Chapter Text
0ZUKO0
The darkness, an oppressing companion, made him think, made him remember. He was alone, and there was no door, no path of escape. He wasn’t even sure if there was an air duct or if he was cut off. They had let him be alone, and he had no idea how much time had passed, only that hunger and thirst had long since set in. As a firebender, he missed the sun on a different level than other people would. He felt the lack of it as acutely as a numbing limb from a pinched nerve.
His trial had been short and had mainly consisted of looking at his face and deciding that the scar matched the description. They already knew he was a firebender from when he had tried to free himself. A skilled earthbender had managed to restrain him until he had worn himself out, then quickly brought him to his knees with well placed jabs and the patience of a master in his art.
They’d then dragged him downwards, like a sack of potatoes, to what he assumed to be a dungeon. The rattling of his loose metal chains resounded from the walls in close echoes, loud and unyielding. They hadn’t brought any torches, instead they had a sort of glowing crystal that shed a cold green light, a dead-looking one, very unlike the light sources that Zuko was used to. He hated it. It cast an eerie, ever steady glow, never flickering, unmoving. It reminded him of his exhausted, burnt out state. His captors were still holding him, grips bruising.
Zuko, even in his exhausted state, was memorizing the route they were taking, if there were any hallways branching off, he took note of them. Any doors, he saw them all, trying to commit them to memory. He was determined to get out as soon as he could. But then, they shoved him though what seemed to just be another passage, the crystal didn’t illuminate as much of the space ahead of them, making his judgement circumspect at best. They didn’t follow, and as Zuko turned around, he saw a wall rising in the passage’s place, quickly. There was no way to stop it and within mere seconds, his world turned from eerie green to pitch black. Within mere seconds he was completely alone, cut off from the world.
His long wait after the humiliating capture consisted of sitting in that dark prison cell and wondering what would happen to him now.
He’d screamed in frustration, thrown a weak fire fist against the stone, then slumped down against the adjacent wall, too tired to explore what he knew to be inescapable. The air in the room tasted stale, bitter, still.
It didn’t take long, however, until the darkness became so oppressive, the room so quiet, with only his chains rattling and the sound bouncing off the walls whenever he moved, that he carefully opened his palm, calling forth flame.
He wouldn’t have thought that seeing the room would make him more restless. It wasn’t the size, darkness had its way to make things seem smaller. The room was a decent size and it was of sturdy stone. It was even dry, though of course still cool due to being underground and all. No, what made him restless was the fact that he’d assumed that there would be air holes somewhere, since the entrance was already sealed off. But there was nothing but smooth vertical walls, smooth ground and a smooth looking ceiling. The room looked as if sealed completely. Quickly he put out the flame. With limited air supply, he couldn’t keep a flame going, no matter how much he wanted to see.
The darkness got to him more than he liked to admit. The words the town’s mayor had spoken before they brought him there, didn’t help either.
He couldn’t forget what he’d seen, and the complete darkness that lay around him far heavier after his brief glimpse of his prison. The room seemed to get smaller, and though he knew that that wasn’t happening, it was basically the same with using up the air that was available.
And the mayor’s words. He remembered them with dread, but somehow they also assured him that he wouldn’t die of suffocation down here. "So this is the proud prince of the Fire Nation? Laughable! You're nothing, a traitor, what made you think you're welcome here?…" Zuko couldn’t help but recalling them every so often . "… Well, I know exactly what to do with you. You're the ideal tool to keep the village nice and calm. With you, they will have a place to put their grudge against the Fire Nation, and I’ll have my peace." he’d said, his words laced with a serpentine sneer.
Zuko hadn’t counted on someone recognizing him, the trip into town hadn’t been about being welcomed, it had been about resupplying. But that didn’t matter, they’d gotten him and left him to wonder what the vague words of what was going to happen meant for what was in store for him.
He’d screamed at the mayor, at the people under their figurehead, that he’d burn everyone in his path as soon as he had the slightest chance, that he wouldn’t hold back again. And the mayor had just laughed at it, told him that he’d make sure he wouldn’t escape, and that if he killed anyone, or even just attempted to, he’d be a dead man walking, and that he’d wish he was already long dead by the time they’d allow him to pass to his ancestors.
Long hours of contemplation and worry, eventually ended in fits of sleep, crumbled and curled against the same wall, just beside where the entrance had used to be, and waking up feeling thirsty and full of regrets. Angry, angry at himself, angry at the situation, angry at them. He couldn’t help but replay the fight in his mind, thinking of where he could have done better, and though he’d felt he’d done the best he could at said moment, it became continuously harder to remind himself of that.
He’d given himself away with reacting to the calling of recognition, had he played it off, would he have managed to not end up here? Had he fought with fire from the beginning, might he have gotten away? Had he turned around and ran, would he have made it? If he’d moved to kill instead of defend, would he have won?
He knew he’d at least injured some of them. He’d done his best in his panic. He needed to think ahead now, not be caught in thinking about the past. He needed to escape. Thirst and hunger were making thinking increasingly difficult. Lack of ideas, feeling ever cold and not wanting to use up more air with exercising, it made him lose track of time, he wasn’t sure if he just spaced out sometimes or even nodded off, he couldn’t tell anymore.
He tried to feel for the sun, his source of strength, but though firebending kept him connected to the sun at all times, he felt as it was became increasingly estranged, he felt increasingly drained.
He wouldn’t give up though. He’d wait for when they came, he’d manage somehow, even with the shackles and chain. He’d find a way to get rid of them. But time stretched, and thirst and hunger built up, with no one coming. There was no one to fight, no one to open up a door to escape through.
He was still alive, so it couldn’t have been days, but it was starting to feel like it was. It appeared they were bent on draining him before getting him out, and he hated that it was working. He missed the sun, he missed wide open spaces that didn’t throw every sound he made back at his face. They were becoming too loud with the headache that was slowly forming. He shivered in the cool, stale, air and stayed close to the supposed entrance hoping foolishly to be able to overwhelm them and get away, despite his weakened state.
There were times he threw being reasonable to the non existent wind, shouted, screamed, punched walls, and sometimes carefully called out weak flames. A couple of those times, he thought to see air holes, but he wasn’t sure to believe his eyes anymore, and any bright flame that properly illuminated the room was starting to hurt his eyes instead of enabling him to see. And he didn’t seriously want to risk it eating up the air if he’d seen wrong. He felt like he was going crazy. Angry at everything, most of all himself for not seeing a way out. Angry because he feared the unknown. He didn’t know what they’d do to him.
0ZUKO0
They eventually retrieved him, leading him up the stairs in heavy shackles. The sun, though providing him with an energy boost that rejuvenated him somewhat, made his eyes tear up. It hurt to see anything bright, seeing that his eyes had become overly adjusted to complete darkness. His ears were also experiencing sudden overload, further increasing the pounding in his head.
As his gaze adjusted, Zuko noted that he was being brought to the market in a public demonstration. There was no way he could escape a whole mob.
On an elevated platform, they forced him to take off his upper garments while a blade was held to his neck, as if he wasn’t already weak from lack of food and water. Then, they put his arms back into shackles on the center of the square: They forced him to raise his arms stretch them out in front of him at eye level, and held him there, the chain that linked both wrists together pulled apart and heavy. Then stone rose from the square centre’s elevated platform, raising ever higher, making him realize that soon the chain would either be encased in stone or pull him up alongside. Squirming was pointless, the hands holding him in place didn’t give way until the stone indeed had encased the chain between his wrists. The pillar was growing wider now, pulling him closer against what quickly took the form of a lithic whipping post and forced him to awkwardly hug it with little leeway to move his head. The earthbender inscribed his identity and status into the post, so everyone could read who he was, then, they left him to be under the scrutiny and mercy of the masses.
The first day, there had mostly been gapers, few had laid their hands on him. Zuko had just been waiting for them to actually go through with whipping him. Instead, they had finally given him water and some food. Forced it down his throat really.
They probably thought that it would put him on edge if they left him in the dark about what was going to happen and when, but Zuko was stronger than that. He was sure that he could take what they’d dish out. He just hoped that uncle had been following, he suspected that he did, but uncle had been on foot, whereas Zuko had traveled by ostrich horse.
The night hadn’t been overly cold, but being forced to stand the way he was continuously, was exhausting, mentally and physically, and he had barely gotten any sleep. His arms hurt from being held raised and his hands were asleep, tingling whenever he moved them. Most mocking was that they didn't even guard him during the night hours. But he could see why not, he had tried to get free and, try as he might, there was just no way he could on his own.
The mob was still hesitant to approach him early the next day and Zuko had no choice but to wait. So it was almost a relief in some way when they finally went through with the whipping that afternoon.
He hadn’t seen them coming, as the whipper had only approached him from his backside. Zuko had been standing there, shirtless, arms hurting from having been shackled to the backside of the post on a slightly higher level than his shoulders, forced to hug the stone that kept him standing there. The thing that had tipped him off was the gathering crowd and the whispering before pain exploded on his bare back and the crowd started cheering.
He also didn’t know what they had whipped him with, he couldn’t turn to see the damage, and they had left him there after they were done. But seeing him this defenseless, bleeding and in pain, had broken the crowds reluctance to approach him and Zuko started to realize what the mayor had meant about the crowd having a place to put their grudge against the Fire Nation. The open wounds also attracted more flies.
It was still bearable, though. Humiliating, but bearable. Zuko was positive that he’d get out of this situation somehow, and more or less in tact.
It was the men that came at night who started to change that.
He couldn’t see him, he could only hear him approach from behind as he stood there alone in the dark of night, the square desolated, the exact opposite of the liveliness that took place during the day. First, the man had only poked at his wounds, touching him in ways meant to cause pain and discomfort. Real fear only started to seep in when he started to go for the waistband of Zuko’s trousers.
Zuko had no chance.
His legs were still shackled from the walk here, and the earthbender who had created the post had ingrained at least one or two chain links in the middle of that chain into the stone. He had barely any any leeway to begin with, there was no way to squirm away. He couldn’t even kick the man in the shin and any fire he would be able to conjure was more likely to burn him than his enemy.
His heart beat increased as reasonable thoughts gave way to panic. Wind on freshly uncovered skin gave way to touches and pushes, which caused shudders up his spine and sent him squirming, desperate to get away. His mind wasn't really catching up on what was going on, trying to keep calm but failing. Then the other let off for a moment and he could hear clothes rustling. He pulled against the chains.
Hands grabbed his hips roughly, holding him in place as something pushed forward. It all turned painful really quickly as he felt something push inside of where he knew nothing should ever go and it hurt even more when the man started moving and making unsettling noises. Zuko grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to get his arms, legs, anything, lose. Trying to get away.
It was terrifying. It was humiliating. It was the first time he started to truly grasp the horror of his situation.
The man eventually slowed his movements. With a hard slap on Zuko's shredded back, he took a step back and Zuko couldn't hold back the pained cry. The lacerations were still fresh and the feel of something being pulled out of him wasn't painless either.
The man leaned close to him again and Zuko pressed himself against the stone out of lack of other options. The man spoke softly in a low, mocking voice. “What a convenient little whore you make, Fire Prince! Welcome to your new life.”
The man grabbed Zuko's trousers, which had slid down to his knees, pulling them up roughly. Zuko froze, not knowing what was coming now, with the man’s words still ringing in his ears, but the man merely refastened Zuko's waistband. “Can't have you scare the kids, can we?” he said while doing it. Then, he just turned away and an out-of-tune whistle, as well as crunching below feet, were informing Zuko of his leave.
He only realized that he had held his breath when the whistling no longer reached his ears. And it was only then that he started registering and distinguishing all the different pains he was in. Many scabs on his back had ripped open again with all the squirming, and he could still feel where the hands had grabbed him. His wrists hurt, the metal already starting to cut into skin. The most worrying part was his rear though. It hurt, it hurt badly and he could feel sticky liquid dripping down the inside of his pants and the fabric soaking it up. Was it blood?
He felt disgusting, disgusted. At the man, at himself. And he felt vulnerable, now more so than ever. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned his forehead against the cool stone, willing the tears away that threatened to fall, he couldn’t break already, it had only been two days.
He was exhausted, he could feel himself shaking and seeing as it was night, it would have made sense to sleep. He tried, but instead, his mind kept returning to the man and the pain. The feeling of being invaded, but not daring to even think about what that had been, what it meant... There was also discomfort at the slowly drying fluid that caked the inside of his pants. But eventually exhaustion must have caught up with him, because when he became aware again, the sun was peeking over the horizon and people started to trickle into the market square.
As he’d slumped down when he’d fallen asleep, his wrists and arms had gone numb. So getting into a standing position again had been a painful exercise. His trousers felt damp in the morning air, his skin clammy. The first people with their stands were filing in, but it was a low buzz and it seemed that for once the attention wasn’t on him.
A while later, someone approached. A hand grabbed his wrist, causing him to flinch. A key was jammed into the shackle’s lock, opening it and quickly twisting the arm onto his back. The sudden change of position was accompanied by white pain, the pressure on his back didn’t help it either, he ground out a pained noise.
The other arm soon followed, but they just let it fall down. He could feel the stone encasing the chain connecting his feet retreat. Then, they roughly pulled him backwards, throwing him to the ground.
Zuko tried to catch his fall with his hands, but failing miserably as his arms were only waking up from being in one position for way too long. Zuko rolled to his side, trying to sit up. A man in a guard uniform (as he now saw), grabbed his arm and pulled him up again, dragging him so that Zuko stumbled over the chain. They stopped at a sewer. “Do your business. Do it quickly, and don’t try anything or you’ll get to use your pants in the future. And keep your hands in view.”
Zuko swallowed emptily. It had been way too long, and even if he hadn’t had much to drink, his body had decided that it could spare some liquid, he had to go… They were a bit aside, so there were less people around, but people could be watching. The guard was watching. Fear was twisting inside him. But he kind of really had to go and he probably wouldn’t get the chance again very soon. In fact, the guard’s words implied that they weren’t above letting him shit his pants. With shaking fingers he fumbled with the chord that held his only piece of clothing in place….
The way back was easier since his arms were tingling less than before. When they arrived, he was thrown to the ground again. Now at least, he could break his fall. He quickly sat up and a piece of bread landed in his lap. It wasn’t hard yet, though definitely not fresh anymore, but bigger than anything they’d given him so far.
“There’s water, too. I’ll hand it to you. Try burning me, or do any funny business at all, and you will regret it ten times over.” He held out a bowl which Zuko took, immediately taking a sip. He was thirsty, very much so. He took his time eating, hoping that, if they already gave him so much, they’d want him to eat it, too... They let him.
They grabbed him as soon as he’d drunk the rest of the water, though. quickly bringing him back to the post and only then, Zuko started to fight. He was subdued quickly, and wrists locked back in the shackles and the chain between his feet reconnected with the stone. They left without a word.
Time stretched, the sun burned at his back and arms. He could feel the skin growing hot, though his bending kept the skin burnfree. People grew more bold as time went on, but it was mostly limited to insults and taunting.
He didn't say anything back, he couldn't even see who was speaking most of the time and he knew better than to provoke the crowds. He hoped for the evening, he dreaded the night.
By the time when the merchants started clearing the place, Zuko's mouth had been dry for hours and he felt his bladder ache really badly. They had provided him with some more water at noon, but they hadn't let him down then and he was coming to regret having drunk so much. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to hold it, and he didn't know when they'd let him down next. The wait was dreading.
He managed to hold it until they came, but just barely. The square was almost empty and Zuko was glad for it as he stumbled to the sewer. The guards were different ones, they treated him similarly though. One was rougher than the other. He got food and water again, but when he was done, they didn’t force him up again, instead, they pulled the chain of his feet over to the pillar and only refastened to the pole.
Zuko, who had fully prepared to fight again despite the obvious exhaustion, only slumped down in relief when they left. Despite his doubts about being able to sleep and his determination to see if he could free himself of the chain and flee, sleep caught up to him quickly, now that he was laying down…
0ZUKO0
It happened again that night. And at that time, he had no idea how much worse it would get. How broken he would be in the end.
A kick to his side woke him up and disorientedly, he looked around. The sky had darkened and seeing a man in front of him, he quickly sat up to look around if someone else was there. It couldn’t be that late, the tavern across the square was still lit, but as for the moment, they were alone. That awareness speared through Zuko’s muddled consciousness, quickly waking the rest of him up.
The man squatted down in front of him. “Well, Bào said he had a fun time yesterday, let’s see how you do for me. And I see you even got your hands free tonight. Come on.”
“No.” Zuko quietly said. leaning back to have more space. Though, as his back touched the pillar, he winced from pain. He had forgotten about his wounds there in all the aches that were present in his body. The chain rattled at his feet as he tried and failed to rearrange them.
“No? Are you in any position to say no? I could make you feel good, you know… or I could make it extra painful.” He leaned closer, grinning as he spoke. Zuko couldn’t see him clearly in the dark of night, but he could hear it in the voice.
“No, stay away!” Zuko shifted to the side of the post in an attempt to put more distance between them. The man grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’ll burn you!” Zuko said in warning, panic creeping into his voice.
“My, my. Bào didn’t mention that you were that feisty. Now get up, I’m not a patient man.”
Zuko, who still had himself pushed up in a sitting position with his arms, quickly grabbed some dust and threw it forward to the man’s eyes, then he immediately got onto his feet to have better stance for fire bending.
The man rubbed his eyes, the grin slipping from his face, replaced by a displeased scowl. “My, my. Someone has spunk.”
Zuko hesitated, and that was his bane. The man had been too close already, and when he took another step towards him and Zuko moved to land a hit, the other slipped under his guard, grabbed his arm, nullifying the attempt successfully. Zuko was slammed against the post and held there. He could feel his chest moving rapidly. His attempt at kicking was stopped by the shackles around his ankles and his back screamed as the wounds there were pressed against the stone.
The man grabbed his neck and leaned in close. “You got no chance. Give up!”
“No!” Zuko croaked out, preparing to breathe fire, even though his neck position was less than ideal to utilize the technique. He did it as soon as the man let go of his neck, who did a startled whelp, jumping back. It hadn’t burned him, the breath had been too weak and barely left any soot on his skin, but the man’s eyes thinned to slits, anyway.
“I’ll ignore what you just did and be gentle if you turn around quietly and stop fighting. If you don’t, this will get very painful.”
Zuko didn’t turn around, he tried to breathe fire again. The flames lit up their surroundings, finally giving Zuko a view on the man's features. The man sidestepped and quickly dove in to push a hand against his chin and pinching Zuko’s nose to stop the airflow as he breathed in.
He couldn’t prevent being turned around, he couldn’t breathe. He was held against the man’s body, started clawing at the hand holding him and was abruptly let go and slammed forward against the pillar. It knocked the breath out of him.
The man had been right, things turned out painful. Opposed to last time, Zuko could acutely feel the anger that accompanied the actions. Bào, as the other had called him: he hadn’t been angry like this, he’d been more straightforward, just taking what he wanted. This man now; he’d warned him, he’d become angry when Zuko wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Now he was letting out his anger and taking what he came for anyway. And he was being cruel about it.
When he was done, he merely let go of Zuko, whose legs just folded together. Zuko curled into himself in an attempt to comfort himself, to block out the pain, the man, the world… but a kick to his back reminded him that the man hadn’t left yet.
“Let this teach you not to refuse me again.”
Even after he’d finally left, Zuko didn’t move for a long while. He knew, he was definitely bleeding this time. There were scratches on several places, and the grip that had held him up would most likely bruise. His inventory eventually moved to the state of clothing he was in. This man hadn’t bothered to redress him.
Zuko pressed his lips together and finally moved, his hands were free now, he could do it himself, not that the additional freedom had helped him to keep himself safe, and the man away. Zuko curled up again, shame eating him up. He didn't have the energy or will to move anymore and it felt like an eternity until he drifted off to sleep, flashes of memories and upsetting emotions disrupting his attempts at calming himself down. The body's exhaustion won out in the end. He didn’t move until the next morning, when two guards forced him to do his new morning routine, the trip to the sewer.
He got food and water, slowly ate it, not hungry even though his stomach grumbled. When he was close to being done, they suddenly grabbed his arms, telling him to finish drinking quickly, then ripped the bowl from his hands and pulled him up. It seemed that they didn’t want to risk him fighting with a somewhat rested body, no matter that his legs were still bound.
Too quickly he found himself back at the whipping post, wrists encased in shackles, not ready for the day.