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Chapter Text

Chapter warnings: Ableism, ableist language, use of the word 'crippled'

When Bao was a young adult, he had a bright future. His family were the proprietors of a nice bathhouse, and he was the middle child of two sisters. As a teenager he was clever enough to do the bookkeeping of the bathhouse, soon taking on the responsibility solely. He even avoided being conscripted into the war effort by being accepted into Caldera University.

He was nineteen when he was mugged, and everything changed. He wouldn’t usually walk through that part of town, he was well-dressed enough that he would be a target, but it was late, he was tired, and he liked watching the reflections of the firelit lamps in the surface of the canal.

The thugs stole his bag, his shoes, his spectacles, and his coat, and after kicking him a few times, decided with alcohol-stained breath to throw him in the canal. They probably through it would be a harmless prank, but the sides were steep, and the water shallow from the blisteringly hot summer that had passed.

He dragged himself out of the canal and stumbled back to his family’s home in shock. The next morning, his mother insisted he see a doctor. Bao walked away from that appointment with nothing but reassurance and the recommendation of several hot baths, but over the next few weeks his legs started to go numb.

Despite spending all their savings, his parents couldn’t find a treatment that worked, and ended up commissioning a chair with wheels from a local woodworker.

When he was 25 a letter arrived declaring that his older sister had died in service to the Fire Nation. She was the only firebender in the family, and like many had been conscripted into the navy as soon as she came of age. The family business started to fall more heavily onto his younger sister’s shoulders as his parents’ health declined and he found he was unable to contribute to anything other than bookkeeping without nasty glares from the patrons.

The guilt ate at him sometimes. He could see the worry, the heartbreak on his parents’ face, the lines that he had put there. He had had so much promise. If he had managed to go to university, he could have climbed in society, could have claimed a good job and looked after his family for life.

Soon after the death of his older sister, Bao decided he had to stop his parents worrying so much. With the help of his younger sister, he applied for position after position. Eventually, an unsmiling woman came to the bathhouse. She was an accountant in the government who introduced herself as Lady Jihui, and almost turned away when she saw that he was crippled.

But the government was struggling. So many young people, even of the middle and upper classes, were dying in the war that the bureaucracy was underfilled and overburdened.

Lady Jihui had sighed and put her fingers to the bridge of her bespectacled nose. “I’m willing to stick my neck out,” she had said. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. Ever.”

Which was how Bao had started to work in the department of education as an accountant. The only other accountant at the time had accepted his help with nothing more than a frazzled sigh of relief, and after eleven years of working for a measly but liveable salary, Bao had witnessed the department change time after time, keeping numbers quietly in the corner.

By the time the Fire Lord changed once again, Bao was more-or-less in charge of the educational accounts, despite what it might say on paper.

“We need a head accountant,” Michi said.

“Junior Official Michi has arrived,” the secretary, Chang, announced softly, standing to bow respectfully.

Michi glared at him. “They can see that.”

Qing Yi stood and bowed just a little too deep, in that over-enthusiastic way young people do when they haven’t yet been jaded by life. She had been hired only two days previously, following a spate of firings by the new Minister of Education, Minister Shu-Lin, which had included the previous head accountant.

Lenna, who had only worked in the department for six months, stood and bowed too, a little more restrained. Bao, of course, only inclined his head, but Michi was more than used to it by this time.

“Sorry,” Chang replied, not sounding very sorry despite his soft voice.

“One of you needs to take the position,” Michi continued, closing the door behind him. He moved a stack of papers off a chair and took a seat. “Minister Shu-Lin wants to speak to the head accountant.”

“Did you tell her that she fired the last one?” Bao asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not in so many words,” Michi grimaced. “I bought some time by telling her that we were still hiring someone to replace him, but she was already impatient. So. Who wants to be senior accountant?”

“Usually it isn’t a choice,” Bao said dryly. “As in, shouldn’t you be appointing someone rather than asking for a volunteer?”

“Under normal circumstances I would,” Michi said.

“What does that mean?” Lenna asked. “Why isn’t this normal?”

“Normally, the most senior accountant would take over,” Michi explained. “Bao’s worked here for eleven years; he would be the obvious choice.”

“But he can’t?” Qing Yi asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. “Why not?”

“The only reason I’ve worked here for eleven years is because I stay out of sight,” Bao said frankly. “The wrong senior official catches sight of me, I’m out. That’s why I use the servants’ passages.”

“We can’t afford to lose him,” Michi sighed. “Bao’s been holding the accounts together since before I passed the government exam.”

“Thanks for reminding me of my age,” Bao said, good-naturedly. Michi was brash, and not always the brightest, but he was also honest and fair. A good deal better than most of the upper class.

“That’s not fair at all!” Qing Yi said hotly. “He’s just as good as the rest of us. Better, even!”

“It isn’t about how good he is,” Michi said. “The previous minister was a traditionalist, like most of the senior officials.”

“People like him despise people like me,” Bao said.

“And if Bao was named senior accountant, he would be expected to hold meetings with the Minister,” Lenna said, perhaps unnecessarily, but it seemed to drive the point home to Qing Yi.

“And he’d be fired. Or worse,” Chang finished, quietly.

There was a short silence.

“Stop looking at me!” Lenna said, finally.

“You’re the next senior,” Michi said.

“I’ve only been working here six months!” Lenna said. “I’m barely used to the job I’m doing now, even without added responsibility.”

“Well, it can’t be Qing Yi,” Michi said, not unkindly. Qing Yi nodded in agreement.

“I’m barely more experienced than her!” Lenna said. “I filed taxes in Wuliao village for four years! Managing accounts for all the schools across the Fire Nation is a little above my experience level.”

“I really think Bao is the only choice,” Qing Yi said. “Even if you hired someone experienced right now, it would take them ages to learn what Bao already knows.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Michi mumbled. “But no. It was hard enough finding you, Qing Yi, I really can’t afford to hunt for another employee, let alone a more qualified one. It has to be Lenna.”

“If you promote me, I’ll be fired within the week,” Lenna insisted. “And then you’ll have to hire someone else anyway.”

“Well, maybe we don’t have much of a choice!” Michi said, sounding (and looking) more than a little frazzled.

“What if Lenna was the head accountant, but only on paper,” Qing Yi suggested, looking a bit put out by Michi’s mumbled comments. “And Bao does the actual work.”

Michi scoffed. “That’ll never work.”

A small silence descended over the office.

“I mean, it wouldn’t work, would it?” Michi continued. “Who would attend meetings?”

“Lenna.”

“But she wouldn’t know what was going on if Bao was doing the actual work.”

“I could brief her,” Bao said. “Before each meeting. She could do her normal work day-to-day, and each day I can instruct her in what to bring up in the meetings, and leave her notes to refer to in the meetings themselves.”

Michi hummed to himself. “It could work,” he said eventually.

“Is anyone going to ask what I think?” Lenna questioned, looking slightly pale.

“You’ll get a raise,” Michi said.

“What about Bao?” Qing Yi said. “He’ll be doing the actual work.”

“Fine. You’ll split the raise.”

Bao looked over at Lenna. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but he was willing. Despite all its faults, he actually kind of enjoyed working in the department.

Finally, Lenna sighed. “Fine. But if I’m fired or killed I blame all of you.”

“More likely to get a flogging,” Bao muttered.

“What was that?” Lenna asked sharply.

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

At 5 bells in the morning, the only people up should have been the bakers and the night-guards. Not even the servants were awake yet, only just rousing themselves to prepare for the sun to rise an hour later, and the firebenders with it. The emptiness of the servant corridor was precisely why Bao was there that early.

Being in a wheelchair was not ideal for travelling in the servant corridors. Bao could comfortably wheel himself with enough room for his elbows, but if there was a food trolley coming in the opposite direction, one of them would have to back up, and it was usually Bao. Thankfully, the servant corridor was always very flat so that laundry and food trolleys, and servants carrying many things could traverse without fear of tripping. There was even a large dumbwaiter lift that Bao could take if he absolutely had to go to a higher floor, although he had never needed to so far.

And in these dark empty corridors at 5am, he wasn’t expecting a person, and he certainly wasn’t expecting a lapful of gangly limbs and heavy red and gold robes.

The impact of the stranger barrelling into him made him roll backwards and hit his elbow on the wall, making him cry out and pull it into his body. It also knocked his glasses askew. By the time he had processed what had happened, the stranger was pulling himself awkwardly to his feet in front of him.

Bao ran his fingers along the rims of his glasses to check for damage, before carefully putting them on his face. As the world came into focus, Bao saw the stranger in front of him dipped in a low bow. He couldn’t see the stranger’s face, only his long black hair obscuring his face and expensive clothes. It was clear this man was rich, probably a noble or a minister.

"My apologies,” the stranger said. His voice was growly, as if he had been shouting a lot. Perhaps he had. “I wasn’t expecting a wheelchair."

“I am sorry, sir, I know my chair can be a hazard,” Bao replied quickly, bowing his upper body. He was sure this man outranked him. Just his bad luck.

“But it was my fault,” the man said. Bao felt the swish of his robes as the stranger edged past the chair. “Please excuse me.”

Bao straightened himself up and looked behind him. The stranger was walking away with as much haste as he had approached, his flowing sleeves already disappearing around the corner.

Such a well-dressed man using the servant corridor. How odd.

Nobody was in as Bao entered the office. They wouldn’t arrive for at least another two hours, when the crush of people would make the servant corridor inhospitable to a wheelchair.

Not for the first time Bao wished he could just use the main corridor like his colleagues. But he knew he would never jeopardise his job like that.

In the Fire Nation, people with disabilities were greatly looked down on. Despite having a job and an income some people would drool at, it was still a common belief among citizens that a person like Bao was nothing but a drain on society. That he was a hindrance to the might of the Fire Nation. At best, he was a burden that couldn’t even go off to war like his peers, and at worst people assumed he was an injured ex-soldier who wasn’t strong enough to not get injured in the first place, and didn’t have the decency to die in the Earth Kingdom like the rest. It was a disgusting belief, but somewhat prevalent, especially among the hypocritical upper classes, many of whom had never even seen the war.

Despite the propaganda, he couldn’t deny that he was glad he never had to fight in the war. His parents wouldn’t have been able to handle the death of a second child.

Bao wheeled himself through the cramped workspace. Scrolls and books were littered about, neatly stacked in some places, and in others messily heaped. There were seven abacuses dotted around, and a chalkboard on one wall that had partly important business written on it, and partly a tally of whatever stupid game they had invented this week.

The room was an odd shape, sort of like a stubby ‘T’, with a random step down in the middle so half the room was four inches lower than the rest. They always kept track of how many people the step had caught out and caused to trip.

Bao’s desk was in the first half of the room, before the step, but tucked away in a relative blind spot. The desk obscured his wheelchair, and the stacks on the desk obscured Bao. An unobservant person wouldn’t even glance in that direction, and an observant one would have a hard time spotting him. That was the way he liked it.

Since Bao had a few spare hours every morning, he always brought a book to pass the time while everyone else arrived. Today he was reading a love story in which the two main characters’ love was used as a ham-fisted analogy for the love citizens were supposed to have for their nation, and the Fire Lord. He was pretty sure that in the end the two of them would sacrifice themselves – or something equally contrived – to prove that their love for the Fire Nation was stronger than the love they felt for each other. And they would probably be happy about it. It was clear propaganda, but Bao didn’t exactly feel comfortable reading some of his new Earth Kingdom books at work yet. Sure, they were no longer banned, but it would probably anger his employers if they saw him reading a book criticising the very institution he worked for.

Just as Bao was getting (to his surprise) genuinely invested in the book, the door opened smoothly to reveal Qing Yi. She was not usually the first to arrive in the morning.

“Good morning,” she greeted as she arrived, bowing politely and making her way over to the desk closest to the small window. It wasn’t exactly convenient to have one of the other two accountants so far away, but Qing Yi insisted on being next to the window. Bao allowed it, since it was useful to have a firebender (however weak) to ensure that the stacks of paper were not in danger.

“Morning,” Bao greeted back, nodding his head. “You’re up early.”

“I was training,” Qing Yi said, lighting a couple of candles in the gloomier parts of the office, including one on Bao’s desk.

“Any improvement?”

Qing Yi sighed in frustration. “No. Ye insists that I can improve, but I’ve been training with her forever, and I can still barely light a candle. I know she wants us to be some epic firebending sister duo like Generals Lo and Li, but she just can’t accept that I’m not like her. I’m just an accountant, and I’m satisfied with that.”

Bao nodded sympathetically. “Did you tell her that?”

“I don’t have the heart,” Qing Yi said miserably, “she was so happy when we were both hired at the palace, and she specifically requests time separate from the rest of the guards to train with me. I don’t want to take this away from her.”

“She’s a good sister.”

Qing Yi smiled. “Yes. She is. Annoying, but good.”

A pang of pain shot through Bao’s chest at the memory of his own older sister. It had been many years now, but her memory still hurt.

“Anyway, did you want the records for the Chanhe district?” Qing Yi asked, picking up a scroll that had fallen on the floor. “Was it Upper you wanted?”

“Lower,” Bao corrected, “apparently there’s evidence of corruption in three of the four schools there.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Qing Yi replied. “And I suppose the bosses want you to go over the financial record for evidence.”

“Well, they want Lenna to,” Bao said wryly, just as the door to the office creaked open and allowed said woman to enter, along with Chang, the secretary.

“What do they want me to do?” Lenna asked.

“Go through the Chanhe district records,” Qing Yi said.

Lenna snorted, putting her bag down on the desk between Bao and Qing Yi. “We all know I still haven’t got the hang of that system. Still can’t understand a damn symbol.”

“Good morning Chang,” Qing Yi chimed.

“Good morning,” Chang replied with a slight bow. The boy was young, but fulfilled multiple roles within the department, both as a secretary and as a scribe, as well as a general helpful person to have around in a crowded office led by a man who was confined to a wheelchair.

“Chang, do you mind finding the letter from the Lower Chanhe Academy for Boys’ headmaster?” Bao asked.

“Right away, sir,” Chang said, bowing again and immediately springing to search in the pile of correspondence. That was the other thing about Chang. He was almost painfully polite, and extremely eager to please.

The office fell into a comfortable silence. Each person was engaged in their own things. Mornings like this were always relaxing, and Bao was always grateful to work in an environment with such pleasant people.

“Morning fellas!” an exuberant voice called from the corridor. “How are we?”

“Good morning, Michi,” Lenna replied. She and Chang were the only people who seemed to have patience for Michi’s endless enthusiasm and goodwill.

The door swung open, revealing that Michi was carrying six scrolls. That meant it was going to be a long day.

“It’s gonna be a long one,” Michi confirmed cheerfully. “Minister Shu-Lin is not cutting slack any time soon. She wants a report on the allocation of primary educational budget for this season by province, with an average value for the money spent on each student per month.”

“Didn’t we send her that last week?” Lenna asked.

“No,” Bao corrected, “that was a report on the educational budget of secondary education, not primary.”

Qing Yi groaned. “She couldn’t have asked for it together? That’s going to take ages.”

“We also need the figures on the Lower Chanhe schools ASAP,” Michi continued, “Bao, you’re working on that, right?” Bao nodded affirmative. “Make sure you fill in Lenna, because Minister Shu-Lin wants the person working on the project to present the findings to her.”

Lenna paled.

“It’ll be fine,” Bao assured her. Lenna nodded with zero enthusiasm.

The arrangement between the two of them had been working well for a number of weeks. Bao did the work and came up with the ideas, which he passed on to Lenna, who passed it on to Michi and Minister Shu-Lin.

Since the previous head accountant, Mister Guo, had been arrested, it had come to light that he had been skimming funds from outer district schools. He had been protected by the previous Minister, in exchange for a cut of the money, but when the Fire Lord had replaced Minister Hau with Minister Shu-Lin, she had rapidly shut him down. The gossip was only just dying.

Bao never confessed that he had known the entire time. Of course he did, he had worked there since before Guo had been hired and promoted, and it wasn’t exactly difficult for him to notice the discrepancies. But Guo only put up with him because claiming his work made him look good in front of the minister. There was nobody that Bao could tell, not even his fellows, without jeopardising his job and life. And even if he did, it wouldn’t solve anything, not when the minister was in Fire Lord Azulon, and later Ozai’s pocket.

“When am I to present this?” Lenna asked.

“Will it be done this afternoon?” Michi asked.

“Yes,” Bao replied.

“Sixteen-and-half bells then,” Michi decided. “Go to Minister Shu-Lin’s office and I’ll meet you outside.”

Lenna nodded.

“Right,” Michi continued, “and the rest. Apparently the coastal towns have been slacking off, we need figures on expenses compared to number of students in education for the following towns…”

Michi continued to talk. Chang was taking notes about the to-do list for the day. He would probably write it up on the chalkboard as soon as Michi left. He was helpful like that.

Lenna was still looking a bit green from the idea of a meeting with Minister Shu-Lin. It wasn’t her first meeting with the minister, but apparently she was…intense.

It wasn’t a perfect life for Bao, not by a long shot, but it was better than what could have been.

“How long has Lenna been in this meeting?” Bao asked.

“Over an hour,” Chang answered.

Nobody said anything else. When Minister Hau was in charge, a meeting would never go on as long as this. Minister Hau simply did not care enough. Minister Shu-Lin on the other hand was exceptionally thorough. Michi and Lenna had both described meetings with her as intense and scary, with her grilling them for information.

And of course, the longer Lenna was with her, the more of a chance the Minister would find out that the work was not her own. That would not have been a problem with Minister Hau. After all, the previous senior accountant Mister Guo had constantly pretended other people’s work was his own, and Minister Hau had done the same, claiming his subordinates’ work as his own to the Fire Lord.

Minister Shu-Lin, on the other hand, seemed to have a rigid moral compass, despising corruption in all its forms.

Just over an hour after Lenna had left for her meeting, the door swung open. Bao couldn’t see around the corner to who it was, but he could see Qing Yi and Chang both get to their feet and bow deeply.

“Minister Shu-Lin,” Chang said smoothly. “We humbly welcome you.”

“Good afternoon,” Minister Shu-Lin replied, stepping further into the room before executing her own curt bow. “It has come to my attention that I have not yet visited your office.”

She stepped further in as she talked, allowing Bao to see her properly. She was a young woman, younger than Minister Hau had been, certainly, and probably younger than Bao also. She wore spectacles on a chain around her neck, which made her look older. She scanned the room in a shrewd way, and held herself with a confidence that made her look tall, though she was shorter than Chang.

“I am aware that I have been making many demands of you,” Minister Shu-Lin continued, “and that you, like everyone else working with me, have been rising to the occasion. As you are no doubt aware, the previous Minister of Education was neglecting his duties for many years, and we have decades of backlogged work to do, as well as great reforms in education ordered by the Fire Lord. I am sorry to say that things are only going to get more difficult over the next few weeks, and as compensation, the Fire Lord and his treasury have authorised me to raise all your wages by 10%, starting this month.” A little smile crossed Minister Shu-Lin’s face. “I am thrilled to be working with such a competent group of people, and I hope to spend more time face-to-face with you, and especially Senior Accountant Braun, whose work has been exceptional.”

Lenna blushed and looked at her shoes at the compliment. She was fidgeting with her sleeve uneasily. “Thank you, Minister,” she said.

Minister Shu-Lin bowed briefly, before turning to leave. As she did so, her eyes caught over Bao’s desk, and locked eyes with him. Bao hastily lowered his head, but the minister had already moved past, and was leaving the room.

Nobody spoke until the footsteps had receded.

“Ten percent!” Qing Yi exclaimed as soon as the coast was clear. “I haven’t heard of a pay raise in this place for… well, ever!”

“Workload is going to increase,” Chang pointed out.

“And we’re going to be under more scrutiny,” Lenna said, collapsing down on her chair. “A lot more, based on what Minister Shu-Lin said. She’s taking a lot of things that were previously done by secretaries and assistants into her own hands. She might come down here a lot more often, and she is very close with the Fire Lord.”

“Well, she was personally appointed,” Qing Yi said.

“She is seen with him a lot,” Chang said. “That’s what the servants and secretaries say.”

“She has his ear,” Lenna continued. “Michi warned me specifically that anything I say could make it to the Fire Lord. And she is clever. She told me that about half of what we’ve been sending her over the last few weeks hasn’t even been to do with her work. Instead, she’s been systematically rooting out people in the department. Corruption, mismanaging of funds, anyone who doesn’t support the new Fire Lord…she’s been gathering evidence, and finally managed to get rid of them all. That’s why she said they are only now moving into a curriculum overhaul, and the work has only just begun.”

“Wow,” Qing Yi said. “And she managed to keep this all under wraps until now?”

Lenna nodded. She cast a look over to Bao, who had been quiet all this time. In her face was worry. He smiled weakly, trying to make her feel at ease. She returned the smile only slightly, then busied herself reading a report on her latest assignment.

Chapter Text

Minister Shu-Lin hadn’t been kidding. The next weeks were hectic. So many employees had been fired, imprisoned, fined, and otherwise punished that everyone seemed to be under the impression that if they didn’t jump to it, the new minister would take their jobs too. So many people were in and out asking questions and requesting things that Chang was basically run off his feet.

It was stressful for Bao and Lenna as well. Minister Shu-Lin had been so impressed by Lenna that she had given her a 15% pay rise as opposed to everybody else’s 10%. And now the minister was requesting meetings with her daily, reporting on what had happened the day before.

Lenna could barely handle it. So much was being demanded of her. On top of her own work, she had to be briefed by Bao on the work that he had done so that she could present it. She had to know it inside and out, which was difficult when much of the time she barely understood what he was doing and why. Bao helped as much as he could, writing detailed lists and explanations for her to read in meetings and, if necessary, hand to the minister.

Weeks of this turned into a month. All the extra work made Bao tired. Tiredness made him sloppy. He was working long hours, and on this particularly drizzly day at the start of winter, Bao decided he just wanted to go home.

He packed up his things. Everyone else had gone home already, but dinner in the hall was still being served, so the coast wouldn’t be fully clear. Bao was so tired he didn’t care. All he wanted was some warm noodles and his bed.

The corridors weren’t as empty as Bao would have liked, but also not as bad as he usually feared. His department was far away from the kitchens, which worked to his favour.

All was well. He had gotten right to the end of the corridor exiting into the back courtyard. Just past the courtyard was the servants gate, which always had two guards on the step and two guards on the wall. There was one single step down onto the street, which Bao could do fairly easily, but often the guards offered to help. Most were nice. A few were assholes.

The door was closed, which wasn’t unusual. Bao approached, rotating slightly so he could reach out to grip the handle. Before he reached it, however, the door swung open, and a figure darted inside.

The corridor was not well-lit, with the only source of light being a candle some metres back and the brief flash of light from the torches mounted on the outside wall as the door opened and closed. However, it was more than enough for Bao to see that the figure was wearing all black, including a black balaclava over his face, with only the pale skin around his eyes exposed, flickering red in the torchlight. At the figure’s waist was a red belt, from which was hung a sword.

Bao froze, heart pounding wildly. The stranger was totally still opposite him, eyes narrowed menacingly. Bao weighed up his options, heart in his throat. He couldn’t flee. There was no way he could turn around quick enough, and wheeling backwards wasn’t a quick option. The man had a sword and could gut him if he moved. Or screamed.

But if he tried to save his own life and let the stranger in, he would be putting people in the palace at risk. The man clearly had a sword for a reason. If Bao lived and it was found out he had let the stranger in, he would be executed for sure. If he screamed for help, he could save a life.

His mouth was hardly even open when the stranger was on him, quick as a flash. The stranger was leaning over Bao’s lap and pressing his hand over Bao’s mouth. Bao tried to push him away, desperately aware of the sword resting against his leg, but just from the one arm, he could tell that this man was strong. And his hand was warm. Very warm.

A firebender. Shit.

Bao panted behind the hand, heart thudding wildly. He was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head. He held his hands up in surrender. They were shaking.

“Hey, don’t be scared,” the man said. It took a moment for Bao to even realise that the man was even talking because of the cloth over his mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just don’t scream for help, okay? Don’t scream and it’ll all be fine.”

That sounded like a threat. Bao nodded as much as he could, and the man pulled his hand back warily.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Bao exclaimed loudly. The man immediately slapped his hand back over Bao’s mouth.

“Shh!” the man shouted in a whisper.

Bao nodded again, still quite frightened. A masked and armed stranger in close proximity to you was not reassuring, no matter if he told you not to be scared.

The man seemed to think for a moment. He looked down the corridor past Bao and then back at the door, as if checking the coast was clear.

This is it, Bao thought, this is how I die.

Then, with his free hand, the man pulled off his mask, drawing back the hand still on Bao’s mouth as he did so. Bao couldn’t hide his gasp. That was a face he had had to see hundreds of times on posters that he had been ordered to buy and ship to hundreds of schools across the Fire Nation. On flyers in the street and portraits in the palace halls. A face that was stony and frightening in illustrations, and here, swathed in darkness and illuminated by a faraway flame, looked even more so.

It was the Fire Lord.

Bao threw his body downwards, propelling his chair backwards to let him land on the ground. He levered every screaming muscle to get his legs underneath him in the closest approximation of a kowtow, forehead pressed to the ground, heart thundering.

This was his reoccurring nightmare, the one that kept him up at night running over scenarios of how he would react, how he would survive.

“Your Majesty, please forgive your humble servant,” Bao said tremulously, “this unworthy one begs your forgiveness-”

“Please don’t do that,” the Fire Lord interrupted. “You can get up.”

Bao went silent at the interruption, but did not try to get up. He felt frozen in place, stuck staring at a scratch in the floorboards, considering the Fire Lord’s words.

It wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. The Fire Lord would never say such a thing. A trap, perhaps.

“Are you alright?” the Fire Lord asked.

A gentle hand rested on Bao’s shoulder, and he flinched. The hand retreated, and Bao was finally startled enough to look up.

The Fire Lord was crouched on the ground beside him. When Bao lifted his head, he made direct eye contact, and quickly jerked his head back down.

“You are as kind as you are mighty, My Lord,” Bao said carefully. All those flowery letters he had to write to nobles had prepared him for this occasion. “This unworthy one begs forgiveness for burdening Your Majesty with his presence.”

“You didn’t…you didn’t burden me.” The Fire Lord’s voice was raspy, like a blade dragging over stone. Despite that, he sounded… uncomfortable. Which was impossible. Surely the Fire Lord should be used to being shown such respect. “Please could you sit up at least? That doesn’t look comfortable at all.”

Bao used his arms to push himself into a wonky seiza, shifting his body weight to reduce the pressure on his screaming back. “Forgive my error, Your Majesty. I accept any punishment deemed fit.”

“Why would I punish you?” The Fire Lord sounded genuinely confused and concerned. From his crouched position, he sat on the floor as well, legs crossed ungainly in front of him “I scared you when I came in dressed like that. You did the right thing by calling for help. If anyone should be apologising, it’s me.”

Internally, Bao’s jaw dropped, although he tried to hide his surprise by impassively staring at his hands. There was no way he had heard that right. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say the right thing and argue with the Fire Lord. You never disagreed with the Fire Lord. You agreed, or you disappeared.

The silence dragged for longer than was comfortable.

“Are you a servant?” the Fire Lord asked finally.

“I am an accountant, My Lord,” Bao said.

“Where do you work?”

“The Department for Education, My Lord.”

The Fire Lord snapped his fingers. “Ah, I remember you. You were in the corridor early in the morning a few weeks ago.”

Bao felt the blood rush from his face. The mysterious man who had tripped over him had been the Fire Lord himself. This encounter just got better and better.

“This servant humbly seeks Your Majesties forgiveness,” Bao said. His voice was ever so slightly shaky. OK, maybe very shaky.

“No, no, it’s fine. I tripped over you, after all.”

At a loss of what to say, Bao simply opted for a light-headed: “Oh.”

“Are you okay to get back into your wheelchair now?” The Fire Lord asked. “I can help if you want?”

“Now?” Bao asked. He hadn’t even considered getting back into his chair. His nightmares always ended with him being dragged away by guards and thrown in a cell, or perhaps being ignited by firebending.

“If you’re ready,” the Fire Lord said. “Or we can stay here until you feel a bit better.”

Bao felt the most lightheaded he had been in years, and he hadn’t even attempted to stand yet. “I’m sure I can make it. If it’s permissible, My Lord.”

“Of course. Let me grab your wheelchair.”

Moving his hands underneath him was like moving unwieldy stone. Bao couldn’t believe that the Fire Lord was beside him, steadying his chair, arm outstretched as if to catch him if he fell. Flooded with adrenaline as he was, Bao wrangled his shaking legs under him enough to sit into his chair without aid from the Fire Lord. The Fire Lord.

“Is it all good?” the Fire Lord asked.

Bao could hardly comprehend the question. “Yes,” he managed.

The Fire Lord pulled his balaclava back over his face, and checked his sword at his side. There were two other bags hanging from his waist, which he also checked, and seemed to be satisfied with.

“I have to go. Don’t tell anyone what you saw. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Bao said faintly, proceeding to watch the Fire Lord jog off down the servant corridor. “My Lord,” he added, when he remembered.

He turned back to the door, blinking hard. His body was still flushed with adrenaline, and he was half-convinced he had dreamed the whole thing up. He reached for the doorhandle feeling rather like he was moving his limbs through soup.

Warm night air brushed his face as the door opened. He wheeled himself out and through the plain cobbled courtyard. Across, he could see the backs of the guards. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t heard anything. They were too focussed looking out into the city that they never thought to look for intruders who were already inside.

He wheeled himself over to the gate.

“Hey Bao,” one of the guards greeted. It was one of the friendly ones. “You’re off early. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen an ancestor.”

Bao shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just tired. Good to see you.”

He plopped down the single step onto the street, and made his way home.

Sleeping was difficult that night.

Chapter Text

It was a well-known fact that the Fire Lord never came down to the offices where the drones worked. On paper, the palace was just as much a government building as the home of the royal family, but in reality it was as if Bao and his colleagues worked in the Fire Lord's ensuite for how welcome they were.

Bao was still reeling from his encounter with the Fire Lord the previous week. He hadn’t told anyone about what he saw, but he kept expecting guards to come marching down and drag him to the dungeons for witnessing what he wasn’t supposed to. The stress was compounded by the work that they had been assigned, budgeting for the building of new schools in the Lower Caldera, of which there had been a lot of back-and-forth between accounting and the rest of the Department of Education regarding their allocation of funds. The official who was in charge of the project had spent a lot of time making demands in the office and glancing imperiously down his nose at Bao when he made relevant recommendations. By the time the official was satisfied, Bao was more than ready to stamp Lenna’s name on his report and get back to recording boring old taxes.

So, when the Fire Lord unexpectedly marched into the office, the whole wing ground to a halt.

Qing Yi and Lenna were standing and talking when he entered, and both dropped to their knees with their foreheads pressed against the floor. Chang stood up from his desk and Michi dropped the scrolls he was piling onto a shelf, both also kneeling identically to the girls.

Bao simply thunked his head down on his desk and hoped the Fire Lord didn’t see him.

"You may rise,” the Fire Lord said calmly. His voice was as raspy as Bao remembered it, but slightly more put-together than that day in the servant corridor. When he looked up he could see that Minister Shu-Lin was stood behind and to his right. There was probably a royal retinue of servants lined up in the corridor. “Who worked on the report for infrastructure in the Lower Town schools?" he asked.

Lenna nervously stepped forward, unable to stop her eyes flicking towards Bao, who shook his head imperceptibly.

"I did, My Lord."

"And who are you?"

"Lenna Braun, My Lord.”

"Ah, Lenna. Yao speaks highly of you,” the Fire Lord praised. It took a moment for Bao to realise he was talking about Minister Shu-Lin. “She says you have made yourself indispensable. A quite staggering amount of work.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Lenna’s head was bowed. Another person might think it was out of respect, or blushing from embarrassment, but Bao knew better. It was to hide her discomfort as she lied to the Fire Lord’s face.

“Your proposal was the deciding factor in how we proceed,” the Fire Lord continued. “Your remarks were quite poignant. You have been consistently excelling, and I feel it is only necessary to congratulate you in person.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“My congratulations are not lost on the rest of you either,” the Fire Lord continued, looking directly at each of them. “Well done.”

Almost in unison, the team in question bowed again, a natural response when being praised by the Fire Lord himself. Bao, on the other hand, was peeking up from his own bow to watch the Fire Lord and minister. The Fire Lord was looking around, no longer concentrating on the people in front of him. Minister Shu-Lin nudged him gently, and looked towards Bao’s desk. The Fire Lord followed her gaze.

Heart thumping, Bao focussed on the pattern of wood on his desk. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but the Fire Lord and the minister left without any further words, and after a moment he allowed his head to rise. The others did the same.

Outside in the corridor, he could hear people talking excitedly. The Fire Lord was going room to room, speaking to each office, and just as Bao had predicted, he was being followed by his servants and guards, and a host of senior officials from the department.

Within the accounting office, nobody spoke.

Bao cleared his throat when the coast seemed to clear. “Well, that was a positive experience,” he said, aiming for jolly. “At least we know we are performing our jobs well.”

“And it wasn’t just us,” Chang added. “He went around to all the offices. We weren’t being singled out. And we didn’t embarrass ourselves. He seemed pleased.”

“Insomuch as the Fire Lord can be pleased,” Lenna said, leaning on a desk for support. “He wasn’t smiling or anything.”

“I don’t think the Fire Lord smiles,” Qing Yi said.

“Like you’d know.”

“Actually,” Chang interrupted, ever connected with the secretarial gossip, “I’ve heard he famously doesn’t smile.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Michi snapped, glancing at the doorway, which was thankfully no longer brimming with people trying not to trip on the hem of the Fire Lord’s long robe.

“It could have been worse,” Qing Yi summarised, collapsing onto nearest chair.

“It can always be worse,” Michi mumbled into the bookshelf that he had returned to organising.

Privately, Bao agreed.

The candle was burning low in the office, and from the small single window the pattering of the rain could be heard as what passed for the rainy season (meagre compared to the rains of the Earth Kingdom, or so Bao had read) began. Bao turned a page in his novel.

Ever since that terrifying run-in with the Fire Lord some weeks ago in the servants’ corridor, he had been leaving later and later to avoid running into anyone. It felt like he was hardly home at all before he was waking and returning to the palace. But, as he had told himself again and again, it was necessary. And it wasn’t like he would be doing anything different if he was at home. He would simply be reading in his own room than in the office.

When the candle was finally at risk of putting itself out in its own wax, Bao closed his book and put it at the bottom of his desk drawer. With a yawn, he closed his book and stretched out his arms, cracking his twinging back, and blew out the candle.

The corridor outside the office was deserted, as it usually was at this hour, and it didn’t take him long to reach the entrance of the servants’ corridor through which he usually exited the palace.

Someone stepped out in front of him, and he braked sharply. He had been staring at the floor directly in front of him, and hadn’t heard anyone approach, probably a testament to how tired he was.

He glanced up, and immediately folded himself in half at the sight of Minister Shu-Lin standing imperiously before him, pushing his hands forward in the symbol of the flame as he did so.

“What is your name?” she asked without hesitation.

“Bao Xo, Minister,” he answered, as soon as he had processed the question.

She made a small hum in the back of her throat, and strode off.

Bao sat up and stared at her retreating coattails in a manner that would have been considered most rude if there had been anyone to witness his fish-mouthed expression in the first place.

He breathed deeply, and tried to shake the unease settling in his chest. He had worked hard to fly under the radar while he worked in the palace, passing off his work as his superior’s, hiding away in the office behind stacks of books so that people’s eyes brushed over his head as they glanced past.

Being recognisable to the minister, any minister, but especially of his own department, had never been part of the plan.

Another few weeks passed without incident, and Bao started to relax. The Fire Lord seemed to sincerely want the best for his government, and Minister Shu-Lin too. The pay rise had been welcome, and he had bought a lovely dragon ornament to send home to his parents and sister for luck.

Just as it seemed everything was becoming a quiet routine once more, a group of guards stalked their way through the corridors, and let themselves into the office, looking for Lenna. By their side was Junior Official Michi, looking stressed.

“That’s her,” Michi announced, pointing at Lenna.

The guard at the front of the group stepped forward, staring intently at her. “You are to come with us, by order of the Fire Lord.”

Lenna, who had stood from her desk when the group entered, looked as if she was about to faint.

“Why? What for?” Qing Yi asked, louder than was proper.

“That is the business of only the Minister and the Fire Lord,” the guard replied smoothly, gesturing for Lenna to move.

Pale as a ghost, Lenna followed them without question, the group disappearing down the corridor. A couple of nosy colleagues pushed their noses around the door, but did not come in.

“What was that about?” Qing Yi asked.

“I have no idea,” Chang answered.

“Bao?”

Bao shook his head wordlessly. Perhaps the minister had caught on to their arrangement. But if that was the case, should it not have been Bao himself who was arrested? It was possible that Lenna had been arrested for corruption, like so many others recently, but Bao struggled to believe that someone as good and nice as Lenna could embezzle funds. Not to mention he was sure he would have spotted it.  

He turned to his scroll, unable to focus on the columns of sums before him. Qing Yi, seeming to face a similar problem, stood up and paced the room.

By the time Michi returned, the sun was on its descent, and the room had an unsettled atmosphere. Behind him was one of the well-dressed attendants that served the royal family.

“Bao,” Michi said, paler than normal. “You’ve been summoned.”

Bao clenched his hand in a fist. “Me? By…”

“By the Fire Lord,” Michi confirmed.

The attendant behind him stepped forward. “Please follow me.”

Bao wheeled himself out from behind the desk, hands shaky and slippery on the curved wood. The attendant didn’t seem surprised, and simply beckoned him to follow.

“Do you know why I’ve been summoned?” Bao asked, as the man in front forged their way through the corridors.

The attendant glanced at him. “It isn’t my place to say, sir. Sorry sir.”

Taken aback slightly by the respectful address, Bao fell quiet. Soon, they came to the wide staircase that led up to the upper floors of the palace.

The attendant looked lost for a moment. A couple guards were standing straight and proud by the base of the staircase, and the attendant approached them, whispering intently. They rested their tasselled spears, and headed towards Bao.

Bao leaned back in his chair, slightly intimidated by the two men, at least one of whom was built like a brick wall, but they simply gripped onto the bottom of his seat, and with twin grunts, lifted him up. Bao gasped, and grabbed their shoulders to balance himself, the attendant coming up behind him to balance the back of the chair.

There’s a lift, he almost said. He’d seen it, the series of pulleys that servants used when they needed to get something heavy and unwieldy up the stairs. It was not something he’d ever wanted to actually use, the creaking of wood and metal striking him as precarious at best, but he thought he would prefer it over being carried.

But of course, he couldn’t keep the Fire Lord waiting.

When he got to the top of the (thankfully shallow) staircase, stomach still swooping from the various near slips, the two guards placed his chair down, bowed with the flame, and jogged down to retrieve their spears.

“Come on,” the attendant said, as if Bao hadn’t just come close to being dropped down the stairs and landing on his spine for a second time. But the attendant was already off, and Bao had little choice but to follow.

He was led to a large set of double doors, which opened into a wide atrium. At the far side of the atrium was a second set of double doors, manned by more guards. The attendant left through a concealed side-door, leaving Bao alone except for the guards on each grand door.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was likely a matter of minutes, the attendant popped back out the side-door and escorted Bao inside through the main entrance.

Inside, the room was as grand as Bao would expect, solid wooden walls hung with rich fabric, and a large window taking up most of the space on the far wall. On the left was a great big desk scattered with papers, leaving most of the room empty except for elegant side-tables decorated with ornate vases and fresh flowers.

In the centre of the room, kneeling alone, was Lenna. The attendant nudged Bao on the shoulder, and he wheeled up next to her, facing the grand desk, seated behind which was the Fire Lord, and standing to his left was Minister Shu-Lin.

Lenna glanced up at him, eyes red with suppressed tears. Her wide eyes seemed surprised to see him, promising that she had not told them about him. He believed her.

Bao bowed with the flame, as deeply as he could manage.

“You may rise,” the Fire Lord said. “You are Bao Xo?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Bao replied, keeping his eyes averted demurely to the base of the huge desk.

“How long have you worked here, Bao?”

“Eleven years, My Lord.”

“How long has Lenna worked here?”

“About seven months, My Lord.”

“How long has she been senior accountant?”

“One and a half, My Lord. Roughly.”

“Who was before her?”

“Mister Guo, My Lord.”

“The man who was embezzling funds.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

There was a pause. The Fire Lord seemed unwilling to continue. Minister Shu-Lin stepped forward slightly. She said, quite kindly, “Bao, for how long has Miss Braun been plagiarising your work and giving it to me as her own?”

Bao’s throat tightened, and his lungs seemed constricted. “Minister! I- I-”

“It’s okay,” Minister Shu-Lin said. “It’s not your fault. I have been suspicious for a while. Tell us the truth, and we can remove her from office.”

To his side, Lenna made a choked sound.

Remove her from office. Nobody was ever removed from office peacefully. They left, or they were imprisoned, or they were killed, often preceded by punishment. Banishment was the favourite of the deposed Fire Lord Azula, although she hadn’t been averse to burning either, which had been her father’s preferred punishment. The higher ranked officials and ministers usually settled for a whipping or a beating if they felt their underlings required it. Bao was far too adept at keeping his head down to ever experience it himself, but he had witnessed the order and the aftermath of far too many.

“Please don’t, My Lord, Lady Minister,” Bao exclaimed desperately. “It isn’t her fault. She doesn’t deserve to be punished.”

“But she stole your work,” the Fire Lord said, disbelief colouring his words. “Prevented you from getting recognition. Took the pay without doing the work. Once she has been fired you can take her position.”

“My Lord, it isn’t like that.”

Minister Shu-Lin scoffed. “What else could it be?”

Bao glanced around. Apart from the Minister and the Fire Lord, the room had four guards and a number of servants, not to mention poor Lenna, now biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. At a loss, he decided to throw caution to the wind. He bowed again, this time with the flame, as deeply as when he entered the room.

“My Lord, Lenna did not take the position out of malice, but kindness,” Bao said.

“Explain,” the Fire Lord said. “And for Agni’s sake, sit up.”

Bao did so, and with some trepidation, began to talk. “When Mister Guo was removed, the position became open. I was the only person who could realistically fulfil it, but we all knew that if I did, I would lose my job altogether. And possibly my life, My Lord.”

“Why?”

Bao’s eyes flicked around the room. The servants and guards avoided his gaze, and Minister Shu-Lin seemed deeply uncomfortable. The Fire Lord, however, looked only perplexed.

“Well, My Lord,” Bao continued, trying to think of a way to word his sentence without insulting the man who held his life in his hands. “People like me are…greatly discouraged from working in the palace, and especially the government. I would have been fired if I was found out. Punished.”

“People like you?”

Bao stared at the shiny wooden floor panels. Could he say it? Many considered the Fire Lord to be one of the same, but none would say it to his face. He was powerful, and powerful people never liked to be reminded of their shortcomings.

“A cripple, My Lord,” Bao whispered.

Even staring at the floor, Bao couldn’t fail to notice the tension in the room. This was not the kind of thing a person did, said. It was the kind of thing a person disappeared for.

A silence stretched long across the room, brittle as glass. It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath, tense at the unpredictability of the man in front of them. Or perhaps that was just Bao.

“Lenna pretended to do the work so that you were not in danger?” The Fire Lord’s voice was steady, and it shook Bao more than if he had shouted.

“Yes, My Lord,” he said, voice quiet and hoarse.

“My Lord,” Minister Shu-Lin said lowly, but she never finished whatever she was going to say.

The Fire Lord stood up, and it was if the room stood up with him. He addressed Lenna. “You can go. The rest of you too.”

Minister Shu-Lin rested a brief hand on his shoulder, and walked around the desk. The servants disappeared through a panel, and one of the guards helped Lenna to her feet as they both exited. Bao gripped his wheels.

“Wait,” the Fire Lord said. “Not you, Bao. Stay a minute.”

Before Bao even had a chance to be concerned that he was about to be punished for his words, the Fire Lord was on his feet. He strode to the huge window and pulled on a latch on one of the panels by the edge of the room. The window panel slid open, and beyond it was a huge balcony.

“Come out here,” the Fire Lord said, disappearing around the corner.

With little other choice, Bao followed him. The screen door was flush against the exterior stone, and it was easy to get onto the balcony. It was absolutely huge, extending enough that both sunrise and sunset could be viewed, as was fitting for the Fire Lord. Flowering plants were hanging from the stone railing, and a cloth canopy was suspended above a bench to fend off the oppressive sun during the day.

The Fire Lord was standing by the railing, his outer robe resting on the bench behind him. A few strands of hair had come loose, and they were waving in the gentle breeze. Bao waited by the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself.

Finally, the Fire Lord drew in a deep breath and came to sit on the bench. “Sorry.”

Bao blinked. “My Lord?”

“I forgot what it was like back here,” he said. He was still staring out at the horizon past the pointed peaks at the edge of the enormous crater in which the Upper Caldera sat. “I don’t know how. When I returned last year I was treated worse than when I was a refugee in the Earth Kingdom.”

A refugee? Bao hadn’t known the Fire Lord had ever been a refugee. He supposed it made sense. He had been outcast for a long time.

“Did you know in the Water Tribes they admire scars?” The Fire Lord continued. “They are proof of the battles fought and won. The rest of the tribe cares for them as they heal, and they are always proud when they get one.”

Bao didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know anything about the Water Tribes past what little propaganda he had been taught in school. Savages, uncivilised and vicious. By the way the Fire Lord was speaking, it wasn’t a perspective that would be welcomed.

“Sokka cut his arm once,” the Fire Lord continued. “On his own spear while hunting. I offered my condolences, but he just smiled and rubbed dirt into the wound while Katara healed it. He said he had far to go until he got a scar as cool as mine.”

The Fire Lord turned to look at Bao, staring deep into his eyes, and despite the blatant disrespect he was displaying, Bao felt he couldn’t look away.

“I don’t understand,” Bao said, then realised how that could be interpreted. “I mean, My Lord-”

“I was called a cripple. By my father, my sister, the nobles I encountered,” the Fire Lord continued. “But by the time I returned and became the Fire Lord, few dared insult me to my face. It’s stupid, but I forgot about it. Tried to forget about it. So, I’m sorry I buried my head in the sand. You deserve to live without fear or disrespect. I’ll make sure everyone in the palace knows.”

Bao was taken aback. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“And please don’t call me that,” the Fire Lord said. “Call me Zuko.” As he said his name, he smiled, and it transformed his face. The scar that so everyone associated with his raging temper no longer seemed noteworthy at all.

“Um… My Lord, I don’t know if I should.”

“Please. Just try it.”

Bao drew a deep breath, not quite believing what was happening. “If you’re sure… Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Just Zuko is fine.”

“Zuko.”

The Fire Lord – Zuko – smiled again. “Thanks. It makes me feel more…human. You know?”

Bao very much did not know. He had never been treated with anything close to the revery that Fire Nation citizens tended to treat their Fire Lord. In the eyes of the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord was the closest thing to a deity that most would ever experience, and they were always treated as such. But here, on this balcony, it didn’t feel like he was sitting next to a deity at all. He was sitting next to a teenager close to half his own age.

Bao nodded, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Before I got my scar,” Zuko said, “I wouldn’t have understood. I was taught that if you got hurt it was because you were too weak to prevent it.” The breeze was rustling the trees in the garden below, and it caught the loose strands of hair from Zuko’s topknot and blew it across his face. His chin was angled down, and it looked like he was bowing. “I carried that with me for so long.”

“I prefer the Water Tribe belief,” Bao said, cautiously. To his relief, Zuko smiled again.

“Me too. So, I want everyone to be treated with respect. And I want you to take the position you should have had years ago. And I’m sorry I haven’t done this already. I need to do better.”

The wind rustled.

“When I was hired by the palace,” Bao said finally, “I was told that I wouldn’t last a day, that I would be turned out as soon as they caught a glimpse of me.” He chuckled slightly. “I outlasted most of them, ironically. But I knew that however long I worked here I would always be in the shadows, waiting to be fired. Or killed. I made my peace with that.”

Zuko didn’t seem to be comforted by the words. In fact, he just looked more upset.

Bao wheeled himself closer and tentatively put one hand on his shoulder. Zuko tensed up for a second, but then relaxed. “My point is, few nobles would ever tolerate me, let alone have someone arrested for me. Stop beating yourself up. You’ve already done so much.”

“It’s not enough.”

Bao’s heart melted. The fearsome Fire Lord he had heard so much about, who had fought an Agni Kai at age thirteen, who had sailed the world, fought the Avatar and befriended him anyway, who had deposed his sister and stopped the Great War. He was a boy.

“It’s a start,” Bao replied. “You can’t do everything at once. Can’t see everything at once. Some things will take time.”

Zuko glanced up at Bao through the delicate lashes on the unscarred side of his face, and Bao was shocked to see that his eye was wet. He was so young. He just had an air of being older than he was, a world-weariness that was usually only present in the aged and jaded.

Acting mostly on instinct, Bao leaned over and wrapped his arms around Zuko’s neck in a loose approximation of a hug. To his surprise, Zuko seemed to just melt into his arms, relaxing entirely.

“Thanks,” Zuko mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Bao replied, wondering a little bit hysterically in the back of his mind how he got to this moment. “You’re doing great.”

“So are you,” Zuko said. “Yao – Minister Shu-Lin – praises you often, even when she was suspicious that Lenna was stealing your work and pay. She hates suck-ups, and she hates corruption. Found you insightful. No-nonsense, just like her.”

“Does this mean we’re keeping our jobs?”

Zuko looked surprised. “Of course. Was that not clear? Does Lenna still think she’s in trouble? I was a bit rude in there, wasn’t I? Perhaps I should summon her again? I could-”

“Don’t worry,” Bao interrupted. He didn’t even worry that he was interrupting the Fire Lord. How strange. “I’ll make sure to tell her.”

“Thanks. Perhaps that’s better.”

“Probably.”

“And if anyone gives you trouble, tell me,” Zuko said earnestly. “Or at least tell Yao. She’ll be on your side. And I’ll be on hers.”

It was strange, being promoted.

Bao had spent his whole career handing off memos to his bosses who took credit for his work to their bosses. He had been a means to an end, another dipped head that was easy to pass over. If anyone did look at him, it was with pity, perhaps condescension, a bit of disgust.

Not that that had gone away completely with his promotion. He still had people scoff at him, deliberately speak over him, talk to Lenna or Qing Yi instead of him.

But now, he could talk back. He raised his voice, took back control, and when the rude official huffed and looked to Minister Shu-Lin for backup, she would simply frown and ask Bao to continue, ignoring the slighted official’s mumbled protests.

It was nice. Freeing. Difficult to believe, some days. Not perfect, not by any means.

But it was progress.