"Behind my weakness there is strength; the weakness is in the instrument. Behind many people's strength there is weakness—and this weakness is in the heart."
– Joseph Joubert, "The Author, Drawn by Himself"
Taken into custody just as darkness began to fall, Katara had been brought aboard Zuko's new ship and immediately taken to a cell below deck. Hands bound in front of her, she held her head high as his men lead her up the gangplank, taking in the ship's intimidating size and aggressive appearance. Nearly three times as large as the cruiser Zuko landed on the shores of her village, the customary Fire navy ship was a formidable warship - steam-powered, heavily armored, and equipped with numerous trebuchets, the vessel appeared to be a full on battleship. It was impressive and menacing.
Katara faltered…there was no chance she'd escape from this ship alone, and if Toph stayed true to her nature no help was coming. She knew how this would play out. Zuko would take her to the fire nation where she'd be imprisoned, tortured, tried for treason, and executed. It would send a message to the rebellion and any citizen thinking of joining them. "This is what happens when you try to oppose the fire nation – and she's only a child. Imagine what could happen to you."
As the guards lead her below deck, she gulped in a deep breath of salty air and exhaled loudly through flared nostrils. Stay calm. Collected.
Focused.
They lead her down a maze of identical hallways, sinking deeper and deeper into the ship's core until finally stopping at a heavy iron door. One of the men stepped forward and rapped twice, then returned to his position by Katara's side as the door scraped open and a man emerged.
"What's this, then?"
His tone was even and steady. Bored, almost. He was tall, and lean, muscles wound tightly across his bare shoulders and toned arms. His face was soft around the edges, betraying his relative youth. Katara realized he couldn't have been much older than 19 or 20. And he was dressed in servant's clothing, nothing close to that of a soldier or jailer. Emboldened, Katara straightened her back and stared straight into his eyes, daring and unafraid. And saw curiosity paint his face. She was young and her out of place, but her unwavering stare contrasted sharply with her outward appearance, and he clearly didn't know what to make of her.
"New prisoner, one of the criminals traveling with the Avatar. She's a water bender. Needs a cell away from the ship's hull."
"I understand, but….here…? I don't know, I-"
"Prince's orders."
The boy's hesitance evaporated, replaced with conditioned obedience.
"Right. Come with me."
He stepped back, and motioned for her to walk ahead of him down the corridor. And Katara was proud that her steps never faltered, even as a guard gave her a sharp prod in the back when she didn't move quickly enough. She strode confidently through the doorway, then slowed to take in her surroundings…
It was a stock room.
Stock corridor, really. "Cells" lined the wide hall's perimeter, but clearly none of them were intended for living inhabitants. There were crates stacked high inside of each, and Katara could only assume they contained gold and valuables taken by raiding parties and used to purchase supplies when the ship docked. In the front of the room was a desk, piled high with scrolls and an intricate abacus. Katara smirked. The boy was a bookkeeper. She felt optimism spark deep in her chest…perhaps she'd have a chance after all. From the far end of the hall, the boy spoke.
"She can stay in here, we usually use it for excess armor, but…."
Flanked on both sides, Katara walked to him and entered the small compartment. It was close to the size of a typical jail cell but lacked a cot or other furnishings. There were hooks dangling from the ceiling, used to hang armor when in stock, but they hung at least two feet above her head.
She heard the door clang shut behind her, followed by the heavy thud of the bolt. Turning, she watched the guards travel back down the hallway, discussing what she assumed were orders for interacting with her. When the party reached the end of the hall, they all exited – bookkeeper included. The heavy iron door grated shut….and she was alone.
With a deep sigh, she leaned against the smooth metal wall and slid to the floor. A few months ago, she would've dissolved into tears. Lamented her predicament, and the hopelessness of her situation. But that was before. Before Ba Sing Se, before she'd gently placed her trust in a prince who'd thrown it back in her face. Before her error in judgment had nearly lead to the death of the only person who could change the tide of the war. Of the world.
She could still see it so clearly. Zuko's face as he shifted his stance away from Azula…and towards her. Towards Aang. The wild desperation in his face as he shot stream after stream of fire towards her, frenzied and wild.
"I thought you had changed!"
"I have."
Her heart broke. And he wasn't the only one who changed that night. Coming that close to losing the Avatar altered her. It would have been her fault, her naïve optimism that turned the world to ash. Zuko had made his choice in the crystals, and Katara had made hers on Appa's saddle. Cradling Aang's fragile form, she gathered all her weakness and sentimentality and locked it away. Gone, was the girl who preached hope and compassion. Gone the caretaker who berated the others for leaving out dirty laundry and not washing up before meals. The weak, sniveling child who foolishly held her own feelings in equal importance to stopping the war. The night she brought Aang back to the living, she banished her former self in his place.
And so she didn't fall to tears, didn't let emotion and fear overcome her. She sat with her back against the cold metal, and counted her breaths, her heartbeats, the clangs of the engine. And with no perception of time, she must have drifted off to sleep. Because the next thing she counted was two golden eyes staring down at her from just behind the bars.
