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The boy was sitting silent on his bed. He had only recently been moved back, after his stay in the medical wing.
He was dazed, still on heavy pain medication that made his mind move like molasses and dull the ache he knew was radiating like a disturbed pond, from his eye.
His face twitched at the reminder of why .
“Do you understand?”
He had to suppress a flinch at the cold voice cutting through the fog that was already beginning to pull him back under. This had been the longest that he’s been awake since —
He nodded slowly.
The tall figure moved from the feet of his bed to his side. His steps were even and assured.
Like a predator’s prowl, a traitorous part of his mind supplied.
The man finished his approach when he was directly to the boy’s left. He stopped but said nothing, letting the room fall into a heavy silence.
The heavy bandages wrapped around his head prevented the boy from seeing the man but he didn’t dare to turn his head lest the face he saw become hidden by a wall of fire or backlit by the afternoon sun and a jeering crowd. He didn’t dare meet the other’s eyes, no matter how the hairs on the back of his neck stood or how he could feel a cold sweat forming.
The gaze he could feel on him, instead, was unrelenting. Full of judgement like it always was, but this time, he didn’t feel the conflicting need to both prove himself and cower.
He was just numb.
“This was your fault. You brought this onto yourself.”
There was no inflection in that voice. No anger or satisfaction or even disgust. Nothing to indicate that they felt anything about the grievous wound maring the young face.
If he tried, he could imagine a twinge of pity. It made his stomach roil.
“You should have fought when I told you to. You shouldn’t have tried my patience.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how .
When the silence dragged on for a few moments more, the man continued.
“Even if you had no chance of winning, you should have fought back. Instead, you chose to dishonor yourself.”
He was too late to stop the flinch this time. When the voice paused, he had to stop himself from doing something else equally as stupid as showing his shame in himself.
The man sat down on the edge of the bed. The bed shifted under the new weight, disguising when he gripped the sheets at the sudden action.
“Let me see.”
A hand reached out and grabbed his chin, before turning him to meet eyes that used to be identical to his own. The boy hoped that he couldn’t feel him trembling at the touch.
Golden eyes watched with passive interest how the layers of bandages and gauze unevenly padded out the pale face. He tilted his chin in every direction, scrutinizing the dressing and no doubt imagining the injury — his handiwork — that required such extensive maintenance.
“Your vision should still be intact,” The man said, tilting his son’s head as far to the side as possible to look at the back of the bandaged ear, “I wasn’t trying to damage your vision.”
Firelord Ozai turned his son’s face until he could look at the other directly. He felt a curl of satisfaction when the boy reluctantly looked back at him, suitably cowed.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice.” He told him calmly.
Prince Zuko swallowed past the lump lodged in his throat.
“I understand,” He hesitated, “Father.”
The man didn’t change his expression outwardly but he gave the impression of being pleased. It reminded Zuko painfully of happier times; when his mother was around, when he could play with his sister, not just compete, when he father would relax with them on Ember Island.
(When his father’s touch meant the rare acknowledgement not agonyburningpain —)
When their family was happy.
“You needed to understand the consequences of being disrespectful.”
“I know.”
A stony gleam entered his father’s eye and Zuko desperately wanted the mirage to return.
“I only want to make you strong.” His voice was glacial cold. ”But you make it so hard, Zuko. You waste my efforts.”
“I’m sorry!” Zuko was quick to apologize, “I’ll do better!”
The grip on his chin tightened for a moment. His father’s eyes searched his one before he smoothed his expression and let go. He got up and turned to leave.
“You leave tomorrow, before dawn. Take your mission seriously, son. Your honour depends on it.”
He didn’t look back.