Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been nearly three weeks, but finally, things began to settle, and Kuei managed to get a full night of sleep. There was still so much to do – so many people to check, so many positions to redistribute… But his kingdom was, at last, on a good course.

After decades of its King being a blind puppet of the Dai Li.

Better late than never, Kuei kept repeating the mantra each time it was not appropriate to scream at the top of his lungs.

The door to his office swung open abruptly – not an uncommon occurrence these days – and his newly named Head Minister, Ming, marched into the room.

“Your Majesty, there’s something you need to see.”

Kuei removed his glasses, as if that alone might make the problem disappear, but he gestured for Ming to continue.

“I’m almost done digging through Dai Li’s documentation,” Ming began. “Psychotic bastards as they were, their reports are reliable. Everything so far checked out. And, uh… I’ve found some prison records.”

Kuei groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We’re still waiting to hear back from the Water Tribe if their healers can help with the brainwashing victims. There’s not much else we can do right now.”

“Not Lake Lagoai prison, my king,” Ming said. “This is about the prison on the West Wall. Turns out Long Feng had some prisoners there as well, occasionally taking them for interrogations. Or testing.”

“Dear spirits,” Kuei sighed as a shiver ran down his spine. “That’s bad. But I already ordered a review of all inmates to check if their sentences were justified. That should clear things up in a few weeks."

“Yes, my king,” Ming nodded. "There have already been some irregularities found, but thankfully, most inmates are actual criminals. It’s just... there's one prisoner that's a problem. And I double-checked before bringing it to you. It really seems to be the case."

“What prisoner?”

Ming swallowed hard. “My king… It appears we have the supposedly deceased Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation in our custody.”

Kuei put his glasses back on to make sure Ming wasn’t brainwashed. “What?”

“There are multiple records mentioning him,” Ming said, his voice tight, “but it seems only the Dai Li knew who he really was. The West Wall’s warden believes he’s just a firebending offspring of a captured officer.”

"Their prince died shortly after we crushed the Dragon of the West," Kuei argued. "Two princes, if I recall correctly. The Dragon’s son at our gates and another who succumbed to grief and sickness."

"The documents don’t specify how the Dai Li obtained him, but it happened around that time," Ming explained. "A few weeks later, he was officially proclaimed dead by Caldera."

Kuei swallowed hard. “Wait… Wasn’t he a child?”

“He still is,” Ming said grimly. “Prince Zuko is fifteen. He’s been eleven when the Dai Li captured him.”

Better late than never… The mantra worked no more.

“Dear Oma and Shu… What?” Kuei asked with his throat tight. “Why? He was just a child. Why keep him? And in a prison with actual criminals?”

“The boy was supposed to be used for a ransom but the newly crowned Fire Lord Ozai – the boy’s father… He either thought Long Feng was bluffing and the boy was dead or he’s more of a monster we think him to be.”

Kuei could only stare at Ming. No word would go past his throat now.

“Ozai dared the Dai Li to kill the boy and announced Prince Zuko has died to the general public,” Ming said. “Obviously, Long Fang didn’t do so, and carried on with plan B.”

“What was plan B?” Kuei asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You might want to sit before I go into the details, Your Majesty.”

Kuei hadn't even realized he had stood up from his desk at some point. He crossed the room to a small table near the window and gestured for Ming to follow. Pouring his best calming tea — a blend that rarely left his reach these days — he braced himself and listened.

They drank through four pots by the time Ming finished.

The records of the initial interrogations were full of details that made Kuei’s stomach churn.

For the first few months, the Dai Li had taken everything the boy could offer by force, because young Prince Zuko was not a talker. After that, they had tried to brainwash him into obedience and train him as their firebending secret weapon. But the plan backfired – quite literally – when they discovered that their methods didn’t work on such a young mind. So they decided to wait.

But Prince Zuko – unaware of their terrible plans – hadn’t made it easy. The boy fought and tried to escape whenever an opportunity presented itself, and often even when it hadn't. When the West Wall warden’s methods weren’t enough to break him, Long Feng had him taken under the lake for a few weeks for what the documents labeled “re-education.”

Which both Ming and Kuei knew had to mean torture, though neither said the word aloud.

“So… well,” Ming sighed after a long pause. “Knowing the Dai Li, it's safe to assume everything documented actually happened. So we're left with a violent, dangerous, and officially dead young firebender who has every reason in the world to hate the Earth Kingdom.”

“You said there’s nothing about him for the last three months of the Dai Li’s rule,” Kuei pointed out. “Are sure he’s still alive?”

“I checked prison records and a firebender named Li is still there, alive,” Ming said. “The fake name was mentioned a few times in the documents about Prince Zuko.”

Kuei took a long sip from his cup. His hand was shaking.

Ming continued, his hands folded in his lap. “The last record describes the most violent escape attempt yet. One Dai Li agent died after taking a fireball to the throat. Several prison guards were burned, even some inmates got caught in the crossfire. After that, the prince was taken to re-education again for two weeks, then severely punished once back in prison. No details were provided this time. Judging by his history, he tends to behave for a few months after major punishments before trying again.”

“A fifteen-year-old boy,” Kuei muttered.

Ming’s throat bobbed as he nodded. “It’s very hard to stomach, my king, but there’s no denying the facts. The boy is dangerous.”

“He’s been kidnapped, abandoned, and tortured as a child,” Kuei said, rubbing his face with both hands. His cheeks were damp. It had all happened right under his nose. “We can hardly blame him.”

“I’m not blaming him,” Ming said, his voice calm. “I’m just saying it’s not safe to release him. He’s no longer just an innocent child. It’s safe to assume he would use the first opportunity to retaliate for what’s been done to him. It’s dangerous to our people – guards, servants, staff members… Not to mention you, my king.”

“It’s not right.”

Ming nodded and pulled another pile of notes out of his bag. “I’ve been thinking… Stopping the mistreatment is simple enough. He’s a minor, so not keeping him with adult criminals would be a good move too, although isolation might be just as bad… We could see how he reacts to better conditions and decide from there.”

Kuei felt like he might throw up all the calming tea he'd been drinking. It had done nothing to calm him in these circumstances. “It’s wrong,” he said quietly. “We can’t even tell if the boy was violent to start with, or if we made him this way.”

“He’s Ozai’s son,” Ming said after a moment. “There’s a good chance he wouldn’t have grown up to be a good man.”

Kuei needed to scream, and he did, “It’s still wrong!”

“I know, Your Majesty.”

“It’s my fault.”

“It’s not –”

Kuei sat up straight, cutting him off. “Get me a soldier’s uniform. Sergeant’s will do. And some trusted men to help with transport. And get someone to prepare a secure room, not a cell. Preferably not too flammable.”

“My king, it’s too dangerous.”

Kuei stood up. “I’m done being a coward, Ming.”

Ming sighed, gathering the documents. “I will need an hour, sir.”

“Good,” Kuei said, his mind already spiralling at the through of the upcoming meeting. Should he disclose who he really was? Tell the boy the whole truth? Or just get him out of the nightmare with offering no explanation what changed? “Oh! Ming?”

“Yes, my king?”

“Get someone else to take Bosco on his afternoon walk.”

“The warden claims he’s been continuing with all the procedures ever since the Dai Li lost power,” Ming, also dressed up as an ordinary soldier, reported. “Says he’s willing to incorporate any new procedures as long as they tame, I quote, dipshit ashmaker.”

Kuei fixed the collar of his slightly too loose uniform. “And what was his reaction when you said we are here to take the prisoner.”

“He literally hugged me, sir,” Ming said. “Saying he owns all of his grey hair to that, I quote, fucking bratty volcano.”

“And where is the volcano?” Kuei asked, trying to appear more collected than he felt in front of soldiers picked up for this task.

“The last budling on the right,” Ming said. “Isolation cells.”

Kuei cleared his throat and nodded to his people. “No harm to the boy. Keep security tight enough that he can’t try anything reckless. He’s going to be distressed by new faces and the sudden change in routine — we need to handle him carefully.”

Kuei gasped when he saw the figure huddled in the corner of the bare stone room.

The boy’s bare feet were chained too closely together to walk properly. His hands were hidden behind his bent legs, but Kuei would have bet his kingdom they were shackled too. A mask – a muzzle –  covered the boy’s face, a thick strap pressed across his lips and thinner ones framing his nose and fastening the contraption tightly around his head. His clothes were filthy, and the smell of blood and sweat was strong enough to make Kuei’s eyes water.

A prison guard, limping slightly, approached the cell behind Kuei and crossed his arms. "The ashmaker, in all his grace," he said. "He’s been on decent behavior since his last stunt, but you better be careful, gents."

Kuei nodded, his eyes on the boy who barely twitched since they entered the room. With long hair and straps his face was barely visible.

"Right," Kuei said, and it must have been divine intervention that kept his voice steady. He gestured to the soldiers on his left. "Help the prisoner up. And I’m going to need the keys to all that steel."

A few things happened at once – the soldiers moved forward, the boy pushed himself further into the corner, and Kuei noticed a jiggling chain that wasn’t only a decoration.

"Wait, first you gotta unleash the ashmaker," the guard said, digging through his pockets.

A short chain was bolted to the wall at hip height, linking to a collar around the boy’s neck.

“What is that for,” Ming asked from Kuei’s right. “The cell is locked already.”

The guard shrugged, checking another pocket. “Consequences of his last stunt,” he said. “He behaves for two days, and he gets some down time on the third. So far, worked wonders.”

Kuei wondered how the man would speak if he knew he was addressing the Earth King. Apparently, a simple uniform and a slightly different hairstyle were enough to keep up the disguise.

Finally, the guard produced a small, rusted key and handed it to Ming. Kuei located the padlock, took the key, and stepped forward. The boy’s breathing quickened.

“I’m going to unlock that… chain,” Kuei said, refusing to call it what it was – a leash. He tried to meet the boy’s eyes, but between the dim light, the long hair, and the straps, it was impossible. “Don’t move. We want to avoid a struggle and anyone getting hurt. All right?”

There was no reaction. Even when Kuei moved close enough to risk a kick, the boy didn’t twitch. He quickly unlocked the padlock, though his stomach sank when he realized the chain would still dangle from the collar for now.

“Good,” Kuei said, stepping back. He glanced at Ming. “Do you have all the keys?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, help the prisoner up and let’s go.”

Kuei wished they were already on the cart heading back to the city, where they could at least remove the muzzle and convince the boy he wasn’t going back under the lake.

The walk was slow. The soldiers matched their pace to the boy’s short, constrained steps without rushing him. From his position at the back of the group, Kuei could tell the boy – Zuko – wasn’t looking around or resisting. Kuei cringed seeing his bare soles on the gravel road.

Finally, they reached the cart. The soldiers had to lift Zuko up because he wouldn’t be able to make such a long step with the chain. It made the boy let out a choked yelp, despite his men’s careful handling.

Kuei wanted to say something, but no right words came to his mind. It seemed they would have to get the boy to the healer quicker than they initially planned.

The soldiers set Zuko down on a bench in the middle of the cart, sitting close to either side of him, with one more standing behind. Kuei and Ming took the bench opposite.

Kuei cleared his throat. “The men in green robes who were previously handling you are no longer in power,” he said. It got a full body flinch reaction from the boy. “Please, don’t try to fight us. Follow instructions, and no one will hurt you anymore.”

Oma and Shu... Kuei's throat tightened. With the oversized clothes and massive guards flanking him, the young prince looked so small and fragile. Kuei knew Zuko could kill a man — but right now, it hardly mattered.

"The rest stays for now," Kuei continued gently, "but we would like to remove that thing from your face." He gestured at Ming. "My friend has a key — he’ll need to fiddle with it a bit to find the right one. All right?"

The boy lifted his chin slightly, but his eyes remained hidden beneath his hair.

“I’m not going to change my mind about removing it, so it’s fine if you don’t want any of us get close to your head right now,” Kuei assured the boy. “And you can stay silent even when its off, if that’s what worries you. So how it’s going to be?”

The cart jolted slightly as they rounded a corner, and a muffled grunt came from behind the muzzle.

Kuei glanced at Zuko’s hands, which looked uninjured, the fingers clenching tightly at the fabric of his pants. “Show me one finger if you want this off. No reaction and I won’t bother you anymore until we reach our destination.”

A long moment passed, but finally, the boy extended his index finger for a few seconds.

“All right,” Kuei said. “My friend will do his best to be gentle, right?”

“Of course,” Ming said, already fiddling with the keys.

Kuei had intended to remove the collar as soon as possible too, but seeing how deeply reluctant Zuko was to any contact – even help – maybe it was better to wait. The boy flinched violently when Ming touched the muzzle but forced himself to stay still.

After a moment, there was a click, and Ming loosened the straps. They hesitated, exchanging a glance, but the boy saved them the trouble – spitting out the vile contraption himself. Kuei picked it up carefully –  two metal plates, still wet from the boy’s mouth –  and tossed it behind his seat, out of sight.

“Much better,” Kuei said. He was honestly surprised by his composure. “The ride will take half an hour.”

Zuko didn’t speak, he barely moved, but a few times Kuei could feel the boy’s golden eyes drilling holes in him. He doubted Zuko could recognize him as the Earth King without the attire. Kuei’s identity remaining secret was an important part of the plan they had made with Ming on the way to the prison.

The cart stopped in the restricted part behind the palace where Kuei’s guard and soldiers sparred at times. It was the best place where they could keep the boy secured but not inside another cell.

“Here we are,” Kuei announced. He didn’t miss the quiet grunt when the guards made Zuko stand up. “It’s a short walk.”

Zuko didn’t answer but this time he was clearly looking at the new surroundings. He kept it subtle, still marching forward with the soldiers, but there was clearly something going on in the boy’s head. Kuei couldn’t blame him.

“Ming,” Kuei whispered, “I think we should get him to a medic today.”

“I do too, my – sir,” Ming corrected himself in time. If not, the horrible circumstances it would be quite amusing experience for Kuei to witness his people to try to act normal around him in soldier’s disguise. “In the evening perhaps. First, let’s get rid of all that metal and let him rest. And maybe give him a basin to wash.”

They reached a small room that had been an empty storage space just an hour ago. Now it was furnished with a bed, a small table, and a battered chair that had seen better days. A window overlooked the courtyard, its frame now reinforced with thick bars.

Kuei quietly ordered one of the soldiers to organize a warm basin of water, some towels, and soap for the boy to clean himself inside the room. It wasn’t yet time for trips to the showers.

He wanted to scream when he caught Zuko’s expression as the boy glanced between the bed and the window — luxuries absent in his previous cell.

“We are going to remove the chains.” Kuei said, getting the boy’s attention. “Just don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

The quiet, hoarse voice startled Kuei. He hadn’t expected a verbal answer after the communication issues in the cart.

Ming quickly dealt with both sets of shackles, revealing poorly tended wounds — definitely another reason to see the medic as soon as possible. Only the awful collar remained, resting heavily against Zuko’s collarbones. The boy clenched his fists and closed his eyes, waiting patiently for Ming to finish.

Something clicked, but the collar remained in place. Ming circled around Zuko and held out the chain for Kuei to see.“They didn’t give us the right key. I tried each one I have. Twice.”

Kuei sighed and nodded. Before he could think of something to say the soldiers with the basin returned. It appeared they also grabbed a change of clothes for the boy – probably too big, but still better than the rags he wore now.

"You can wash yourself, change into these clothes, and rest," Kuei said. "Someone will bring you food soon, and later we’ll talk about getting you to a doctor. Do you have any questions?"

Kuei cringed internally at how stupid that sounded. Of course the boy had questions – he had no idea why his nightmarish reality had suddenly changed.

“About the next few hours, I mean,” Kuei clarified quickly. “There will be time to talk about the bigger picture.”

“No, sir.”

Kuei gestured for his men to leave.

"There will be a guard at the door," one of the soldiers said, casting one last glance at Zuko before closing it behind them.

Kuei let out a long sigh and turned to the soldier with a questioning look.

"Your—uh, sir," the man corrected himself, "I’ve learned it’s better to keep cornered prisoners aware of most security measures. Fewer reckless ideas that way."

"Oh… Then, good thinking," Kuei said. "Keep watch here. And please — one of you, get him something to eat and drink. Only the Spirits know how long they kept him in that awful gag.”

The soldiers moved to carry out the orders, and Kuei headed toward his quarters with Ming.

"What’s your first impression, Ming?"

"To be honest, it went way better than I feared, my king," Ming said, unbuttoning the stiff collar of his uniform. "How he behaved, I mean. What we saw in the prison… Much worse."

Kuei wholeheartedly agreed. "It’s over. That’s the important part. I need to focus on that — otherwise, I’ll start screaming, and it’s going to look very bad for me to lose my mind so soon after reclaiming my kingdom."

Better late than never.

Chapter Text

Kuei had just finished his transformation from meeting-attending king to a prison-transfer soldier when Ming entered, already in his own disguise. Or perhaps he hadn’t even changed yet, leaving a trail of baffled ministers in his wake. Ming really needed a day off, but with this latest development, one wasn’t coming anytime soon.

“Tea?” It was the best Kuei could offer.

Ming nodded. “Thank you, my king,” he said, accepting the cup. “After speaking with a captain, who has experience handling prisoners, I’ve decided it’s best to send in a field medic to examine the boy.”

Kuei frowned. “I don’t think a field medic has much experience treating teenagers.”

“No,” Ming agreed, “but we can’t be certain the boy will cooperate. And don’t forget – he’s a firebender, Your Majesty. It’s not safe to get too close. A field medic will be better trained to respond if anything happens.”

“He follows orders so far,” Kuei said, not really to argue with Ming’s judgment, but he felt it needed to be stated out loud. “I – I’ve never dealt with captives,” Or children, or army, or war, or anything really, “but he seems genuinely terrified. Not just pretending to fool us. It’s all textbook signs – flinching, no eye contact, trying to make himself smaller.”

Kuei knew this situation needed real-world experience – kingship needed that – but academic knowledge was all he had.

“Once his visible wounds are treated,” Ming said, draining the last of his tea, “I suggest we lay out some basic rules and give him a few days to settle. Then, if you still insist, Your Majesty, you can be the one to speak with him.”

Kuei would not run away from responsibility after such bestiality happened right under his nose. He wasn’t an ignorant coward. Not anymore. Never again. Seeing another life destroyed by Long Feng felt personal, and Kuei would do everything in his power to make it right.

The medic, Hatang, was a stocky earthbender, two heads shorter than Kuei, but he didn’t act like it affected his confidence. He seemed indifferent to the entire charade, and once he learned Kuei wasn’t there as a king, he hadn’t stuttered once. Hatang didn’t know the firebender’s true identity and seemed to have little interest in it.

Kuei found himself oddly envious of the man's unruffled attitude.

Hatang ran a hand through his spiky grey sideburns. “Let me handle the talking.”

Kuei didn’t feel insulted, but it was odd to hear someone speak like this to him. “Um… so far, he’s responded well to me doing the talking.”

“Congrats,” Hatang said flatly. “But I need him to get used to following my orders before I start poking around his flesh. I’m not getting burned today, lads. I have places to be.”

Kuei glanced at Ming who only shrugged. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “But, please, be mindful… I don’t want him to think we are going to be like the Dai Li.”

“I don’t think I have that in me even if I tried,” Hatang said.

After a few more turns through the corridors, they reached Zuko’s temporary cell. The soldiers were already gathered, ready to ensure no escape attempts occurred during the walk.

“Anything worth mentioning?” Ming asked the soldier with a moustache, who was there the whole time. “How was he with washing up and food?”

The soldier glanced at Kuei, then bowed awkwardly. “He did wash up and changed clothes. When we brought the food, he was sitting in the far corner, staring at us.”

“Interesting thing is,” another soldier added, “we’re not sure where are the dirty clothes. Seems he hidden them somewhere, but we let it be.”

Hatang stepped forward, waving at the locked door. “Let’s get to work,” he said. “Like I said, I have places to be, and I doubt eavesdropping is doing any good my future patient.”

The soldiers glanced at Kuei, and he nodded them to proceed.

The man with a moustache opened a slit in the door. “We are going in. Step away from the door and keep your hands where we can see them.”

Kuei heard some rustling inside, confirming Hatang’s point about eavesdropping. When the door opened, and Kuei stepped inside behind two soldiers and the medic, he saw the boy pressed against the far wall, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Without the grime clinging to his skin, he looked much paler than before.

Zuko’s eyes flicked over everyone in the room, but then his gaze settled on Kuei.

“Eyes on me, boy,” Hatang said and Zuko immediately shifted his focus. “Good. You earned yourself a medical appointment with myself, so for the next hour or so I’m the one you want to give your full attention.”

Zuko’s eyes darted to Kuei for a moment, but Hatang left it without a comment.

“We have a little walk ahead of us and there are two ways it can go,” Hatang continued. “The nice way and the very annoying way. So how it’s going to be, hm?”

“No walk,” Zuko rasped, no longer maintaining eye contact with anyone. “Leave me alone.”

“Not on the menu,” Hatang said. “Listen, boy… Your previous handlers wouldn’t have this conversation in the first place.” Zuko flinched, his hands wrapped against his torso, breathing hard. “This is really going to be a medical checkup. Your new handlers are nice this way, and I’m here to do the job.”

“I don’t need that.”

Hatang tutted. “That’s a lie,” he said. “The only choice you get whether we are doing it is the nice way or the annoying way.”

“I don’t know what those mean.”

It was unexpected to hear the boy this talkative after the mostly silent transport. It was a good thing, probably.

“In the nice way you follow orders, and the soldiers are careful to not make your sores worse,” Hatang explained. “And in the annoying version you act like a little shit, they make it worse, and I have more patching up to do. So?”

Zuko started at the floor for a long moment before muttering, “The first one.”

Hatang signalled to the soldiers.

The soldier with the moustache nodded. “Step forward and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Zuko followed the order with only slight hesitation. The two men came forward with a piece of rock used specifically for making cuffs and grabbed his arms.

“At the elbows, gents,” Hatang instructed. “Or something creative. Don’t put it on his wrists.”

The soldiers looked at each other and then went for the creative option by crossing Zuko’s forearms immobilizing it with stone. It looked terribly uncomfortable but at least it wasn’t touching the boy’s wounds. Kuei needed to remind himself that Zuko was a firebender capable of killing a Dai Li agent and it was a necessary precaution.

“It’s not a long walk,” Kuei said, rolling his own shoulders.

Zuko wouldn’t trust those men, he’s stopped being naïve long time ago and learned that hope only doubled the pain later. He was certain it was just another ruse, but he didn’t want the pain to start just yet, so he did what they told him to. So far it earned him a meal and a bath with warm water and soap that smelled like flowers.

It would end any second now, but as the pain starts, he would have some food in his stomach. No matter what they planned to do, Zuko had to stop himself from puking it all out… But with the spinning lights or the Robe who liked to punch him in the stomach it wasn’t easy.

Zuko flinched when the soldiers forced him to stop. His heart rattled around his sore chest… He didn’t remember the whole walk. He got lost in his head. Again. The Robes… They broke his mind. He couldn’t remember a day when there wasn’t a hole in his memory.

Zuko blinked rapidly, looking around… They were in a bright room smelling of salve and herbs. Not a dungeon with earie green lamps. Four soldiers – two holding him, the odd sergeant in charge and his ‘friend’ – and the medic putting sheets on the cot in the middle of the room.

It made no sense. He’d been in far worse shape before, and the only help he ever got was from prisoners who took pity on him out in the yard.

“Get him on the cot,” the medic said. “Unpacked, please.”

The soldiers pushed him forward but not hard enough to throw him off-balance. They removed the stone and stood close as he tried to get his arms to work. Once his elbows wouldn’t buckle, Zuko heaved himself on the cot.

So far listening to them wasn’t hard. Zuko wondered when they would start demand things he couldn’t do. But until then… Avoiding pain was his best option.

The guards stayed close at his sides. They were both earthbenders, but Zuko wasn’t sure about the other men.

Wait… Do those people know he was a firebender? Probably. The prison knew that, and they were mindful of seeing his hands. But… Do they know who he used to be? Zuko couldn’t remember anyone of those new people using his name. Unless they did when he got lost in his mind. But he doubted that. No… It made sense they didn’t know. The prison didn’t. There he was just Lee. Yes… This change of treatment made sense for Lee.

Zuko couldn’t let them know the truth. Not if there was a chance it would stop hurting.

Zuko almost fell off the cot when the medic’s loud voice reached his mind. They were all staring at him. He was so stupid. The Robes hated when he wasn’t listening. He needed to apologize but there was no air in his lungs. He hated when that happened. The Robes hated that too.

Zuko looked at the medic, his breath too short, trying to show him that he was really listening this time.

“You back with us, boy?” Zuko nodded, it was all he could do. “Good. I’m going to tend your wrist and ankles. Can you sit still, or do I need Muscles to hold you down?”

Zuko nodded, then realized it wasn’t a yes or no question and struggled for words. “I can.”

“I bet they already drilled that into you,” the medic continued, “but just as a reminder – don’t you dare to firebend.”

Zuko flinched. The stone covering his body inch by inch, getting tighter, waiting for his bones to snap, unable to move, buried alive… He shook his head. Not now. He forced the memory back, but the phantom pressure remained.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko said, his throat full of gravel.

The medic told him to lay his legs on the cot and began fetching supplies. Zuko’s mind must have slipped again – he only registered the moment when the sting of gauze brought him back. His new, too-long pants were rolled up, and the man was cleaning the never-healing wound where the shackles had chewed into his skin.

“It’s festering a bit, but that’s to be expected,” the medic said. “Mostly scarring and hardened tissue. No signs his growth was impaired. And those feet… could pass for an earthbender’s. They’re begging for a proper pair of prison slippers.”

The sergeant in charge nodded, murmuring something to his ‘friend.’ Zuko didn’t understand why they were here. They weren’t close enough to guard him – just standing, watching.

The medic put some stinging salve on his ankles and wrapped them in soft bandages. Zuko watched his hands the entire time, not flinching even when the man poked him with tweezers, muttering about removing tiny stones. Then, he put the same salve and secured everything with bandages so only his toes were left uncovered.

The medic moved to his wrists and repeated the process, it barely hurt, despite the oozing wounds. Zuko had to work in those cuffs, and they weren’t rounded on the edges.

“Is that necklace really necessary?” the medic asked, glancing at Zuko’s neck.

He lowered his eyes as his cheeks grew hot. Without the chain attaching him to the wall he’d forgotten about the collar. You are an unruly dog so we’re going to treat you like one. How could he forget about that? Pathetic.

“The key got misplaced,” the sergeant said. “If it’s not found in a few days we are going to think about another way to remove it.”

The medic hummed, finishing binding his wrist. “Can you move and feel all your fingers, boy?”

Zuko nodded, the collar sitting heavy on his neck.

“Show me,” the medic said. “One by one.”

Zuko did, and gladly, no one mocked how his hands shook.

“Good,” the medic said. “Now, listen… We are already here, and you seem a decent patient. Now there are three ways how it can go. Wanna hear them?”

Zuko tensed, he started to hate that expression but nodded, not really having a choice.

“First – those nice gents take you back to your accommodations and I have the rest of the day off,” the medic said and winked at the sergeant. “Second – you tell me what else hurts you and I see if I can do something about it. And third, the one that would make Mister Sergeant here the happiest, you cooperate with me through a full examination.”

Zuko considered his illusion of choice.

So far, the medic only tended his wounds and didn’t hurt him. After the last… No. Don’t think about it. Zuko felt he was injured in some places, and he wasn’t sure those were just bruises. If they really wanted to ‘examine’ him they could do it by force. Like the Robes did. Now, that they didn’t know who he used to be… But showing vulnerability had always made things worse. Though maybe not for Lee. If he wanted to escape –

Zuko flinched. Pain and screams. Don’t think about it.

If he wanted… that. Though, not sure if he did, knowing the consequences. But if he did try again… Then, being in a good shape would offer him a better chance. And those odd people really seemed to offer that.

“I do want this to happen now, yes,” the sergeant said. “But if you decline, the offer will be still on the table once you are comfortable with that.”

Zuko would never be comfortable with that. And the offer wouldn’t remain on the table once they knew… His mind mostly stayed in the present so far. He could make it through.

Zuko folded his hands on his lap – how odd it was without the constant jiggling – and looked up at the medic. He… he reminded him of someone from before. “I will cooperate, sir.”

“That was a very long thought process, huh?” the medic said and fetched a bag from under the cot. “I hope you already noticed we really mean you no harm, kid.”

For now. Because they didn’t know who he used to be. And what he did.

The smell and screams… Don’t think about it!

Zuko focused on the medic. On the odd way he seemed familiar. Safe… That was stupid. Nobody was safe. The Robes broke his mind, and he couldn’t trust it.

Just focus on what’s happening!

“Yes, sir,” Zuko said.

Hatang leaned against the cot, arms crossed, eyes on Zuko. “We’re doing the third option, but you can still tell me if something hurts. All right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kuei relaxed a little, relieved to see the boy could respond without first zoning out completely. The first time Zuko had stared blankly into space, unresponsive, even Hatang had seemed surprised. Normally, the boy watched their every move.

“Take off your shirt,” Hatang said.

Kuei expected hesitation, maybe even a protest – but Zuko simply pulled the oversized fabric over his head and folded it neatly on his lap. The boy was thin, but from what Kuei could tell in his hunched posture, his bones didn’t protrude and there was some muscle on him.

“Lie down. Hands at your sides,” Hatang instructed. “I’m going to check your chest, then your stomach.”

Zuko obeyed, revealing bruises blooming along the side of his ribcage and several small scars – some random, others unnervingly symmetrical.

Hatang tutted. “How old is that one?” he asked, pointing at the bruise.

“I—I don’t know.”

“Or you don’t want to tell me?”

Zuko shook his head, his eyes flicking briefly to Kuei. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but no words came out.

Hatang sighed. “It’ll hurt but try to breathe normally for me.”

He began pressing along Zuko’s sternum, then methodically traced each rib. When he reached the bruised area, Zuko’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t protest.

“Deep breath,” Hatang said, his hand still resting over the bruise. “I need to check something.”

Zuko inhaled – a full breath, but ragged. His chest hitched, and a faint tremor ran through his shoulders. It was a controlled flinch but still betrayed the pain.

“Feel anything moving that shouldn’t?” Hatang asked.

“No, sir,” Zuko panted. “Not anymore.”

Hatang raised an eyebrow. “Anymore?”

“It used to. A week ago? I don’t know. For a while. When I coughed or twisted.”

Hatang looked up at Kuei. “Seems it’s no longer cracked. Healed well enough. I don’t feel anything worrying.”

He moved on, checking Zuko’s stomach and cleaning a few shallow cuts across his chest and arms. Then he had the boy sit upright on the cot, exposing his back and a large burn marring his shoulder blade. It wasn’t fresh, but it hadn’t fully scarred either – puckered, red, and healing unevenly at the edges. A few weeks old, maybe a month.

When Zuko couldn’t see his face, Hatang exchanged glances with Ming and Kuei. It wasn’t an accident. A circle with a square inside. A brand.

The Dai Li had burned their symbol into Zuko’s skin.

Zuko flinched when Hatang touched the area.

“All good, boy,” Hatang said quietly, his hands moving gently down his spine. “Don’t sleep on the floor, and the sores should go away. That burn still hurts?”

Zuko didn’t respond. He stayed still.

Hatang glanced at Kuei, hand still resting on Zuko’s back. “And again, the boy’s no longer with us… That worries me, gents. A firebender slipping off like this is a fire hazard.”

Kuei swallowed hard. A fucking brand. “So far he’s calm.”

Hatang gave Zuko’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That burn bothering you? Pain, or maybe tightness?”

Zuko shuddered slightly and looked at him over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Itchy.”

“I can make a salve for that,” Hatang said. “Were you scratching it?”

“No, sir.”

“You being honest, boy?”

“I couldn’t reach it. Hands were tied,” Zuko muttered. “And I know you’re not supposed to scratch burns.”

Hatang chuckled humourlessly. “Right, Mister Firebender,” he said. “Turn around and face me.”

Zuko obeyed, grunting softly as he shifted on the cot.

“Good. Any heavy blows to your head in the last few weeks?”

“No, sir.”

Hatang nodded and slowly raised a finger in front of Zuko’s face. “Follow my finger. No – just with your eyes. Don’t move your head. Good. Now, raise your arms like this.”

Zuko complied. Hatang deemed the boy’s shoulders functional but stiff. Whether it was from cold, fear, restricted movement, or all three, it had the boy wound up like a coiled wire. He recommended some basic stretches to ease the tension, then told him to put his shirt back on and lie down again, which Zuko did without a word.

Kuei should’ve felt relieved by the boy’s cooperation – but something about his compliance raised goosebumps at the back of his neck. 

“Let’s lose that string and lift your hips so I can slide your pants down and check your legs,” Hatang said. 

“No!” Zuko shot upright, fists gripping the waistband. Panic flared in his eyes.

The soldiers were ready to intervene but Hatang and the firebender just stared at each other. Kuei held his breath, unwilling to think about what might’ve caused such a visceral reaction.

Hatang took a small step back. “Listen, kid… If someone ever touched you there, it’s important you tell me. Me or the soldiers here we’d never –”

“No,” Zuko said again, his shoulders hunched. His face was flushed deep red, all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“No as in you don’t want to say? Or…?” Hatang asked, his tone steady. “A full sentence would help.”

“Nobody… No.” Zuko shuddered. “Not what you think. Sir. No.”

The way he said it made it hard to believe him. Cowardly as it felt, Kuei was quietly relieved that he wasn’t the one having to navigate this conversation. 

“Then what are you panicking for?”

Zuko mumbled something.

“Louder?”

“I don’t have anything underneath,” he mumbled.

The room collectively exhaled. Kuei the loudest.

Hatang looked at Kuei. “Get the boy some underclothes, would you?” Then, he turned back to Zuko. “All right, lad. Just going to ask – everything all right down there? Rash? Sores?”

Zuko nodded, colour still burning in his face. “Fine.”

“Then help me roll up your pants so I can take a look at your legs.”

Zuko nodded and slowly rolled up the left pant leg. The fabric was so oversized it slid easily past the knee, baring a pale thigh. His legs were lean and bruised here and there, but mostly intact. The worst damage seemed to be around the ankles, already wrapped in fresh bandages.

Hatang stood beside the cot and began palpating the left leg – calf first, then working his way up, pressing and prodding with careful fingers. Zuko watched him, stiff but still.

The boy visibly tensed when Hatang reached his other knee. “Should I be careful here?”

Zuko offered a tiny nod.

Hatang pressed his fingers right under his kneecap. “What happened?”

“I fell during work and landed bad. It twisted.”

“It’s not swollen.”

Zuko shook his head. “Long time ago,” he said. “It was big then. Borag said I broke it.”

“Who’s Borag?”

Zuko glanced at Kuei with panicked eyes before answering. “A prisoner. We had a shift together and he’d seen me fall.”

“Well… I don’t think this Borag fellow was right. Breaking a knee is very rare.”

Zuko shrugged.

“You said it was long time ago,” Hatang said. “And what’s wrong with it now?”

“Sometimes it locks, and I can’t bend it,” Zuko said quietly. “Hurts bad when I carry heavy stuff. Starts buckling.”

Hatang gently flexed the joint. Zuko winced.

“And when was the last time you were carrying heavy stuff?” Hatang asked.

“Yesterday, sir.”

“I’ll wrap it. It should make it feel better,” Hatang said and glanced at Kuei. “And you, soldier, make sure he’s not lifting anything for a while.”

“Naturally,” Kuei said.

Hatang wrapped Zuko’s knee with practiced care, adding a few protective layers and checking that it wasn’t too tight. Then, he explained how to rewrap it himself after bathing or whenever it needed to come off. Zuko listened intently, nodding with a rare kind of focus – not zoning out once.

Kuei hadn’t expected the sharp-edged medic and the prince with a temper to click so easily. It was strange, especially after everything he’d read about Zuko’s outbursts.

Apparently, not hurting the boy was all it took… The thought made Kuei sick.

“And you, little rascal, behave yourself. That knee needs a break, the rest of you too. Those guys, they won’t hurt you just because they can,” Hatang said, his hand laying on the boy’s knee. “Listen to them, and your life will really get better from now on, all right?”

Kuei’s throat was so tight he wouldn’t muster a single word.

Zuko bent his good leg up and wrapped his arms around it, sniffing softly. His shoulders shook with quiet, stifled hiccups. Kuei’s heart shattered like a dropped crystal.

Hatang didn’t comment. He simply grabbed a clean bandage and placed it gently on Zuko’s lap then turned and walked around the cot, positioning himself with his back to the boy, shielding him from Kuei and Ming’s view. The gesture was small but deliberate.

In that moment, Kuei decided Hatang would get a raise. A generous one.

“As for my recommendations,” Hatang began, his tone matter-of-fact, “be mindful of the bandages if you must chain him. Don’t leave him like that longer than necessary. No labour. Let him rest. Three meals a day, or he’ll tip straight into malnourishment.”

Kuei cleared his throat and nodded. “Understood,” he said. Behind Hatang’s shoulder, he noticed Zuko quietly wiping his face, so he stalled to buy the boy a few more seconds. “Anything else?”

“I’ll prepare a salve for the burn and a healing balm. He can apply it himself,” Hatang said, then looked over at Zuko. “Right, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replied. His voice was steady again – no trace of the tears. Good. Kuei had no idea what he would’ve done if it wasn’t. “Thank you.”

Hatang stepped aside and offered Zuko a nod. “You’re welcome, kid. Behave, and I’ll see you in two weeks. We’ll take a closer look at that leg, see what more can be done. Got it?”

Zuko’s eyes were still red, but the raw emotion had vanished — buried fast and deep. The speed of it was unsettling. “I’ll try, sir,” he said.

“That’s the spirit.”

Better late than never, Kuei reminded himself, mostly to stop himself from turning into a sobbing mess. That wouldn’t be kingly. And he didn’t have time for unscheduled breakdowns.

Chapter Text

Left alone in his new cell, Zuko found himself mesmerized by the window. It was huge – large enough that, if not for the iron bars, he could have easily slipped through. Wooden shutters framed the outside, though one hung closed, stealing away half the precious light.

Zuko dared to push it open. His wrist slid easily between the bars as he nudged the shutter outward. Then he tucked himself into the corner beneath the window, his heart pounding against his ribs. But no one came to rebuke him.

Still unsure if this was truly real, Zuko sat on the floor with his back against the bed. The sun reached him there, wrapping his whole body in its warm embrace. If it was a dream, it was a good one. He never wanted to wake up.

When he was close to dozing off, a loud bang on the door jolted him. His knee twisted painfully beneath him as he scrambled into the corner, breathing hard, praying it wasn’t the Robes.

The same soldiers who had escorted him earlier entered the room. This time the sergeant or his friend weren’t there. Just the two earthbenders – one with a moustache and no beard the other with long braid only at the tip of his chin. Why everyone here had some stupid facial hair?

Not the sergeant, Zuko thought. Shut up. Focus. The soldiers. Just focus on the soldiers.

“We have some spare clothes for you. A full set this time,” Moustache said and put a bundle by the door. “A chamber pot,” he added, holding up a bucket and demonstrating how to close the lid so it wouldn’t stink. “Finally, a meal.”

Beard set a tray down on the table and collected the empty dishes from the last meal. Zuko had licked them clean

“Now, a few rules so things go smoothly from here on out,” Moustache said. “Every time we enter, we’ll knock twice. That gives you a few seconds to back away from the door and show your hands. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replied, his voice coming out pathetically weak.

“If you are already away from the door, there’s no need to move,” Spike Beard added. “Just make sure we can see your hands and wait.”

Moustache nodded. “That’s right. The bed, the chair, that corner of yours… All acceptable. Another thing… After you eat, leave all dishes and cutlery on the tray for us to collect. A knife missing even once, and you are going to eat with your fingers. All clear?”

Zuko cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Should he give them back the dirty prison rags he’d hidden behind the bed? Zuko had no idea why he did that. It had seemed smart back then, like he was for once outsmarting the captors. But now? They could think he was planning an escape once they realize. But he didn’t want to anger them just yet. Why was he so stupid?

A sudden bark of speech made Zuko flinch, but the words didn’t register at first. He stammered, “I—I’m sorry, I—”

“I said,” Beard repeated, his voice calm again, “that tomorrow, someone will come to try and open that collar. Just so you know, kid.”

Zuko breathed hard as Spike Beard and Moustache led him down the corridor. His hands were bound in front of him, and the soldiers flanked him on either side. Their grips were firm, but it didn’t hurt. He vaguely remembered them saying where they were taking him, but the moment the cuffs had snapped into place, his mind had gone blank.

There were still in the same building as his new cell, only a few floors lower. Agni, please, not underground… The worst things the Robes had done to him had always happened underground.

A sudden breeze jolted him back to the present. They’d entered a cluttered room filled with metal scraps and strange tools. In the center of the mess stood a man wearing odd-looking goggles and the sleeveless top of a uniform, his bare arms smeared with grease.

The man kicked a wheeled stool toward them.

“Sit him there,” he said. “Near the window. I need the light.”

“Come,” Moustache said, giving Zuko a gentle nudge forward. “Try not to move, kid. Aldol here will open that collar.”

The soldiers stayed close, but they weren’t holding him.

Zuko flinched, nearly sliding off the stool, when the collar suddenly tightened around his throat. Spike Beard grabbed him and sat him upright again with surprising care.

Spike Beard scowled past Zuko’s shoulder. “You were supposed to talk him through this.”

“I focus better in silence,” the man, Aldol, grunted.

“You won’t be focusing at all if he keeps jumping like that,” Moustache muttered.

Aldol groaned. “I’m gonna grab the collar now, lad. It’ll get tight for a second, the lock’s in an awkward spot.”

Zuko nodded stiffly and braced himself. He tried to breathe through his nose, as if that could somehow make it easier. It was so stupid. In prison, guards liked to yank the chain sometimes, making him choke and trip. He should be used to this.

It was what he deserved. After… Don’t think about it! About the smell… And what the Robes did after.

“I expected some more enthusiasm,” someone said with a chuckle.

“I don’t think he’s here with us.”

“Hey, kid.”

Zuko blinked and focused on Moustache crouching in front of him. His neck felt… strange.

“Do you hear me?”

Zuko nodded.

Gently, Moustache took his bound hands and guided them to his neck. “Feel for yourself.”

Zuko’s fingers touched bare skin. The collar was gone. He could swallow without it hurting and turn his neck. He felt… human. Almost.

Agni, please… He didn’t want that new treatment to end. Those people couldn’t know.

“No need to thank me,” Aldol grumbled behind him.

“Oh, don’t be an ass, Aldol,” Spike Beard said, nudging Zuko gently. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room, kid.”

They walked him back to the upper floor, back to his cell. His room. Because, locked as it might be, it was a room. Zuko had no idea why everything changed, but it did.

Moustache removed the stone cuffs from his wrists. “Quiet today, aren’t you?”

Zuko stared at him. What was he supposed to say? For weeks, he couldn’t speak at all – they removed the gag only in the evening when they let him eat. And before… He used to talk with some prisoners but never much.

“Have a good night of sleep, kid,” Moustache said. “Finally, with all that jewellery off. And do it on the bed, okay?”

Zuko’s eyes widened.

Moustache chuckled and glanced at Spike Beard. “You see? I was right. You slept in that corner, didn’t you?”

Zuko nodded.

“Would you prefer to have the bed by the wall?” Spike Beard asked.

He had tried using the bed. But lying exposed in the center of the room, with no wall at his back, left him too tense to rest. He hadn’t dared to move the furniture. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

Zuko nodded.

“Then help me push it.”

Zuko took hold of the bed frame by the headrest while the soldier braced the foot. The legs scraped loudly across the stone floor with a deep, jarring screech. The noise set Zuko’s teeth on edge. When it was done, the bed sat snugly against the wall, and the space felt oddly larger for it.

That’s when Zuko saw it.

His heart dropped.

The bundle of clothes he’d hidden behind the bed on the first day.

The soldiers noticed too.

“I – I…” he tried. “It’s not –”

Moustache widened his stance, blocking the only way out. Oh no… He was so stupid.

“Kid, calm down. Breathe, and don’t do anything stupid,” Spike Beard said, holding up a hand. “We knew you’ve hidden those clothes. And we let it be, so you are not in trouble.”

“I – sorry,” Zuko panted, struggling to take a full breath. “Please…”

“Why did you do that?” Moustache asked.

Zuko had to answer. Before they tried to make him answer. But the truth sounded absurd, even to him.

“I – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Zuko nodded, pressing his back hard against the wall. “I swear. I… I just did it. I don’t know why.”

Spike Beard let out a quiet sigh. “Well… we’re going to take those.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t make a habit of hiding stuff,” he added.

“Yes, sir.”

Spike Beard picked up the bundle and joined Moustache by the door.

“You’re not in trouble,” Moustache said, softer this time. “Do you hear me, kid?”

“Yes, sir.” Zuko heard him. He just couldn’t believe it could be that simple. “I’m sorry.”

“Get some rest.”

Zuko sat curled on the bed, his back pressed tightly to the wall, expecting the knock at the door to signal just another meal. He was wrong.

“Hello,” the sergeant said, stepping inside. “I think it's time we have a talk. You must have questions, and I have some of my own.”

Zuko glanced past him, eyeing the soldiers crowding the doorway. They were probably here to make him talk. But… so far, doing what these people wanted hadn’t hurt him.

He looked the sergeant in the eyes and gave a small nod. The man smiled. The Robes used to smile too, right before they did awful things.

“I thought you might appreciate a change of scenery,” the sergeant continued. “I’ve had tea and sweets prepared in a room on the upper floor.”

Upper floor was good.

Zuko slid off the bed. His knees buckled slightly, weak beneath him. Strange. His bad knee was wrapped now, and it didn’t hurt as much.

Moustache approached, a familiar piece of stone in his hands. “You know the drill, right?”

Zuko offered his wrists without protest. Moustache secured the cuffs and then gripped him gently by the upper arm. It didn’t hurt.

 They walked through the corridors, Moustache the only one touching him. The sergeant and his companion led the way, and Spike Beard and another soldier followed behind.

The room was bright, sunlight streaming in through wide windows overlooking the same courtyard Zuko could see from his cell. In the center stood a small table set with a teapot, cookies, and three cushions.

Moustache released his grip and lifted Zuko’s arms by the cuffs, forcing their eyes to meet. “Just don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

The stone crumbled, and the cuffs fell away. Zuko’s arms dropped to his sides, heavy and uncertain. He didn’t know what to do with them. Everyone in the room was watching him.

The sergeant and his friend sat down on the cushions and gestured for Zuko to join them. It all felt like a trap. He glanced at Moustache, who gave him a subtle nudge forward.

Zuko exhaled a shaky breath and lowered himself onto the cushion. Moustache and Spike Beard flanked him just at the edge of his vision. The third soldier lingered somewhere behind him.

“Help yourself,” the sergeant said, nudging a plate of cookies closer. “Do you like tea?”

Zuko’s throat tightened. Don’t think about it. It’s gone. “Yes, sir.”

The sergeant poured him a cup, filling it to the brim. Zuko didn’t reach for it. With his hands still trembling, he’d only spill it all over himself.

“My name is Ming,” the other man said flatly, “and this is my superior, Sergeant Shu. As we told you when we retrieved you from the prison – the Dai Li are no longer in power. We are. And we don’t condone imprisoning children in conditions like those.”

Zuko hadn’t hallucinated it. They had really said the Robes – the Dai Li – were gone. Thanks Agni… But what that changed for him? Maybe everything if he managed to conceal what only the Robes knew. Who he used to be. Don’t think about it. What about the… the thing he did when he had tried to escape. Did they know that? The prison knew. So those people should too, but they were treating him too kind. What if –

Zuko blinked. The sergeant and Ming were staring at him with deep frowns. His mind slipped again.

“I’m listening,” Zuko stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Sergeant Shu said. “We asked about your name.”

“Lee, sir.”

Sergeant Shu nodded. “Okay, Lee. Can you tell me what got you into prison?”

“I’m a firebender.”

Zuko’s heart was rattling around his chest. He was a terrible liar. He couldn’t tell them the truth. He wasn’t even sure which of those memories were true. And how was he supposed to come up with another believable story?

“And how did you get to the Earth Kingdom in the first place? And why?”

“I…” Think…. Think! “The men in robes.” Zuko flinched. “They took me.”

“Took you? Why?”

It was getting harder to breathe. “I don’t know. They… they… those lights. They wanted a firebender. I think.”

“And why you?” Ming asked.

Zuko reached to his throat, for a second, he thought that the collar was back there. Choking him. “I – I don’t know.”

Ming and Sergeant Shu looked at each other for a long, dreadful moment, as if there was a whole wordless conversation happening. Then, Sergeant Shu shook his head.

Pathetic… They knew he was lying. Now, they would use other methods to get the truth. And Zuko knew too well that earthbending methods were impossible to resist.

It made no sense to carry on this charade. Just as they had expected, Zuko tried to hide his identity, but with every lie the boy seemed to be closer to losing his composure. And there wasn’t much of that to begin with.

His eyes turned vacant again, his hand clutching his throat, an occasional tremor passing through him. This part had to be handled delicately. Logically, the fact that they already knew who he was – and what he’d done – and still treated him kindly should be reassuring. But Kuei doubted the boy had the mental space for logic.

“Kid,” Kuei said gently. Zuko blinked and flinched, but his focus snapped back to the room. “We understand why you tried to hide it,” he went on. “We’re not angry. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“S-Sir?”

“We know your real name isn’t Lee,” Kuei said as calmly as he could manage. “After taking power from the Dai Li, we went through their records. That’s how we found out how you ended up here… Prince Zuko. I’m very sorry. It never should have happened.”

Zuko’s eyes widened, the gold in them nearly vanishing into whites.

The soldiers flanking him stiffened, ready to act if he made a wrong move. Kuei could feel sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

“Since our intervention,” Ming added in a level voice, “no one’s harmed you. You’ve received medical care. Regular meals. That won’t change. It’s the bare minimum. You’ve behaved well, thinking we didn’t know. Just keep doing that.”

Zuko’s panicked gaze darted between Ming and Kuei. “You… know.”

“Yes, Zuko. We do,” Kuei said. It was better to keep the conversation moving, before the boy spiralled into something worse than shock. “You must have questions.”

“Who knows?”

“Everyone in this room.”

Zuko glanced at the guards around him and gave a stiff nod. “The prison didn’t. They only knew I was a bender.”

“We know,” Ming said.

Zuko fell silent, unnervingly still for several long moments. One of those slips again, when he seemed to vanish inside himself.

“What else do you know?” he finally asked, voice tight and eyes wide with fear.

Ming began, but Kuei cut him off with a subtle gesture. He thought he understood where this was going. There was a pattern in how Zuko’s mind worked. He was good with patterns.

“Most of it,” Kuei answered, offering a sorrowful smile. “We know that at times you fought against the Dai Li and the prison staff. That there were casualties. As Ming said, nothing that happened in the past will affect how we treat you now. You’ll still receive the bare minimum: safety, food, care.”

Zuko swallowed hard and trembled. Then he doubled over, clutched his stomach, and collapsed to the side on all fours.

The guards immediately dropped into bending stances – but there was no threat.

The boy threw up, retching until there was nothing left. His body kept convulsing in dry heaves. No one moved. No one knew what to do.

Kuei stood, and Ming instinctively grabbed his sleeve. Kuei shook him off.

He met the eyes of the guard by the door. “Find something to clean this up, please.” The man grimaced – it wasn’t his lucky day.

Kuei crouched beside Zuko, whose stomach had finally settled, at least for now.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko gasped, breathless.

“Don’t worry,” Kuei said softly. “Come with me. Some fresh air might help.”

Zuko staggered to his feet, using the wall for support. Kuei glanced at Ming, who now looked like he was fighting the urge to strangle him. Well…. Yes, Kuei might be playing with fire. Quite literally too.

“Is the terrace empty at this hour?” he asked. The guards exchanged a look, then nodded. “Great. Hey, Zuko, think there’s a second wave coming?”

Zuko blinked, glassy-eyed. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

Kuei’s heart tightened. It was a reckless move for a newly reinstated king without an heir but he gently placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guided him toward the back door. Zuko flinched at the touch but once he realized what was happening didn’t try to get away.

Zuko sat with his back tucked into the corner of the balustrade. He didn’t quite remember how he’d gotten there. His mouth still tasted of acid. But there were actual birds flying overhead. The sky was visible. And the sun, even behind the thick clouds.

Of course, he’d seen all that before in the prison yard – but this was different.

He wasn’t hurting. He wasn’t chained. He didn’t have that awful collar or the gag in his mouth.

And they knew.

Zuko struggled to process the flood of new information and what it could mean for his future. Could he actually… hope it would be better? These people hadn’t done anything to hurt him – at least not yet.

And they knew all along.

The door creaked open, and Sergeant Shu returned. Right. The man had led Zuko there, Moustache and Spike Beard followed, and then the sergeant had gone somewhere.

“All good?” Sergeant Shu asked the two soldiers leaning against the balustrade, a few paces from Zuko.

“Yeah,” Moustache said. “I don’t think the kid’s been with us this whole time.”

“It’s not my fault,” Zuko rasped, before he could stop himself. All three men turned to look at him, waiting for more. “T-the Robes… they had lights and… they broke my mind.”

“No one’s saying it’s your fault, kid,” Moustache said gently.

Sergeant Shu cleared his throat and held out a glass of water. “Here. Just don’t drink too fast.”

“Thank you, sir,” Zuko murmured, his throat tight.

The men were still watching him, so Zuko focused on the glass, forcing himself to take small sips and breathe between them. Once the water was gone, so was the distraction.

Curled in the corner, surrounded by three tall, uniformed men, it all felt uncomfortably close to the dark cell back in prison. Even though this was nothing like that, his dumb mind tried to make it feel the same.

“Can I stand up?” he asked.

“Sure,” the sergeant said.

“But come closer to this side,” Spike Beard added, gesturing toward a spot near the wall.

Zuko followed the instruction. The soldiers shifted positions with him, always keeping him between them. Sergeant Shu leaned against the balustrade across from him.

“We can go back inside if you’re feeling better,” the sergeant offered. “The tea shouldn’t be cold yet.”

“No,” Zuko said too quickly. The fresh air had softened his self-preservation instincts. Panicking, he looked around at the men, but none of them seemed angry. Not yet. “Sorry… I mean, can I stay here a little longer, please?”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Sergeant Shu said kindly. “It’s nice out here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

No one spoke for a short moment, but Zuko could feel that questions were coming.

“Zuko…” the sergeant said eventually. “I understand this is a hard topic. But it won’t get easier with time, and we’d like to settle some of these things sooner rather than later. Can you answer a few questions?”

It had been a long time since anyone used his real name. The Robes hardly used it.

“I’ll try, sir,” Zuko said, because there wasn’t any safer answer. “What kind of questions, sir?”

Sergeant Shu sighed. “We’d like to understand how much you know about the circumstances of your kidnapping.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around himself. Without chains, he could do it. But it didn’t make it much better. He’d tried to forget about that time, and the Robes had certainly helped blur it.

“S-sir, I don’t remember those things right. I swear.”

“It’s all right,” Sergeant Shu said. “Do you remember anything from the kidnapping itself?”

Zuko shook his head. “I-I was in the garden, I think. I fell. And then, I woke up in a strange underground room with the Robes.”

“Did they tell you anything?”

“That I was in the Earth Kingdom and… that they would ransom me back if I behaved.” Zuko’s voice shook. “I-I was a coward. I hoped it would end soon. Back then… The room. It was like the cell I have now, just without a window. They fed me. I don’t know how long it was like that.”

“Why wasn’t the ransom completed?”

Zuko didn’t want to cry in front of those people. But… It hurt.

“They… The Fire Lord…” He struggled to speak through the tightness in his throat. “He didn’t want me b-back. Told the Robes t-to kill me.”

He tried to detach the words from the memories, but it didn’t work. His cheeks were wet. His chest ached. Pathetic. But he couldn’t stop now.

“Oh, kid…” Sergeant Shu stepped forward, arms open. “C’mere.”

Old, buried reflexes moved Zuko’s body before he could think. The man’s arms wrapped around his back. The smell was all wrong, and the man was taller than Uncle… But it was the closest thing to his uncle’s hug that Zuko had felt in years. He pressed his face into the man’s uniform, his arms still crossed tightly over his own trembling chest.

“D-did they lie?” Zuko asked, muffled.

“I’m very sorry, Zuko, but they didn’t,” Sergeant Shu said softly. “There’s a letter to prove it.”

Zuko sniffled. “Do you know if my mum came back? S-she disappeared before they took me.”

“No, she didn’t,” the man said. “And the Fire Nation never released any official statement about it.”

That… that was horrible. But at least it meant she hadn’t abandoned him too.

The sergeant’s embrace grew a little tighter. “Officially, Zuko, you were never kidnapped. The Fire Nation declared you dead of natural causes around the time the ransom talks fell apart. I’m very sorry.”

“I know,” Zuko whispered. Hearing it still made fresh tears fall.

They stood like that for a while. Eventually, Zuko shifted, uneasy with how long he'd lingered in the embrace. His eyes flicked toward the others. Moustache and Spike Beard had moved a little closer, but not enough to make him feel trapped. Their expressions were calm, offering sad smiles rather than judgment.

“I’m sorry. Sirs, I swear I’ll be good,” Zuko blurted out, pulling away. “Just… please, don’t do what the Robes did. It’s not necessary. I can be good. I-I can.”

“Kid, we are not doing any of that,” Moustache said firmly. “Everyone involved agreed that what the Dai Li did to you was cruel. It shouldn’t have happened no matter whose kid you used to be.”

“And those who are in power now had no idea such actions ever taken place,” Seargeant Shu said. “Dai Li acted entirely on their own.”

Zuko wanted to believe them. Those cold nights he had dreamed about someone pulling him out of this nightmare.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Zuko asked quietly, eyes lowered. “The Robes… They needed me for something… those lights. What do you need me for?”

“We don’t need you for anything, Zuko,” Sergeant Shu said. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you anymore. Not on my watch. For now, things are going to stay how they were for the past few days. Was that all right?”

Zuko nodded. It was the best he had in years. Since the Dai Li took him. The window. He loved the window. And that he could move as he pleased. And the bed.

“In a few days, you’ll have a checkup with the healer,” Sergeant Shu continued. “Meanwhile, Ming and I are going to, well…” He sighed and really looked at Zuko. “Where were you before we brought you here?”

Zuko blinked. “A prison, sir. I think the others called it West Wall.”

“And now?” Shu asked. “Do you still think this is a prison?”

Zuko thought for a moment. He hadn’t said it aloud, but he’d been watching people train through the window. They didn’t move like prisoners.

“I-I don’t think it’s a prison, sir,” he admitted.

But then his gaze darted to the guards still standing quietly at his sides.

“But I’m still a prisoner,” Zuko said quickly. “I-I know that didn’t change, sir. I swear, I don’t need chains, a-and everything to remind me. I can remember. I can.”

Sergeant Shu exhaled, a deep, weary breath. Zuko braced himself, fearing he’d said too much.

“And have you committed any crimes?” Kuei asked, then corrected himself. “Before you were imprisoned by the Dai Li. Those are not trick questions, kid. I just want you to understand something.”

Zuko took a long breath, struggling to give a proper answer. It had been so long since anyone expected him to think for himself. The last time had been with tutors in the Fire Nation, and he’d disappointed them often. He didn’t want to disappoint Sergeant Shu.

“I think… being here might be a crime, sir. In the Earth Kingdom. It would’ve been in the Fire Nation.”

“But you didn’t come here by yourself, did you?”

Zuko shook his head, looking down in embarrassment. He had been stupid with tutors. Now? He was a no better than a talking rock. A blockhead. Other prisoners liked that word. Guards too.

“Then that’s not something you should be punished for.”

Zuko’s hands twitched.

“The Robes… T-they interrogated me. I resisted. I didn’t want to talk. At first. M-maybe that is a crime. I don’t know the Earth Kingdom’s law well, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Zuko, no, kid…” Shu’s voice faltered. “The Dai Li – they – committed crimes. You were only a child and not involved in the war. No interrogation should’ve happened.”

“B-but I was a prince,” Zuko said weakly. “I shouldn’t have let them take me, a-and I shouldn’t have t-talked.”

Sergeant Shu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Okay, I mean, definitely not okay, but we are getting away from my point. Crimes, Zuko. People get sent to prison for crimes.”

Oh no…

The sergeant clearly wanted him to confess. They already knew. They had said it. But for some reason they wanted to hear it from him. Last time, Zuko had thought about it for a second too long, his guts ended up on the floor.

He just needed to say it, but don’t think about it.

“S-sir… I admit, I tried to escape a few times,” Zuko stammered. “But I was scared of the Robes. A-and it’s honourable to do it. I-I had to. After I talked. I wanted to do something good. But I’m stupid, and not learning, and I tried again, and the Robes were so angry… It-it hurt so much… I didn’t want to be there. And-and the last time… I knew the consequences would be worse than death, but I’m stupid… I didn’t want to be there. With the Robes. I-I hurt people.”

His breaths were coming so short, but he needed to confess the worse part. Just say it, don’t think about it.

“I killed a Robe,” Zuko whispered. “With my bending. Injured too.”

His chest kept acting funny. He breathed like he had a hiccup. He didn’t notice that the soldiers were closer to him now, but they weren’t touching him. What was that noise in his head?

“You breathing, kid?” Moustache asked.

Zuko nodded. He didn’t think he could say anything now.

“Is there a risk you’ll bend when you’re like this?” Spike Beard asked seriously. “Intentionally or not?”

Zuko shook his head, looking the man in the eyes. He wasn’t lying. Firebending came from breathing. And he wasn’t breathing. Not really. And he didn’t want to bend. It was forbidden. And the punishment hurt too much.

“All right, I’m going to grab your hand, kid,” Spike Beard said. He taken Zuko by his wrist and put his palm flat on the chest pocket of his uniform. “I’m going to breathe deep and slow and you try to match that. Got it?”

Zuko nodded.

And he tried.

And it took a few tries before he managed to follow the pattern for the first time.

“Good job, lad,” Spike Beard said. “A few more times now.”

Zuko lost the rhythm a few times, but the soldier didn’t say anything. He didn’t get angry. Once Zuko managed to follow the pattern for longer, his lungs seemed to work again. Then, the soldier let go of his hand.

Zuko stared at the floor, unsure what to do. All three men were watching him.

“Zuko…” Sergeant Shu stepped forward again. His voice was calm but heavy. “This wasn’t exactly the conversation I planned. But we can work with this.”

Zuko didn’t respond. His heart still pounded.

“You were put in prison as a child who didn’t deserve it,” Shu said. “It was a lawless act by the Dai Li. One that stands against Earth Kingdom law. But yes… because of your heritage, and the things that happened in that prison, your case iscomplicated.”

“S-Sir, I’m sorry, but… I don’t understand.”

“If not your heritage, we’d simply let you go back to your family,” Sergeant Shu said. “Even after the things you did.”

Zuko blinked. He felt like he might cry again. Pathetic.

“Sadly, that’s not possible,” Sergeant Shu continued. “But it doesn’t mean we’re locking you in a room and throwing away the key. You deserve some normalcy after everything you’ve been through.”

Zuko still didn’t understand. “B-but… my crimes? Sir, they did punish me. You-you can ask the warden.”

Shu’s face twisted, his jaw tightening. Zuko flinched, bracing himself for the worst.

“We know what you did, but we also know what was done to you,” Sergeant Shu said. “We have to involve some precautions, but otherwise you are starting with a clean slate Zuko.”

“A clean slate?” Zuko asked.

“Meaning,” Moustache said, stepping in gently, “that from the moment we took you out of West Wall, nothing you did in the prison or with the Dai Li counts against you anymore.”

“Oh.” Zuko knew there was a trick somewhere.

“Exactly,” Sergeant Shu agreed. “And people – kids – with clean slates are not kept in isolation. But your… rather unique situation means Ming and I have to agree on a few things before we take the next step.”

Zuko rubbed his wrists absently. Zuko glanced up at Moustache, who wasn’t annoyed to explain simple terms to him just a moment ago. “Sir, what do I do to keep my slate clean?”

Moustache chuckled. “Stick to the rules we gave you. Don’t hurt anyone. Follow orders. Don’t bend unless we say it’s okay… That’s pretty much the basics of clean slating. And so far, kid? You’ve done great.”

Zuko’s throat clenched as a few fresh tears fallen down his cheeks.

He must’ve been dreaming. He never wanted to wake up back to the cold cell.