Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5372948.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      Avatar:_The_Last_Airbender
  Character:
      Zuko_(Avatar), Original_Male_Character(s), Iroh_(Avatar)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-07 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 6322
****** A Lesson in Humility ******
by xXxdanknoscoperxXx
Summary
     I always thought it was strange that grown men were perfectly OK with
     taking orders from a child. Contains actual non-con, so read at your
     own risk.
***** Chapter 1 *****
The longer Prince Zuko and General Iroh's ship sailed in search of their
impossible prize, the longer the men on board were kept from returning home.
Thus far, it had been two years since any of the men on board had seen their
homeland. The steady rocking of their lonely, isolated ship as it sailed, set
for destination after destination was punctuated only by the occasional
landing. Whether that docking was for supplies or hunting for the Avatar (a
wild goose chase, at this point), it did little for morale, and it only served
to intensify loneliness and isolation to see so many places so far from home.
In the ship's pilothouse, Iroh sat at his Pai Sho table, across from Li as the
two of them played their morning game. Wu looked on with fascination at their
strategic playing as he enjoyed a cup of tea, the water in the teapot kept at a
soothingly warm temperature thanks to Iroh's firebending. At the end of the
room, Chang steered the ship, making sure to keep their course toward the South
Pole.
"Well?" remarked Wu to Iroh, chuckling "Are you going to move or are you simply
going to stare at the board?"
Iroh slid over the Rose tile before sitting back and proudly admiring the
board.
"Trying your old strategy again?" chided Li. "There's only so many times that
can work, you know."
"That's what you think," said Iroh, smiling smugly as his opponent began eyeing
the board more closely.
Before he could make his move, however, he was interrupted by the creaky
groaning of the metal door, revealing Prince Zuko in uniform, hair tied back
neatly as always, face screaming impatience and posture reflecting anger and
agitation. The door slammed shut behind him, shaking the room slightly as he
began to approach the helmsman.
"We need to get to the South Pole as quickly as possible. We must be getting
close to finding him," his tone hinted that he was more irritable than usual.
"Yes, Prince Zuko," replied the helmsman. "We will arrive within two weeks."
"Can't you sail this thing any faster?" the prince barked.
The helmsman warily shook his head as he attempted to avoid Prince Zuko's
glare.
"Absolutely useless! This entire crew is utterly incompetent!" shouted the
prince, slamming his fist down on the table before him. The tiles shifted as
the force of his hand shook the board, and Iroh became visibly displeased by
his nephew's temper.
"Please, Prince Zuko," said Iroh as he began to gently nudge his tiles back
into place, "if you break the board we will have nowhere to play Pai Sho."
"This is more important than your stupid game, Uncle!" He was close to swatting
the tiles completely off of the table.
"Relax, Prince Zuko. Perhaps you would like a cup of ginseng tea?"
"I don't need to relax!" the prince yelled, louder than before. "What I would
like, Uncle, is to find the Avatar. Not to drink tea!" A steady stream of smoke
trailed from his nostrils.
"And you!" the prince shouted at his steward, "Why are you just sitting here?
Don't you have work to do?"
"Of course, Prince Zuko. I shall attend to my duties immediately." The steward
began to stand as he spoke, nodding his head attentively toward his superior.
"No more idle time! All of you get back to work! Now!" With that, he turned
around and left the room, the door groaning and creaking just as much as it had
when he entered, though the slam and subsequent shudder of the room were
somewhat more intense.
Rather than exiting the room behind Prince Zuko, Li carefully sat back down on
the floor, ready to continue their game. He delicately picked up and placed the
Jasmine tile. "The prince seems somewhat on edge today."
"You imply that's different from any other day," laughed Wu as he sipped at his
tea.
Sliding the Lotus tile forward, Iroh spoke, "My nephew has a lot on his mind.
Perhaps he grows tired of sailing these foreign waters."
"We all grow tired," interjected Chang as he stared out absentmindedly at the
vast, blue ocean, its waves crashing rhythmically against the sides of the ship
as the vessel rocked gently back and forth. "I miss my family."
The room grew silent as all of the men tacitly agreed with the sentiment.
For a few moments, all that could be heard was the sound of the ocean and the
quiet clicking of tiles on the Pai Sho board as all the men contemplated the
lives they had left behind in the Fire Nation. The rest of the crew, as well,
must have had similar thoughts during their time away from home. Some of the
crew were younger men with promising futures. Others were older, with wives and
children, who thirsted for an excuse to exercise skills left unused for years.
Some simply wanted to put their work into what they believed to be a good
cause. All, however, were fiercely loyal to General Iroh.
So why were they allowing his brat of a nephew to order them around like dogs?
The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of Wu pouring more tea into his
cup.
"It certainly isn't made any easier by the prince's temper," stated Li, as he
snapped back to reality along with the rest of them.
"Yes," replied Iroh. "He certainly can be hot-headed. He means no harm by it. I
am sure that you can understand he is simply growing impatient."
"Aren't we all?" Wu asked, sipping at his tea.
"I mostly grow impatient with him," said Li, placing his tile down more
forcefully than before.
Iroh spoke slowly, "You know what he has been through and what is at stake. I
would not wish such a shame upon anyone."
"Clearly he has not yet learned humility, though he bears his mark to the
world," Li retorted. Wu and Chang chuckled in response.
Iroh simply slid his next tile as he frowned deeply.
***** Chapter 2 *****
The hours went by agonizingly slowly as the men spent yet another day
traversing the ocean. They had not seen land in weeks, save for a that rapidly-
disappearing coastline filled with rugged mountains that, despite its
foreignness and rough inhabitability, now hung in their memories like a
painting of the most fertile fields, or of the royal gardens in springtime.
As Li leaned against the railing, he imagined that, instead of the heavy scent
of saltwater, he could smell the sweet perfume of fresh flowers as they waved
to and fro in the gentle breeze. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not
shut out the incessant crashing of the waves against the sides of the ship, nor
could they still the steady rocking of the boat as it went over wave after wave
after wave with seemingly no end in sight. There was only blue, blue, and more
blue all around.
A sudden push woke him from his daydream.
"Li."
He turned lazily and saw Ren, who held his helmet under his arm, and two other
soldiers who quickly lifted their masks to reveal themselves as Mao and Qin,
before placing them over their faces once more. They, along with the rest of
the men, had been trapped on this ship with General Iroh and Prince Zuko since
the beginning, enduring endless sailing after endless sailing and unsure of how
much more of such isolation was to come.
Ren looked quickly to either side.
"There's no one behind me?" he asked.
Li shook his head. "What's this about? You're behaving even more suspiciously
than usual."
Ren shot him a glare before continuing. "We… need to speak with you about
certain matters involving His Most Royal Highness, Prince Zuko," he said with a
smirk, and Li almost could not hold back his laughter from the sarcasm that
dripped heavy from his mouth.
"What about His Most Royal Highness?" Li asked with a soft chuckle.
This time, Mao answered. "We'd been considering for a while what were to happen
if some sort of… particularly grievous injury was to befall the Great and
Mighty Prince." His eyes darted about in much the same manner Ren's had.
"I'm listening," said Li.
Mao continued, "We were just thinking that… Oh, if something grievous were to
somehow happen to the Great Prince, we might be… "forced"… to return home."
At this, Li raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? We can't possibly…" He looked
about and made the motion of sawing a finger across his neck. He then spoke in
a low whisper: "We ourselves would be put to death along with every other
crewmember on this ship."
Qin shook his head at this. "We only mean that… this grievous, grievous injury
might make him…. reconsider his…. his… Journey of Redemption. Perhaps he will
just become the poor and unfortunate wandering exile his father, the Great Fire
Lord Ozai, wanted him to be, and we… we poorer and more unfortunate in terms of
status and endowment may return home to our poor and unfortunate little
families."
This only confused Li more, and his lack of understanding was plastered across
his face. "I still don't understand what you me—"
"Listen," said Ren. "You have a wife at home, don't you?"
Li nodded. "I do."
"Good. I'm sure she misses you by now."
Li looked down at the metal deck.
"I'm sure you miss her, too."
Li didn't answer. Instead, as the seconds dragged on, his face grew more and
more somber as the memories of his dearest wife, pregnant with their child,
filled him. He never even learned the child's name, whether it was a son or a
daughter, or if his wife had survived childbirth.
A hand on his shoulder brought his gaze back up. "Look at me," said Ren.
Li nodded solemnly.
"Do you understand? We're going to do to him what you do to your wife."
At this, Li's eyes opened wide as he spoke with a dumbfounded expression and
bewildered tone, "I don't understand. Do you mean you want to— "
"You there!"
The men nearly jumped at the sound, before turning their heads to see Prince
Zuko standing before them, irritated and impatient as ever. He stared into
Ren's eyes with an almost hateful fervor.
"You," the prince pointed. Ren blinked stupidly.
"Yes, Sir?" asked Ren.
"I'm retiring to my chambers," said the prince. "Wake me if something happens."
"We will, Prince Zuko," said Ren, as he nodded his head and bowed slightly.
Mao and Qin were thankful that their helmets were able to conceal their smiles.
Prince Zuko stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as
he quickly settled his eyes on Ren, then Qin, Mao, and Li. Then, he nodded once
in acknowledgement, turned on his heels, and walked calmly down to the
quarterdeck.
A long silence as the men stood patiently, listening to the waves crashing and
the breeze blowing, and none of them moving at all, save for their deep and
regular breaths.
"So?" asked Qin, shattering the tense nothingness as he looked out into the
newly-formed dusk. He stared hard at Li, and soon Li could feel Ren's and Mao's
gazes upon him as well, watching him closely and judging his every movement.
"So?" Qin repeated, "What will it be? Are you going to participate in our…
encouragement?"
Li took a deep breath, and even though he had watched Zuko exit the area with
his own eyes he still felt the need to look around carefully before speaking in
a low tone: "What are you thinking? If anything happens to the prince, we're
all going to pay for it. Whether that's murder or… whatever it is you're
planning, it doesn't matter. As soon as he tells Iroh or his father, we're done
for. He may be exiled, but I don't think the Fire Lord will take kindly to…
that… happening to his son. Of all the insane—"
Mao stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.
"Li, what makes you think he'll tell anyone?"
***** Chapter 3 *****
Soon after Prince Zuko left to his own quarters, Iroh began to grow restless,
though he drank his favorite blend of calming valerian root tea with hardly a
disturbance, if one could call the sea breeze a disturbance by any means. As
Iroh inhaled the warm scent, which normally would calm and prepare him for a
good night's rest, it did little to calm his turbulent thoughts.
The prince was well known for his short temper and intolerance to any who would
so much as question him or his orders, that much was true. Many of the
crewmembers, however, while they were loyal to General Iroh and sympathetic to
his cause, were clearly beginning to grow irritated by the boy, most seeing him
as no more than a bossy brat rather than a prince deserving of their respect.
Indeed, if Iroh were not on the ship to mediate between the men and his nephew,
Prince Zuko might very well have been thrown overboard by now.
Although Iroh had no question that the prince was in no immediate danger from
the men, he could not help but worry that the boy's actions could one day bring
about retaliation, especially considering how long this hunt for the Avatar was
threatening to drag out. At first, Iroh had agreed to assist Prince Zuko in
locating and capturing the Avatar merely to humor him; it was clear that the
prince wanted, above anything, his own father's approval. But Iroh knew that
the Fire Lord had sent his son on a fool's errand, to keep him occupied and
give him just enough hope that he would kill himself from exhaustion trying to
fulfill the demand. It was cruel, beyond cruel.
After another long, slow sip of hot tea and still no end to the worries that
plagued his mind, Iroh set his cup down and stood up slowly.
He needed to speak with Prince Zuko.
However, he knew it might not do much good. But he had already urged his
crewmembers numerous times to please be patient with his nephew. What more
could he do?
He made his way slowly across the deck, considering carefully what he would say
to the prince. He was sure anything he would say would immediately anger him,
but he hoped that Zuko would at least consider it before he slept. Perhaps
there was a way Iroh could make him understand that the men on his ship were
just that—men, and had families as such, and felt emotions as such, and had
personal needs as such: a surprisingly difficult task given the current mental
state of his nephew.
As he approached the steps which led below the deck, he looked upward, noting
how the smoke the ship produced trailed across the fresh night sky in dark,
puffed trails, like an immense tail dragging through the clouds behind them.
With a slow, deep breath, Iroh made his way down to the quarterdeck to his
nephew's room, with gradual, deliberate steps. He knocked once on the metal
door, then twice, then a third time, and said, "Prince Zuko? I would like to
speak with you."
From beyond the door, he heard a muffled, "Come in, Uncle." Iroh did so,
carefully opening the door and setting foot inside the room with the same heavy
steps he'd taken down the corridor.
Prince Zuko, already changed into comfortable robes, sat at his desk, back
toward the door, with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on his knees. A
single lit candle sat on the desk, its small flame growing and shrinking with
each of the boy's inhalations and exhalations. His hair rested loosely on one
of his shoulders, rising and falling with them and each deep breath.
A few more seconds passed before Prince Zuko spoke once again: "What did you
need to speak to me about, Uncle?"
Iroh was unsure of how to begin. "It is about the crew—"
Prince Zuko's even breathing suddenly stopped and he turned around. "What about
my crew?" he questioned, anger already beginning to bubble up in his throat.
"Are they planning a mutiny?" His eyes widened at the thought. "I want anyone
involved in a conspiracy to be thrown in the prison cells!" The candle light
behind him burned brightly and fiercely, far bigger than would ever be natural.
"No, no, Prince Zuko. They are doing nothing of the sort," assured Iroh,
struggling to calm the boy down enough to have a conversation.
Zuko stood now. "Then why are you bothering me with this? Don't you have more
important things to do than waste my time?" he barked.
"Prince Zuko, this is an important matter."
The prince glared at him and the candlelight, though it decreased in size, was
still threateningly bright.
"Well?" asked the boy impatiently. "What is it?"
Iroh sighed deeply. "This crew is made up of men, Prince Zuko. Men, just like
you."
"I know that," Zuko scoffed. "I'm not dimwitted as you make me out to be,
Uncle!"
"I don't mean that you are dimwitted, just that you fail to see the needs of
those besides yourself. I understand that this journey means much to you, but
you must remember the men who work for you deserve some respect."
"You clearly don't understand, Uncle! None of you do." The candlelight was
steadily growing now. "I am a prince, and my cause is more noble than any of
theirs! I may be searching for my own honor, but capturing the Avatar means
ensuring the Fire Nation's power. Can't any of you see that?!"
Seeing that his words had been meaningless after all, Iroh let out a deep sigh,
and waited as their shadows danced and flickered across the walls in erratic
patterns as the candle's light burned strong and powerful.
"Your cause is worthy, Prince Zuko, and I will not argue with you tonight.
However, I would just like you to consider what I have said."
With that, Iroh turned and left, shutting the door behind him gently, and made
his way to his own quarters.
After several long moments passed, Prince Zuko sat down once more, though he
was far too frustrated to concentrate anymore.
***** Chapter 4 *****
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" asked Li, as he struggled not to shake
from both excitement and anxiety. "No one will find out?"
The four men: Li, Ren, Mao, and Qin all stood inside the armory. All wore the
standard Fire Nation armor, and all save for Li wore a helmet with the
accompanying mask. It was true that if Li hadn't seen their faces prior, he
would have hardly a clue save for their voices who they were. Putting on a
false voice was easy enough, and it wasn't as though "His Honorable Highness"
actually paid attention to their voices. But Li still couldn't help but feel as
though this would only end badly for him. Despite that, deep down, he wanted to
go through with it. He wanted to knock the prince down a peg and show him he
wasn't nearly as powerful as he thought he was.
"How could they?" laughed Mao. "Imagine! The mighty prince sobbing to his uncle
that he was used like a woman. He'd sooner end his own life!"
At that, the room fell silent.
"Uh, Mao," said Qin.
"Huh?"
"What are we going to do if the prince actually… you know…" His eyes darted
around some before settling back on Mao's masked face.
"What do you mean?" Mao cocked his head to the side. "Suicide isn't very
honorable. You know how strung up he is on that, always going on about 'honor
this' and 'honor that' and 'You there! Bring me some honor right now!' Besides,
if he does, wouldn't that be better for us?"
"Mm," agreed Ren. "No more bratty prince. We would all get to go home. What I
wouldn't give to see my children again…"
Qin, however, was not yet satisfied. "What about General Iroh?"
"What about him?" said Ren. "For all he'll know, his nephew realized how much
of a nuisance he was and decided to spare all of us from his temper tantrums."
After a pause he continued, "Even if he suspects foul play, how would he ever
know who did it?"
Mao nodded emphatically and Li found that his confidence was becoming more and
more solid by the second. It was clear by Qin's silence that he had no more
concerns about going through with their plan.
"It's decided then?" confirmed Ren.
All of the men slowly nodded their heads.
"We have all the supplies?" Ren asked.
Mao nodded and produced ropes, dark and heavy from being soaked in flammable
liquid.
"Good," said Ren. "He should be asleep by now. Is everyone ready?"
All the men nodded once again, and Li placed the helmet with the mask piece
over his head.
Mao slowly opened the metal door and looked about. Seeing no one, he nodded to
the others, and stepped outside. The rest of the men followed close by as they
made their way toward Prince Zuko's quarters.
***** Chapter 5 *****
The journey down the corridor was agonizingly slow, all four men walking in
single file with Ren leading them in front, a small flame in his hand lighting
the way, the group stopping and flinching at every small sound with Ren raising
a hand up and looking about cautiously before urging the others to continue on
behind him.
Never before did they notice just how loud the sound of their shoes coming in
contact with the metal ship was, but now, in the dead of the night with hardly
any sound to distract from such trivial noises, the men flinched to hear it.
Though their nerves were steeled they knew that, if they were caught wandering
around by themselves with no excuse, suspicion would be drawn to them and they
may never get another chance to fulfill their plan. It was now or never.
As they approached the door to Prince Zuko's quarters, Ren motioned the other
men to stand by as he gently laid his weight down on the handle and pushed the
door open as carefully as he could, cringing at the distinct sound of creaking
metal. However, hearing no response, he pushed onward, until he was able to fit
his head and part of his shoulder inside.
His gaze fell upon the prince, who slept soundly in his bed. Ren could see from
the boy's closed eyes, and the steady, slow rise and fall of his chest that he
had not been disturbed by the door's creaking. 'Thank every god in existence',
thought Ren as he pushed the door open just far enough to fit himself inside,
and motioned for the other men to enter the room along with him.
Gently, Li closed the door behind him agonizingly slowly, and cringed as Ren
had with every small creak the metal made.
After the door finally closed shut, the four men stood and stared at the
sleeping form of Prince Zuko, who looked so peaceful, so calm, so unaware of
what was about to happen to him. Mao almost wanted to smile thinking of it.
Ren noted the snuffed out candle on the desk which stood against the far wall
and quickly lit it before extinguishing the fire in his hand. He then nodded at
Mao, who produced once more the soaked lengths of rope on his person, and
handed one to Ren. Taking it, Ren moved into position by the prince's head,
ready to gag him. Mao stood near the middle of the bed, prepared to bind Prince
Zuko's hands. Li and in stood by the foot of the bed, Li prepared to rip the
blanket off, and Qin to grab the prince's feet.
For several moments they simply stood there, tense, the sound of all their
breathing filling their ears until they were sure there was nothing else in the
world.
Then, Ren nodded at the men.
"Now," he said in a loud whisper.
In a flash, Li grabbed the blanket and snapped it off, leaving the prince
exposed as Mao reached and wrapped the rope around Zuko's head, the soaked
fabric settling tight in the boy's open mouth as his eyes shot open and he
began to wrestle about. Mao had caught him just before he was able to make a
sound.
Before the prince could think to use his bending, Qin had grabbed both of his
ankles, one in each hand, and held them so tightly that one could be assured
his very life depended on it, and, in a way, it did. As the boy began to
squirm, Li grabbed one of his wrists, and Ren the other as they forced Zuko
onto his side, and Mao tied the rope tightly around his forearms with great
effort. The prince was grunting and growling and kicking and fighting like he
was being murdered, and the men feared slipping up should he think to use his
bending against them.
Zuko quickly found that he could not move his limbs to bend with them, and
smoke began to steadily stream from his nostrils as he prepared to breathe fire
and burn through the rope in his mouth. However, Mao caught on as he struggled
to tie the rope behind the boy's head and said, making his voice much deeper
and rougher so it could not be recognized, "Oh, Prince Zuko, I would advise
against doing that. If you were to set fire to that rope, the best part of your
face would be burnt off along with it."
Li moved to help Qin hold Zuko's legs, and Ren stood, pressing as much weight
as he could onto the boy's arms to prevent him from moving.
Zuko's eyes were open wide, and he still continued to try and struggle. Finding
that he could move neither his arms nor his legs, he tried harder and harder
and harder still, and the men heard his muffled screams from beyond the gag,
nonstop, and, despite being only a fraction of how loud they were normally,
almost managed to make them shudder from their intensity.
The men tried waiting for him to calm down and stop fighting, but he seemed as
though he'd go on forever without end, and the men would grow tired of holding
him long before he got tired of shouting and squirming.
"Flip him over," ordered Ren in a fake voice, and they did so. Li held down the
boy's left leg, and Qin his right. Ren now put all of his weight down onto
Zuko's arms and back, effectively crushing him where he lay. Yet the prince did
not cease his yelling, nor his struggling, as futile as all of it was.
"How boring it would be," said Mao as he gazed at the prince's hateful
expression, "if he gave in without a proper struggle. All the better that he
fights so hard."
Ren smiled as he motioned down to the floor, and the men understood his
wordless command as they dragged the writhing prince from his bed onto the cold
metal floor. Li and Qin had his legs pinned down to the floor, Ren resumed
putting all his force on the boy, and Mao pressed Zuko's head down so his cheek
was forced flat against the floor.
Another exceptionally loud muffled scream and the men were almost worried that
someone would hear them through the thick metal walls. He really was a stubborn
one.
"Who wants to go first?" asked Ren.
No answer.
After a few moments, Ren went on, "Well, if none of you will do it, then I
will." He then motioned for Mao to take his place as he moved near Qin and Li.
Mao did not bother with leaning his weight on the prince, and instead sat on
his back. The muffled screams were far weaker now that the boy had significant
trouble breathing, and within seconds, great big breaths flared in and out of
his nostrils as he struggled to find enough air.
Behind him, Ren lifted the boy's robes, earning a sharp but pained intake of
breath from the boy. Then, he grabbed the hem of his pants with rough fingers
and yanked them downward to his knees. A confused yelp sounded as Zuko
struggled to turn his head. Mao drove it back into the floor with one hand,
flattening his cheek against the metal once more.
Ren moved his own tunic out of the way and released his cock, which was already
standing erect. He began to stroke it with one hand as he placed the other on
the prince's buttock. Zuko whimpered at the feeling, a sound that none of the
men ever thought they would hear.
Zuko's breathing became more and more erratic and pained as Ren spread the
boy's buttocks apart and aligned himself so he could thrust inside. The boy
struggled to move his legs, his arms, lift his head, anything. If he could only
speak or breathe he might be able to make all of this end.
His thoughts were suddenly cut off when the man behind him, with great effort,
forced his organ deep inside.
His eyes shot open wider than he'd ever thought possible, and for a long while,
no thoughts crossed his mind, not even fear. There was only blankness. No sound
save for erratic whimpering left his lips.
Ren began to move himself back and forth, muttering, "It's so tight" as he
thrust himself in and out. Everything to Zuko was white noise as his mind
suddenly started working again and he released scream after scream, clearly
straining himself and his lungs, coughing and sputtering and struggling and
fighting.
But, as always, it was no use.
He was completely and utterly helpless.
His screams slowly died down until they were little more than pained chokes and
sobs.
Mao released his head but the boy didn't try and lift it up again.
The pain grew more and more intense as the men laughed and jeered and said
things that became only static in his ears. No more thoughts of "how dare they
do this to a prince" crossed his mind, only "when will this stop, I want it to
stop".
He felt the first of a great surge of hot tears roll down his cheeks as he felt
the man grow still and release inside him.
"Haha, he's crying. Look at him. Look how pathetic he is! Like a little girl!"
laughed Mao as he watched the tears stream down, and the snot pour from his
nostrils, and the sweat drip down his face.
Also Zuko could hear was his mind screaming to him, 'It hurts, it hurts, please
stop' over and over and over.
The next man moved to take Ren's place, but by then, the pain had already
become too much, and the boy's world slowly faded into pure black.
***** Chapter 6 *****
By the time each man had his turn with the by-then-unconscious prince, the
candle Ren had lit was nearly entirely burned out, its final waxy remnants
struggling weakly to light the surrounding darkness.
All four of them stood around the prince, admiring their handiwork. His face
was covered in a mixture of fluids, including tears, sweat, and blood. His
cheek was bruised nastily from being shoved into the floor. It appeared as
though Mao had crushed several of the boy's ribs from sitting on his back and
fighting against his flailing. Between his legs leaked a mixture of red and
white, but mostly red, which stained his thighs and buttocks.
As Ren cut the ropes around his arms and mouth, he revealed some fairly nasty
bruises and gashes where the prince had fought against his restraints, and
couldn't help but smile along with the rest of the men.
"I didn't think it would actually be halfway decent," said Qin.
Ren chuckled, "It's only because you've without for so long. Just wait until we
get back home and you see your girl again. It shouldn't be too long, now."
Mao, "And if anything, he will at least make our remaining time here
considerably less miserable. No more bratty child to boss us around. That
little boy is gone now."
All the men laughed and agreed.
Mao went on, "Strange, I almost feel bad for him." He then nudged the boy so
that he lay on his side instead of on his stomach. "How shameful his existence
will be."
"It is only fitting," replied Ren, "for all the trouble he's caused us for so
long."
"Indeed," Mao agreed. "I will not deny that."
After a few more moments of poking and prodding at the sleeping form beneath
them, the men decided it was time to leave. Ren slowly opened the door and
watched for any sign of movement through the corridor. Seeing none, he motioned
for the other men to follow him, which they did, and, with Ren once again
lighting the way, they walked back to their own quarters and lay with their
crewmembers, where they slept more soundly than they ever had.
***** Chapter 7 *****
The next morning, Iroh sat on the deck with his hot cup of tea, admiring the
sun as it rose above the horizon. Despite his worries from the previous night,
he had slept soundly enough, and woke just before dawn feeling more refreshed
and full of new energy. As he sipped, he could feel his concerns melting away
within him, only to be replaced by more soothing and calming thoughts.
"Yes," he said to himself, "everything will be just fine." He had resolved
himself to have another conversation with his crewmembers about his nephew's
behavior, perhaps giving them some insight into his behavior, or simply
reminding them that the prince was, after all, still only a very impressionable
and headstrong boy who might not always make good decisions, but certainly has
good intentions within himself that might not be readily apparent.
First, however, he needed to speak with his nephew to see if he had taken away
anything from what his uncle told him the night before, so Iroh waited
patiently for Prince Zuko to come up the steps and greet him up on the deck,
after which they would be able to eat their breakfast together and Iroh would
be able to understand what exactly his nephew had taken into consideration.
Iroh waited and waited, but Zuko did not come up the steps. At high noon, when
the sun was glaring down on the deck, he began to grow slightly concerned.
"Perhaps he feels ill…" he muttered softly, before heading to the kitchens
himself to arrange a tray of tea and rice to bring down to the boy's quarters.
He made his way down the corridor far more confidently than he had the night
before, even humming to himself an old folk song with each step while he
remembered his boyish days of playing in the royal gardens, and out in the
fields where he would run through the tall grass, nary a worry in his mind.
Iroh held the tray in one hand as he knocked twice on the metal door with the
other.
No answer.
Iroh knocked twice more.
"Prince Zuko?," he called out in a loud voice, "Are you feeling well? I brought
you some nice chamomile tea."
No answer.
Iroh knocked three more times. "Prince Zuko? I am coming in."
The soft groaning he then heard from beyond the door worried him, and he began
to push it open. After several creaks of the metal frame, he was able to
clearly make out, "—aw-way Uncle. Don't c-come in." It was spoken so weakly
that, for a moment, Iroh doubted that the words had even come from his
hotheaded nephew. The boy sounded almost like he was on the verge of tears, the
way his voice had been wavering.
Iroh was beginning to grow frightened.
"Prince Zuko?" he asked as he opened the door wide and stepped inside, before
his eyes grew wide at what he saw and he dropped his tray, allowed the tea and
rice to scatter across the floor messily.
The boy lay on the ground, facing away from the door. He wrapped himself
tightly in his blanket, and shivered violently where he was. A portion of the
blanket was completely soaked through with dark blood.
Blood.
His nephew was bleeding heavily.
"Prince Zuko!" Iroh called as he moved toward the boy. "What happened to you?"
He reached out to touch his nephew on the shoulder, but he flinched away
violently, before resuming his constant and steady shivering.
"Please," he begged, "please, tell me."
No answer.
After a pause, Iroh suddenly said, "I… I am going to get the medic. Stay put,
Prince Z—"
"No," came feebly from the boy on the floor.
"But, you need he—"
"No!" he sobbed out. "No! No…"
Iroh had never seen such a pitiful display from his own nephew. His nephew, who
had been so headstrong, so determined, so confident in himself and his
abilities, now lay on the floor, bleeding, and shaking, and crying out like a
young child. It hurt him to see such a stubborn boy reduced to this pitiful,
weeping mess. It hurt him deeply.
He did not know what else to do. He reached into his pocket and produced a
handkerchief, and moved himself so that Zuko's face was to his own. He placed a
hand on the boy's face though he flinched and sobbed and shuddered violently,
and began to wipe the tears from his eyes and cheeks as gently as he could. The
poor boy's sob's only grew louder as the tears rolled down with seemingly no
end.
Despite all Iroh's strength of will, he could not keep from weeping himself.
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