his conversations with Uncle and focus.
Ozai then responded, “I’m sure you managed to keep yourself busy. However, I realized that I may have overestimated such a young boy’s capabilities for a mission as important as capturing the Avatar.” He paused for a moment and folded his arms into his sleeves. “And then I considered the fact that you were about to come of age, and what valuable skills that only time in the military could teach you.
“The Avatar hasn’t been seen for over a hundred years. If the Avatar is still not found by the time you complete your five years of service, and if you manage to complete your service honorably with no record of insubordination, desertion, or otherwise, I will allow you to resume the mission. So, let a few more years pass, and by then you should be much more equipped to take it on, don’t you think?”
Even though Zuko’s head spun and his hands balled into fists again, clutching the fabric of his pants so tight that his knuckles began to turn white, he had the sense to realize that the question was bait. He hung his head.
His father continued, “However, if the Avatar is captured during the time of your service, still see to it that you complete your five years honorably. By the time of your discharge, if the standards of utmost performance have been upheld, you will be welcomed back to the palace.”
Zuko’s head snapped back up, eyes wide. What?
“Additionally, during the duration of your service, you are to be treated as any other soldier would. You are not banished, but you are still not considered royalty. If you disclose your heritage to a commander or comrade with the intent to gain sway or lenience, it will be reported to me and you will be dishonorably discharged and banished once again. Is that clear?”
Zuko’s thoughts began racing in a million different directions. The mission he’d taken charge of for three tireless years was forcefully being taken away from him–all those sleepless nights poring over maps, piecing together tips from citizens around the world, all those hours spent training, planning, meditating–and for what? Zuko could vividly picture the pillar of blue light described by that fisherman before the entirety of his vision became clouded with white-hot rage.
But…then he considered two imperative words : five years . He had a deadline.
Better yet, he had a guarantee.
Granted, it was humiliating to be conscripted. His cousin Lu Ten chose to serve but was under no mandatory term. He joined the military to follow in the footsteps of his father and Zuko’s uncle, Iroh. He was treated like the royalty he was–respected by all as the incredibly capable general’s son, destined to create his own legacy and live on in the Fire Nation history books just as his father did, perhaps even be the one to finally lay the walls of Ba Sing Se to dust, until he…well, until that bright flame of his was extinguished. Zuko doesn’t even remember how long it’s been since they heard of Lu Ten’s passing in combat.
After taking a few moments to consider the last few minutes, Zuko finally nodded his head slowly, jaw clenched. “Yes, Father.”
Ozai clapped his hands twice and the curtains parted open. “Guards, kindly escort Prince Zuko back to his quarters, and send Fire Sage Bai in, if he’s already there.”
Zuko was so far gone in his daze that both guards had to nudge him with the butt of their spears to try and get him to stand. Eventually, each guard looped one arm under Zuko’s armpits and forcefully hoisted him to his feet. He came back to his senses and wrenched himself free, barely able to muster a scowl as they made their way out of the throne room, Fire Sage Bai bowing meekly as they exited and he entered, disappearing behind the curtain.
Despite the three years away from home, hardly anything about the palace had changed. One guard moved to a position in front of him while the other remained behind him, the formation giving them a better chance of regaining control in case the banished prince decided to try and take off. He didn’t dream of attempting it. Hell, he was being led like a prisoner in his own home.
Zuko began to mentally trace the labyrinthine paths he could remember: Two lefts from here, straight for a while, then a right, and that should be the kitchens. Straight ahead, turn right after the fourth door, and that would lead to the library. Straight ahead but take the second left instead, and that would lead to the courtyard, which is probably where we’re heading.
He and the guards turned the corner to a hallway that surrounded the perimeter of the courtyard, just as Zuko had predicted. He then gazed out and into the courtyard, noting the absence of fire lilies but the presence of three familiar figures: Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai.
Zuko's eyes widened with horror. He almost stopped in his tracks entirely before being prodded forward by one of the guards, still not removing his gaze from the three of them. They too, like Azula, had grown.
Ty Lee placed a hand to her mouth in shock once she recognized who he was, her big grey eyes almost doubling in size. Mai, usually impassive, couldn't help but gape at the sudden sight of him. She was characteristically lounging under the shade of the only large tree in the courtyard, while Ty Lee and Azula stood under the sun, whatever conversation they were having being abruptly put on hold.
Zuko then realized that Ty Lee and Mai had never seen him with the scar. He wondered if they even knew the grounds for his banishment and what his mission is…or was . Only his family, high council members, military leaders, and commanding naval officers were present during the Agni Kai. He didn’t know if his father would readily broadcast the news that his feeble son was unfit to rule and subsequently banished, but it had to be common knowledge amongst the higher rings of the Fire Nation leaders and elite, to be made known to the public at a later time. There was still the chance that he could regain his honor and be reinstated after all.
His eyes then narrowed as he met his sister's gaze. She cocked a brow ever so slightly and he sharply turned away with embarrassment, his jaw clenched so forcibly he felt his teeth would crack–the remainder of his dignity spurned by the presence of two people he once called friends.
That cunning sea snake knew that they would see me here , Zuko realized.
He resolutely stared ahead and only ahead, despite feeling their silent but weighty gaze on his scar as they turned a corner. He recognized the familiar path ahead and past the courtyard that would lead to his room. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them.
“Hey, Zuko!” Ty Lee suddenly called, breaking the silence. Zuko winced, but he didn’t turn.
Perhaps it was a good thing that his shame overrode his anger, for he knew he’d be hurling himself at Azula otherwise. Maybe he’d even leave her with a mark of her own to think about. See what it was like to lose face. To be the object of scorn for at least one person, just for once.
Zuko never liked his sister, but that was the moment he truly came to hate her.
Thankfully, Zuko disappeared from their view once they reached the corridor. He strained to hear if they started to ask questions. However, all was quiet except for the steady pace of the three pairs of footsteps bounding down the wooden floor. Did they know what happened? Did Azula simply want to shock them all for the sake of it?
Before he knew it, he was standing outside his old bedroom door. The guards shifted and flanked him, and the one on his right spoke. “Instructions are for you to leave for Crescent Island tomorrow morning. We leave for the docks at sunrise.”
Zuko turned to look the guard that spoke in the eyes. Unlike the standard helmets of naval officers that covered the entirety of the face, palace guard helmets only encased the head, the only other coverage being a thin point in the middle of the face that extended toward the end of the wearer’s nose. On palace grounds, one’s face had to be completely visible in order to maintain sureness of identity and ensure the safety of the royal family. If more than half of your face were covered, you would likely be presumed to be an assassin or conspirator and questioned, if not apprehended. Zuko took in the guard’s brown eyes, tanner skin, and pointed nose, presuming him to be in his late twenties to early thirties. He didn’t recognize him, though he didn’t understand why he could’ve expected to. He turned back toward the door and nodded slowly, the movement sluggish as if he was moving through mud, just as he had moments ago in the throne room when he acknowledged the new terms laid out by his father.
“I’m assuming you’ll be guarding my room the whole time?”
Through his peripheral vision, he could see both men nod.
Zuko huffed. “Great.” It was a stupid question with an obvious answer, but he still made it a point to put some force into it as he closed the door behind him.