"Commander Zuko?"
Sounds of training - metal against metal, the hot breath of fire - ring outside of the tent.
Zuko wears a stripped down version of his full military armor; his hair falling loose near his shoulders. He traces a finger across the map tacked onto one panel of the muddy, green canvas that all of their tents are constructed from. The parchment is worn where a thick vein of blue joins two patches of Earth territory.
30 men, 25 ostrich-horses. They have run and re-run routes and times over and over. Each time, they are subject to the whims of the monsoon rains that eat away at the river's bank little by little.
Zuko drums his fingers lightly against the map as the outside noises boil the dregs of irritation in his blood. In his frustration, he swears he can faintly smell and taste ginseng on the damp air. One of his uncle's favorites - although that doesn't mean much, considering nearly every tea is Iroh's favorite - that he always claimed helps sooth the racing mind, nephew. Zuko's fingers still. The cadence of Iroh's voice in his memory isn't quite right anymore.
The soldier shifts slightly on his feet.
"Yes?" Zuko asks, eyes absently tracing the lines of the river.
"A waterbender was spotted on the borders of the camp, sir."
Zuko's attention snaps to him.
"And I trust that this waterbender has been apprehended?"
The soldier suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Sir-"
His men's jeering has stopped outside. Zuko's gaze turns to the entrance of his tent.
A soldier falls through the flap, skidding across the wet dirt on his elbows, and another follows closely, catching himself in a crouch. There is a distinctly female grunt and Zuko thinks he hears the swish of water. Two men burst in with a twisting and writhing figure clutched between them; a shock of blue against their red uniforms.
He folds his hands behind his back and watches as the waterbender struggles out of their grip, water spiralling and lashing. His four soldiers surround her with fire raised at their hands, and still the waterbender is a flash of movement, throwing projectiles of ice that turn briefly to water against the retaliating fire and then dissipate entirely. One of his men charges her, neatly jabbing her left side at her pressure points, and then she is splayed on the ground, a mesh of sky blue and brown.
Zuko turns away. A part of him admires her progress - if she has made it to his tent, that means that she has fought her way to the heart of the camp - and his men will suffer for it.
"Have her in chains and gather the camp in the next minute," he says sharply.
There are pained grunts from his soldiers and Zuko whirls, his neck coming to rest firmly against a cool blade of ice. It nicks him right at the junction between his neck and jaw and he feels pricks of blood well at the cut.
The waterbender stands a foot away from him, her blade stretching between them. She is smaller than he thought; barely surpassing his shoulder.
"Stand down," Zuko says, looking at the firebenders over the girl's shoulder. The four soldiers have fire raised at their hands again, ready to kill.
Zuko closes his eyes briefly and breathes deeply, raising his body temperature, and the tip of the ice melts.
"I request an audience with you," the waterbender says, breathless. Her hair is wild, falling over her shoulders and in front of her eyes in tangled waves. He notes her frame and hollowed cheeks and wonders how she made it so far.
Zuko almost laughs. He reaches out to her ripped sleeve and tears off a slim bolt of cloth, pressing it to his neck.
"I decline."
He orders for her to be taken away.
Nervous threads of energy run through the other men and women for the rest of the day.
When the sky, thick with humidity, is a black and suffocating blanket above their heads, they start a fire. It burns feebly against the muddled air. Eyes dart to Zuko nervously in the dim light and then quickly away.
Eventually, they inch closer to the fire and pre-supper conversation starts. Stilted, at first, but gaining slowly in volume. A soldier starts to pass out rations and Zuko holds up a hand to stop him.
"How did she reach my tent?" he asks finally, addressing the entire encampment.
She must have been following them. Observing. Planning. There is no other way that she was able to fight through their encampment, to his tent, with little difficulty. He'd seen the waterskin sitting on her hip when she'd pressed the blade against his throat; noted its small size. She could pull water from the air with the humidity, he thought, but not enough.
It is quiet, and the fire makes pitiful noises.
He repeats his question.
"She knew the shift rotations," someone offers.
A middle-aged man with a straight, slender build like a dagger stands to Zuko's left.
"So you figured it out, huh? Are you a soldier or something?" Lieutenant Jee says from Zuko's side. No one laughs. Louder, he asks, "How long was she following us?"
"Six days for her to memorize all of the rotations," another voice sounds, more solemn.
"Don't sound so morbid. You only let an armed bender infiltrate your commander's quarters." Jee smiles sardonically, his teeth pulsing orange in the firelight. "How long should she have been able to follow us?" he asks. His voice booms across the fire. "How long?"
The flames hiss and sputter in the silence. Zuko thinks, fleetingly, that this where Azula would bring her troops to a cower and shoot blue until they begged her forgiveness.
"No meals tonight," he says instead, and Jee takes a step back. "I want all rotations changed by dawn. Only lanterns will be lit."
He hopes the cold, damp air sinks into their bones and cements some sense. Zuko extinguishes the campfire with a flick.
"There will be no next time."
Five days is enough to make anyone ache for water.
He sets two saucers in the damp earth between him and the waterbending girl, then sets two cups upon the saucers, and finally pours a ginseng and chamomile blend from a teapot to his right into both cups. He pushes the second cup and saucer right up against the girl's legs so that can still drink herself with her limited range of motion.
Zuko lifts his cup to his lips and drinks deeply, not minding the too-hot tea. Her gaze is carefully neutral as she watches him, chained to a tree, her hands shackled in metal.
Azula would make small talk with her prisoners; drive them mad with cheerful pleasantries and inquiries about their health, the weather, the latest fashion trends.
"Why are you really here?" Zuko asks, setting his cup down on his saucer. He sits cross-legged and places both hands on his pointed knees.
"The Earth coalition has formed a blockade around the Northern Water Tribe," the girl begins, as if they are holding an officiated diplomatic discussion.
He cuts her off, repeating his question.
She seems to flick off his interruption and starts again, "My tribe -"
"I have no interest in your stories. All you can do now is give me some information that would convince me to spare your life," he says. Her tea still lies untouched in the second cup; clear, pristine.
Her eyes narrow. "You will listen to what I have to say first."
His fingers twitch against his knee at her audacity.
"You do not want to live, it seems." Her eyes remind him of his sister. Blue fire, hot and furious.
"The Fire Nation offered my tribe a treaty six months ago. We would be given protection in exchange for allowing the Fire navy to operate out of our tribe as a port."
"I don't believe the offer has withstood your tribe's blatant refusal."
"I realize that," the girl says sharply, "but my tribe was hoping you would reconsider." She grits her teeth around the last words as if it pains her to say them.
"The offer was an act of generosity on the part of Fire Lord Ozai. He gave you a month-long window to consider your response, and your people voiced their dissent as soon as possible."
"Our main concern was representation in the Fire Nation. If we could have an emissary in Caldera while the treaty stands, and the Fire Lord is willing to reopen his offer with this change, we would accept immediately."
A smirk breaks Zuko's countenance. "And I'm guessing you're the emissary."
"Yes."
"That doesn't strike you as presumptuous? There is a kill order on waterbenders in Fire territory."
Her quick smile is grim. "We're in Earth territory, your highness."
His smirk gives way to a derisive laugh. "How much protection does that really give you?"
No one would question him if he brought back the body of a dead waterbender, and judging by the girl's lack of reaction, she is well aware of this. They are silent for a few minutes as Zuko gives her time to mull. Eventually, he says, coaxing, "I don't wish for you to die before I get my information. Drink your tea."
"I am here on behalf of my tribe," she says, eyes flashing. "If I wanted to kill you, I could have done so when I had a blade against your neck."
He says, "My own tea came from the same teapot. If I wanted to poison you, there are quicker ways."
He says, "Dehydration is a slow death. Surely you know better methods of suicide."
His eyes eventually fall closed, hands still braced on his knees. He breathes slowly and savors the push and pull of heat inside him. Eventually, he hears her pick up the teacup and he expects her to gulp it all down at once, like others have, but she takes slow, tentative sips.
She can't have finished more than half of the tea when she says, "What kind of tea is this?"
He opens his eyes and watches her form her sentence. Her mouth curls strangely around the words as if she has just learned to speak.
"A ginseng and chamomile blend. My uncle's favorite."
"I'm guessing the drugs are your own touch?" Her speech comes slower. "Or was your uncle an addict?"
"Why are you really here?"
She slurs out curses. "I've... told you."
More gently, he repeats, "Why are you really here?"
"You can talk... to me when I'm not - not... drugged."
"I suppose I could talk to you just as well over a whip, though I'm not sure that'd be easiest for you." He pauses, then adds, "Or as pleasant." Zuko looks pointedly at the spread between them, as if to say, isn't this nice?
She says nothing and leans her head back against the tree.
He sighs and collects the tea set.
"What are you going to do about the girl?"
Lieutenant Jee absentmindedly sharpens his dagger on a small whetstone as he speaks. As a ranking officer, his dagger is gilded and etched with a traditional inscription in clean, precise lines. Zuko's own dagger is strapped to his hip; a comfortable weight. His father had given him a jewel-encrusted, shiny thing upon his restoration to Fire royalty, but Zuko had thrown that weapon into the first river he came across.
"What we usually do."
"She is a waterbender."
Zuko sighs. "I know that."
"It's been seven days since we've chained her to that damned tree and she still won't talk." Jee pauses, considering , and then says, "Have her burned. Her tongue'll loosen up quick enough."
Zuko exhales. The dead skin of his scar aches faintly with memory. "Along with her mind. She'll say anything she thinks we want." He paces a few steps in the tent. "Find a copy of the proposed treaty and the latest census of the Southern Water Tribe."
"You believe her," Lieutenant Jee says. There is no accusation in his voice, but an undercurrent of curiosity.
"We know that some form of the treaty she talks about exists."
"It was probably burned months ago."
"My father would've kept it," Zuko says simply.
Zuko doesn't claim to know his father - Ozai has been more of a surrogate to him than Iroh - but he understands his father's crazed pursuit of his endgame with an uncomfortable clarity. After all, Zuko had found it in him to chase a person who never existed for years.
Lieutenant Jee nods.
"Your neck is still bandaged," she says, a faint glimmer of pride in her eyes. The tangles in her hair seem to have sprouted more twists and knots and it looks like the dark mass might swallow her head whole.
He asks, "Do you have an answer for me?"
"I've already given you my answer."
"The Earth coalition has no reason to blockade the Northern Water Tribe."
"The Earth coalition wants to claim the tribe for its own."
"And so you will allow Fire occupation in your own tribe."
"When the coalition realizes they can't take the North, they will come for the South." Her lip curls in a sneer. "I wouldn't be here if I had another choice."
Zuko studies her for a few moments, and the lines of her mouth harden, and then she lifts up her chin.
"Give me your weapons."
"I have no weapons."
"You're chained to a tree; they aren't going to help you anyway."
"I have no weapons," she repeats, her chin coming down to look him in the eye.
A decent liar, he decides, but her movements give her away.
"There's a knife strapped to your thigh, blades in your shoes, small knives pinned in your hair," he says. "Maybe more, but I'll take those for now." His gaze falls to the pendant at her neck and he nods to it. "Some sort of poison in there?"
She twitches. "You're not going to take my necklace. There's no poison."
He looks at her expectantly. She doesn't move.
"You're in no position to carry concealed weapons."
A few moments pass, and then she hisses a sigh and leans her head forward. Zuko immediately spots the faint glimmers of metal in her unravelling hair and tucks the delicate knives into his sleeve. She straightens and holds out her feet saying, "There's two blades in each shoe." Those disappear into his other sleeve.
"Do you want to get the last knife yourself, too?" she asks, her voice mocking.
He stands and turns to leave, saying, "You can keep that one for now."
a/n: this is a sort of aang-wasn't-found-in-the-iceberg au. the first few chapters will be a bit shorter and more setting-upish, but hopefully you guys'll like where it goes from there!