Chapter Text
A snuffed candle (can still hold a spark).
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Chapter 1: A Faithless Bargain.
Zuko loved his homeland. He loved the mountains, the hills, and the shores and seas. Yet sometimes he wondered if his homeland loved him. All his life, he had done what he believed to be right for the Fire Nation. And where was he now? Chained in the dungeons like a common murderer. The only sense of time that was in the dark cell was the single candle just outside the heavy door. It’s dim light bravely snuck under the heavy metal and gave Zuko the barest hint of sight.
Other than that, and the few meals thrown inside by resentful guards, Zuko spent his time contemplating his life. Wondering where it had all gone wrong.
He was tempted to say that it went wrong the day he tried to contradict his father and wound up in this solitary prison. The Firelord was Agni’s chosen speaker here on the mortal plane. Thousand of generations had venerated the Firelord(s) without fail. This strict orthodoxic obedience towards the most blessed of rulers had culminated in the greatest civilization ever witnessed by the mighty sun. By attempting to break this holy convenient Zuko had put his pride before the spiritual wellbeing of the country and had even dared suggest that he knew more than Great Agni. (This was not the whole truth.)
He was tempted to say that it went wrong the day he betrayed the Avatar for the barest scraps of parental affections. Loyalty came in many forms. There was the loyalty that Father, Uncle and even Azula were owed due to being his family. His teachers also deserved a lesser form of loyalty for how the study of fire was dangerous and only through strict self-imposed discipline could one hope to master it. Finally, his homeland demanded an altogether different form of loyalty in both peace and war. Zuko had, much to his chagrin, broken all three bonds of loyalty when he failed to apprehend the Avatar and let him escape. Finally, he broke the loyalty of friendship when he joined Azula. Zuko was a traitor, not only to his family or nation but also to his friends. (This was not the whole truth.)
He was tempted to say that it went wrong the day he meekly approached said Avatar and offered his service. He was a scion of Agni’s most chosen. By selling his services to the Avatar he had gone directly against the designs of his god and had even tried to stop the holy war of civilization decreed by multiple generations of Agni’s highest prophet. (This was not the whole truth.)
Yet, such events were merely the conclusion of that one faithful day so long ago where he had confidently declared his father’s favourite general wrong. The day where he had bowed his head instead of fighting. Tears began to gather as Zuko wondered whether his father would have killed him had he fought. The tears feel as he realized that he himself would have preferred that he did, rather than being tormented with the banishment.
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The meek candle in his cell went out.
They didn’t bother with changing it.
(Had they forgotten him?)
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Zuko slept uneasy. He did not dream.
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Zuko slept. He was not the only one in the cell. (He couldn’t be the only one here. They wouldn’t leave him!)
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Zuko slept, yet the sudden splash of cold water woke him instantly. “Little imposter.” A cruel suave voice purred. “Wake up.” Zuko shook at the freezing cold that had replaced the damp warmth which he had grown grudgingly accustomed to. Looking up with groggily eyes, he nearly shrank back as he tried to form something resembling a fighting stance. His chained body made such an act impossible.
The owner of the voice was a dreadful figure. Somehow, Zuko could see it with perfect clarity even through the pitch black. He soon wished that he couldn’t see for blindness wouldn’t rend his mind like the figure. Dark, shadowlike water filtered itself into the form of a disproportionate man. At a distance the dark liquids could be mistaken for clothes, yet the closeness of the stranger left little doubt in Zuko’s mind about what he saw. His limbs were as long as they were thin, with long talon-like fingers that wandered around the room like restless spider-rats. His legs and torso were in a constant silent dance, twisting and turning at impossible angles and lengths in a horrifying ballet. Yet of all the misshapen features of this spirit-like entity, none were as horrifying as his face.
“Do you recognize me yet, poor little imposter.” The daemonic visage of the Dark Water Spirit leered down at him. His jaw unhinged to show rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. If Zuko focused he would swear that he could see gored flesh stuck in the mouth. “Imposter.” The spirit smirked. “I have come to bargain. Should you say yes, then know that you will be free within the hour. All I ask is a small series of favours proportional to the circumstances that you may find yourself.” Zuko didn’t understand the implications of what it had said. For he was too busy to consider his longing for the surface.
Uncle had warned Zuko of dealing with spirits. How they took everything literally and nothing serious. How they would remember and forget at their own convenience and leave all else to the strength of the individual.
Zuko remembered all this and more. He knew what he should do, and he knew why he should do it. He knew that as one of Agni’s chosen few spirits, and especially not one as minor as this one, would dare to even consider harming him. Such was the fright imposed by his Glorious God that lesser spirits covered even in Zuko’s humble presence.
Zuko knew all of this. And yet. “I accept.” His hoarse throat cried in agony at the strain. The spirit laughed long and hard as if it had witnessed the finest act of comedy before it disappeared in a torrent of soul-chilling water. Zuko desperately drank the few drops that went for his head no matter how much each droplet dulled his inner flame. To his shame his body instinctively leaned forward almost begging for the small puddle that had gathered at the floor. (The spirits mocking laughter sounded like mother.)
Zuko wanted to see the sun once more. (He wanted to stay out of sight and shame.)
The candle outside was re-lit.
Zuko was happy. (Don’t look at me, he silently begged.)
The door opened.
Zuko no longer wanted to see the sun. (He had learned that men like him thrived out of mighty Agni’s harsh sight.)
When he saw the royal physician and the captain of the guard, he no longer wished for the surface.
When the grandmaster of the fire-sages came in and placed the crown of the Fire Nation on his chained head, Zuko wanted nothing more than to remain undisturbed in his cell. (The shadows did not judge, they merely hated.)
“The Firelord is death!” They chanted. “All hail Firelord Zuko!” Zuko wanted nothing more than to scream at them, yet his earlier interaction with the spirit had left him weak. His last conscious sight was of the royal physician rushing to his side as the guards hoisted him to the palace. The last thing he heard was the laughing voice of the spirit reminding him of their deal.
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The realm of the Sun Lord Agni was burning hot. Yet the Dark Water Spirit endured, for one did not snub the Sun Lord. “You have deceived one of my chosen.” Mighty Agni spoke, his calm voice holding not a sliver of accusation. The Sun did not accuse; its words were law and will absolute. “You convinced him that his rescue was due to you own machinations, and in turn indebted him through no effort of your own.” Here, the Great One turned a single burning eye towards the deceiver. “Explain.” The order was a statement of fact, not a wish or a request. The Dark Water Spirit would explain; for Agni was a being of sheer power. Where lesser godlings and spirits hid behind ‘morals’ or ‘rights’ Agni let their unstoppable power remind everyone who sat at the top.
The lesser spirits felt his dark water began to evaporate under the scrutiny of the Bright One. Such was the power of the princeling’s birth-patron that their mere gaze could eradicate mortals and immortals alike. “Lord Agni.” He began as he kowtowed with sincere respect and proper degree of deference. “Father and Mother of dragons and phoenixes alike.” The burning lord remained indifferent at his attempted praise. “I dared not out of any disrespect meant for you, but rather at one directed at me.” The bronze axe at Agni’s side laid idle. A wonderful omen. It had been ages since someone had enraged Agni enough to warrant a strike from the axe and the Dark Water Spirit was not eager to break that precedent. “The boy-lord has taken my persona in his quest.” Accusing Agni of not knowing so would be wrong and utterly dim-witted. Agni saw all but the deepest seas and oldest caverns, for it was their light that lit the world in both the day and the night. To claim that the Sun itself did not see would be to claim superiority over it and Agni did not tolerate rivals. “Though he may claim it was for a noble cause, I direct my charges at the impudence of such an imposter and have merely given him the chance to repent for such grievous sins.”
The motivation of all life beheld him with burning silence before giving a single nod. “It is fair.” They proclaimed, causing the Dark Water Spirit to sigh in relief. “Hear my decree.” They continued loudly, evaporating the majority of the spirits remaining body with the force behind their authority. “You may bond and make pacts with the lord of fire, yet you may not leave him without either his realm or his self. He shall direct the people in how to properly worship me, for they have forgotten and grown impudent and arrogant.” The Dark Water Spirit bit down a sarcastic retort about pots and kettles. “The boy-lord must fulfil this duty. Yet, as he leads his subjects to worship me, so too shall he personally worship you in a matter most pleasing to you. This is my edict.” With that, Agni stomped a single foot down. The power of which sent the shocked but deeply honoured spirit hurling out of the Sun God’s realm and back to the material world.
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