When one is used to opponents who travel by day and gather strength from the moon's brightness, a dark and starless night is preferable, no matter what the task. For Zuko, the sliver of a moon hidden behind thick clouds is even more of a blessing; the hostage he leaves behind is unlikely to try something and he is able to slip from his ship and into the water silently and without being spotted from either his ship or Zhao's.
He hopes.
Through the chill of the waves, he swims for the pier to the city. He would have preferred a boat, faster and most certainly drier, but when a lamp from the admiral's ship turns and light spills across the water, Zuko is grateful for the ability to duck beneath the waves and swim on. Even the length from ship to land, a half mile at least, seems a small task with the next sweep of a guard's lantern from the deck of the admiral's ship.
-
Katara blames her neatly folded sash on her childhood and feels justified. Her things had lain quietly where she threw them originally for all of five minutes before she was kneeling to pick up shoes, pins, and silk. The light wood clunks softly on the floor as she settles the shoes by the doorway, the baubles hanging from the hair pins clinking merrily when arranged on the table with the candles, the sash light in her hands as she carefully folds it and, for lack of a better idea, places it gently on the corner of the bed.
It is habit, she tells herself, from cleaning up after her brother in a one-room hut for years.
When night has fallen, too thick and black to ignore even in a windowless room, Katara eyes the last gift Iroh had handed her that morning. Silk again - he seemed to think he was gaining favor but she would have preferred leather over anything - the dress is long-sleeved and falls down to her calves, the neckline just barely showing her collar.
"Modest," he'd said.
"You expect me to sleep in this?" she'd replied.
Apparently he had, as all her protests got her was a laugh as he moved on to his other purchases.
Katara looks between the new dress and the one she still wears from dinner and wonders about a nation that puts so much effort into their clothing and so little into peace.
-
Not for the first time, Prince Zuko decides that he doesn't much care for water, particularly not when it seeps into the black cloth of his suit. The wet squelch of mud as he heads for the woods reminds him to snipe at the Waterbender when he returns, as the sea she identifies with does not seem to be in a listening mood.
At the edge of the trees, he slips the mask on, adjusts his broadswords, and slips between two oaks. He is even more careful than usual, stepping light and retreating at the hint of any snapping twigs. Tonight, losing the Avatar is not his only worry.
Light spills over the waves behind him, illuminating footprints in the mud.
-
One silk feels like another, Katara finds, and feels foolish for submitting to the whims of a lecherous general. She sits at the edge of the prince's bed, knees together, hands placed over them atop the sleeping dress, fingers tapping the bare skin of her shins. There is only so much to do when left behind and worrying, and the gloves on her hands prevent her from taking out her energy on the jug of water in the corner.
Idle hands are the start of mischief, her father had once said. Especially if they're Katara's, her brother had added.
Her eyes dart this way and that and she wonders what an irritable prince keeps safe in his room.
-
There is light in the distance, peeking out from between the trees and from some distance away, the Blue Spirit takes his cue. Black fingers curl around strong branches, steady feet find holds and a Firebender takes to the air to investigate.
Luckily, the trees are thick and he is able to pass from one to the next without being forced to climb down. He gets as close as he dares, still several yards from the edge of the campsite, and finds the wrong travelers. There are too many, too old, men not boys, and not a single blue arrow among them.
Dark faces, coarse braids, and weapons of bone give him pause and Zuko wonders why Water Tribesmen are so far from home.
-
The world is spinning.
Catseals are flying, pigchickens are swimming, and any minute now, a lemur is going to start Earthbending.
Katara holds Zuko's pillow in one hand, a small bag in the other, and is baffled by the sour lemon sweets she finds inside.
Hiding lemon drops in pillows is not on her list of Prince Zuko's Dastardly Deeds and as such, there is little to do but stare between pillow and candies for a few minutes. It reminds her of hiding seal jerky from Sokka, of Aang curling up with fresh fruit. And who was a prince to remind her of such things?
She starts to wonder how old he really is, alarms herself, and steals a candy to feel better.
-
The campsite is quiet and Zuko finds this strange. Peasant gatherings are often loud, usually joyous, and at the very least, companionable. Even Music Nights on his ship are a time for the men to enjoy themselves.
These men - North or South, he wonders - are somber and distracted, speaking softly when they speak at all, and blue-eyed glances focus on one spot in particular now and again, always darting away moments later.
It alarms him at first, these eyes that fall in his direction, and it takes him a moment or two to realize they are focused several yards below him, a figure seated on a rock, barely visible from the firelight. He would be dismissed entirely, in Zuko's eyes, this dark man hiding in the shadows.
However, he is holding a very familiar weapon - a boomerang that glistens, taking the light the Tribesman rejects and casting brightness on the trees.
-
She wonders if he's found them. She wonders if Sokka tried to fight. She wonders if they're still together at all, if they've split without her. She wonders if Aang will go peacefully and prays to every spirit she can think of - and a few she makes up on the spot - that he won't. She wonders what use they have for her brother, and what they'll do to him if he is of no use at all. She wonders what will happen to her, too, once her use has run dry and the prince is no longer in need of a hostage. She wonders if Admiral Zhao will still be interested, if they'll think her too much trouble to just go free.
Katara sits and frets, worrying the silk beneath her fingers and stealing lemon drops.
-
Hushed whispers turn slightly intelligible - more men are coming from the trees, dark faces, bone weapons. Their whispers focus, too, on this man beneath the Blue Spirit and one does eventually begin to move toward him, shadow forging the path. Zuko knows his expression, even with the mask over his face, but can give it no name.
His uncle wears it more than he'd like and he refuses to name it then, too.
As this new man approaches, the hidden one does not look up, running the pads of his fingers against the broad side of the weapon in his lap. His hands are wrapped in dark gloves, cut off at the fingers.
"Have they gone?" His voice is low, grave, and the new man stops where he is and nods.
Silence reigns and Zuko watches, desperate for information and black against the trees. But a hand reaches for the boomerang the other holds, the new voice equally low and soft as he speaks words that are of no use to the prince at all. "Hakota, he is just a boy. One day, he will--"
"Faipa." Half-gloved fingers close around the weapon, mindful of the edges, and in that somber voice, the Blue Spirit hears a sharpness no boomerang could match. "Not now."
The other - Faipa, Zuko notes and doesn't think on why he does it - hesitates for only a moment before turning away and returning to the group. Below him, the Tribesman - Hakota, he wonders what these names would mean to her - sets the boomerang on his lap, his face in his hands as darkness covers him again.
The Blue Spirit is off in the trees a second later, startled off by shoulders that shake.
-
She remembers being small and safe in her father's arms while Sokka raged at her. She remembers him drying her tears away when her brother stormed from the hut. She sees his smile as he pulled her into his lap and chuckled. "Don't worry, Katara," he says quietly in her mind. "Your mother was a nervous eater, too, and I always forgave her for taking my share of the jerky."
Eyeing the empty cloth bag by Zuko's pillow nervously, Katara doubts the prince will be mollified with a day of penguin sledding as an apology.
---
(A/N): Extra First Cut goodies can be found at theliismightier.
