AN: So, first Avatar fic, and I can honestly say I am unsure of how this process will go. That being said, I can say that this fic will not be nice, or happy, or full of fuzzy feelings. It is on the darker side, so if that is not your cup of tea, turn back now. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.
The Lost Year
Chapter One
Fire
Arcs of fire burst into the air, moving with intensity through the dimming sky. Fists pump in alternating motions, each one rallying after the other, sending more flames out. It is a practiced sort of grace, one filled with power and temperance that can only come from disciplined, consistent practice.
The twittering of the birds is gradually replaced with the rhythmic chirping of the cicadas, each one transmitting a message to the other. Zuko does not stop pushing out fire, does not stop as near torrents of sweat rush down his back, does not stop even after all the other soldiers have long gathered inside to eat.
He will only stop when the last ray of sunlight has disappeared. Only then will he gradually relax his posture and let his breathing slow. To not push himself to his limit, each and every day, is to affirm his father's belief that he is worthless and unfit to be the Fire Lord, that he is unfit to be his son.
Zuko recalls with stinging shame the day his father cast him out of the royal family. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he vaguely wonders if he will die trodden upon as though he were merely dirt. It does not escape him, the sneers and incredulous looks from the other boys in the ranks. What peasant, he thinks, hasn't lived for this day? The day they get to see a royal family member suddenly sent out to the slaughter like the rest of them.
It is an interesting dichotomy that Zuko has discovered in his two years at the academy…the royal family is respected and spoken about with a national pride, but when it comes down to the personal level, to the heart of it all, there is only growing disdain. And Zuko lives with the knowledge that his father will never understand this concept. As much as he wants his father's respect and love, he is not deaf to the talk that goes on within these cold walls. He knows there are murmurs of discontent, deep-seated hatred for the disparities in class.
Zuko believes that at this point, he must be taking his father's place in this miserable situation, paying his father's debts.
Wiping away the sweat from his brow with a worn towel, Zuko turns and walks into the mess hall, grabbing a bowl of unappealing food. It appears to have once been some sort of stew, but that is a past life long gone. He sits by himself, idly eating his food. By this point, he does not bother sitting with the other boys in his rank, or anyone for that matter. He is well aware of his true status in the academy, and it is nothing short of zero.
It doesn't matter anyway; he isn't here to make friends.
And he tells himself this later that night, when for the third time this month, the other boys in his dormitory have burned holes through his uniforms.
They don't matter, his mind whispers as he wills his eyes shut, losing himself to the cold vice of sleep.
The whip of fire slashing against skin is a sound Katara will struggle to forget, though she doesn't think she would ever really want to.
The iron ship hovering threateningly over their small South Pole water tribe is all encompassing. It is like a dark shadow, a plague, taking them over in one menacing sweep.
The Fire Nation soldiers step off the ship, their armor heavy and grim, making them look gigantic, almost devil-like with the flared shoulder plates and horned helmets. The captain steps out last, taking his time to walk down the plank, almost as if he were taking a casual stroll in a tea garden. He wears flashier clothing, clothing designed to impress and inform others of his rank. He is swathed in crimsons, vermilions, and black.
His presence is oppressive.
They demand the small tribe give up any and all of its waterbending healers. The tribe, the last twenty or so left of them, stare back in silence. Katara wonders if the captain can smell their fear. Her fear.
She idly glances at the other water tribe members near her, silently wondering if they would give up her position as the only waterbender left. Their faces, though fearful, show resolve.
They are a small unit, but they are united. There is no room for treachery in times like these.
"So no one wants to step up?" The captain sweeps his eyes, hard as flint, across the people, small, fearful and weak, before him. "It's no use staying silent – I know you have waterbenders."
Silence.
"…W-We…sent them o-off…" A frail old woman finally speaks, hesitantly, as if unsure she is giving him an answer he will accept. "All of our waterbenders and healers have joined the war efforts…"
The captain clasps his hands behind his back for a moment, merely rocking on his heels.
"You lie." It is an assertion.
"N-No! I promise! Promise!" The old lady yelps, the panic in her eyes giving her away.
"But it doesn't matter," The captain states, squaring back his shoulders as he sighs. "I know how to find them."
As if some magic words have been spoken, a solider standing behind him, to his right, immediately slams his right foot forward, pushing his left fist out as his does so, sending out a long snake of flames.
It immediately connects with the old woman's face, and she drops to the floor shrieking in pain. Her flesh is seared and she sobs in an instant, her wrinkled old hands flailing about her face, as if they know they have to soothe her skin but have no way of doing so.
Katara's ears are ringing with the old woman's screams and before she can stop herself, she rushes to her side, her hands already enveloped in a soft blue light as she touches them to the burned flesh.
Almost instantaneously, the flesh softens in color and heals, as if it has been reborn again. Katara fills with relief, despite knowing she has just revealed her status as a waterbender. The old woman looks at her, tears still in her eyes. She looks purposefully at Katara, as if to say you shouldn't have done that, but Katara ignores it.
The captain smirks, satisfied with how quickly the water tribe has succumbed here in the South Pole. The poets and bards like to present water as some powerful force, strong and unpredictable. He laughs. The fires he creates cannot be put out by water. Water is nothing.
Katara, instantly feeling rage at the self-satisfied smirk on the captain's face, has little to time to act upon it. Instead, two Fire Nation soldiers clamp either side of her arms and haul her away. She shows little resistance, knowing that it is better she goes rather than any other tribe members. They are either children, old, or ill – their fate would simply be death.
She is pushed up the steel plank and into the bowels of the Fire Nation ship.
It isn't the first time Zuko has heard the whispers about his family. He normally doesn't give a damn, and often finds himself inclined to agree that yes, his sister Azula is indeed insane. But it is the talking about his mother that sends him off the edge.
"Did you hear about the Fire Lady? I hear she's not even a noblewoman…she's some peasant off an island somewhere. Who knew the Fire Lord would let a piece of ass ruin his judgment?" The young soldier barks with laughter amongst his friends.
Another pipes up, "Well, I did hear she's a descendent of Avatar Roku…"
"Oh shut up," the first boy scowls. "Everyone knows the Avatar is some made up shit. It's just some propaganda by those high and mighty benders to make themselves stand out."
The other boys around him shrug their shoulders and move on, failing to notice Zuko approaching closer.
"What did you say?"
The first boy, presumably the ringleader, sees a shadow fall across the table, and turns around. He looks up to see the banished, ex-prince, Zuko. Fear momentarily alights in his eyes but then he adopts a sneer.
"Oh look, it's the son of a bitch, Zuko."
"What did you say?" Zuko repeats, refusing to rise to the name-calling baits.
The boy rolls his eyes. "Chill out, Scarface."
Zuko's eyes narrow. "You can say all the shit you want about me, but leave my mother out of this." He stalks off with a snarl, fists curled at his sides.
"You mean, it's not true?" The boy calls out in a lilting tone. "I mean, I don't know about you, Scarface, but I've heard she's slept around with half the noblemen by now…it's funny, isn't it? They say class is something you're born into, but she's living proof you can rise to the top! And you," he laughs, "you're living proof you can sink to the bottom!"
Before anyone can register anything, before Zuko can even think to control his temper, he lunges forward and his fist connects with the boy's face.
Other boys scramble out of the way as the punched boy slams into a bench and table.
Blood drips down the boy's nose and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. "You piece of shit."
He charges forward and Zuko easily sidesteps him, sending a low kick to the boy's feet.
The boy grunts in frustration before jumping up to his feet and balling a fist toward Zuko's face. It connects, but just barely. The boy manages to grab hold of Zuko's arm and twist it behind his back, muttering in his ear, "what's it like to be so pathetic, prince?"
Zuko, for a brief moment, sees flashes of red. He twists out of the grip and immediately sends a burst of fire toward the boy.
And it is over in an instant.
The boy is badly burned, lying on his back. His head lolls around aimlessly and other boys rush to his side before the attention of a commander is brought to the scene. Zuko feels the adrenaline rush out of his body as quickly as it came and vaguely wonders if he should run. But he knows it would be fruitless. Besides, he does not care about the consequences.
A portly commander looks away from the scene and locks his eyes on Zuko's lone figure standing off to the side.
"You." He stalks toward him, a scowl on his face. "Care to explain what you were thinking doing something like that?"
Zuko is unresponsive.
The commander's brow quirks in a spasm of irritation. "Show some respect when your superior is speaking with you!"
Zuko is lost in thoughts of his mother, father and the life he once had.
The commander's face grows red with ire, but merely spits out, "Go back to your dorm. Cleaning duty for the rest of the week."
It has been a month since Katara boarded the Fire Nation ship. She has claim only to a small room, with an even smaller bathroom attached to it, more fit to be a closet than anything else. There are a few sets of ugly robes laid upon her bed in the colors of the Fire Nation, though they appear dulled out from time and wear.
She opens her hand, where a worn water symbol pin rests cradled in her palm. She is not meant to wear it as a sign of honor but a sign of shame. She nearly laughs. Katara could never look upon her own heritage with anything but pride. She was proud to be from the South Pole. The Northern Water Tribe may have been more advanced, more stable…but the Southern Water tribe was her home, her strength.
Katara idly gazes around the sparsely furnished, dark room. She thinks she will need that inner strength now more than ever.
It is hard to not show fear though. She is fourteen years old, far from being considered a child, but she still feels as helpless as one.
Slowly, Katara pulls off her beloved Water Tribe blues and heads over to the small bathroom attached to her room. She fills the old, iron tub with water and bends it around herself, being sure to comb her fingers through her hair.
A bath is supposed to help one feel cleaner, but Katara feels slimy.
She steps out and with a brief second of hesitation, dons the red robes. They fit her well enough, but they are tattered and poorly spun. It had clearly taken the Fire Nation some time to find these ugly clothes, but after a month of roaming the ship in Water Tribe robes, she assumed they had had enough. She gathers her hair in between her fingers and deftly ties it into her classic braid with the bun, letting two tendrils of hair frame her face.
With pride, she gathers the small water symbol pin and fastens it to her collar. Just then, a knock sounds at the door.
"Y-yes…" she calls, unsurely.
"May I step in?"
It is the captain.
Katara fights to keep a derisive snort at bay. As if she could actually turn him away. The false niceties are overbearing.
"Yes, captain."
The captain ducks as he passes under the door frame, tall and imposing. He is dressed in his standard armors of black and reds.
He takes in her transformed appearance, no longer swathed in blues and whites. It is better, he thinks, but frowns upon seeing her hair.
Katara notices the small downward quirk of his lips and wonders what he has already found dissatisfying.
He moves toward her carefully with scrutiny all over his face.
"This," he grasps her braid, "will be unnecessary," he finishes, as he deftly tugs it out of its binds.
He grabs some of her long hair and pulls part of it up into a makeshift top knot while the rest tumbles down her back. "This will be much better."
Katara barely conceals her scowl. They were trying to mold her down to the very style of a Fire Nation woman. Why, she couldn't say. It was not as if they would ever regard her as anything other than a lowly Water Tribe citizen.
Still, she gives a slight bow of the head. The captain smiles and moves away, releasing her hair.
"Now, waterbender, due to your healing abilities, I have decided that you will be my personal healer. While it is a rare occurrence," Katara keeps from rolling her eyes at his self-worship, "I am still the captain, and I need to be as well as I can be at any given moment. I have been told waterbenders are among some of the best healers, I suppose to make up for their lack of any other real power."
Katara's fists tighten at her sides, but she lets the remark slide.
"In any case, I expect you to be the medic upon this ship, but I will be your first priority as needed. Do you understand?"
Katara gives a stiff bow and looks back up at him.
He is unreadable.
"Good." He turns to leave before taking one last glance at her. "Be sure to wear that pin, at all times."
The door closes, once again leaving Katara all alone.
AN: Welp, there you have it. Leave your thoughts, comments, crits if you wish~