Chapter Text
High Sage Kenji offers a blessing upon the occasions of the birth of each child born to the royal family. It is one of the many honours of his status, and one of the few honours that Kenji truly enjoys. Kenji is rarely called upon for any kind of officiating, because he is too high up in rank for anything but the most noble and important of matters.
Funerals are an honour, but they are a sad honour. For Kenji’s fellow sages, weddings can be a joy, but Kenji only has authority over royal weddings - and in Kenji’s experience, these have never been joyous affairs for the brides and grooms. Kenji has yet to officiate a coronation, because those are rare occurrences in a healthy system.
But the blessing of the newborn - this is a beautiful occasion. All infants are miracles unto the world, droplets of the heavens descended onto the earthly plane, the celestial made human. Children of Agni hold fire in their souls, and every royal child since the birth of the Fire Nation has been gifted with the spark.
Kenji blesses Fire Prince Lu Ten with strength of body and strength of will. The words are ancient, but they are unplanned. The blessing of a High Sage must come from the fire and heart, not from the script.
Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel.
Kenji blesses Fire Princess Azula with command, power, and strength. As the words leave him, Kenji wonders how these three terms are different. The word of Agni is never contradictory, but it is also never superfluous.
High Sage Kenji’s first coronation takes place amidst political upheaval.
High Sage Kenji is not crowning Crown Prince Iroh. Prince Iroh is lost in grief for poor Prince Lu Ten. It seems that, unbeknownst to the sages, Fire Lord Azulon privately declared Prince Ozai his successor.
Prince Ozai was never bestowed with the title of Crown Prince.
The sages are not happy. There is grumbling in the court. But Ozai has papers from his father declaring that Prince Iroh’s lack of heirs should cause issue with the line of succession. Should Fire Lord Azulon die before Crown Prince Iroh has secured his lineage, Prince Ozai should be declared the new Fire Lord.
It is unorthodox. But the Fire Sages bow to the will of the Fire Lord, as is their custom. And these are the words of the Fire Lord, written in the Fire Lord’s hand and sealed with the Fire Lord’s seal.
High Sage Kenji does not like it, but he also has no leg to stand on. And Prince Ozai knows this.
“I must take this matter through the council,” Kenji insists, standing tall before the future Fire Lord. “Once the Council of the High Temple has convened, we can seal the matter.”
Prince Ozai is already sitting on the throne. It is unorthodox, but only in matters of custom. He is not obligated to leave the throne vacant, not when he is the presumed heir.
“That’s such a long time,” Prince Ozai complains. “It will take days for you to gather the Great Sages. You know as well as I do, Kenji, that the throne needs to be secured.”
Prince Ozai is not wrong. A bare throne is a sign of weakness.
“It is in the Fire Nation’s best interests,” Prince Ozai continues, “for me to be crowned today.”
Prince Ozai is not wrong.
“What can I do to convince you?”
High Sage Kenji stands and thinks back over the law. He raises a hand to indicate that he is contemplating the factors.
Yes, this is a case of doubt regarding the line of succession. In cases of doubt regarding succession, one must rule strictly.
However, this is also wartime. The High Sage is entrusted with leniency in rulings during a time of war, and while Kenji might prefer to avoid using this logic in a century-long war, it is a tool at his disposal. It is also a moment with an empty throne. Usurpers and attackers may well be waiting in the wings. That makes this ruling a potential case of great upheaval, even life and death.
High Sage Kenji believes that he will be able to successfully argue before the Council of the High Temple that this is a valid ruling.
“Furthermore,” Prince Ozai continues, “I would like to offer you a… token of goodwill. A gesture of the trust and faith I put into the sages of our great tradition. A method to bind us more tightly than we have ever been.”
Prince Ozai’s words ring false. His wording is deliberately chosen to appeal to Kenji, and his meaning is empty: the Fire Lord cannot be held more tightly to the religious order than ever before, because it was a historical truth that the High Sage was the Fire Lord.
Nonetheless, curiosity sparks in Kenji’s soul.
“I shall of course gladly accept your token,” Kenji responds.
Prince Ozai smiles with his teeth. “Good,” he responds. “I think you will be most pleased. The gift I give you… is my firstborn son.”
Prince Zuko is eleven years old when he loses one title and gains another.
The youngest Fire Sage in all of history was in his forties when he joined the order. When High Sage Kenji crowns Fire Lord Ozai, it is with the assumption that the sages must determine the minimum age for initiation as a Fire Sage, and must wait for Prince Zuko to be reared in the palace. They will take over the boy’s education, of course, and will welcome him as a regular guest, but surely the boy must be a man before entering into service at the temple.
Fire Lord Ozai does not seem to have the same plans. Upon hearing Kenji’s assumption, the Fire Lord insists that Kenji take the child now.
It is absurd, of course, to raise a child in the temple. It is almost as absurd as the idea of a child taking the vow. Being reborn in fire means severing all familial connections from beforehand. Some Fire Sages retain their marriages, but that is only by recreating their marriage vows after their rebirth. There is no such method for reestablishing connections with the family one was born into.
But Fire Lord Ozai isn’t technically wrong. There is no minimum age for entry into the service, and there is no technical ruling against having a child raised in the temple.
(And Kenji thought his child-rearing days were far behind him.)
Prince Zuko arrives the day after the coronation. He shakes like a leaf in the wind, and Kenji is reminded, abruptly, of the blessing that he gave to this boy when he was an infant.
“You will join the order on the solstice,” Kenji explains. The boy does not look up at him. “Until then, Fire Sage Matsu will show you to your new rooms. They will not be as… delicate as your previous lodgings.” Still, the boy does not raise his eyes. “You will turn to Fire Sage Matsu for practical questions. Fire Sage Tatsuya will be in charge of your regular education. This will include language, logic, history, and exegesis. This week, Fire Sage Tatsuya will also prepare you for your ritual immersion and your vows.”
Prince Zuko - because he is still Prince Zuko, at least for the coming week - does not respond. He bows his head again. At least Kenji can be assured that he is listening.
“I will be in charge of your deeper questions,” Kenji explains. “I will not tutor you in the facts of history or the intricacies of the texts. But should you require a deeper understanding of our tradition than you are receiving, you shall not hesitate to request my time.”
Prince Zuko looks up for a moment. He looks lost. “Can I… High Sage…?”
“High Sage Kenji,” Kenji corrects him. “We are careful to use titles properly in this holy space, but you need not shy from my given name.”
Prince Zuko nods. “High Sage Kenji,” he corrects himself. “Can I ask you why I am here?”
Kenji’s eyebrows pull in. “Do you not understand? You are to be a Fire Sage.”
Prince Zuko swallows. “I understand that,” he explains. “But I don’t understand-- I don’t understand why. Mom is gone, and Father is the Fire Lord, and now I have to go, too?”
It has been so long since Kenji has been faced with a child for more than a ritual or a ruling. But Kenji raised two boys to adulthood. He does remember that there was a time in which they didn’t understand where their feet would fall each time they lifted them.
“You are to be reborn, Prince Zuko,” Kenji explains as gently as he can manage. “When you step out of the fire, you will no longer be a prince. Your previous familial ties will be broken in law and in spirit. You will no longer need to worry for your familial relationships, for they shall no longer exist. You will exist instead for the service of the Fire Nation.”
Tears spring to the boy’s eyes. Kenji is startled.
“I’ll be alone?” Prince Zuko asks. “My father doesn’t… want me to be his son anymore?”
“You will spend your life in the High Temple,” Kenji explains. “You will not be alone; you will be with your brothers in service. As for your father: he has given you as a gift. A gesture of goodwill. A… token.”
This does not appear to be a comfort to the child. A tear escapes his eye and trickles down his cheek, to be wiped hastily away.
“A token,” Prince Zuko repeats. “Yes. I understand.”
“Then you shall spend this next week in preparation,” Kenji closes. “I shall see you at meals and offerings. You will not hesitate to ask for my attention, should you need it.”
Something bothers Kenji for the rest of the day. He feels that there is something else he was supposed to offer, something aside from education and preparation and a room that a child of eleven years might need. But it has been so long since the children who were once his were boys, and Ahmya truly did most of the work in providing for their non-material needs.
Kenji thinks about writing to Ahmya for advice, but quickly quenches the urge. Ahmya had not wished to renew their vows when Kenji shed himself of previous attachments.
Kenji inspects Prince Zuko for his immersion. The child is wrapped in a robe for privacy. The robe will be shed on his descent into the fire, at the point at which he can no longer be witnessed. Then, it was only be Zuko and the flames.
His hair is loose, washed, and brushed. He wears no jewelry. His skin is clean.
“Hands,” Kenji calls, and Prince Zuko raises his hands. They are empty. His nails have been cleaned.
He is physically prepared.
“Do you understand the implications of the vow you will recite upon ascending from the fire?” Kenji asks. Prince Zuko states his affirmation. The boy’s jaw is tense; he doesn’t look like he’s ready to cry anymore. “Has someone parsed each word in the vow with you, and do you understand each syllable?”
“Yes,” Prince Zuko responds.
“Do you understand that this is irreversible? A Fire Sage may fall to heresy, but he will always be beholden to the obligations of his station.”
“Yes,” Prince Zuko responds. His voice wavers.
High Sage Kenji gives the boy a moment to catch his breath. He does not seem scared of the fire, but Kenji recalls the weight of this moment.
“When you are ready, Prince Zuko,” he says, “you may descend into the fire.”
The Fire Prince turns his face toward the flames. He draws a deep breath. It does not waver.
Prince Zuko begins to walk down the stone steps into the holy fire. When he is only visible from the shoulders up, he shrugs off the dark robe and continues.
Soon, there is no sign of the boy in the flames. But the fire roars out its knowledge of the child within it.
High Sage Kenji waits as a silent witness.
The sages behind him begin to chant out their prayers.
A life of service. A life of health. A life of service. A life of strength. A life of service. A life of honour. A life of service.
The sages give their offerings of hope. High Sage Kenji bears witness to them all.
Eventually, the fire begins to slow. The sages cannot see more than the tops of the flames from here, and soon, they disappear below the wall, and all the sages can witness is the glow of light. A few more moments, and the glow is down to almost nothing.
There is a shuffling sound as the boy approaches the stairs again. Then the top of his head appears, and then his bare shoulders. He waits there, face visible, as he recites the ancient words.
The fire has burned away everything over the skin. Not a single hair remains; not a single eyelash. This is good. Not every sage is accepted so readily by the fire.
When the vow is complete, Kenji offers the sign of the flame.
“Welcome, Fire Sage Zuko.”
Sometimes, having an eleven-year-old Fire Sage reminds Kenji of raising a toddler.
It seems that Fire Sage Zuko cannot be satisfied with any one answer. Each ‘why’ only leads to another, until Kenji simply deposits the boy in the library and says: “Find the answers for yourself.”
This, it turns out, is a masterful move.
Zuko’s questions cease briefly, turning to technical questions he can aim toward Fire Sage Tatsuya. Within a year, Zuko is back at Kenji’s heels, but his questions are much better.
“Fire Sage Tatsuya can explain this to you,” stops being Kenji’s go-to answer.
Zuko is still a child, and still lacks an adult’s intuition with the deeper meaning of many of the scriptures, but he will read anything that is put before him. Zuko has all but memorised the Fire Scriptures in his first year, and he has a knack for the intricacies of grammar.
His questions improve. His nature does not.
Fire Sage Zuko develops a poor temper. He goes from calm to blisteringly angry in sheer moments. Kenji isn’t sure if this is normal, but he arranges for more meditation in an attempt to rebalance the child.
And while Zuko is generally good with rules, he also develops a tendency to question them. He wants sources for every single ruling, even rulings which are far beyond his capacity to understand. And while this isn’t exactly worrying - a healthy appetite for questioning is a good building block for the ability to make rulings - this healthy questioning accelerates due to the presence of the Fire Princess.
“The Fire Princess came to request you today,” Kenji informs Zuko. Zuko looks up from his meal with a frown. “This is her third attempted visit. I must remind you, Fire Sage Zuko, that this relationship is unbefitting of your station.”
“It’s unbefitting to have a sister?” Zuko asks.
“You have no sisters,” Kenji reminds him, trying to be gentle. Zuko flinches a little anyway. “Since the Fire Princess is not your sister, this appears to be a request for counsel. And you may not provide counsel for the royal family without obtaining permission to do so.”
Zuko’s eyes narrow. “And how do I obtain that permission?”
“You will have to do enough studying that you could provide moral and religious support for a person of the Fire Princess’s station,” Kenji explains.
He does not intend this to be a challenge.
Fire Sage Zuko was impressive prior to Kenji’s accidental challenge. He becomes something else entirely in its aftermath.
It seems that every time Kenji requires Zuko, he is in the libraries. The only regular exception to this is that the boy gets into the habit of dragging volumes into the Room of the Broken, to sit himself among the shards while he studies.
“Is it permitted for him to use the Room of the Broken this way?” Tatsuya asks. It’s not a question that Kenji has ever been asked before, because nobody has ever tried to use the Room of the Broken for anything but storing shards of pottery and shreds of parchment including Agni’s holy name. “I suppose I could ask Fire Sage Zuko that, as a test, to show that he can source the answer.”
Kenji smiles. “Please ensure that he remembers to eat and meditate,” he requests. “And… you can begin the formal testing soon, should you feel he is capable.”
Zuko’s first rulings do not go well.
Zuko stands before the public with a glare on his face. It seems that every other sentence Zuko utters is followed by him reaching up to fuss at his ceremonial hat. Zuko shouts at a man for lack of honour, and just when Kenji is about to intercede, Zuko spouts off his legal reasoning for asserting this lack of honour.
It’s good legal reasoning, but poor execution.
Zuko is only twelve years old.
“He lacks an ability to talk to people,” Tatsuya comments from beside Kenji. “I fear that allowing him to sequester himself in the libraries and the Room of the Broken have only exacerbated this. He’s a child; perhaps he should have been socialising.”
“His legal reasoning is excellent,” Kenji responds. “His use of the example of the house built around a stolen beam was… inspired.”
“He’s also angry,” Tatsuya continues. “I’m not sure any amount of meditation is going to cure him of that ill.”
Before them, Zuko comes to a legal conclusion. He also tells a woman that she should be ashamed of herself. Kenji controls his features and very carefully does not wince.
“He requested an ability to counsel Fire Princess Azula,” Kenji says. “If the princess does not mind his lack of social manners or his temper… technically, his legal and moral reasoning is sound enough that I would not disallow it.”
Tatsuya turns to face Kenji. “You know he requests this because he sees himself as her brother,” he points out. “He’s a child. He does not yet understand the gravity of what he has left behind.”
Kenji sighs.
Kenji has spent enough time in the presence of Fire Princess Azula to know that if anybody is able to convince Fire Sage Zuko that he has no family, it will be her. She might even do it intentionally, for fun.
“So be it.”
Kenji allows the Fire Princess in on her next visit.
By the time she leaves, Zuko is in tears.
The Fire Princess returns weeks later. Kenji would like to turn her away, because Zuko looked withdrawn for days at her last visit. But now that there is an established counselling relationship, he has no right to do so.
What Kenji can do is this:
He can pass by the Room of the Broken where they are speaking (a most unorthodox choice of meeting rooms, but not technically inappropriate), just long enough to hear a snippet of conversation:
“I did tell you that nobody but Mom ever wanted you at home anyway…”
It’s childish and meaningless. But Zuko is a child, so childish things are sometimes meaningful to him.
The next time Kenji has a meeting set with Prince Iroh, he allows Prince Iroh to arrange it to happen at the temple. Thus far, Kenji has been avoiding this, as he thought that any connection with Zuko’s former family would only confuse him further. But now that Zuko is seeing Princess Azula, it appears that there is damage to be undone.
Prince Iroh’s relief at finally being able to enter the areas of the temple not intended for public prayer is palpable. It is also proof that Prince Iroh, too, does not understand the severing of this relationship.
If Kenji were ever accused of being soft on Zuko, he would have a difficult time arguing his case against it.
Kenji allows Zuko to sit in on the meeting.
He hasn’t seen Zuko this excited in all the long months of his life in the High Temple. Kenji has seen Zuko frenzied with the excitement of good study, lost in the midst of a legal argument that he knows he’s going to win, but never like this. Never filled with hope and wonder.
Fire Prince Iroh enters the room, and his face crumples in delight at the view of Fire Sage Zuko.
Zuko stands like he’s going to approach Prince Iroh, and Kenji holds out a hand to stop him. Zuko looks at Kenji’s hand for a long moment, and then visibly deflates.
Zuko cannot offer greetings. It is not his turn to speak.
“Fire Prince Iroh,” Kenji says, offering a shallow bow to the prince. Their stations are technically parallel; any lower a bow would be an insult to the Fire Sages, but any less of a bow would be an insult to the station of royalty.
“High Sage Kenji,” Prince Iroh responds, offering his own bow. He then turns toward the boy who was once his nephew. “Am I free to offer greetings to our guest?”
Kenji offers a small smile. “Of course.”
Prince Iroh turns to Fire Sage Zuko and bows, entirely properly. “Fire Sage Zuko. It is… a pleasure to behold you again. You look well.”
“Un--Um.” Zuko offers a hasty bow. It’s too low for his station, but Kenji thinks that it’s just sloppiness, not a deliberate slight. “Fire Prince Iroh.”
He doesn’t say anything more, and Kenji doesn’t press him to. He assumes that simply being in Prince Iroh’s presence will calm the boy. But later, when the meeting is wrapping up and Kenji turns back to Zuko in an attempt to prompt whatever goodbye he might wish to make, it’s to find that Zuko’s expression is drawn in. He’s staring at Prince Iroh, but it isn’t with any kind of relief or affection. The frenzied hope from before has died.
“Goodbye, Fire Sage Zuko,” Prince Iroh says. “I am so pleased to see that you are well.”
Zuko offers a smile with his bow, but it seems strained. “And to you, Prince Iroh.”
Fire Sage Zuko gets better at taking requests and giving counsel.
He’s still stiff and awkward before the crowd, in a way that Kenji wouldn’t have expected from a boy who was once a prince. Though, Kenji reflects, he was probably asked to do little public speaking when he was a part of the royal family, and certainly not because anyone cared for his opinion. Nowadays, people come to seek advice from the temple, and they listen carefully to Fire Sage Zuko’s responses.
The boy is still rough around the edges. His anger flares at the concept of ‘unfair’ more than once. Sometimes, he exercises poor impulse control over his wording; often, he has poor control over his inner flame.
But Fire Sage Zuko offers excellent counsel. His rulings are as legally creative and thoughtful as they are compassionate. And that is the reason that people request to see him.
(He may still not offer counsel to anyone from the royal family but the Fire Princess. Kenji has tried suggesting that he test to a higher level and gain access to private meetings with Prince Iroh, but Zuko’s excitement and hope at spending time with the Fire Prince dwindled in that first meeting and did not return.)
The sages have to choose particular days and times for Fire Sage Zuko to offer counsel to regular people. This is not a usual setup; any sage should be available at any of the times the doors to the temple are open for counsel. But eventually, even Kenji gets tired of the walk from the Chamber of Counsel to the Room of the Broken to retrieve their youngest sage, and thus a system is born.
Fire Sage Zuko offers excellent counsel, and his legal reasoning causes pride to swell in High Sage Kenji’s chest.
Fire Sage Zuko is also deeply, deeply dangerous.
“High Sage Kenji, I have some questions.” This has been a fairly common statement for years now. But this afternoon, Zuko looks different. Usually, when something isn’t making sense, Zuko develops a tension in his shoulders that will only be released when Zuko manages to unwind the logical knot in the law.
Today, he seems uncomfortable in a different way. He won’t meet Kenji’s eyes, which is a habit Kenji thought the sages had coaxed from him well over a year ago.
“Of course,” Kenji says. “I have two meetings, and then I will find you.”
Kenji finds Zuko in the Room of the Broken. He’s here more often than the libraries, nowadays. Kenji thinks that Zuko prefers this space because he is only disturbed when it is deliberate.
Kenji brings tea with him, because the child clearly needs some kind of soothing. Zuko’s face relaxes a little at the tea, and he even offers a smile.
“I am glad to see that you are wearing your glasses,” Kenji offers. Zuko pushes the glasses off his face in direct rebellion, and Kenji holds down his smile. “What did you want to ask me?”
Zuko folds his glasses and places them on his hat, which is sitting on the floor beside him. Kenji gave up this particular fight years ago. Almost as soon as Zuko’s hair began to grow in again, Zuko has refused to wear the hat when it isn’t directly necessary. Having the hat with him at all times is the best compromise they have been able to meet.
(Last time Kenji had tried to convince Zuko to don the ceremonial hat outside of ceremony, Zuko quoted six different texts about the laws of hat-wearing. He would have continued, but Kenji was overcome with weariness. He is much too old to be raising a child approaching puberty, let alone a precocious thirteen-year-old sage.)
“I have been researching the relationship between the Fire Lord and the Fire Sages,” he explains. “To… offer better counsel.”
Kenji doubts this. Princess Azula still turns up from time to time, but Kenji has yet to hear her ask for counsel. As far as he can tell, the princess simply enjoys reminding Zuko that he isn’t a prince anymore.
“And what have you found?”
“It’s an elegant system,” Zuko allows. “It’s wise to have a system that balances itself. And since the Fire Lord is no longer the head of the Fire Sages, the system is very carefully constructed to ensure that everyone is accountable to someone else, and we are all accountable to Agni.”
Kenji sits patiently and drinks his tea.
“And,” Zuko concludes, “it’s not working.”
Kenji hesitates. “Not working?”
“No,” Zuko states. He is looking at one of the books now, and Kenji isn’t sure if he’s looking for information, or if he’s just avoiding Kenji’s eyes. “It looks like it fell apart when my great-- when Fire Lord Sozin started the war. He didn’t wait for permission from the High Sage.”
“Times of war have their own legal standing,” Kenji reminds Zuko, surprised that the child would forget this.
Zuko looks up from the book. “But Sozin started the war,” he points out. “You can’t claim it’s a wartime ruling to make it wartime. That’s in direct contradiction to the Fourth Council of Greats. You can’t use circular logic in order to give yourself power. It also contradicts the Ichika Principle--”
“Fire Sage Zuko--”
“And furthermore,” Zuko continues, having worked himself up now, “the rules about wartime decisions were clearly put in place with the assumption that the moment is fleeting. There are all kinds of decisions we’re making while using the excuse of wartime standing, as if we don’t have the time or resources to do better, but that’s not true. We’re winning the war, and it’s peaceful in Caldera City. It’s a farce.”
Silence follows in Zuko’s wake.
Kenji leans forward and closes the book.
“Fire Sage Zuko,” he says, quiet but forceful. “There are rulings from Fire Sages that come before us that we must respect. This is a time of war, even if our ancestors did not foresee a war lasting this long.”
Zuko is already shaking his head. “No council for the last century has declared itself properly. I know you know this, because you keep calling them improperly. And I know why you’re doing it. It’s because you know that the system isn’t working as intended.”
“Zuko.” Kenji’s voice is sharp, and it makes Zuko sit back. “You will not speak like this in this temple, or anywhere else. You are a boy of thirteen. You do not have the ranking, nor the insight born of experience, to question this. The logic stands.”
“But High Sage--”
“Is the logic unsound?” Kenji presses. “Remove your feelings from the matter. Stop thinking of the intentions of those who wrote the law. Stop thinking of yourself. Is the logic unsound?”
Zuko breathes for several moments. He isn’t meeting Kenji’s eyes.
Eventually, he nods. “The logic is sound.”
“Good,” Kenji responds. “Now, add this to your sound logic: Should the Fire Lord wish, he could remove the Fire Sages entirely.”
“That’s against the--”
“I don’t mean legally.” Kenji leans down so that he can encourage eye contact. “Child, in war, might makes right. Our tradition lives by the grace of the Fire Lord. Should we step too far out of line, all of this will be lost. All of our reasoning, all of our scriptures, all of the beauty of the worship of Agni.”
“But that isn’t how it’s supposed to work,” Zuko insists. “We’re supposed to be weighted equally. There’s supposed to be no palace without the temple, and no temple without the palace.”
Kenji sighs. He feels much older than his years, and his years are many.
“There is one sign of hope here,” he says. When Zuko looks to him with an inquisitive expression, Kenji clarifies: “You.”
“Me?”
“The Fire Lord gave you to us as a gift,” Kenji explains. “You are a token of his relationship with us. You were once his firstborn son. That is a stronger bond than we have had between us since long before the war began.”
Zuko nods once, decisively. “I understand.”
“And Zuko.” Kenji reaches out to touch the boy’s forearm. “Do not bring this up to anyone else.”
Zuko stands tall before the Fire Lord.
He has not technically sought permission from the High Sage for this meeting. But if the High Sage is so quick to use the excuse of wartime decision-making, then Zuko thinks that the matter of the 41st Division deserves this.
“It is bold of you to take my time, Fire Sage,” the Fire Lord states.
Zuko swallows.
“I am here to present counsel,” Zuko states.
The Fire Lord raises an eyebrow. “I don’t recall requesting counsel,” he says, “and I certainly don’t recall requesting it from you.”
Zuko stands up straighter. “Nonetheless, as a Fire Sage of the High Temple, it is my duty to offer my counsel when I have been led to understand that an immoral political decision is being pushed through the system without reaching either of our stations.”
Fire Lord Ozai’s eyes narrow, but he looks more curious than angry. “Gossip?”
“I have been led to understand that one of your war advisors has suggested sacrificing a battalion of new recruits for advantage in battle.”
Zuko hasn’t felt so uncomfortable in his official garb for years. The hat is tall and ridiculous, but he mostly only has to wear it when he is facing the public - but even then, the hat has never felt so heavy, the robes have never felt so stiff, as in this moment.
“I fear this must have escaped your notice. You would have been obligated to present this before the sages, who would have of course overruled the decision. It is immoral, and it runs against multiple areas of our religious law and tradition. I would be happy to cite--”
“There is no need.”
A long silence stretches before them.
Eventually, Fire Lord Ozai sighs. “Boy,” he states, standing from the throne. He walks through the flames and descends until he is standing in front of Zuko. “I fear you have misunderstood.”
The relief is so sudden that it almost knocks Zuko from his feet.
“Oh,” he says. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Was the information wrong--”
“Zuko.” Zuko looks up at his fa-- at the Fire Lord. “Not about the 41st Division. I fear that you have misunderstood this arrangement.”
Zuko tilts his head, and then rebalances so that the hat doesn’t tip over.
“You mean… You sending me to the sages?”
He can’t help the hope creeping into his voice. He can’t hold it back. After Princess Azula’s regular taunting, and Prince Iroh’s careful coldness, is it really going to be the Fire Lord who tells Zuko that he hasn’t been banished from his family entirely?
Zuko takes a hesitant step forward.
“I mean your place as a sage,” Ozai states. “You are not some wise old man to give me advice - and even if you were, it would only be when I seek it. You answer to me.”
Cold sweeps down Zuko’s spine.
This isn’t right.
“You all answer to me,” the Fire Lord continues. “I am the presence of Agni on earth, am I not? And you are Agni’s worshippers. I rule over you.”
“That’s not how this--”
“You do not insult the station of the Fire Lord by turning up unannounced,” the Fire Lord says, voice creeping louder. “You may not break these rules simply because you were once my son. You are nothing, and you will learn to act that way.”
Zuko struggles to breathe properly. The Fire Lord is too close.
“Bow.”
“What?”
Nothing is making sense. Zuko doesn’t like it when nothing makes sense.
“Bow, child,” the Fire Lord spits. “On your knees before me.”
“Fire Sages are not permitted to bow low to the Fire Lord, lest we turn him into an idol,” Zuko rattles off.
Ozai sneers. “I don’t care about what you think you’re allowed to do. Your Fire Lord gave you a direct order. On your knees.”
Anger flashes.
“I will not,” Zuko argues. “You made me a Fire Sage, and I will not desecrate my vows on your whim. This is not how the relationship between the palace and the temple is supposed to be. I will not bow.”
The Fire Lord raises a hand, and some old instinct in Zuko tries to flinch away. He raises his arms to protect his face - but it isn’t fire, and this isn’t training. Ozai grasps Zuko’s forearm, hard, and pushes downwards.
“I will not bow!” Zuko all but shouts.
Ozai’s hand heats. Pain flares.
“I will not bow,” Zuko says again, but it sounds less convincing this time.
Ozai’s fire is so strong. Zuko doesn’t burn easily, but this kind of force for this long, at this close a range--
Zuko feels his flesh sizzling under the Fire Lord’s hand.
“I will not,” Zuko tries again, but he can’t get out the rest of the sentence.
It hurts so much.
If Father doesn’t let go soon, will he burn all the way down to bone?
“I,” Zuko tries, and then his knees buckle.
It takes him long moments of harsh breathing to realise what he has done. He’s on his knees before the Fire Lord.
“Good boy,” Ozai says, and then turns and walks away.
Darkness rushes in.
Zuko wakes up in the Fire Temple on Crescent Island.