Enjoy!
"I don't want to talk about any of it," Fire Lord Zuko says to his Uncle just as he opens the door to his reverent knocking, "And if you're here to talk to me about it, you may as well leave."
"You need a break," His Uncle replies, knowing the young man well enough to know he'll relent to talking sooner or later. He always has.
He sighs, steps aside from the door and shuts it as his Uncle strolls in, sitting down on one of the couches.
He motions towards the couch, "Come, take a seat, nephew."
Fire Lord Zuko hesitates, glancing at his desk, but then collapses onto the couch, feeling the air rush past him. He glances at his Uncle and the empty table between them, and raises an eyebrow, "What? No tea?"
His Uncle watches his young nephew for a long moment. His golden eyes are utterly fatigued and he knows it's only been two days since she was imprisoned, but he seems to be taking it harder than he should- by burying himself in piles of working and busying himself even more than usual.
His Uncle smiles slowly, "I'm having a maid bring up a specialty."
Fire Lord Zuko just settles back in the couch and leans his head against the headrest and shuts his eyes for a long moment, savouring the silence and the few moments of rest he can scrounge up. He hadn't slept soundly two nights in a row- and it had really taken a toll on him.
None of the Generals or guards dared to ask him when he would settle a date for Katara's death, but he had managed to keep the talk to a minimum by telling everyone at the council meeting he would first send in the attack on the Earth Kingdom before dealing with her and the rest of her nation.
The words still seemed unfamiliar in his mind. Katara's death. It had been passed around so mildly in the palace for the past couple of days- he was positive majority of the Fire Nation Capital had already heard. Did it matter though? He clenches his hands at the thought; he had done the same thing to Nox- why was this going to be any different?
But no matter how much he reinforced his thoughts- he knew how difficult it would be for him. And like the coward he was- he was pushing the day as far into the future as he could, hoping silently in a small conrner in his mind that he was sure no one could reach, that the day would never come.
"Can I ask you something, Zuko?" His Uncle starts tentatively and the young Fire Lord looks up at him. His Uncle rarely called him by his first name, he became acquainted with using words like, "Nephew," and "Fire Lord," and "Young man." The Fire Lord nods at him to continue.
His Uncle meets his gaze, "When you were given that scar," He starts quietly, knowing how touchy the topic of the scar is with his nephew, "Your father hadn't given you a chance to explain yourself. He hadn't given you a chance to explain why you had spoken out against his plans."
The young Fire Lord clenches his teeth as tightly as he can and tries not to relive the moment where he had felt the heat of the flames against his face, so powerful and alive as they sparked in front of his very eyes.
"At that moment- your father felt disappointed in your choice and angry at you- and he thought you had turned against him and his nation. But you had just disagreed with his plans, do you remember?" He waits for his nephew to nod reluctantly, then he continues.
"Your father hadn't listened to you when you had pleaded with him to just listen to what you had to say- instead he acted hastily and ended up making a great mistake that maybe he hadn't realized- but you did, I did- and many people of this nation did."
Fire Lord Zuko swallows, feeling rawness in his throat he wasn't accustomed to feeling.
"Do you think that mistake could have been avoided? Do you think there was some other solution than punishing you the way he chose to?"
Yes. He wills himself not to feel the pain of his very own father- wanting him banished and dead. He wills himself not to feel anything- because back then he was a pathetic boy who didn't know any better. But now he was stronger- and he would never allow his emotions to get in the way of anything again.
"Do you think there was another solution, Zuko?" His Uncle asks him once more, slightly louder and more pressing.
He forces himself to meet his Uncle's eyes as he nods, unable to speak the words that sit at the base of his throat.
"He could have spoken to you. He could have found out the truth for himself," His Uncle answers as he leans forward and places a fatherly hand on his shoulder, a hand that had always been there for him, "You are not like you're father, you are stronger, wiser and more powerful than he ever was," He says in a soft voice as he watches his nephew's eyes swim with the depth of his emotions, "You have the decision to make the right choice," He says, "And speak."
Fire Lord Zuko tries to contain his emotions as he bites down on his tongue and tries to keep his stare levelled with his Uncle, because he knows exactly what he's suggesting, but he can't bring himself to pull it all together. Maybe he is just a little bit too much like his father- maybe he is just as cruel as his father. He feels his throat closing up at the thought.
A knock sounds at the door and General Iroh gets up- opening the door and bringing in the tray with the pot of tea and two small cups, shutting it down and setting it on the table. There are no more words passed between them as they drink their tea in absolute silence.
I slip in past the corridor, the knife digs in my side, cutting past the bandages making me grit my teeth, but I continue running on the tips of my feet to create minimal noise. I keep my head lowered as I pull the hood further over my head, low enough to conceal my face but high enough to keep my vision clear.
There's heavy movement beneath by feet and the sounds of hundreds of pairs of heavy boots circle my hearing and I crouch down, counting my breaths. I'm concealed behind something, but I don't process what it is as hundreds of soldiers make their way up the stairs, their faces concealed behind armour and their weapons sheathed away from sight.
When they all pass, I slide behind them and sprint down the stairs soundlessly. I weave in and out through the hallways until I find the door I'm looking for. I press my ear against the door and listen, holding my breath until I hear nothing but ragged, heavy breaths that don't belong to me.
I take a deep breath and take a running start and slam my boot into the knob of the door. The door falls to the ground and I see my father, tied up to a pillar as the water begins spilling beneath our feet. Panic and relief flood through me and the water level seems to be rising as my steps become difficult as I pull my legs towards him.
My feet feel heavy but I continue forward and then the water is up to my calves and I quicken my steps. I reach towards him as he meets my eyes, his eyes falling down to the chains that bind him to the pillar. The water rises to my knees and my steps become denser, I pull myself forward, only a few more steps.
When I reach down to retrieve my dagger, I realize the water has risen to my waist and my fingers slip against the body of my suit, struggling to grab the dagger. I pull it out from the belt and the water is up to my stomach. I swim towards him as he struggles, the water rising just as far up his body.
There's a strong current holding me back, but I reach out and he's a hands breadth away from me and my fingers stretch until I feel the limbs in them grow stale. I'm so close. I look into his eyes and they're wide, but blue and distant like the ocean-just how I remember them. I try to take one more step, but my feet seem to be slipping backwards as the current picks up.
He inhales sharply and I whirl around and then the water turns red- thickening around my waist and then flowing out the door of my room a deep pinkish colour. I turn to father but he's sinking, right down to the ground and I see the blood is coming from him. Directly from his chest. My knees weaken and then I see a small fire lily, soaked and drenched in blood and water and suddenly I can't breathe.
My lungs are filling up with water and I gasp, but there's no oxygen left to inhale and I try to scream but the darkness envelops me like a cloud and I can't see anything. And then there's nothing at all.
I wake up gasping, filling my lungs with as much as air as I can as something wet and cool pours over my face. I cough and sputter the water everywhere as my eyes snap open. The girl from my cell stands above me, a small rusted bowl in her hand and she tips it one last time and a small stream soaks one side of my head.
I glare at her and she simply smiles innocently, handing me the bowl of water, "You were having a nightmare, so I woke you up- " She hands me the last sip of water in the bowl, "Drink it wisely, that's all you have until our next meal," She turns and looks over her shoulder, "Besides- breakfast is here and you'll need your energy."
I stare at the small sip of water in the bowl and my hand shakes slightly as my throat seems to parch even further. I glance at the bowl of thick, dark brown liquid sitting a few feet away from me which must be breakfast. The girl grabs hers, leans against the wall and sips it courteously.
I snatch the bowl and drink it- even though I can still taste blood at the base of my throat. The food tastes like nothing and its dreadfully cold, but I still drink it. I don't see why I'm trying to build up any energy for my death, but like I told myself before- I wasn't planning on taking my own life away- even by starving.
I then turn to water as my throat feels so dry- I can feel the crack as I attempt to swallow. I pick it up and drain the small amount of my water down my throat, careful not to spill even a single drop. I tip the bowl back, hoping for even one more sip, but there's nothing left.
I look up at the girl and she watches me from her mattress and she smiles as she pushes her mattress aside, sets down her bowl, and draws a thin white line beside the hundreds other with the small stone and then sets it down.
My throat scorches and dries like a barren land and I feel something hot growing in my chest. A fiery hatred burning as I watch her lean back on her mattress, still watching me, waiting or some sort of response. The fire grows- being kindled by my desperation and need and it fills every part of my body- stretching across my chest and down to my arms.
And then her eyes drop to my empty bowl of water- and she smirks.
I lunge at her, tackling her right down to the ground in an animal like ferocity that sends waves of fury rolling down my body and down my shoulders and we both slam to the ground. She stares at me- her eyes neither wide or shocked or frightened. And my anger grows. I grab her neck and lace my fingers around it, not having any sort of control on my rage.
Her face turns red and I watch in disgusting contentment as it turns slightly blue, dotting her pale cheeks colours my eyes have never seen before. I hold her down until I feel a sharp pain in my chest and I look down to see her hand clutching at my shirt from my chest and then her arm twists and through all the different colours on her face- I see a smile cross her lips.
Somehow- she shoves me away from her and slams me ever so painfully on the wall- back first. I gasp and then groan as the pain overwhelms me and I dig my nails into the ground as I watch her. She takes a deep breath and continues staring at me- her chest rising and falling with anticipation. Her expression is cool and I watch as her face returns to its original colour.
I grit my teeth as I straighten up and press my back against the wall, wondering if she'll strike me back.
She crosses her slender arms over her chest and smiles again- as if it never seems to be able to properly be wiped off her face, "Nice try," She says quietly, "But you're not nearly strong enough to even try and take me down, besides- you'll need your energy for later on today."
I cringe from her words as she mentions whatever event that supposed to be happening today again. I grit my teeth as my throat aches once more. I press my back further against the wall and something digs into the back of my thigh. I pull it out from beneath me to find the necklace.
The damn necklace.
I yell as I chuck it at the wall, only for it to fall back to the ground- utterly intact.
Katara was imprisoned. She was discovered and then she was captured and locked away.
Staying in the Capital city of the Fire Nation and listening in on talk of the town had given Jet at least that much. He paces his room angrily, unsure of what to do- or how to act. She was taken two days ago, which explained why she hadn't shown up to speak with him that night.
Two days ago, an amount of time that was downright useless to him. He had no idea when the Fire Lord would be planning on killing her; he had absolutely no way of knowing for sure. He was only sure about one thing- and that was that he had to get her out of there. His plan- his plan could wait, but having Katara rotting down in God knows what condition? His chest grows tight at the thought.
He pushes it out of his mind- trying to think clearly but he fails as his thoughts drift back to the night of the carnival when he had seen the Fire Lord dancing with her, spinning her like a top and moving with the agility of a master dueler and Fire Bender. He had stared at her so longingly that night; wouldn't he at least want to hear the truth about her- from her own mouth? But maybe that just made it worse, knowing that his most trusted elite soldier turned against him?
Jet had no doubt in his mind that the Fire Lord wouldn't hesitate to kill her now, but he had to know when. When would be her final day? And was he planning on taking down the Water Nation before or after he killed her? When would it be the definite time that he could get her out? Jet has no idea as he collapses onto his couch, shoving aside all his papers related to his plans and pulls out as many books as he can find related to the Fire Nation Palace or the prisons from the shelves lining his room.
Would the Fire Lord first attack the Earth Kingdom before killing her? Jet knew the Earth Kingdom was already out of his plan- there was no way he could stop the Fire Nation from taking them down completely, no possible way. Would he keep her down there until she began begging for death?
A shudder rolls down his spine as he imagines Katara- alone and locked away.
Whatever happened with the plan, whatever happened with the rest of the world, he had to get her out- he had to. He owed her at least that much. And when he got her out- he wouldn't force her into anything, he had seen multiple times in her eyes how desperately she just wanted to be normal and not caught up in all of this. If- when he got her out, he would let her have something she'd longed for for so long, her freedom. And he knew there was nothing more important to her then that.
With the words and thoughts in his mind, he makes a silent vow to Katara- promising her freedom. And then Jet grabs the book on the top and cracks it open.
I want to scream because what I'm feeling is worse than death itself, I'm fairly certain. It's a sudden radiating pain that makes my knees buckle as I collapse to the ground in a pile of limbs that feel as if they're being ground to dust and blown off as shards of glass to strike me all over my body.
It's a hot, sizzling pain that keeps me flat against the floor, beside the girl whose face is finally contorted from the pain, but I can barely see her as tears stream down my face, getting paralyzed from the pain and then skittering back to my eyes. I blink over and over again as my fists slam into the floor, in some desperate attempt to stop the pain.
The pain grows like the wings of a hawk as they outstretch, and it pulses through my body and I scream, over and over again until only a small rasp passes through my throat. The girl beside me seems to be in pain- but she's not nearly affected as I am. I claw at the ground as something in my body seems to bounce around, trying to claw its way through my prickling skin. I feel as if I'm splayed wide open for the entire world to see.
Red-hot pain starts at my scalp and courses through my body once more, like I was being drenched with gasoline and then set ablaze, fire sweeps over my skin. My lungs scratch and my throat scorches as I try to figure out what could possibly be happening or where I'm hurting.
I curl into a ball, trying to squeeze myself out of existence as my fingers claw at the ground once more- my mouth hanging open in silent screams. My body spasms uncontrollably as something seems to invade every cell-every atom in my body and shake it violently. There was no end to this pain, no hope that the fire set inside of me would ever spread into just ashes.
I scream again, calling out names of people that could possibly bring me out of this pain- but there's no answer. So I sit, my body exploding into pain, waiting for my soul to be sucked out of my body.
"Your highness?"
The young Fire Lord's churning mind is cut off by the General raising his voice to catch his attention during the council meeting. He keeps his face composed, not allowing there to be any display of him not paying attention, "Say that again," He commands, his voice smooth.
"The troops have all been rounded up; they're prepared to depart for the Earth Kingdom, should we send out instructions to the Captain of the Guard to initiate their departure?"
His hands tightens on the arms of the throne, and he glances at the Generals, knowing his Uncle isn't here to guide him and for once yearns for his presence, "How many soldiers are there in total?"
"Three thousand, by a brief estimate, your majesty."
He takes a short breath, trying to push all thoughts away from his mind and focus solely on his job as Fire Lord, but his Uncle's words from earlier nag his mind, but he ignores them, "Send in two thousand," He says, "We'll need plenty of soldiers for the attack on the Water Nation."
Murmurs pass like a wave through the Generals. He hadn't brought up anything related to Katara for the past three days, but he figured he would have to say something to hold them off for as long as he could possibly manage.
General Zhi nods, bowing, "Of course, shall I send out the orders then? What time should they depart?"
He clenches his jaw but nods, "Tomorrow; at the break of dawn."
He hopes- he so desperately hopes he can forget the words that pass by his lips at some point in his life.
I wrap my arms around my knees when the pain finally seems to subside, I can't help it as a whimper slips from my lips. There is no part of my body that seems to be able to move, my body seems to be utterly imbibed of its energy.
I wipe my eyes over and over again, hoping to wake up from some nightmare, but each time I open my eyes, I stare at the girl across from me.
She seems fine, collected once more as she watches me, her face is slightly red, but other than that, she seems fine, "Olfate," She says softly, "A stone that literally sucks the strength out of any bender," She leans her head against the wall, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath.
"Once every four days, it's radiated through these walls; it takes a full day- even for me- to feel some form of energy once more. By the time I start feeling strong enough to begin building up my strength- it's the fourth day once more. It's used so we're not sitting in this cell preparing to break through this door if a soldier enters."
"It's not designed to just stop us from bending- these walls have a small amount of Olfate which prevents you from bending constantly- but when used in a large amount against anyone with bending abilities- it can do what you just experienced and in worst cases- it can kill."
My voice shakes pathetically, like the rest of my body, "How-" I rasp out, "How come you're not affected as strongly as I am?"
She shrugs, "I must have built some sort of resistance to it, even if it's a small amount. I've been going through this for an entire year."
I try to blink away the tears, because the pain is so fresh in my mind, the rolling heat as if I was being flattened by an iron, and I was so close to giving up completely- it frightens me.
"Or, I'm just far stronger than you."
Is there where Nox was placed? He was an earth bender after all – and if he committed suicide- a shiver rolls down my spine- he must have been desperate. But how could he escape far enough to take down a guard? It didn't seem possible- especially from my standpoint. My eyes travel to the door that seems absolutely sealed in every possible way.
"They do this to every single bender that's brought down here?" I ask her, failing to forget me tackling her to the ground only a few hours ago.
Her eyes shine, "Only the strongest ones," She flattens her hand on the floor and rolls her fingers back, as if testing her strength. I can't even manage to hold my hand up. "If you're talking about the Earth Bender- Nox- he was put in a regular cell, he was weak and close to death anyways whne he first came here."
I try to imagine how she could possibly know so much when she's been locked in here for a year.
"He wasn't weak," I say quietly, trying to snap at her, but not having the strength to.
"What?"
"He wasn't weak," I repeat, slightly louder.
I hear her scoff as she rolls her eyes, "He was just like you- weak and stupid enough to think you could get away with going against Jane's orders."
Her words catch me, but I pretend I hear nothing as I turn away from her. If I ask, it's not like she's going to tell me, so there's no use in even attempting to speak sanely with someone like her.
"He wasn't weak- but he was desperate and unwise," I say quietly, talking mostly to myself. What pain could have been forced on him worse than Olfate? What could have been inflicted on him that he chose death over whatever it was?
I lean back and shut my eyes, once more wondering when I'll see the doors open and when I'll be dragged out to face Zuko once more. I clutch the necklace in my hand- pouring my emotions into it and at the same time glancing up at the girl who's sitting with a cool, calm expression on her face and wondering why she's been holding on for so long- and why she hasn't been killed yet if she's as dangerous as she's made out to be.
He was always one to plan, Jet- to draw everything out ahead of time- to have something to fall back on if his plan didn't work. He spent days preparing any plan- even if it was simple and could be accomplished in an hour, he was careful- and that was what had kept him safe most of his life.
But this time? There was no time- there was nothing he could do to plan out exactly how he would get Katara back from the prison she was locked in- other than go by his gut instinct. He could easily find an exact replica of a Fire Nation soldier suit from Commander Jane's ship or anywhere back where the nationless resided- but getting to the ship alone would be a three day journey- and once again he was forced to remind himself he didn't have the time.
Every moment he wasted on planning- was another moment she spent down there being tortured with God knows what. He had heard plenty of stories from the gossipers on the streets alone- some of the horrible, horrible things prisoners went through. He couldn't bring himself down to the level of imagining Katara going through any amount pain- because of him- because of this war- because of his mother.
But walking around the streets during the morning proved worthy as he caught on to more conversation and asked around himself. Yesterday, the Fire Lord had announced himself during a council meeting of some sort that he would first send in an army to take down the Earth Kingdom before dealing with the Water Nation, and more importantly, Katara.
Jet wasn't sure whether that was good news or bad, taking down the Earth Kingdom ruined his plans, but he realized slowly that his plan didn't matter if he didn't have Katara. What the Fire Lord's decision had given him was some well needed time. Time he wouldn't waste on planning out- but instead, getting her out of there as fast as possible.
He would have to somehow sneak into the palace gates without being caught and he could slip down to one of the hallways the servants used to get around the palace- it was more like a cave than anything else, but still useful for his plan-like he had seen when he had visited Katara there. He could find the laundry room which sounded unwise and senseless, but proved to be an innocent way of getting a suit- instead of taking down a soldier.
And then- he would go along with his instinct. Try to find out which cell Katara was being kept in, and spend his time trying to find of a way to get out. His only problem now was getting into the palace walls successfully without being caught by the dense security.
He would depart today at night, just before the stroke of midnight, when security wouldn't be as tight as it usually was. He would get there and make up his plan on the way, because so far? So far the plans he had come up with and spent ages planning out proved useless.
He shuts the last book on the pile and walks over to the small wooden dresser, just beside his bed, with convoluted wooden carvings. He pulls it open and stares at the stacks of weapon- lined up against the back of the drawer and begins to prepare.
I can't do much for the rest of the day; my entire body feels broken in a way that I never knew it could feel ever before. I shut my eyes and stare at the darkness my eyelids reveal, realizing I can't escape the darkness of this cell if there's such blatant darkness inside of me as well.
I've lost track of the hours-even though I haven't been counting, but my eyes feel raw from all the darkness around me and when there's a faint creaking, my head snaps up to the door- despite the potent wave of dizziness I feel after the short movement, I don't look back down.
A sliver of light peeks through a small part of the door- just a small square, barely large enough to deliver meals. Dinner.
If I had enough strength, I would lunge forwards and reach for the legs of the person sliding the food through the door, I would hold onto to their ankles until they opened the door. Or I would peer through the small compartment into the light- just to see how badly my eyes would burn- to estimate for myself how much time I've been here instead of relying on the girl's stupid chalk markings on the ground.
My body is completely depleted, I can't even bring myself to reach over and grab my dinner, let alone sit up, but my stomach growls loud enough for the girl to hear and she glances down at me once, but looks away as she reaches for her food. Her legs shake as she walks over to retrieve her own meal- but at least she's capable of moving.
My mouth grows dry once more as my eyes slide to watch her devour her share of the water. My eyes are the only part of my body that don't protest when I move them. I open my mouth and a cracking noise slips from my lips, making me realize I really must be broken. I turn my head ever so slightly, feeling so painfully close to death, and look the girl in the eye.
She cocks her head to one side and I see a faint smirk lifting one side of her lips up as she takes another sip of water- stretching out the tilt of the bowl into a time that is unbearable to me and a small rope of water leaks from the side of her mouth down to the ground, falling like a teardrop and spreading like blood- darkening the already dark stone beneath me.
I try to swallow- but my throat gets caught in the dryness and I feel as if I can't breathe, "Please-" I rasp, "I need water-"
She's quiet for a long moment, and then I hear a throaty laugh, "What makes you think I'll help you? What makes you think I'll do anything for you?"
I feel my eyelids growing heavier-sleep or death, I'm not quite sure, but at this point, I think I would be fine with either. I try to reach for the water myself, but my muscles seem to be locked in place and moving my head makes the entire cell dip in my vision.
I force my eyes open and pray to whoever will listen to the screams in my mind that wrack my brain inside out.
Water- I think- is such a strange element. It's tasteless and colourless- yet without it, nobody would exist. It's not something you yearn to drink unless it's taken away from you. You don't realize how much you need it until you actually need it. You don't realize its importance until you feel the cracking in your throat and the ultimate flaking of your body. It can either taste refreshing or it can just simply taste like water- considering it doesn't have any other adjective to describe its taste if there is one.
But water- I think- as I drown the bowl of water- has to be a miracle- a gift given to humans. My throat feels as if it's being washed clean and the dryness and aches leave as it spirals down into my body.
Jet arches his arm in the darkness to reach for the finishing touch. One large sword- solid metal, effortlessly powerful and sharpened. He straps it to his back and wipes his hands on the legs of his suit. He's dressed in all black, from head to toe. A black sweater with black slacks and a large black cloak with a hood large enough to cover his entire face if deemed necessary.
He's loaded with weapons of all sorts- considering he has no idea what type of war he's about to face. Six daggers, three in the lining of each boot. A bow and sheath full of arrows strapped onto his back along with his sword. And multiple small pocket knives line his bindings, neatly tucked into every small place he could find.
He pulls the curtains back to his room and looks out of the large balcony. It's dark and silent, even as he slides back the glass panel to step outside. The air is crisp and cool- but stimulating nonetheless and he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh oxygen and glances down at the ground. The balcony is close enough that he can easily jump off without being noticing, considering the front door is guarded by his personal guards. They didn't need to know where he was going anyways. The less people that knew about this- the safer his plan would be. Or at least- that's what he hopes.
He swings his feet over the railing and hooks his feet to the metal wedges in the railing and grips the steel rod with both hands before jumping over. The impact burns his ankles and he rolls on the ground to break the fall- luckily the ground is dry and void of any sort of moisture. It must be some sort of sick incentive of living in the Fire Nation.
The streets are empty and hushed as if they were never filled with bustling people in the mornings and afternoons. Still, Jet savours the silence the night brings him and soaks in the tranquil streets around him as he takes off in a run.
He keeps close to the small houses- shielding himself under the vegetation and trees that line the streets and keeping his knees bent and back arched at all times as he runs. His movements are deft and sprightly from his years of extreme training and his entire body is filled with a form of energy that courses through his veins- replacing the need for blood.
Running in the darkness was exhilarating to him. He wasn't sure what it was about it- maybe the cool wind rushing past his face- or his body feeling lighter than a feather through the air- or maybe it was the fact that he felt free- he felt as if he wasn't being watched for once in his life. The darkness brought a type of fortification that nothing else could ever bring to him. And he loved it.
His breaths become laboured as he reaches the palace walls in the distance, towering hundreds of feet up into the sky- being nearly impossible to climb over. He spots a tree, large and sturdy enough to be climbed and he grabs onto the nearest branch and heaves himself up.
From the top of the tree- he can make out the soldiers that guard the main entrance to the Fire Nation Palace. He doesn't have a doubt about them being heavily armoured and guarded- but he can tell from here the entrance isn't as heavily guarded as it is in the morning. This must be around the time where the soldiers are close to switching shifts- they're tired and becoming more and more inattentive as the minutes tick on.
Taking down soldiers had always been easy to Jet. He was well equipped with many skills and one of them was being able to fight. He was naturally gifted since birth and all his training had only accounted to broadening his strength in the skill.
Taking down a few soldiers was something he would have done in a heartbeat a few years ago if it gained him such easy passage into the palace. But now he was stronger- and wiser, and he knew the importance of every human life. And since then- he'd be coming up with ways to solve his problems excluding the violence. Besides- these weren't just a few soldiers. There were still multiple soldiers and it would be risky for him- no matter his strengths. He was painfully outnumbered.
Jet slumps back against the tree, wedging his spine between the sturdiest branches he can find. The branches dig into his spine and he shifts uncomfortably. He watches the entrance like a hawk, not taking his eyes off for even a moment. The palace had to receive shipments every now and then- and what better time to ship them than during the night? It made sense. He could sneak in through whatever carried the shipments- if they ever came.
I watch silently as the girl pulls aside her mattress; her arms shake slightly and seem to struggle to grip the mattress. At least she's able to stand- I think- as I make a feeble attempt to straighten out my sore legs. She pushes it further to the side and grabs a rock that she keeps in the corner of the cell, her fingers tremble as she marks down another straight line, her hand dragging across the cool ground.
That can only mean I've been here for three days now- according to her white-mark logic. I try to wrap my mind around the number of days- three. Only three? Is all I can think. I feel as if I've been here for weeks and months. The hours do seem to drag on apparently when I have nothing to do but listen to my own thoughts or the girls taunting.
I press my head against the wall and shut my eyes. I wonder what's changed outside of this cell- if anything has changed. And when would the day of my death arrive? When Nox had been revealed- we had travelled back to the palace and that had taken one day, his death was planned for the next day. So why was I still here and alive- even if it was just barely?
I squeeze my eyes shut harder as I try to imagine what could be happening outside of this cell. Did Zuko send in the attack on the Earth Kingdom? My insides slowly freeze- and how about my nation? Did he already take them down too? I bite my lip to keep a sob from escaping. My entire family could have already been killed and I was next. And my father- if it hadn't already happened that is.
My thoughts drift to Jet's plan which had undoubtedly become a failure- just like me. He couldn't get the Fire Lord on his side without me and he couldn't get my nation-if it still existed- to believe him in time for the comet's arrival. Which means along with my failure- there's also the failure of everything else- the entire world.
I sigh for the millionth time in this cell and grit my teeth because there's no other way I can take out my anger- considering I can hardly move. The failure of what I've done strikes me again and again, each blow more powerful and painful.
Jet stares levelly at the cart, moving slowly up the hill towards the palace gates. Echoes of the horses' hooves travel towards him in the silence and he holds his breath, breathing in through his nose and not exhaling.
He slides down the tree, the roughness scraping his hands and knees. He jumps off the last few feet and ignores the impact that burns in his ankles and travels up to his thighs. He takes off in a sprint. This could be his one and only passage to get into the palace today, if he missed it…he wasn't sure what would happen.
He trails closely behind the cart once he catches up with it- taking in its surrounding and analyzing his options. He doesn't need to run up to the front to know there's a driver, which means he can't easily slip into the back without being noticed. He speeds up, the cart travels slow enough for him to be able to trail behind it fairly effortlessly.
But where else could he get on? There was wooden wedging on the sides that travelled down to the bottom of the cart. If he grabbed on to the sides, he would surely be discovered. His eyes travel down to the bottom of the cart, the wooden railing must continue lining the bottom, and it must be strong enough to support his weight. It had to be to support the weight of the massive cart.
He wastes no time as he takes a large step and grabs onto the railing at the side of the cart- holding his breath- waiting to be noticed, but he's not. From where's he's standing, the driver's head doesn't even seem to glance back at him. He shrugs thankfully and tightens his grip on the sides, glancing up at the palace gates that seem to be closing in on him.
He grasps the railing and lowers himself, his body nearing to be vertical to the ground, his hair skimming the gravelly paving. His muscles ache as he pushes his feet out from under him, thrusting them forwards and under the bottom of the cart. He feels around with his feet for the railing and hooks them around the sturdiest place he can find.
His hands shake as he pushes himself under the cart, he hangers his arms around the railing and the wood digs into the space between his elbows. He grits his teeth as the wheels spin uncomfortably close to his face. He digs his nails into the wood- in hopes of holding on long enough to make it past the gates.
He ignores the burn in his arms as he feels the cart begin to move upward, which means there's probably only fifty feet left. He holds his breath, not wanting to give any indication of his whereabouts, despite how clueless the driver seems to be.
He feels a stone drop in his chest as he think about Katara and the pain she could be in. From the book he had flipped through, the Fire Nation prison cells were cruel, described by that one word and one word various techniques and practices to get the prisoners to bend their back and oblige to their orders. He couldn't imagine what type of cell Katara was being kept in. She was an assassin, but above that, she was vicious. She was dangerous.
Even before he had met her face to face, he had always listened into conversations Commander Jane had with her Advisors, speaking about her. She could take down entire armies on her own- she was the most powerful warrior in her entire nation, she had wiped down an entire Fire Nation armada on her own- and multiple times at that. He had listened to her tales and stories as if she was a fictional character that he would never have the privilege of meeting, and he had always been awed of her accomplishments, knowing she was stronger than anyone he would ever come to knew.
She was impulsive and rebellious, and that- he thought tenderly- must have dug her deeper into trouble than she was already in.
The cart comes to a jerked halt which can only mean they must have neared the gates. He can hear faint murmuring and then he hears a ripping noise as the tarp from the cart is pulled aside. He feels his insides freeze. They were checking the carts. He moves up the railing as fast as he can, as soundlessly as he can, gritting his teeth from the pain as he nears the back edge of the cart, holding his breath.
It takes him a split second to hear the tarp be thrown down and then he jumps, feeling his stomach drop in midair for a moment, before latching on to the hooks at the back of the cart. He climbs out from the bottom and slips into the cart, pulling back the tarp silently. He peeks through just in time to see the guard, holding a torch, lowering himself to glance under the cart. His heart pounds against his chest and he doesn't dare take a breath until the cart starts again with a slow jolt.
He breathes a heavy sigh of relief as he presses his back against the small space he can find inside the cart. It's filled with large wooden crates, closed to the rim and heavy enough that he can't push them with just his arms. He gets up on his knees and skims the top of the crates with his fingers, the wood getting caught on the skin on the tips of his fingers.
He digs his fingers into his boot and pulls out a dagger. He rams it under the lid of the closest crates and pushes down hard on the handle. The lid doesn't budge. He pushes down on it with the base of his arm as he tries to lift the lid with his other fingers. It begins to shift, a small crackling noise that makes him push down harder. Then there's a loud noise that snaps in the silence and layers of sawdust and powder sprays on his face and he coughs, trying not to make any noise. His throat closes up and he leans back, inhaling deeply through his nose before pulling off the lid.
Weapons. Hundreds of weapons, small and large, of all sorts of shapes and sizes filling the crate to the top, piling up like a stash of jewels. He stares at the weapons, at all the newly sharpened swords, the sheathed knives and the canons, stashed up in the crate, carefully packaged and wrapped. His eyebrows lower and he shifts to the next crate and tears it open with his dagger, stepping back just in time for the sawdust explosion. It's filled with just as many weapons. He stares at them in confusion.
The Fire Nation had the highest quality weapons- and more than any other nation had- except for the Nationless- of course. Why would they need so many more weapons? The palace had rooms and stash holds solely for weapons, so what was all this for? And why was it being delivered during the night?
He pulls back the tarp to see they've well passed the gates and are now nearing a large stable of some sort. He takes a deep breath and begins lowering himself back down under the cart after shoving back the lids of the crates. Someone would notice the opening, but he would be well gone by then. He slips the dagger back into his boot and hooks his arms back around the railing, awaiting the slowing of the cart.
When the cart comes to a stop, he holds his breath once more as chattering surrounds him. Then there's a heavy jerk that almost makes his arms slip, but he digs his nails into the wood and pulls himself right back up just in time. He hears a loud commanding voice, but can't make out his words. There's heavy footsteps, not caring to be quiet, as they pull back the tarp. The same commanding voice yells out orders and he strains to catch on to the conversation.
"Weaponry room-"
"Couldn't-how-I heard you!"
"Right now!"
"What is this-all-for?"
He pulls himself further up and leans out to hear as the crates begin to be taken out of the cart.
"Happy now?" He hears someone yell as there's a heavy noise which can only means someone dropped the cart, spilling the contents of the open crate.
"Why was it open?" Someone else growls and then he hears a yell from the commanding voice.
"Put the lid back on- General finds out- it's coming out of your damn pay!"
There's grumbling and he can make out a pair of hands as they scramble for all the spilled weapons. A face comes awfully close to the bottom of the cart and he can make out a string of curse words and then words that Jet clings onto.
"The army better be making good use of these- I expect the downfall of two Kingdoms by tomorrow considering all these weapons."
The words circle in his mind. These must have all been shipped in to aid in the attack on the Earth Kingdom- and God above- the Water Nation. He swallows hard and tightens his grip on the railing as more workers near the cart to empty out the crates. If these are being brought in now- during the night- they must be needed soon.
They must be needed in the morning.
The Fire Lord lies awake in his bed- once again for what seems like the millionth night in a row. His entire body aches with a pain he's not accustomed to as he turns under his sheets, facing the door that leads to his balcony. He hadn't bothered pulling the curtains closed; the garden is clearly visible from where he lies. The thousands of fire lily's glow in the darkness of the night, illuminating the night sky as well as the narrow strip of land they subside in.
She had been here one night- Katara. He had watched her as she sat amongst the fire lily's for what seemed like ages. From where he lied, it didn't seem like she was doing much, but when he had stood up and walked out onto his balcony, he realized she was staring at a single fire lily that grew amongst white planted blossoms, all on its own. He had watched her as she had gently caressed the petals of the flower, the stem and then stepped away from it- as if scared of breaking it to pieces just by her touch.
That was when he had looked away, watching her like that had felt as if he was evading her privacy, he had pulled his curtains and climbed back into bed. Was that when Liu had caught her water bending? The moment he had looked away?
He sighs and turns away from the balcony, but doesn't seem to gain any progress in shifting his thoughts as he glances at the spine of the book that sits on his nightstand. Heights of Gwyneth. He had finished it the day after she was imprisoned. He didn't know why he even bothered to continue reading it- but he hadn't taken a break until he flipped to the back cover.
His thoughts about the book didn't even matter, he had realized as he had shut the book, considering he had no one to share them with.
He chides himself for the millionth time for thinking about her in such a careless way. There was a part of him that was so furious with her, but the fury was overtaken and overpowered by the disappointment he felt. He was an idiot for trusting her, for thinking he could actually be a normal person for a few days and fantasize a life- exactly like she must have been doing the night of the carnival.
The stupid carnival he never should have gone to.
But why? Why would she ever want him dead? He allows the questions to float in his mind like this- in the darkness where no one would be able to hear them. He wasn't blind nor was he deaf- he knew how many enemies he had, even before he was crowned- he had always had more enemies had supporters. But Katara? Hadn't she gotten to know him well enough to know he wasn't at all how the world showed him to be?
He tries to imagine where she was placed. He had pulled himself so far away from the topic of her that he hadn't even cared to ask which cell she was placed in- what condition she was being kept in. But why should he care? She was going to be killed anyways, why did her state before her death matter?
His thoughts hurt him and he pushes them away. His Uncle's words churn over and over in his mind. He knows he should speak to her- to ask her the question that's been haunting him for days. Why? What had caused her to hate him so much that she wanted his demise? And why had she acted- acted like something was different between them?
He clenches his fists. It was no use, he was searching for a reason not to kill her- but that wasn't his job. He shouldn't be searching for anything with her, he should be deciding on a day to have her death that planned nicely around his tight schedule. He should be thinking about the fact that he was sending out two thousand of his very best soldiers when the sun rose to take down the Earth Kingdom- just as the Air Nomades were all wiped out even before he was brought into this world.
Maybe that's how his bloodline worked. Every Fire Lord took down one nation until only they were left. But he knew that wasn't true. Here he was- planning on taking down the only two nations left, surpassing the record of any other Fire Lord.
A strangled laugh forms in his throat.
But her screams echo otherwise in his mind. She had screamed the two words he dreaded to hear. The Nationless. The two words he never wanted to hear again in his entire life. The two words that had haunted him- tracking his every single step down to a place in his mind where he closed it up and locked it away tightly to never revisit it again until she had spoken them. Until she had screamed them so desperately.
Those two words.
What did you guys think?
There's starting to be a lot more perspective changes and i hope that's not confusing, but it's necessary to build up the climax.
What do you think will happen next? How do you think Jet's going to get Katara out of the prison? Do you think Zuko will find out before he thinks of how to get her out? Please tell me what you thought and leave a review!
Thanks for reading!