Wow, you guys. The number reviews I got for the last chapter were equal to the number I got for the rest of this fic. I'm really, really happy to see that people are actually reading and enjoying this.
There's more gore in this chapter, so you might want to skip the fight with Hama if that bothers you. And this chapter has lots of Zuko, so I hope you enjoy!
Katara's blood was singing in excitement. Despite her pity for Tyro, she could not wait to see another Waterbender in action. And this was no ordinary Waterbender; this was her master. In this prison, Hama was her terrible but benevolent god, second only to Tui and La. Open worship of any gods or spirits not of the Fire Nation was stopped quickly and brutally by the more devout (or simply bloodthirsty) guards, but even they bowed to the Puppetmaster.
She met the amber eyes of the Fire Nation's princess head on, reminded of a clean, pretty, scornful little girl in Tsubasa, over two years ago.
Was she not the daughter of Hakoda, chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Her ataa had won his position through his strength, and not his blood; emaa-emaa hadn't even been a native Southerner, and he'd still been chosen by the elders. Her father, no matter the difference between their homelands, no matter that he wasn't a bender, was the Fire Lord's superior.
Katara could respect the Dragon of the West, a general that even the warriors of her tribe admired; she could not respect a snake in the grass like the current Fire Lord.
"Watch carefully, your highnesses. Witness what my people are capable of."
The girl's smirk looked almost feral, but her eyes were bright and almost dancing with a strange sort of pleasure. Even the boy had abandoned his annoyed slouch to stare at her, most likely astonished by her sheer foolhardiness.
"Shut up, you little bitch," her one-eyed minder hissed, terrified. "You dare disrespect the princess like this?!" Through her mix of anxiety and defiance, Katara noted that everyone deferred to the younger, female sibling, rather than the heir apparent. Her attention was quickly snatched when the guard's fists ignited. "I'll punish the Water Tribe scum, your Highness, so please forgive me for allowing — "
"Did I ever say you could punish her?" the girl asked silkily, suddenly much less amused. For a Firebender, her voice could be remarkably cold.
The guard's flames fizzled out of existence. "N-no, Highness, I . . . please forgive my impertinence."
"You know, I don't think I will," the princess said, tapping her chin in mock thought. "I'll have you lashed, I think. That'll teach you not to interrupt me when I'm having a conversation."
The guard's wide-eyed look might have inspired guilt, or at least pity, but she had made an example of Bao for the newest batch of Fire Nation convicts a couple of weeks ago. And she had it easier than any of them, anyway; the prison guards liked to set their whips alight. Instead, Katara just waved through her shackles as she was taken away by one of the imperial bodyguards, even though she knew she'd pay for it later.
"Well, she was right about you being impertinent," the Fire Nation princess said, calling Katara's attention back to herself. "But, unlike her, you're actually interesting."
Katara just smiled, deciding not to push her luck.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Katara, daughter of Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe," she said proudly.
The boy's eyes widened. "And they put you here?!"
His younger sister laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "Who knew that the last Southern Waterbender was also their princess? Poor political move, on our part, not to use you."
Katara's stomach abruptly knotted. She had always just assumed that her captors knew of her parentage, and simply didn't care. Now she wasn't so sure.
One reason that her father was such a respected chief was that he lived like any other member of the tribe; their igloo, their clothes, and even their social status in the village were identical to any other family's. It was only in battle and in meetings with his men and the elders that his position was made apparent. Most of the day to day minutiae of keeping the village running was left to the elders and the women, anyway. Katara and Sokka had been raised like the rest of their peers, because it was impractical to act any different when the elders would choose another chieftain once her father became an elder himself. (The thought that he might fall in battle simply never crossed her mind.)
How could the monster have known? She looked and acted like any other little girl in the tribe, and he hadn't known who her father was. He only spoke to Kya for a few minutes before burning her, and hadn't even bothered to look at Sokka. Why would he care about the parentage of one child, even if that child was the last Waterbender?
Thankfully, the princess had not noticed her telling silence. However, the prince had, staring at her silently with a suspicious expression. She turned away as much as she was able, unwilling to meet his molten gold gaze.
Thankfully, a roar went up from the crowd, and Katara leaned forward, worries pushed to the side for the moment. Hama had ordered her to watch the techniques she used in the arena and copy them in her own battles. She would not disrespect her master by dwelling on her missteps instead of improving herself.
Tyro was far enough below that she couldn't see him clearly, but she was sure that he was terrified, even as he sent a volley of boulders at the still figure across the arena. No one would willingly face the Puppetmaster; they all had to be forced into it. Hama had told her that challenge matches were a lot more commonplace back when she wasn't yet champion, and the benefits still outweighed the risks.
Her view of her master's face was blocked by a thick iron bar, but her body language looked completely at ease, bringing up a thick orb of water that caught the rocks inside it, carried them around her in a familiar motion ("Redirection," Katara breathed), and sent them whistling back. Tyro, helpless while the rocks were in the air, could only pull more around to shield him.
They collided into his wall with a tremendous crack, spraying shards of rock and reducing a good portion of the Earthbender's stockpile to rubble. He sent smaller rock shards next, like a rain of razor-sharp hail, but these were easily caught by a questing tentacle of water, which bent with the momentum of the assault and then, when Hama threw her arms out, slingshotted their contents forward.
Katara soon realized that the arena had Tyro at a major disadvantage. Bao had told her that Earthbenders typically raised what they needed from the earth, so fighting with boulders instead of the ground itself would be a major adjustment. Tyro had had years to adapt, but it still wasn't ideal for his bending form.
Conversely, Waterbenders could fight as long as they had fluid, even if it was much easier to use the sea. Even if Hama hadn't been so powerful, she still had the upper hand.
"This is rather anticlimactic. She hasn't even attacked him yet," the girl groused, unimpressed by her master's skill.
Katara bristled. "She's gauging him," she declared. "Never expend energy in an attack when you can get an opponent to do most of it for you."
"Typical Waterbending nonsense," she dismissed, but she watched the battle more calculatingly after that. Katara supposed that, even if she thought it was inferior, she wanted to learn how to counter it. And here she was, sharing one of her master's major tenets!
She'd always been prone to emotional outbursts. She decided to quash that part of herself as best she could. It was going to get her killed. It was going to get other people killed, too, if she didn't learn to keep her mouth shut.
Oh, La, why did she tell them who her father was?!
Down below, Tyro had apparently caught on to the fact that any of his attacks could be used against him, and was attempting a different tactic. He left himself completely open for a moment by raising his entire boulder pile in the air, then sent it crashing down to the ground, causing the dust of pulverised rock to rise and drastically decrease visibility, although from their vantage point in the royal box the combatants were still easy to make out.
It was a stupid move, considering that Hama was old and her eyesight was already going. He'd only made things harder on himself, whereas Hama had had years of experience with fighting with diminished vision.
"Why didn't she attack him?!" the prince demanded. "He was wide open!"
Katara bit her tongue, but surprisingly, the princess answered for her.
"Oh, don't be an idiot, Zuzu," she sniffed, eyes riveted on the Puppetmaster. "She's playing with him."
Katara stilled. She had assumed that her master was just getting a read on her opponent's style, redirecting, not attacking. She was skilled enough to get away with it, whereas Katara had to attack whenever possible. She could barely redirect attacks to somewhere harmless, let alone cannibalize the movement and use it to augment her own. She assumed that her master was just being kind, letting him live longer until angry guards forced her hand, but . . .
She looked at her master, and caught a flash of teeth through the dust.
Was Hama enjoying this?
Anyway, the princess certainly was. Even the prince, though lapsed into silence, looked enthralled by the fight.
They're awful, Katara decided. I'd like to see them fight to the death, see how much they like it then.
As soon as the dust settled, Hama struck. She froze her water into a round blade and wheeled it through the air, cleanly cutting through Tyro's thick forearm. Katara heard more than saw it thud into the sand, her vision going hazy.
The arena went wild around her, but even the deafening cheers didn't muffle Tyro's howl.
Hama didn't capitalize on Tyro's distraction. She pulled her water back to thinly coat her arms and waited for his next move.
She really is toying with him, she realized faintly. At least Hama wasn't enjoying herself anymore. Her face was blank and cold. Katara couldn't help but wonder if the Puppetmaster would still smile if her opponent had been a Firebender.
Tyro shifted into a shaky bending stance, his stump trailing drops of blood that splattered like rain into the sand. He threw another boulder, only for Hama to spryly evade like a woman half her age and slice off the rest of his forearm.
Katara exhaled a dry sob and looked away, only to meet the sickened face of the Fire Prince. Their eyes locked, her own filling with tears that soon wet her cheeks and dripped from her trembling chin. She did not want to cry in front of this boy, and from the panicked, uncomfortable look on his face he didn't want her to, either, but it was exactly that that kept her from turning away. Better that he see her than his sister, who was practically bent over the wall of their box to get a better look.
The fight continued for what felt like hours, but was likely only a few more minutes, punctuated by cheers from the audience and Tyro's steadily weakening yells and the sound of falling rocks. Katara kept her stare on the boy's face until the Earthbender at last fell silent.
Tyro lay in the middle of a pool of red, blood soaking slowly into the ground even as more gushed from either side of his torso. Lumps of flesh that had once been his arms were scattered around the arena.
Hama made no attempt to fight as a dozen prison guards surrounded her and two more wrestled her arms behind her back. She merely looked up at the royal box, where her protegee stood trembling in her cage, and contemptuously spat on the ground.
The girl laughed, delighted. "What a brazen old hag! Well, I suppose she's earned the right." She clapped her hands and spun around, eyes catching on Katara. "Oh, you're crying? What a bleeding heart. You obviously won't last long. Anyway, Zuko, what did you think of the fight?"
" . . . it was interesting. But drawing it out was just cru — unnecessary."
The Fire Princess rolled her eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Uncle. C'mon, let's go home." She spared Katara an uninterested glance. "I expect we won't be seeing you again, unless father has a use for you. Try not to die until then." She strode out of the box, half of the bodyguards shadowing her. The people in the stands bowed like grass in the wind as she passed.
The boy — Zuko — hesitated by the cage, mouth open like he wanted to say something, but decided against it and followed after his sister.
That night, Zuko found himself thinking of the Waterbending girl. She had plagued his thoughts on and off for hours. He couldn't help but pity her, but Ozai had often insulted him for being too softhearted. His continued concern for her was a sign of weakness, one that must be ruthlessly quashed if he ever hoped to become worthy of the throne.
He turned his thoughts to her lineage. It bothered him that she had been treated like any other prisoner — like a peasant. She was important, and could have been used as leverage against the Southern Water Tribe, which had been a thorn in the Fire Nation's side for decades.
He stopped in front of his father's study, his uncle halting once he realized that Zuko was no longer at his side. It was clear that the room was occupied, due to the guards stationed by the doors.
"Is something wrong, nephew?" Iroh asked curiously. "You still owe me a game of Pai Sho."
"I . . . I have something that I wish to ask my father."
Iroh smiled amicably. "I hope that you will permit me to accompany you. I have not had the chance to speak with my brother in quite some time."
Zuko nodded hesitantly. Ozai was more likely to grant his request for an audience if Iroh was with him, though he had made his feelings about him clear after the siege of Ba Sing Se. Even as the Fire Lord, he was bound by filial piety to show respect to his elder brother, even if he did not feel it.
"Tell my honored father that I request a brief audience with him," Zuko ordered, addressing one of the masked guards, who bowed before slipping inside.
Even with his uncle's reassuring presence at his right, it was difficult not to fidget as he waited for the Fire Lord's response. Iroh began to hum an unfamiliar tune, shattering the thick silence of the hallway. It was very difficult not to snap at him.
The guard soon returned, and wordlessly held open the door for them. Zuko tried to hide his pleased grin and marched inwards, his uncle following at a more relaxed pace.
The Fire Lord was seated behind his elaborate desk, several scrolls and maps spread out before him, but he still managed to look like he was on his throne. Zuko's spine stiffened as he unconsciously attempted to improve his already perfect posture.
"Brother. What is the purpose of this visit?" he said, ignoring his son completely. Zuko did his best not to let his disappointment show on his face, but when his father's eyes narrowed further, he knew he had failed.
"It is not I who asked to see you, but Prince Zuko," Iroh said mildly.
Ozai's lips thinned in annoyance, and he turned his gaze to him. "Well?"
"I merely wished to ask why the Waterbender is being treated like the rest."
"Is there a reason she shouldn't be?" Ozai asked, tone sharp with impatience.
"She is the daughter of Chief Hakoda. I merely wondered why we haven't used her as leverage."
Ozai straightened. "Where did you learn this?"
"She told us herself," Zuko answered, taken aback by his sudden intensity. "She was brought to the stands to observe today's freedom duel, and said so when Azula asked for her name."
"You are absolutely certain that this is what she said?" his father pressed.
"Yes. Azula and our bodyguards were there, as well, if you wish for confirmation."
Ozai abruptly rose from his seat. "I must speak with a courier. You have done well in bringing this to my attention, Zuko. You are dismissed."
Zuko departed the study with a bounce in his step, smiling broadly. His father had praised him! For as long as he could remember, that had been reserved solely for Azula.
"Thank you, Uncle," he said jovially. "Now let's go play Pai Sho."
Iroh gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I am terribly sorry, nephew, but I am a bit more tired than I realized. Perhaps tomorrow?"
"Ah . . . yes, of course," Zuko said, surprised. It was very unlike Iroh to forgo a game of Pai Sho.
"Good night, then."
"Good night," he echoed, and watched his uncle leave. He was abruptly reminded of why this situation might be upsetting to Iroh; he had lost a child, too, and the use of another against their father would not sit well with him.
This is why Uncle wasn't fit for the throne. He's too soft-hearted, and that makes him weak, Zuko reminded himself, but it did nothing to ameliorate the guilt in his chest.
Sorry it's so short, but a lot happened in this chapter. I'm eager to see what you guys think. Don't worry, though; Katara isn't escaping the arena any time soon. There's gonna be plenty more morally dubious lessons from Hama, and Katara will blossom into the badass that she was in the show, without anything to limit her.
I always felt like she was sort of held back because she had to be everyone's mom, even her love interest's. (Ew.) Oedipal complexes don't make for compelling romance, Bryke. If she ever did anything Aang disapproved of or explored her dark side, then everyone but Zuko got pissy with her, even though Aang LITERALLY KILLED PEOPLE. (Season 1 finale, anyone?) And then, in Korra, her main legacy was "the Avatar's wife." Homegirl is way more than just that! There are a lot of great fics exploring those problems in canon, already, but this fic is gonna be about her delicious potential to be absolutely terrifying.