Chapter Text
Zuko was nearly killed the moment he was born—before his first words, before he knew his mother’s name. Ozai said he lacked the spark necessary of a fire-bender and almost cast him over the palace walls, only saved by Ursa’s powerful, motherly conviction. Pleading to give Zuko a chance. Agni, please, just one chance.
Ozai said those eyes lacked potential; the strength required to face the Fire Nation as a true worshipper of his name. They brought shame to his heritage; the eyes of a non-bender, he said. A dishonour to the royal crest.
Or merely, they were the eyes of someone who did not wish the world to burn beneath their gaze. And Ozai was infuriated.
Perhaps it was because of this damning, golden stare that Ozai did not show Zuko any mercy at thirteen years old, having used up his one and only chance during his first breaths. Forever mutilating half of his gaze, a permanent scowl gracing his kind features as if to say that ought to do it. That ought to give him the spark.
The truth is, Zuko has always disappointed.
He stares now at the delicate crest in his palms, trembling at his golden reflection. He wonders if he has that spark. If he still wants that spark. He can’t help but think himself a fool in royal’s clothing—a child—playing dress up—prancing on the ashes of a war-torn country. The world is fractured and fragile, unbalanced. It is sensitive but it also remembers the mistakes of its ancestors, and more viscerally, the consequences of those mistakes. Hopefully, its successors are more aware now, and they will choose to make better decisions. He wonders if he has what it takes to propel his nation, all the four nations, into this era of peace. He wonders if he’ll make those better decisions.
He places the headpiece atop his hair. The gentle streaks of Agni pool through the parted curtains of his bedroom. They highlight his face in the mirror, and his scar illuminates like a scarlet omen. Or perhaps a promise. He takes a breath, smoothening out his clothes, his features.
I am the Fire Lord, he thinks. And this is my responsibility.
His chest burns throughout the day, straining against his robes. Katara did what she could, but the angry gash has made it a point to taunt him incessantly. After her swift return to the Southern Water Tribe, and with it, her daily healing sessions, the wound has resorted to avid protest. He’s convinced it’s on strike.
He grimaces through the layer of cold sweat that has accumulated on his skin, trying desperately to focus on his ambassador’s words while each breath comes in stabs. He feels almost dizzy, and he can’t tell if it’s from the flames licking up the walls of the throne room, reminding him of his father, or because of the little sleep he managed to get the night before.
“Lastly, King Kuei requests your presence in the Earth Kingdom by the end of the week.” Ambassador Hitomi is a clever woman, observant by nature. It’s almost embarrassing having her seated below him, a quiet reminder of Ozai’s rule, and Zuko feels exposed underneath her gaze. It’s as if she can see all the cracks splintering his façade, aware of all the ways he can be meticulously shattered. Her hair is neatly combed back, her nails well-manicured and kept short for convenience. Despite her proficiency in desk work her palms are calloused, hinting at swordsmanship. She’s tall, evenly tempered, and twice his age. Still, she pays no mind to his pale youth, or what the scar on his face represents. She regards him with astute, albeit respectful, indifference.
“Thank you, Ambassador.” He’s proud with the way his voice comes out firm and steady. “Did he mention why? I’m a bit hesitant to leave the Fire Nation so soon. I’m still indebted to my people.” In reality, he’s afraid to leave the palace unattended. There’s quite an abundance of Ozai supporters rampaging the capital, not to mention the number of governors still loyal to his father that he hasn’t managed to weed out yet. Then there’s the nationalists within the city…He assumes they’re all desperately waiting for the moment he slips up; the moment his back is turned.
There’s a curious glint in her expression, and he wonders if she’s caught on to him. “He did not go into too much detail, for privacy reasons I can imagine, but he did mention the presence of the Avatar.”
Well great, now he has to go. The idea that Aang will be with him is reassuring but draws little comfort to the paranoia that seeps into his bones. Still, he has a duty to make things right between the other nations.
“Alright,” Zuko nods. “While I’m away I’ll need you to oversee law repeals. I’ve revised a list of ones that need to be changed and another list of ones we should implement. I know your job description does not require you to deal with these sorts of semantics, but as you are well-aware, we are quite understaffed at the moment.”
He refrains from mentioning up front that she is also one of the only people within the palace he can trust right now. Ambassador Hitomi spent five years in the colonies, demoted from her position in the capital for conspiracy against Ambassador Shin, a scoundrel of a man and a nationalist at heart who proposed half of the laws Zuko is now trying to undo. The only reason she hadn’t been banished completely was because of her ties to governor Ukano, her brother-in-law. The fact that she’s the aunt of his ex-girlfriend is a bit awkward, but it does ease his paranoia. Mai talked about her occasionally while they were still together, and while she never said it explicitly—because Mai would never let anyone know she didn’t despise them—he knows she respects her. That’s as close to trust as he can get right now.
“As you wish, my lord.” Ambassador Hitomi makes a quiet leave, regarding him one last time with a calculated expression before promptly exiting the room. Zuko tries not to let his shoulders slump against the throne, the royal guards still flanking the entrance and observant to his every move. He rubs his good eye with a clammy hand, presses his chest tentatively with the other as if that will help alleviate the burning ache, spoiler! it doesn’t, before summoning for the next person.
The meetings proceed arduously slow and require profound concentration, something that wouldn’t have nearly been as difficult if he had actually eaten something this morning. He tried, he did, but after a tumultuous night of paperwork and belligerent dreams, a consequential headache has expunged any hunger he may have possessed. It doesn’t matter, because each person gives him one more responsibility, one more morsel of reparations to chew on that he feels almost sick with it. He’s constantly stuck between trying to do what’s right and trying not to bankrupt his own nation. Most of his advisors are in jail and he has yet to hire new ones. As a result, his remaining governors are horrible at giving advice. He wonders if this is another remnant of his father, or if they merely want him to fail. He keeps focusing on their eyes, their hands, the way they speak, the words they use. Are they out to get him? How much can he say? Who will poison him when the curtains draw?
With the last governor making his exit, Zuko gets up slowly, trying not to show how much effort it requires. He clutches onto the edge of the throne for a few, timeless seconds, before making his way down the steps. Agni, why are there are so many steps.
He feels too warm, suffocated by his tight robes and the orange flames surrounding him. He wants out of this room, out of this feeling that his father is breathing down his neck, watching every decision he makes from the rattling fire. He feels an anger bubble in his throat; He’s not here, he thinks. You’re nothing like him, he reassures. But when he looks up at the throne, all he can see is his father’s gold eyes looking down on him; then, his own. He quickly averts his gaze.
The fresh air wakes him up enough to still the shaking in his hands. He can’t show weakness, not here, not now, who’s watching? Everyone. If he shows where he’s vulnerable it will be exploited, and the Fire Nation, the world can’t afford that right now. He needs to tear down the walls of lies and bigotry Ozai has built around this nation, from education systems to military practices to “traitors” still stuck in ghastly prisons, all with the quietude and stealth of a cat deer. There’s too much to do, with too much finesse, and he’s just one guy but who else is going to do it? Who else can he trust to do it? It’s his responsibility. He can’t relinquish his hold, his attention, for a single moment, for fear of his father’s tyranny seeping back into the palace.
He takes in a deep breathe. You’re fine. And when he says it enough times, with enough conviction, he begins to believe it. For now, he has to arrange travel to Ba Sing Se. He can focus on the rest when he gets back.
He spends the day in his office, going through the hefty paperwork left by his staff. With all the multitude of peace-threating problems to deal with it’s hard to care about the more mundane issues, like the price of fish going up, or the sudden rice shortage due to a failed engine, but these are all of equal importance. His nation depends on his decisions, no matter how little they may be, to function. The traffic of returning soldiers needs to be documented. He personally wants to thank those who fought in his father’s fruitless war, leaving their families, their children to grow up without them. Not to mention the little part of themselves that they left out at sea. He’s written about a hundred letters of gratitude and sent a hundred more, and it still won’t be enough.
Then there’s that flimsy letter sitting pathetically at the edge of his desk. He’s rewritten it nearly fifty times, a reply to his Uncle that should’ve been sent weeks ago. It’s useless now, the ink all splotched from when he’d crumpled it up. He can still see the stains of fresh ink on his wall from where he threw it. He just doesn’t know what to say; what to tell him.
Hi Uncle, you know how I insisted you stay in the Earth Kingdom to run the tea shop you love to bits? Yeah, well I regret it.
Not the most eloquent way to express his happiness for him, especially since he is proud of his Uncle. The business at the Jasmine Dragon is booming, and if the last letter received is anything to go by, his Uncle seems happier and in some ways, more at peace, than ever before. Zuko doesn’t have the heart to take him away from that, no matter how much he misses him. Uncle spent three years with him out at sea, mediating his temper, loving him when his father wouldn’t, teaching him all the ways to accept himself when he could hardly see the point. Zuko was a flagship floating aimlessly in the water and Uncle showed him the path, steered him in the right direction, always, even when he constantly, constantly took left turns. He owes his Uncle more than the man ever know or admit, and for that, his response sits helplessly on its back, abandoned to ink stains and frustrated glances.
He thought he’d been prepared for many of the challenges of being Fire Lord, but he hadn’t considered loneliness to be one of them. He’s in the heart of the Fire Nation, surrounded by people, and yet, he has never felt so completely and utterly alone. Team Avatar is scattered across the world, helping with the aftermath of the war in their respective nations. The rest of his family is either imprisoned or has moved on to better things. He goes to visit Azula sometimes, when he can, but she clearly doesn’t want to see him. She’s bitter, he assumes, because he had to put her in an asylum, but what was he supposed to do? Let her rot in prison? At least this way she can get help. He almost appreciates having so much to do because it hardly allows him the time to grieve these realisations.
A knock at his door startles him out of his work. He steels his expression, setting his shoulders back. “Come in,” he says.
It’s one of his royal servant’s—Kei. She’s sweet, he remembers, always offering him a smile when he walks the halls. She never dares speak to him, but she always sucks in her lips quickly, hesitantly, as if she’s about to; as if she wants to. Clearly, that time has come. “Fire Lord Zuko?” She asks tentatively, bowing incredibly low. His stomach twists at the way she regards him so nervously. Is she afraid of him?
“Yes, Kei?”
She visibly stiffens, shooting upright as if electrocuted. “You know my name?”
“Of course, I do,” Zuko finishes writing his sentence before looking up again, folding his hands so she can have his undivided attention. “I know the name of all my staff.”
Is that a blush on her face? “N-naturally!” She says, then takes a moment to compose herself. Her next words are still a ramble. “Well, I just-I came in here to say-This is not my opinion, just so you know, but merely-I mean, I don’t mean to offend you-”
Zuko puts his hand out to stop her. “You don’t need to be nervous. I’m sure whatever it is, we can handle it together. Alright?”
Kei lets out a deep breath, relaxing. “Okay.” She begins again, cringing at herself. “The chef wanted me to bring you your food..To make sure you’ve eaten..”
Zuko raises an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
She nods firmly, suddenly determined. “Yes, and he won’t take no for an answer.”
Zuko stares at her blankly. “Okay?”
She reaches behind the door to bring out the cart she had been stealthily hiding, consisting of a covered metal dish, some tea and chopsticks. “Chef Suzo also wanted me to inform you that he made some fresh sizzle crisps for you…If you want a snack later,” she finishes awkwardly. Zuko nods, unsure of how to react to that information. Those have been his favourite snack since he can remember. He nibbled on them often with his mother outside in the courtyard or by the turtleduck pond in the gardens. She chastised him once for feeding them some, saying it was “too spicy” for their gentle stomachs, and gave him some bread she had hidden up her sleeve instead. They fed the ducks together, and she stroked his hair softly, delicately, as if he were the most precious thing in the world. The memory makes his nose sting a little.
“Tell him I said thank you.”
Chef Suzo had been the Sous Chef before his banishment. It’s only when Zuko returned that he found out he had been promoted to Head Chef during his absence, a thought that makes his chest warm. Zuko remembers the way Suzo always looked out for him. Whether it was by sneaking extra sweets into his tray for dessert, knowing he had a sweet tooth, or by brewing him a cup of Ginseng, Uncle’s favourite, whenever he was off fighting in Ba Sing Se and it was clear that Zuko missed him. Suzo’s a lot older now; his hair greying near the edges, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that deepen when he smiles, evidence as to how he got them. But he’s still the same person who caught him sneaking with Azula in the kitchen, and instead of punishing them, or worse, telling their father, he simply winked at them, handing them the desired snacks they had been looking for.
Kei removes the lid, and the familiar aroma of spices fills the room. It smells delicious, familiar, yet Zuko’s stomach refuses to budge. It’s the stress, he thinks, that creates this knot in his gut. He can’t swallow anything down because there’s already a clump of nerves occupying the space, turning its nose up at even the thought of making room for something nourishing. Zuko’s face must’ve paled because Kei stands there unmoving, watching him, as if waiting for him to take a bite.
Zuko clears his throat. “Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
That seems to rifle her out of her state because she bows, apologetically. “No, that was all.” She gradually leaves the room, shooting him narrowed glances that he supposes are to encourage him into eating something. He simply smiles at her and nods, picking up his chopsticks, and she takes that for what it is because she finally closes the door politely behind her.
Zuko sighs. Maybe the tea will open his appetite. He pours himself a cup and sniffs, just in case, then tastes hesitantly.
Ginseng.
He smiles to himself and finishes the cup. He pours himself another one and resumes his work.
Maybe he isn’t as alone as he thinks.
Kei is not usually a nervous person. This is because she doesn’t put herself into situations that make her nervous, like speaking to the Fire Lord, or addressing the Fire Lord directly, or telling the Fire Lord to eat when Eeko or Lynn or Agni even Aikam could’ve done so. But no, she lost the bet. Why’d she even make that stupid bet in the first place?
She walks with her head hung low, dejected because she stammered and hiccupped in front of Fire Lord Zuko, and he had to console her like she was some timid damsel in need of consoling! Which she certainly was not.
She can hardly stand the snickering coming from Aikam when she gets to the kitchen.
“What did he say?” He asks, all smug and mighty.
“I’m going to kill you!” She hisses, smacking him upside the head.
“Ow! Come on, what was that for!”
“You know what that was for!” She glares, smiling evilly at the way Aikam clutches his head. “Good, be in pain, you deserve it.”
“We had an agreement, one that had very specific arrangements..a bet one might even call it.” Kei rolls her eyes. “And you lost!” he finishes accusingly.
“I didn’t know he was actually a decent person, okay?” she admits sourly. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes, and now you know first-hand. If anything, the bet was a good thing-”
Head servant Lynn shoots them a glare, motioning for them to be quiet. “Whatever feud of yours ends today,” she advises sharply, brushing her hair back into a neat, grey bun. She’s a scary woman when she’s angry with you. “You may have had ulterior motives.” She glares at Aikam and it brings Kei unbridled satisfaction. “But the Fire Lord is a very particular person, and this was more important than either of you.”
Aikam sulks. “Well, it worked out, didn’t it? He’s eating..”
They all turn to Kei, and she shrinks within herself. “Well, I mean, I put the food down in front of him and he picked up his chopsticks, so I assume he is…” The silence is loud. “Right?”
“Spirits, you are both idiots,” Lynn curses, rubbing her forehead with her hand. “If it were that simple, don’t you think we would’ve done so already?”
“Look, he doesn’t want to eat. He’s the Fire Lord, we can’t do anything about it.” Aikam grumbles, still rubbing at the sore spot on his head.
“Yes, we can, and we will,” Lynn says, narrowing her eyes. “You two might be new, you the newest.” She points at Kei and hey, why’s she being called out? “But for us who knew Fire Lord Zuko when he was just a prince, we know that he has a habit of putting everything else before himself. With the stresses that come with ruling an entire nation, a nation that now must recover from a hundred-year war—losing a hundred-year war, for that matter, thank Agni—I can hardly imagine what he must be going through.”
“Well, we can try again-” Kei starts optimistically.
“No! Now that he knows we’ve noticed he’s going to be more careful about hiding it. That’s how he’s always been.” Lynn looks at her hands, and there’s regret painted on her face. “I never did enough for him then. I will not make the same mistake twice.” She looks up at them. “Now go do something productive while I think.”
Kei shoves Aikam one more time for good measure, darting quickly away before she can face the repercussions of her actions. Admittedly, she does feel a bit guilty. She thought that the Fire Lord would be a horrible person, probably because she’s about the only person in Caldera City who hadn’t seen his “inspiring, oh so eloquent”, as Aikam put it, speech after Sozin’s comet. Even then, she had simply thought that he would be more subtle, more cunning about his evil plans. She’s a reasonable, logical person, she looks at the facts. Fact #1: His father is a piece of shit. Fact #2: His sister is insane. Fact #3: His mother, the reportedly only normal person in his family besides his Uncle is nowhere to be seen (suspicious) and Fact #4: His Uncle doesn’t even stay in the palace anymore, so what does that say about this new leadership? So, excuse her if she thought perhaps the new Fire Lord would be an evil, uptight prick with a grudge against everyone from losing the war. What she didn’t expect was a teenage boy, younger than her for spirits-sake and she’s only twenty, with these bright golden eyes and this powerful conviction to own up to the mistakes of his heritage and advocate for peace and reparation and..is she dreaming? This is the type of behaviour she’d been praying to Agni for everyday since her brother went off to fight in the war…her brother who never came back. Who took her place as a soldier for her. She’s been bitter, sure, but she has every right to be. As far as she’s concerned, Ozai murdered her brother—sent him off on a ship so that he could die in some meaningless conquest. Just because the old Fire Lord is imprisoned doesn’t mean the new Fire Lord, his son, holds any different ideals.
But then she heard that he had taught the Avatar fire-bending, that he had been on their side of the war, and that she simply could not believe. Hence, the bet that ensued between her and Aikam…which she lost. She honestly still can’t believe it.
“It’s your fault,” Aikam says, once they’re out of Lynn-shouting distance. “It’s common knowledge that he helped the Avatar defeat his father.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like it’s an easy thing to believe.”
“I mean, I guess after his banishment, and his whole ‘capture-the-avatar’ spiel, it was kind of surprising but hey, people can change their minds.”
“Banishment?” Kei questions curiously.
“Agni, how young are you? How do you not know this stuff?”
“You’re only two years older than me stop pretending like you’re so much wiser!”
“Yeah, but I’ve worked here for longer, while you were out doing spirits knows what I was out, gaining information, making moves.” There’s a mischievous glint to his eyes. “Did you know he had a relationship with Mai, governor Ukano’s daughter?”
“Stop gossiping about the Fire Lord,” Kei hisses, looking around in paranoia. “Someone could hear you.”
“Relax, Fire Lord Zuko is a chill guy. I started working when he was still banished but I heard stories, like the time he stood up for a division of first-year soldiers in his father's war-room, despite going against one of the general's plans."
Kei gulped. “What happened?”
Aikam shrugged. “Not sure. Oh! He did come back for a bit but he left before I could even meet him. Apparently, he challenged Ozai right after the eclipse ended, then vanished without a sight.”
“He challenged his father?” Kei gasps, unable to hide her astonishment.
“And won,” Aikam nods. “As I said, chill guy. So, relax a little, don’t be so uptight. And try not to blush every time you see him, I mean I get it, he’s attractive but come on Kei-”
“I’m going to murder you!” She hits him on the back of the head again, grinning at the way he cowers in defeat.
Later that night, Kei feels bad enough that she decides to visit the Fire Lord again. This time, she has some sugar tea biscuits on a plate, because Chef Suzo very nicely, very curiously admitted to her that he has a sweet tooth.
Agni, this Fire Lord really is just a kid, she keeps forgetting.
She’s not the best baker in the nation but she’s not bad and she’s proud of her efforts.
She wants him to eat too, and maybe big meals are a problem, but small snacks aren’t, so it can’t hurt to try. She carefully knocks on the door to his office. It’s late, well into the dark hours of the night, but if Lynn’s sentiment and Aikam’s stories are anything to go by, she assumes he’ll be here still.
When there’s no reply, she knocks again, a bit louder this time. Still nothing. She’s about to turn away again when she catches herself, trying to focus on her morals. She’ll just open the door quietly and place the cookies, she’s not a coward. She can do that. So, what if the Fire Lord doesn’t explicitly say she can come in. As Aikam put it, he’s “chill”—whatever that means—and this is a nice gesture, he won’t execute her..surely..
She opens the door as quietly as she possibly can before she can talk herself into backing out. She’s about to speak, announce to the Fire Lord that she’s made him a generous helping of sweets, a “sorry-for-thinking-you-suck-even-though-you-didn’t-know-that-I-thought-you-sucked” apology when she freezes.
Fire Lord Zuko is leaning against his hand fast asleep.
The sight should not be nearly as adorable as it is, but Kei suddenly feels like her face is ten thousand times hotter and redder than its ever been. His hair is sprawled out against his fingers, out of its usual top knot, which softens his usually serious features. His face is calm; the most relaxed she’s ever seen it, rising and falling with his even breaths. His left side is obscured by his palm so all she sees is the gentle planes of his unscarred eye. He has long eyelashes and smooth skin, and she can almost imagine those gold eyes staring at her, scrutinising her. She very carefully walks inside, placing the cookies by the end of the desk when something catches her eye. It’s a letter, clenched loosely in his free hand, the words Dear Uncle, I’m sorry very clearly written. She quickly averts her gaze, not wanting to intrude. She already feels as though she’s intruded enough.
Perhaps it’s the softness of the scene that throws her off her guard. One moment she’s going to adjust his hand so that he can sleep more comfortably, Agni knows his hand is going to ache by the time he wakes up. It’s a simple gesture really, and then she’d be on her way out, mission successful. She hadn’t thought anything of it, and perhaps that’s her problem, she doesn’t think. The next moment, a tight grip is encompassing her wrist, holding her still, and she has no idea how she got into this mess.
She lets out a very embarrassing “eep!” that she will never relay back to Aikam for fear of a lifetime’s worth of teasing and raises her eyes to meet the gold she had just been able to imagine so clearly.
And Zuko doesn’t look like the fearful man that his father once was. In fact, he looks the opposite, and she wonders how she could have ever assumed otherwise. He looks afraid. His once calm demeanour has winded up and tensed, like an animal waiting for an attack. For someone who just woke up, his eyes are surprisingly alert, but there’s a haze over them; like he’s not fully aware of what’s going on but still incredibly attuned to it.
The grip on Kei’s wrist starts to get painful. “Fire Lord Zuko-”
The Fire Lord quickly releases his grip, looking at his hand as if he’s burned himself. He looks up at Kei with a mix of fear and regret, cradling his hand. He’s breathing heavily; panting almost.
“Fire Lord Zuko,” she tries again, growing increasingly worried. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I was just leaving these for you.” She points at the cookies and the sudden movement makes him flinch. She eases back. “I was just going to adjust your position, it didn’t seem comfortable to be sleeping like that..so I..I’m sorry,” she finishes pathetically.
The Fire Lord takes deep even breaths, as if he’s trying to compose himself. He still has this slight wild look to his face. “Please, don’t touch me.”
Kei nods, now more confused than concerned. She’s surprised by how weak his voice sounds. “I’m sorry my lord. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I’m just a servant, to touch a royal without permission-”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Fire Lord Zuko leans back a bit to get even more some space. “I don’t react well when someone..” he regards to the situation at hand, unable to voice his request again. “I try not to but it’s like an instinct, I don’t know..” He rubs his face, lingering on his scar. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Kei feels even worse now. She wanted him to feel better and now he’s riddled with guilt. Nice going. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He sighs, and for a few moments he’s so quiet that she thinks he’s fallen asleep again. Then, “Can I see your wrist?”
Kei very tentatively, very slowly, shows him her wrist. It’s quite red from where he had gripped it, already bruising a little, and she feels a mortifying amount of embarrassment. “It’s really okay, my lord, it doesn’t hurt.” It does a little bit, but of course she isn’t going to tell him that. Besides, it’s barely a sting, Aikam’s done worse to her with one of his ruthless tackles and he’d rather die than apologise to her. To receive an apology from the Fire Lord feels undeserved. “Really, I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be good as new. Please, don’t feel bad.”
He squints his eyes, then motions for Kei to place her wrist in his palms. Wordlessly, she listens. A bright yellowish glow surrounds her skin, and she barely has the instinct to flinch backwards until she realises that the fire isn’t hurting her. It’s…quite nice, actually. It feels warm, soft, like the candlelight flickering on his desk. Comforting. If not for the absolute inhumane levels of embarrassment coursing through her body right now she would be enchanted, entranced by the way the yellow glow diffuses up her wrist, as if her skin has been injected with vibrant gold. He slowly removes his gentle hold, looking more exhausted than before, and the glow fades.
“How did you do that?” She asks, flipping her wrist from all angles to get a decent look. The mark is still there, barely, but she feels no pain.
“Are you a fire-bender?”
Kei shakes her head ‘no’.
“Have you heard of chi?” This she nods her head to. “Well,” he continues, “as you know, chi is the energy that flows throughout our bodies. When we get injured and feel pain, usually that means there’s a blockage—the flow of our chi is stagnant somewhere, or in some cases, everywhere,” he looks down at his hands. “Fire-bending derives from Agni, which at its root, is just another form of energy. The ancient Sun Warriors called it Reiki, a sort of healing practice that can manipulate the flow of our chi, get it moving again. Reiki doesn’t fix the ailment per say, but it helps alleviate the blockage, allowing whatever is hurting to heal better and more comfortably. Essentially, you use your own energy to unblock someone else’s.”
Kei can only manage a look of amazement, still processing his words. “Where did you learn that?”
“Um..something I picked up on my time overseas,” he says, a bit too quickly. Kei is too possessed with wonder to care.
“Does it work on yourself?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve tried, but…I feel like it just makes things worse. I’ve only been successful on other people. Maybe it’s because I’m using the flow of energy from my own fire-bending to sort of jumpstart whatever’s blocking someone else’s energy flow. I can’t jumpstart myself.”
Kei looks up quickly, finally putting his words into coherent sentences in her head. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve used some of your energy just now on me?” She practically squeaks with shame.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t a lot. Does it feel better?”
Kei can only nod, consumed with the need to cry in humiliation. She just wanted to give the guy some damn cookies, now she’s literally drained him of energy. “Thank you, my lord.”
There’s an awkward beat of silence as she simply stares at him stare at his hands, so she clears her throat, deciding that now is her cue to leave. “I’ll, let you resume your…work,” she says hastily. Now it’s Zuko’s turn to blush, as if he’s been caught red-handed. She suddenly remembers how they got into this situation in the first place, and her face softens.
“I know it may not be my place,” she starts, putting away her own feelings for a moment. She knows when to be serious. “But I think you should get some rest, Fire Lord Zuko.”
He looks up with wide-eyes and he suddenly looks very much his age. She hadn’t picked up on it before, perhaps too absorbed in the way he was sleeping so soundly (and etherally), but the guy has some serious dark-circles. She knows the royal family is pale, but he looks almost too pale, in a sickly way, and he’s been losing weight, that much is clear. He holds himself up like if he exhaled even for one conscious moment he would deflate completely at the seams. So, he anchors himself out of what seems like spite and responsibility alone. He’s impossibly determined, and stubborn it seems, and Kei finally understands what Lynn was talking about when she said he puts everything before himself. The kid looks like he hasn’t slept properly in months.
“I just have to finish a few more things,” he says, covering the letter he had been writing to his Uncle with one sleeve. “I’ll go to sleep soon.”
“Okay, Fire Lord Zuko, just…” How did Lynn put it? If she tells him that she’s concerned, he’ll just put up a better front, so that she won’t notice next time. Okay, so how does she tell a guy to go to bed and that she’s concerned without letting them know that she’s telling them to go to bed and that she’s concerned? Kei is only twenty and she already feels as though she’s learning how to be a mother. He’s not even that much younger than her but just looking at his strained, petulantly resolved face makes her feel like she’s aged ten years. Seriously, who is looking out for this kid? “Since you expended some of your energy on me, I think it would be best if you replenished it.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“But,” she quickly adds. “If you’re going to stay up, you might as well eat some of the cookies I made for you.” Lynn would be so proud of her. It’s sleep or eat, kid, what’s it going to be?
He perks up at that. “You made me cookies?”
“Well..I mean I didn’t make them for you. I misspoke, I merely brought them-” This is not the time to get embarrassed! Where is her seriousness from before go? “I know you have a sweet tooth, my lord. Chef Suzo informed me, so I just thought-”
She’s interrupted by him shoving a cookie in his mouth, quite gracefully, she might add which—how is that even possible? His face practically lights up, as bright as the stars currently above them. She doesn’t know if his tiredness is making him more open, but her heart softens at the sight. He deserves to have this moment of child-like youth, even if it is only for the moment. “Thank you.” There are crumbs on his lip that he elegantly wipes with the pad of his thumb. “I…appreciate it.” And he smiles, a genuine smile, and suddenly Kei feels like her work here is done, even if it took a long time to get there.
“Of course, my lord. Have a goodnight.”
She leaves the room, heart hammering in her chest.
Aikam can never know about this.