Chapter 67: Consequences
The first rays of morning light painted the stone balcony in a golden sheen. Prince Zuko lay still beneath the silken sheets, his eyes open, staring up at the high ceiling of his chamber. The sheets beside him were cool and undisturbed. She was gone.
Katara had left without a word before sunrise. Not that she needed to. Her role in this palace charade had ended. Her place was now beside the Avatar, where she had always belonged, though the memory of her breath, her voice, still lingered faintly in the room like smoke after flame.
He exhaled and sat up, letting the sheets fall off his bare chest. The early autumn air swept through the open balcony doors, and he welcomed the chill against his skin. Dressed only in crimson fire silk shorts, he stood and walked across the polished floor to the balcony.
Out there, the Fire Nation stretched before him. The capital still slept in places, but in the courtyard below, faint activity stirred. Today was the day.
He had survived the night.
A smile curled on his lips as he leaned against the rail, letting the breeze ruffle his unbound hair. His plan had gone off, or at the very least, it hadn't failed.
Then, a firm knock interrupted the quiet.
"Come in," he called over his shoulder.
The chamber doors opened and in stepped two imperial firebenders. They wore the full regalia of the Fire Lord's personal guard: deep crimson armor with black edging, the breastplates adorned with golden flame crests, heavy layered shoulder pauldrons, and obsidian gauntlets and boots. Their faces were hidden behind red plated masks with angular cheek guards and a central flame motif. The masks' three-pointed crests rose like stylized horns, with white-painted eyes glaring blankly beneath them. They looked like walking monuments to discipline.
"Prince Zuko," one said through the modulated voice of the mask. "You are requested to accompany us. Immediately."
Zuko didn't flinch. He turned from the balcony with a dry smirk. "Of course. Let me get dressed."
They waited without a word, statuesque by the door.
He moved back into the room and opened the tall lacquered wardrobe. Piece by piece, he slipped into his uniform, a suit nearly identical to theirs in color and cut, the same heavy shoulder plating and leather-strapped armor, though his was marked with the personal sigils of the royal heir. The only difference was that he did not wear the helmet. His scarred face and gold eyes would be fully visible today.
He tied his hair back into a tight warrior's tail, letting the black strands hang down just past the collar. His gloves he fastened carefully, pulling them tight before clenching his fists.
Once dressed, he stepped out from the wardrobe.
"Lead the way," he said.
The two imperial firebenders turned on their heels and moved, and Zuko followed, his boots echoing softly against the polished floor as they left the room behind.
---
The doors to the war room creaked open, and Zuko stepped inside.
The scent of burning incense mingled with the smoldering firepit at the center of the long chamber. It was early, yet the room was already full. Generals, admirals, sages, and high-ranking ministers stood in quiet tension around the obsidian war table. Their eyes all turned toward him the moment he entered. He scanned the room quickly, Azula was already there, standing beside Zhao, who looked stiff and pale, his jaw still wrapped in white bandage cloth from their Agni Kai.
Zuko didn't need confirmation. The presence of so many military elites, this early, with expressions this grim. it could only mean one thing.
'It worked,' he thought. 'They're gone… or at least, I hope they are.'
He kept the thought to himself, his expression unreadable.
"What's going on, Father?" he asked with casual calm, walking toward the center.
"Now that everyone is here," Ozai's voice cut sharply, "let's begin."
The Fire Lord stood behind the elevated podium at the head of the chamber, his arms folded behind his back, his face stony and rigid. The air around him felt heavier than the smoke drifting from the firepit.
"Fire Lord Ozai, please believe me…" Zhao began.
"That's enough," Ozai roared.
The room fell silent in an instant. Even the fire beneath the table seemed to dull in reverence.
No general dared to speak. No admiral shifted. Even the sages held their tongues.
Iroh's voice broke the silence, steady and concerned. "What is going on, brother?"
Ozai didn't look at him. Instead, he turned toward Zhao.
"You tell them."
Zuko watched Zhao's throat bob as he swallowed. His hand trembled slightly, fingers twitching at his side.
"Tonight… about an hour before dawn…" Zhao hesitated. "The Avatar escaped."
Gasps broke across the room.
"What?"
"Escaped?!"
"How is that possible?"
Shock rippled outward. Sages turned to each other in dismay. The admiral near the back clenched his fist. A general cursed under his breath. Even Azula's face twitched slightly.
Zuko stepped forward without hesitation.
"What the fuck do you mean the Avatar escaped, Zhao?" he snapped, voice booming across the chamber. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through to bring him to the Fire Nation?!"
His words were sharp and furious. Eyes turned toward him now as he closed the distance between himself and the commander.
"You lose him?!" he demanded again. "On the eve of my coronation?!"
Zhao staggered slightly, caught between fear and pride, but Zuko didn't give him the chance to speak.
"I should strike you down where you stand!"
The room froze, the heat in Zuko's voice only matched by the fire in his eyes.
And all the while, deep inside, Zuko couldn't help but enjoy the performance. Every line, every word, playing exactly as it had to. The righteous fury of the loyal prince.
Now… all that was left was the fallout.
Ozai's silence was crushing.
He stood at the head of the chamber, his hands clasped behind his back, unmoving as the murmurs died into a heavy stillness. The crackling flames in the floor seemed quieter now, the heat of them distant. All eyes were on the Fire Lord, waiting, dreading.
"You've lost the only thing that could threaten our reign," Ozai said finally, his voice cold and sharp. "The Avatar is not a boy. He is the cycle incarnate. The balance of the world."
His gaze turned to Zhao, who stood rigid and sweating beneath the firelight.
"To lose him," Ozai said slowly, "is a disgrace. A failure of the highest magnitude. This demands consequences."
A cold hush swept the chamber. Even the bravest general dared not breathe too loudly.
"Incompetence," Ozai continued, "cannot be allowed to fester in our ranks. Not while we stand on the cusp of final victory."
He raised his hand slightly, signaling the imperial firebenders who stood at the chamber's edge.
"Commander Zhao," Ozai declared, his voice booming with judgment, "for gross dereliction of duty, failure to maintain a secure command, and conduct unworthy of your rank, I hereby sentence you to execution at dawn tomorrow."
Zhao gasped. "Fire Lord… please! I…"
"Silence," Ozai snapped.
He turned next to Zhao's lieutenant. "Your second-in-command shall be stripped of all ranks and honors and dishonorably discharged from military service. He will never wear the Fire Nation uniform again."
Several officers behind him shifted uncomfortably.
"And every man under Zhao's command, those foolish, useless guards who allowed the Avatar to vanish, shall be demoted three ranks and placed under probationary discipline for six months."
"Fire Lord Ozai… mercy…" Zhao pleaded again, but two of the imperial firebenders were already stepping forward.
"Take him to await his execution," Ozai ordered, voice devoid of emotion.
The masked firebenders grabbed Zhao's arms. He resisted for a moment, but it was no use. His shouts faded as he was dragged from the chamber.
Iroh stood, clearly shaken. "I still don't understand what happened," he said, turning to his brother.
"It doesn't matter what happened," Ozai answered. "This level of incompetence and naivety cannot be allowed to prosper. Our enemies do not forgive mistakes."
Then he turned, and every eye followed.
"Isn't that right, Azula?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean, Father?"
"Yesterday," he said, "you came to me with concerns. Rumors of sympathizers plotting to act. You insisted I appoint additional protection for the Avatar. You selected Commander Zhao to lead that protection."
Her mouth opened slightly, but he didn't stop.
"You also proposed that Prince Zuko challenge Zhao publicly to an Agni Kai. You placed your personal vendettas above duty."
"Father, it was Zuko who…"
"Who what?" Ozai interrupted. "Zuko was with the sages yesterday. The entire palace saw him attending to the preparations for the ceremony. He fulfilled his obligations. You, on the other hand, acted without foresight."
She took a step forward. "But, this wasn't supposed to happen! Zuko, he-he's behind this!"
"You have given me little choice," Ozai said. "I hereby strip you of all military ranks and responsibilities. You are no longer part of my council. You will remain Princess in title only, until you prove yourself worthy of more."
"No…" Azula breathed. "Father, please. Reconsider. This isn't fair, Zuko, he-he's the one playing everyone!"
Ozai didn't even look at her.
"Do not shame yourself further."
Azula stood frozen, the flickering firelight casting her expression in a kaleidoscope of disbelief, fury, and something bordering on despair.
At the far end of the table, Zuko stood in silence.
Then, as her eyes finally met his across the chamber, he gave her the smallest of smiles.
And a wink.
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