Chapter Text
It’s been a week. Zuko is pretty sure it’s been a week. It’s harder to sense the sun from the heart of a mountain, and harder to sense the passage of time when meals are delivered with the consistency of a sundial under an umbrella. He hoards the rolls and cups of water he’s given, ingesting small portions over time to ensure they last. He tries to keep up with his meditations, though hunger and exhaustion have kept him from practicing his katas. He mostly spends his time wondering how he could be this level of irresponsible, this degree of foolish. When even this line of thinking wanders into tedious, he wonders instead whether Uncle is looking for him.
He pictures the Avatar leaping away from him into the treetops.
Sometimes, he imagines chasing after him. The ending of this story always fizzles away because he is always unsure why he’s chasing. It begins with an intent to capture, certainly, the start of an idealistic daydream about going home. But then the Avatar’s words ring through his hunger-drained head, his childish offer of friendship, and rechaining those wrists feels cruel.
He scowls, rolls onto his side, wonders why it should matter. He’s the one in chains now. He’d let the opportunity go- had betrayed his nation for selfish reasons and then failed - and now has the gall to wish he’d committed further treason?
If he ever has another chance- is this the third or the fourth chance his father would have to give him?- he promises himself over and over again that he’d take it. Who cares that the Avatar happens to be a twelve-year-old with pacifist Air Nomad delusions? It just makes it easier. It would make it easier, anyway, if Zuko weren’t constantly messing things up.
Zhao has no proof Zuko did it, he reminds himself.
This entire thing- his imprisonment, the lack of a trial, the lack of contact - is proof of that. Zhao is hoping that he’ll admit to something. He’s betting that Zuko is so weak that in the face of mild adversity he’ll roll over and show his belly.
He’s destined to be disappointed.
Zuko closes his eyes. When Father finds out- and surely Father will find out-
If Uncle figured out it was Zhao that made Zuko disappear in the port. He’d been on his own (foolish ) buying some stupid tchotchke (stupider). The clerk had seen. He would have told Uncle, wouldn’t he? Banished or not, Zuko was a Prince. That mattered. People would talk.
Uncle would ask.
Zuko was sure he’d ask.
Yes, he tells himself for perhaps the millionth time this week (had it only been a week?). Uncle would find out. Uncle would write Father. Father would-
He swallows, focuses on breathing.
Of course Father would care. He was his only son. He had almost captured the Avatar. Agni wanted him to catch the Avatar- why else had the boy appeared merely three years after Zuko began his search, after being missing for a hundred years? Agni had blessed his quest. This was his destiny. Zuko almost had his honor back. Father had to see that.
Surely he would punish the man who dared step in Agni’s way- in his way.
“In you go,” he hears.
Zuko stiffens, perks his good ear towards the noise. The soldiers don’t usually talk. They had on the first day, littering him with insults and sarcastic honorifics, but now they say nothing. They're waiting for Zuko to beg, maybe, or waiting until he's too weak to fight back. Zuko hasn’t heard a voice other than his own in days.
What’s changing?
“Hey, careful-!” Shouts another voice, and then there’s a crash.
Someone else, Zuko thinks as a metal door slams shut. Someone else is here.
“Yeah, you better run!”
Zuko shifts towards the wall where a small metal ventilation shaft connects the cells. He calls into it, hesitantly, “Hello?” His voice cracks. He doesn’t even sound like himself. There’s no response- of course, these walls are so thick - so he raises his voice just a little more. “Hello?”
“Huh? Who said that?”
“Hi,” Zuko says awkwardly. “I’m- next door?”
“What, like, in another cell?” The voice turns suspicious. “Or are you a guard?”
“Another cell.”
“You probably wouldn’t tell me if you were a guard,” decides the voice.
“Probably not,” Zuko allows, approaching annoyed fast. What kind of a response was that? “Why would I be a guard? That makes no sense.”
“Okay, okay,” pacifies the voice. “So who are you?”
Zuko pauses for a very long time before he answers. “Lee.”
“Lee,” repeats the stranger.
“Yes,” Zuko confirms flatly. “Who are you?”
“Sir Walrus-Hare,” says the voice. “Sir Walrus-Hare the Third. ”
Zuko scowls. “What kind of name is that?"
"My cool Fire Nation Prison nickname? Was that not apparent? I thought we were doing a thing."
"What are you talking about? I told you my name was Lee."
“Lee?” The voice scoffs. “Lee is the most fakey fake name I’ve ever heard. You didn’t even sound like you believed it. If you can’t even convince your self, why should I believe you?”
Zuko bristles defensively. It is a lie, but still. “Lots of people are named Lee.”
“And none of them are you.”
Nobody ever calls Azula out on her lies. Zuko relents, “My name might not be Lee.”
“And my name might not be Sir Walrus-Hare the Third," the man reveals, "but hey. We’re prisoners. If we can’t not trust each other, who can we not trust?”
Zuko fiddles with a loose string on his shirt, unsure how to forward the interaction. Now that he’s been caught lying, would Sir Walrus-Hare the Third (and he knows that isn’t his name, but what else can he call him?) still want to talk? It isn’t as though Zuko is by nature all that social, but it’s been days since anyone has spoken to him. He has the sudden urge to share his real name, if only just to hear someone say it, to remember who he is- that he doesn’t belong in this dank prison that smells of mold and must and fear. This is no place for Ursa’s son.
“Are you still there?”
“Where else would I be?”
Their tone drifts hopeful. “The escape tunnel you’re digging?”
“It’s stone. There’s metal. How could I dig through that?”
“Patiently,” answers the voice, unperturbed. “So...what are you in for?”
Zuko frowns. Sir Walrus-Hare has been here five minutes and is already as hard up for socializing as the banished prince. He shifts before answering. “You first.”
“I saved a town. Single-handedly, very brave.”
Probably a lie, too, Zuko thinks. “Are they throwing people in prison for that now?”
“It was an Earth Kingdom town,” the other man says. “Believe it or not, the Fire Nation is surprisingly against that sorta thing.”
“What town?” Zuko asks, closing his eyes. He pictures his room on the ship, the small desk layered in scrolls. A map of the Earth Kingdom forms in his mind’s eye and he hopes that he can figure out where he is. There’s no way the information can help, but just knowing would settle something deep in his gut. Having some minor control.
“Douxing.”
It’s vaguely familiar. One of the dozens of small towns scattered along the western coast of this impossibly large nation. There are a few mountain ranges nearby that could conceal their cells. “How-” Zuko hesitates, then goes for it. “How long did it take to get here?”
“I’m sorry,” Sir Walrus-Hare replies, sounding sincere. “I was unconscious. I don’t know how long we traveled.” He pauses for only a moment. “How about you?”
“We’d just sailed in off the coast of the Mo Ce Sea. It was...a while ago.”
Impossibly, this information seems to excite Zuko’s companion. “You sail?”
“Yes,” he says hesitantly. “Sort of . ”
“Explain,” Sir Walrus-Hare demands. He sounds like he’s frowning.
“I’ve sailed. For the last three years, actually. But I don’t do much of the-” He gestures for an audience that can’t see him, “hands-on stuff.”
“Still technically sailing. I’ll award you exactly half the credit, and even offer you lessons from a bonafide survived-a-hurricane-in-a-fishing-boat warrior. I did also capsize a canoe in the middle of pack ice, but that's less important.” Sir Walrus-Hare hesitates before wondering, tone a little more serious, “Three years. You served?”
Zuko snorts. “That’s one way of saying it.”
“What’s another way?”
Zuko doesn’t answer.
“Why are you in here, Lee?”
Zuko frowns down at his hands and swallows thickly. He’s already been caught lying once. He doesn’t want to alienate the only human contact he has. “They said I committed treason.”
“That’s a hefty charge,” Sir Walrus-Hare comments carefully.
Zuko bobs his head in silent agreement.
Sir Walrus-Hare isn’t deterred by the lack of a response. “You’re Fire Nation, then?”
Zuko tips his head back, rests it on the stone. “Yes.”
“Colonies, or far from home?”
“Far from home.”
“Me, too,” says Sir Walrus-Hare. “It’s kinda terrible here.”
Zuko smiles at that. “It kinda is.” He thinks. Pack ice. “You’re Water Nation?”
“From the South,” he concurs. “Where the temperature is reasonable and everyone isn’t obsessed with mud and the color green. And the food-! Spirits , do I miss the food. Have you ever had seal jerky?”
“No,” Zuko says. “But it sounds terrible.”
“You’re missing out, pal,” dismisses the voice. “But I don’t care, more for me. Crunchy on the edges, chewy in the middle, fat that melts right in your mouth. You can’t oversalt it- never oversalt it- but if you do it just right-!” He makes a kissing noise and Zuko can’t help but smile. “What about the Fire Nation?”
“The Fire Nation?”
“I’ve never been, but I figure even the most evil nation in the world has to have some decent food.”
“The Fire Nation is not evil,” Zuko retorts heatedly, scowling. “It’s the greatest Nation in the world. They may call me a traitor, but I’m not. I love my Nation.”
“Okay-”
“And if they would just listen , they would know that. I would never do anything to disrespect my- my people-!”
“Okay! Sorry! I didn’t realize you were such a patriot.”
Zuko slumps, mellowing. It’s easier to do when he’s so hungry he can’t even stand to shout. It works better than Uncle’s calming tea, anyway. He closes his eyes. “Fire flakes.”
“I’m sorry, did you sneeze?”
“Fire flakes,” Zuko repeats. “They serve them during festivals. They’re sweet and spicy and pop like fireworks in your mouth.” His stomach rumbles at the very thought. At this point, he’d take seal jerky, but the thought of just one fiery flake brings a strange combination of homesick and seasick. “I haven’t had them right in years.”
“Well,” says Sir Walrus-Hare, and he manages to stretch the one-syllable word into two. “Now that we know each other, how’s about we start planning the great escape?”
“There’s no escape from here,” Zuko mutters bitterly. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“I doubt you’ve tried with an escape mastermind around, no offense.”
“It’s a mountain,” Zuko stresses. “With metal. An Earthbender couldn’t break out of here.”
“It’s a prison,” Sir Walrus-Hare replies. “Those are made to escape.”
“You don’t understand the concept of prison, do you? ”
“Look, Lee, I’ve done a lot in these last few months that should have been impossible. Breaking out of a mountain is honestly child’s play by comparison. Besides, my friends are gonna break me out either way. I’d rather I do it myself and ask them what took so long.”
“They’re not going to come for you,” Zuko says, just loud enough for the other man to hear. He tries to keep his voice soft despite the frustration coiling around in his chest. “I’m sorry, but they’re not. It’s better to understand that early.”
Sir Walrus-Hare is quiet. Then, “How long have you been in here?”
“I don’t know,” Zuko admits. “They switch up meal deliveries, and I can’t feel the sun.”
“Feel the sun-? What does that even mean? Why do all Firebenders insist on being so creepy-!”
“We're not creepy!” Zuko shouts, and he feels a little of his inner fire flare. It’s weak, but it’s there. Agni hasn’t given up on him yet. “It’s in our blood! It’s Agni himself watching over us!”
“Okay,” says Walrus-Hare. “Shouting about gods and blood definitely helped you sound less creepy.”
Zuko snarls. “This is ridiculous. I’m done.”
“Look, hey, you want to feel the sun again, right? Me, too.”
Zuko crosses his arms and fumes quietly.
“We can do that,” Walrus-Hare insists. His tone turns an awkward sort of sympathetic. “Look, I’m sorry I called Firebending creepy.” He hesitates. “But you don’t support the Fire Nation army, right? That’s why you did...whatever you did?”
“I didn’t commit treason!” Zuko snaps, bunching up his shoulders and scowling until his last bite of bread begins to burn. He hastily blows the small embers black, annoyed with himself for the lack of control. So much for the involuntary hours of meditation helping. “I just-” He suddenly thinks: a prisoner out of nowhere. A chatty treasonous prisoner that just happens to be right next door. He stiffens in horror. “Who are you!?”
He’ll lie, he thinks, feeling stupid. Why wouldn’t he lie? He’ll have a whole story planned if Zhao ordered him to talk the Prince in circles. Zuko should have just played it cool, kept tight-lipped, just like every other time someone manipulated him. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he ever learn from the lessons he kept learning?
“Who am I?” The interrogator repeats quizzically. “Didn’t we just go over this? I’m Sir Walrus-Owl the fifth, distinguished planner of heists and escapes.”
“It was Sir Walrus-Hare the third a minute ago,” Zuko comments icily.
“Okay, I’ll take either as my fun Fire Nation Prison nickname. You are aware we had a whole conversation about that not being my real name?”
Zuko decides to cut to the chase. “Zhao sent you. Why?”
“Admiral Zhao? Zhao with the impressive but evil sideburns?”
“Answer me!” Zuko roars, leaping to his feet and slamming his fists against the stone. His vision swims and his knuckles sting, but it feels good to feel anything other than despair and frustration. “I know he sent you! I’m not talking, I’m innocent, do you hear me?!”
“Yes,” assures the liar. “Volume is not the issue here. Why would I be working for Zhao?”
“Stop lying!” Zuko shouts. “I’ve figured out the truth!”
“You’ve figured maybe the opposite of the truth out,” says the liar exasperatedly. His tone turns gratingly calm. “I promise I’m not working for Zhao. I was arrested this afternoon in Douxing after Fire Nation troops tried to detain a toddler for moving some rocks. I was separated from- from my family, and I tried taking on five soldiers by myself. Am I stupid? Sure, sometimes, to great heroic effect. Am I an evil Fire Nation soldier trying to learn all of your secrets? No.” There’s a brief pause in which Zuko has no idea what to say. “Here,” continues the voice, “new rule: I don’t care about your secrets. Don’t even try to tell me. I’m not interested.”
“You’re lying,” Zuko tries again, less certain.
“Still not lying,” says the possibly-not-an-interrogator.
“No more questions?” He confirms just to be safe, sliding down the wall into a sprawl. His head is ringing. He probably shouldn’t have jumped up like that.
“No more questions,” says Sir Walrus-Hare-Owl the Thirty Fifth.
Zuko frowns down at his sore knuckles, feeling foolish. There’s still a chance the voice belongs to one of Zhao’s soldiers, in it for the long haul, but it’s unlikely. Zhao has never been much for subtlety. “Fine.”
“Alright then. Good.” The voice does sound relieved. “Look, my friends-”
“-are still not going to come for you,” Zuko interrupts. “My- my people, I know they would have come for me, if they could. This place is a fortress. No one could get in here.” Perhaps the Blue Spirit, he thinks with wry bitterness, but he’s a little indisposed.
“All the more reason we start planning ourselves,” says the voice firmly. “Hope for the best, plan for the absolute worst. I mostly focus on the second part. Tell me what you know.”
Zuko thinks. What could possibly be useful to know? “They bring food once every two days or so. Just enough to keep you alive.”
“Not ideal,” says the voice. “I’m a fan of eating daily. Any routine to it?”
“I don’t know,” Zuko admits. “I can’t tell the time of day.”
Sir Walrus thinks. “I was arrested during the afternoon. If we assume today, it’s probably around midnight. Do you…” He hesitates. “Feel anything about that? If you feel the sun, can you feel its absence?”
“I do feel a little weaker than normal,” he offers hesitantly. “But that might just be the-”
“Starvation, sure,” says the voice genially when he falters. “That adds up.”
“There are noises when I sleep,” Zuko adds as fair warning. “I don’t know if it’s the mountain or the soldiers, but you won’t get enough sleep to use as a metric.”
“We’ll see about that,” replies Sir Walrus gamely. “I once slept through an avalanche.”
Zuko furrows his brows. “What.”
“I woke up covered in snow,” he continues, and he sounds proud about it. “I was sick for a solid week.”
“...and you’re the mastermind?”
“Just think what that says about you. ”
Zuko would normally bristle at such a comment, but he finds himself more amused than offended. "I'm not sure either of us are qualified, then."
“Look, I'm what you've got. You don't like my secret escape plan, make your own secret escape plan. We can try both. But my secret escape plan already has a plan for timing figured out, so we're doing mine first. It'll definitely work. Probably." He pauses. "Tell me about the guards.”
“They rotate. And they keep their helmets on. And,” he adds, “they don’t talk.”
“Oh, that’s why you’re acting like this.”
This time, Zuko does bristle. “Acting like what.”
“Like you’ve never spoken to a human before. I thought you were just, y’know, awkward.” Zuko doesn’t reply, simultaneously offended and embarrassed. “Wait,” says the voice. “Are you just like this all the time?”
“No!” Zuko snaps seconds before he realizes this answer suggests there’s something wrong with the way he’s behaving. “Just go on with the plan,” he grumbles.
“Okay, okay, sorry. I need a day or two to get the lay of the land and figure something out. We have to act fast. Whatever we decide, it’s probably going to involve tackling an armored soldier, and I’d rather do that before I’m starving.”
“That isn’t going to work,” Zuko retorts, and it’s more practicality than bruised pride. “I tried that.” He considers. “Are you a bender?” Not that they have much water to work with, but at least it’d be something in their favor.
“No,” answers the man, of course. “That would have helped, though. Are you?”
Zuko closes his eyes and considers the glowing ember in his chest. “Yes,” he says, because there is only so much Zhao can take away. “I am.”
"Well," says sir Walrus. He sounds more hopeful than uneasy, but it's a precarious balance. "That's something."
----
There were a few times during their conversation that Zuko was ready to stop talking. Now that silence has settled, however, he feels desperate for the voice to return. The dull light-headed pain in his temples intensifies in the silence. The bread is tempting, but he wants to save it for when he really needs it. What he needs now is a reminder that he’s not alone.
Thankfully, before he can scrounge together enough words for a sentence, he hears, “You still awake?”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering: how’d they catch you, anyway?”
Zuko flushes, embarrassed.
“...Lee?”
“I’m here.” He shifts. “We’d stopped at a small port. I wanted to get my uncle a present.”
“That’s nice,” says the voice encouragingly. “Was it his birthday?”
“No, I just- I can be difficult, and I wanted to show that-” He leans forward and wraps his arms around his knees. A familiar guilt winds its way through his empty stomach. This is a topic to which he’s given a lot of thought these past few however-many-days. “He’s given up a lot for me. Too much. I don’t always show my appreciation well. I...get impatient. I know this isn’t easy for him. I’m keeping him from his life and his home, and it’s different for him. He could go back, if he wanted to. He likes stupid trinkets so I decided to get him one. I didn’t tell him where I was going, and Zhao’s men followed me inside the shop. I took down six of them-”
“Six-!”
“But they just kept coming, and I was already hurt from-” Committing treason. “-a previous mission. It was hardly even a fight. ”
“...six! ”
“I woke up here,” he finishes, frowning down. “Uncle might think I snuck away, ran away, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t give up, and I wouldn’t leave him like that. Or he thinks…” His headache intensifies. “...thinks that I’m dead. And he’s already gone home.” He isn’t sure what he’d rather: Uncle searching the Earth Kingdom for his wayward nephew, wasting more time on a lost cause, or accepting his death and going home. The options hurt in different ways.
Uncle would search for him. He’d stayed with him three years. He had to be looking.
“I forgot to mention,” says Sir Walrus. “When I was saving that little girl, I actually beat up seven guys.”
For the first time in a week- no, more than that, months maybe, Zuko laughs.