Four weeks.

Four weeks of stone cuffs biting into her ankles and wrists.

Four weeks of the jagged bashing of the rocky waves drilling into her skull, a constant drumbeat of inprisonment.

Four weeks of dirt and sweat and saltwater and misery.

Four weeks of dried blood and burnt flesh and crackling lightning from the Crystal Catacombes haunting her mind.

She has given up with depriving herself of sleep. Yes, it would be idiotic to give in to drowsiness surrounded by people she does not trust, but it would be even more idiotic to not drift off at all.

She has also given up her promise to not eat a bite of the food they give her. It was supposed to be an act of defiance, to push away her meal with stubborn fists and piercing eyes, but the aromatic smell of spices that wafted from her plate eventually got to her. The food is very different from water tribe or earth nation meals, spicy and seasoned and creamy, but she is used to it by now. She finds it strange that they would give her such nice food, seeing as she is their prisoner, but she does not dwell on the thought. This ship has the Royal Family in it; they probably have more than enough food to go around.

She has not given up on wishing for her friends to come. Even with her vermillion wrists and her pounding head and her stiff muscles, even with her burnt dress and her aching chest and her injured body, four weeks is not nearly long enough to diminish her hope.

It is strange to travel with only one other person.

The chatter and laughter and constant buzz of life and humour is diminished. They were usually the ones to start conversations and spread comedy, but there is no one to laugh with anymore, and there is nothing to say. It is just Toph and him, her small fists gripping Appa's soft, thick fur and his sharp knuckles protruding from tan hands, which curl tightly around the sky bison's reins. The grey-blue sky is heavy with depression and their eyes are glazed with despair. The pair has run out of tears, and now they are just left with a numb sensation that fills their veins, as if they are in a trance of half determination and half defeat.

Soon, Appa will need to rest, and they will need to scavenge for food. That is the problem with Sokka's plan; while Katara is probably in the Fire Nation by now (the most likely place she would have been taken), Toph and him are still plodding along on an exhausted sky bison and empty stomachs. Right now, they have just passed the Great Divide, and the ocean is still on the distance. They should have begun traveling sooner, but they were too caught up in saltwater and despair to be practical. Ba Sing Se and the Fire Nation are on opposite sides of the world, and they are barely half way there.

Sokka has not spoken in days. He has always been joking and lighthearted, but now, he is worryingly serious. His cobalt eyes are blunt and adamant, a ragged type of determination that seems to tear him apart. She wants to comfort him, but there is nothing believably comforting to say.

It has been four weeks since they found Aang's lifeless body, and it has been four weeks since Katara went missing. Four weeks of tears and depression and tragedy and longing.

His eyes are determined, but behind the perseverant cerulean is grey-blue defeat.

It has been four weeks, and they are already losing hope.

He is not ready for today.

Today is when they are planned to arrive in the Fire Nation. Today is when he steps foot in the Royal Palace for the first time in three years. Today is the day his banishment is finally over.

Today could be the day he sees his father.

These thoughts should make him happy; his honour and his birthright will be restored, and he will have his father's love. Instead, he feels terrified. He is not sure what exactly scares him so much about returning home, but he cannot prevent apprehensive knots writhing in his stomach, nor can he stop the migraine pounding in his forehead."

"Are you okay?" A voice inquires. Azula stands in front of him, her piecing gold eyes boring into his own.

Yeah, I'm fine." Zuko lets the lie roll off his tongue as he pushes his dark, thick hair out of his face.

"You don't seem very fine, Zuzu. Which is strange, considering we're going home. You should be happy," His sister pauses, narrowing her eyes at his strained features. "unless, of course, you don't want to go home."

"Why would you think that? Returning to the Fire Nation has been my goal ever since I was banished." He states.

"Yes, it has been; Which is why it's strange that you seem so nervous." She raises her eyebrow at her brother, letting her words settle in the heavy air before speaking again. "We're arriving in a few hours. Try to remind yourself of how to act as a Prince; you've spent quite a while acting like a dirt peasant."

Zuko sighs as she strides away, her head held high and her footsteps perfectly even. Azula is right; he should practice looking like a Prince before they arrive, but how can he hold his head up with pride if half of his face is disfigured with dishonour and cowardice?

Only a few hours left. Only a few hours left of nerves twisting in his stomach and fear pounding in his head. Only a few hours left of dread running through his veins and worry poisoning his mind. Only a few hours left of banishment and dishonour and disgrace.

But then they will have arrived.

Thanks for reading chapter 4! This chapter is a bit shorter (it's actually exactly 1000 words), but there wasn't much to write about. I have a feeling this story might be shorter than I planned, but who knows? I dont plan stories very professionally, I just get an idea of what I want to happen in my head, and then just write it.

Thanks to Goikuchan and Shojobaby (guest) for reviewing, and thanks to everyone who favourited and followed!