Chapter Text
Zuko had finally been invited by his uncle to see what he’d been hiding under the cloth rags in his workshop.
Iroh stood proudly to the side as Zuko inspected the golden wings, made almost blinding underneath the midday sun.
“These are incredible, Uncle. Do they work? I mean, could you really fly with these?” He turned the wings around and studied the leather straps that would harness them to the wearer.
The wings were lighter than they seemed, which would make sense if they were meant to make someone airborne, but the golden color reminded Zuko of the heavy treasures lining his father’s vaults. Yet the feathers were not hard metal, as Zuko had first assumed. Once he’d gotten closer, he realized they were made out of a heavy cloth, interwoven with golden thread to create a shimmery effect in the light.
“Theoretically, I could jump out of the window right now and land gently several miles away, save I do not run into any tall trees.” Iroh beamed at him. Zuko could tell he was prouder of these wings than of most, if not all, of the designs he created for the Fire Lord.
“How’d you come up with these?”
Iroh looked at the wings fondly. “Ah, that is a story that is a bit more depressing than you might think. You have heard of the air nomads from before even your father’s time, yes?” At Zuko’s nod he continued. “Their people were wiped out many years ago by your grandfather, Fire Lord Azulon. It seems our country has a tradition of decimating cultures.” Iroh’s voice grew darker with his anger. Then, remembering Zuko, he shook himself and went on. “But I am not giving you a history lesson. You wanted to know how I came up with the idea of wings. Truthfully, I did not think of them at all. I visited an air temple many years ago. Although the people are gone, many of their histories were intact deep within their mountains. I found designs and stories of wing-like contraptions that allowed the air monks to soar through the skies like birds. I thought that would be a sight to see before I die.”
Zuko smiled, unable to contain his joy at the thought of flying. He imagined jetting through the air like some great golden dragon, reaching for the sun.
“Do you think, I mean, maybe I could try them out for you? To see if they work and all.”
Iroh grinned at him. “There is still work left to do, but you shall be the first of the Fire Nation to touch the skies, my nephew. I promise.”
“What more is there to finish? They look complete.” He turned the wings over, searching for some indication that the wings were a work in progress.
“I have attached the feathers with wax for placement and measurements, but I still need to run them through with wire. If you jumped from the roof wearing them now, you would fall in minutes after the sun melts the feathers off of them. You would look like a newborn turtleduck flapping through the air.”
“How far could you fly in them? Once they’re finished, I mean.”
Iroh made a humming sound, calculations running through his mind. “As I said, if I jumped from the window with them in the state they are in, I would soar for a few miles. I would be well outside the palace grounds by the time the feathers all give out. Once they are finished, though, I think you could make it all the way to the sea.”
Zuko could feel his eyes sparkling and tried to reign his eagerness in somewhat. “I’ve never seen the sea.” He wondered out loud.
“Then I will make another pair and together we will visit the water.” The fondness in Iroh’s open expression warmed Zuko.
He was about to ask more questions – about the wings, about the sea, he wasn’t sure – when a loud knock came from the door to the workshop.
Zuko remembered the last time they’d been interrupted had been because of the Water Tribe infiltrators. His attention went to the ivory figurine in his pocket. He’d decided to keep it on him at all times in case Azula decided to snoop through his rooms again in his absence. He didn’t think he’d be so lucky the next time she took an interest in the obviously foreign looking sculpture.
When Iroh opened the door, a palace guard stood sweating on the other side. He was wheezing a bit, as if he’d run across the entire grounds at a full sprint.
Although with how on edge Ozai had been making everyone feel, Zuko didn’t think it was so unbelievable to imagine the guard had decided time was of the essence when he’d been tasked to deliver his message.
“Fire Lord-” The guard bit out and swallowed, struggling to take in air. “Fire Lord Ozai requests your presence in the prisons.”
Iroh’s contented expression vanished in a blink. “Whose presence?”
The guard glanced behind him to Zuko who stood deeper within the room. “Well, both of you, sir. I had not realized the prince was here too. I was tasked to fetch him next.”
Zuko and Iroh shared a look. They were both summoned to the prisons by Ozai?
I’ve been found out I’ve been found out I’ve been found out.
“I’m to fetch Princess Azula next. She isn’t- she isn’t here as well, is she?” The guard leaned to the side a bit, peering further into the room.
“No, she does not frequent my workshop.” Iroh said wryly.
If Azula had been summoned too, then… Zuko hadn’t been found out?
“We will be on our way, then.” Iroh held the door open wider for Zuko to pass. The guard jumped to the side at attention, still panting lightly. “Go finish delivering your message.”
Zuko and Iroh hurried down the halls together. For them to have both been summoned along with Azula, and to the prison of all places, indicated that something dramatic had happened. Zuko wondered briefly if Ozai was simply going to toss all three of them in, so deep into his ire he had sunk. Azula may have been favored, but Zuko knew well how quickly Ozai’s favor could fade.
The prisons were some of the most elaborately dull structures in the whole of the Fire Nation. Their appearance was for intimidation, and their functionality made sure to back it up. The building was almost as tall as the palace, and dotted with small, square window openings. An enormous wall ran along the length of the grounds and was thicker than the one that protected the royal summer home in the north. Guards patrolled along the top where sharp protrusions stood at almost a meter high – to discourage anyone from attempting to escape and to keep people from getting in through a frontal attack.
Despite how hot it was in the height of the warm season, there was a chill about the air as Zuko stood with Iroh in front of those huge metal gates.
Guards bracketed them on either side, making Zuko feel more and more as if he were about to be thrown into a cell.
Iroh was stoic as always, and nothing of his thoughts showed on his face. He was as serene as he normally was.
Zuko wished he could say the same of himself. He was cold and warm at the same time, and cool sweat dripped down the small of his back. He thought his face might be red, but he hoped it would pass as an effect of the summer sun.
Slowly, the large gates swung outward, revealing a grim looking courtyard of stone and weeds. The prison building itself stood several meters inside and less dangerous prisoners lolled about the area, watched closely by guards.
None of the criminals jeered or shouted at the procession as they made their way towards the structure. They stared at Zuko with bruised, lifeless eyes.
Once again he was reminded of the life he’d seen in Sokka’s, and how much he desperately wished he’d never have to see them drained of that life. He realized with a start that while he was still paranoid about being found out, there was no regret for his actions in helping the other boy escape.
The guards led them into the building where the air lowered in temperature almost immediately. The humidity didn’t lessen, however, and Zuko’s clamminess grew worse.
They were brought down a long hall that branched into several corridors. Zuko and Iroh followed the guards down the first corridor on the left, lit by a handful of torches lining the walls. Despite the torches, though, the hallway was dim and Zuko had to watch carefully to avoid tripping on the uneven ground.
“Where exactly are we going?” He asked finally.
The guards spared him a tense glance. “High profile prisoner, Prince Zuko. We keep him in the most secure wing.”
“Who-” He started ask, but Iroh gripped his arm tightly and gave him a minute shake of his head.
The guards continued on until they reached a heavy looking iron door at the end of the corridor. Two more guards were placed on either side, guarding whoever was within.
At their appearance, the two standing guards began the complicated process of unlocking the door until it swung open with a weighty creak.
It revealed another, identical door twenty paces further down, with two more guards standing at attention.
I guess this really is the most secure wing, Zuko thought, wondering at the lengths Ozai would go to keep a prisoner as cut off from the outside world as possible. He’d never been this deep into the prison before, and his only memory of ever entering the facility was several years ago. It’d been a part of one of Ozai’s mind games and Zuko tried not to think of the experience.
The second door opened with as much ceremony as the first and finally an even darker corridor was revealed. Metal grates lined the hallway and Zuko could make out humanoid figures crouched in the dark behind the bars.
They stirred at their entrance though none moved closer for a better look.
Zuko stared. The prisoners were dirty and skinny beyond belief. He hadn’t thought it was possible for a person to become so emaciated, but sunken eyes stared hollowly out from under jutting brow bones. Sharp cheekbones cut hard lines across their faces and Zuko thought he could see the shape of their teeth beneath the skin of their cheeks.
He turned to see Iroh’s reaction but his uncle stared resolutely ahead.
Then Zuko noticed a second party a few steps ahead. He’d been so engrossed with the appearance of the prisoners he hadn’t noticed Ozai and several advisors standing in front of one of the cells.
They turned at Zuko and Iroh’s approach and Ozai gave them a calculating smile.
“Zuko, how nice that you could join us finally. Brother.” He acknowledged both of them.
To Zuko’s surprise, he saw Azula standing behind their father’s shoulder, smirking.
How had she arrived before them? The guard had gone to find her after he’d delivered the summons to Zuko and Iroh.
“Fire Lord.” Iroh replied with the same level of rigidity.
“Come see the gift Azula has given to me.” He gestured towards the cell with flourish.
Zuko stepped closer and felt his heart leap into his throat. Shining blue eyes, so different from anyone else’s in the Fire Nation, stared out from the gloom. Then Zuko realized that the eyes did not belong to Sokka. It was a man, clearly from the same tribe or family as Sokka if his eyes and coloration were any indication. His long hair was unkempt and hung around his wide, handsome face. He didn’t appear to be as starved as the other prisoners, and Zuko surmised it was because he’d only been recently captured.
“Meet the Water Tribe villain who thought he could hide in my own city after robbing me.” Ozai gave the prisoner a cold, wicked grin.
The prisoner stared back at the Fire Lord, defiance freezing his blue eyes into ice. He said nothing.
“He hasn’t said a word on where they’ve smuggled my belongings but it’s only a matter of time.” Ozai’s horrible smirk never fell from his lips as he studied the man. “I do employ the very best interrogators in the whole country, after all. They can be very… persuasive.”
Zuko suppressed a shudder but the man still did not so much as blink.
“Hmm,” Ozai frowned finally. Zuko wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that his goading had yielded no reaction or angry at the quiet insolence the prisoner was showing him.
“How can you be certain this man has any idea of the whereabouts of the artifact?” Iroh asked suddenly. His voice was even and gave no indication of his thoughts on the prisoner.
The smile returned to Ozai’s face. “Azula has been leading a most vigorous investigation into the infiltration. She has questioned nearly everyone in the palace and several servants described the few invaders they saw with remarkable detail. Besides,” Ozai’s blazing eyes slid back to the prisoner. “Just how many Water Tribe people do you think are in the Fire Nation?” He said people as if he wanted to replace it with a much more unsavory word.
Azula’s face lit up with the praise. “It’s my duty, Father.”
Zuko was watching the prisoner throughout the exchange. He looked so similar to Sokka, and yet nothing like him at all. He found himself yearning to see the Water Tribes in person, to see the people who lived there. Would they all look like Sokka and this man?
“I brought you here because I wanted you to see the face of our enemy, Zuko. Remember his features. This is a man who would see our entire line wiped from the history books – who’d see you dead faster than you could blink.” Ozai spoke directly to him.
Zuko started and glanced back at his father. There was something roiling underneath the surface of Ozai’s expression and Zuko was afraid that he could not read it.
When he looked back at the prisoner, the man was staring at him. There was nothing overtly emotional in his expression, but Zuko could sense a cold fury behind his blue eyes. For once, Zuko did not think Ozai was too far off the mark with his comments. This was a man who’d gladly kill him, Zuko thought.
“Come. I want a grand feast. Now that we have one of the instigators of this act of war, the rest will follow shortly behind. They cannot hide from me forever,” Ozai laughed loudly. It was a terrible sound. “And they are a long way from the Water Tribes. I’ll follow them to the ends of the earth if I have to. They cannot hide forever.”
Ozai led them away from the prison cell, talking loudly with his advisors.
Zuko spared one last glance back at the prisoner. He watched them go, blue eyes glowing in the dim red lights.