God, I am so, so sorry for the lateness. And also, nothing really big happens in this chapter. No Zuko, either, but he'll return next time, and I'm preeeeetty sure that the chapter after next will jump start the main plot.
Also: Azula! Yay! She is sooooo fun to write, and I love exploring the dichotomy between her and Katara. They're the perfect foils for each other, and I really wish they could've interacted more in canon. I could write whole essays about them because they're so interesting asdfghjkl;
When Hakoda heard that a Fire Nation ship had requested parley, he didn't know what to think. He suspected a trap, but denying them would only provoke an attack, if that's what they were planning. He preferred to face them on open waters, with his warriors at his back, far away from his son and his village.
The ships of the Southern Raiders were just as ugly as he remembered. The Fire Nation had no respect for the art of shipbuilding, sacrificing workmanship and maneuverability for raw power and size. It was a flaw that he and his men had exploited many times in the past, but no matter how convenient, they were still eyesores.
He and several of his most intimidating warriors sailed out on canoes to meet their spokesmen in the stretch of no-man's-water between the fleets. He noted with satisfaction that the motorboats the Fire Nation favored struggled against the currents, nearly capsizing at least twice, while their canoes slid cleanly in and out of them, using them to go where they wished with minimal effort.
Their commander was new — not the old man who murdered his wife and likely sent his daughter to her death, but a younger one with a crooked nose and yellow eyes. Hakoda was careful not to let his rage show on his face. It was just as well, really; if he had seen Yon Rha, he wouldn't trust himself to keep the truce, and his men would not have made an effort to stop him. They had all lost friends and homes to the raiders, though none of them had experienced a loss like Hakoda's since the last trained bender was taken decades ago.
"Chief Hakoda," the commander greeted. "We come here today to ask for your unconditional surrender."
Hakoda barked out a laugh that didn't sound much like a laugh at all. Beside him, Bato, his second, and Arnaq, a young but accomplished fighter, bristled at the blatant disregard of the Southern Water Tribe's might. "You must be joking."
The new commander and his aides were unmoved. Hakoda noted, with some surprise, that one of them was a woman. His tribe might be less conservative than their sister in the north, but sending women to war was still unheard of. Even when it came to defending the village, only benders were even considered capable of fighting. He was surprised that the girl's family had allowed her to enlist.
"Perhaps this will change your mind," the commander said, a sharp smile tugging at his lips. He took a silk envelope and a scroll from his male aide, and threw them across the water between them. Arnaq snatched them from the air with barely a movement from the canoe they sat in. He handed them to Hakoda, whose stomach clenched at the sight of the Fire Lord's seal.
"What is this?" he muttered warily, half to himself.
"An update on your daughter's well being."
Hakoda's head snapped up, even as Bato and Arnaq's hands went to their weapons. "What did you say?" he whispered, only just keeping his voice from trembling.
"The little Waterbender we took two years ago. Your daughter. We only recently found out, but she was very brave to keep quiet for so long. Not that bravery is a virtue, when the Fire Lord wants answers."
"What did you do to her?!" Hakoda growled, rising to his feet and rocking the canoe. Bato tried to put a hand on his arm, but he shook him off.
"Nothing she didn't survive, surprisingly enough," the commander said, watching him closely with a satisfied smirk. "Though I'm surprised you care at all, considering that you didn't even try to get her back."
Hakoda grit his teeth, ignoring the familiar stab of guilt. "If you hurt her, I swear to the spirits I'll—"
"We already have, but we guarantee that she'll live if you surrender now."
"Hakoda, we have no way of knowing if they're telling the truth," Bato said urgently.
"We are. I know you're unfamiliar with the concept of honor, but be assured of ours, if not your own," the commander cut in. Hakoda was distantly aware that some of his men had gathered along one side of his ship, drawn by the sound of his enraged voice echoing across the water. "Open the package."
With trembling fingers, Hakoda undid the clasp on the face of the red silk envelope, and turned it over. A long, slender shape fell to the floor of the canoe, and for a second he thought it was a rope. But when he picked it up, felt its softness against his fingers, he realized that it was a braid, done in a traditional Southern Water Tribe style, with a roll of hair near the top. The shorn end was caked in dry, flaking blood, and the tail was blackened and burnt.
"The scroll has more detailed information on what will happen to her and what our terms are, written by the Fire Lord himself. You must be honored."
"I. . ." Hakoda began, rasping, and then continued in a stronger tone, "I will discuss this with the council. We will tell you our decision at this time tomorrow."
The commander looked less than pleased, but acquiesced. As Bato and Arnaq guided the canoe back to the ship, Hakoda sank back and ran his daughter's braid through his fingers, over and over and over again.
The conference in the main lodge was long and passionate. His men and the representatives from the satellite villages refused to surrender under any circumstances, whereas more than half of the elders insisted that the safety of the last Southern Waterbender took precedence. Neither side ever referred to Katara by name.
Hakoda sat at one end of the room, with his mother by his side. They did not address the crowd, but waited silently for a verdict.
"The girl is likely the last Waterbender our tribe will produce," asserted one elder, "Her birth was a miracle, and to throw her away, the last chance our tribe will have to create a new generation of Southern benders, would anger the spirits."
"Not any more than giving up our way of life and surrendering to the Fire Nation would!" Arnaq said, and the warriors, save Bato, roared in agreement.
"If we could get her back, she would be an enormous military asset."
"An untrained child? And a woman, at that? We have no way of teaching her anything, and even if we married her off it would take years before her sons were battle-ready—"
"She is a child," Kanna snapped, and it was a mark of how respected she was that an elderly Northern woman could make the whole lodge go silent. "She will not marry, and she will not fight. Not for a few years yet."
"That only goes to show that she can't help our tribe," Arnaq said, glancing at Hakoda apologetically. "Waterbender or not, our focus should be on the wellbeing of our people." No one pointed out that Katara was included in that number.
Hakoda stood, and every eye came to rest on him. "Then there is only one answer we can give them." He strode to the flap, then paused, and addressed his men. "We sail to meet them at sunrise. Every one of you should be prepared for battle."
When he left, none followed.
Hakoda, blinded by grief, did not notice the small figure hunched outside the lodge, one ear pressed to the taut sealskin of the wall. It sat there for a long moment, frozen, the battle plans being made inside falling on deaf ears. It drew itself up, stumbling over its feet, numb from cold and shock, and broke into a run.
Sokka burst into his dark, empty family igloo. Thankfully, his father was still out, and so did not notice his absence. He threw himself onto the soft pile of furs that he had last shared with his sister over two years ago, and let himself cry, his horror and confusion and betrayal making itself known with a vengeance. He hadn't cried since his mother had died, and it hurt.
But the feeling that kept his tears coming, long after his ataa and emaa-emaa had returned and gone to sleep without knowing that he was still awake, was his guilty, overwhelming sense of relief.
Barely three months after Hakoda's refusal to surrender and the resulting skirmish with the Raiders, which had been an overwhelming victory due to the warriors' guerilla tactics and superior naval capabilities, the men of the tribe set sail for the southern shores of the Earth Kingdom, where they would coordinate with resistance fighters and disrupt Fire Nation supply lines and warships. They would not return home for several years.
Hakoda left his twelve year old son to defend a village full of elders and children with nothing but a club, a boomerang, and a promise. Sokka, for three years, lay awake beside his grandmother, fearful but relieved that there was still hope for the future. He tried not to think of his little sister, tried to reassure himself that she was with their aana now, that she forgave him, but his dreams were still haunted by the smell of burnt flesh.
Katara had seen all sorts of jails, in the two years since she had been captured, but the one in the bowels of the palace was inarguably the worst. It was used mainly to hold political prisoners with valuable intel, and so was intentionally made as unpleasant a place to stay as possible. Her cell was cramped and filthy, with a pile of moldy straw in one corner serving as her bed. The guards were less actively sadistic than the ones she was used to, but she supposed that they more than sated their bloodlust with all the interrogations they performed, day in, day out.
She supposed that she was lucky that they'd already gotten what they wanted from her, but the near-constant screams, the ubiquitous scent of blood, sweat, urine, and feces, and the sight of limp bodies dragged through the hallways were more than enough to drive her near-insane. Katara thought that hell must be something very similar to this.
Her limbs were permanently chained together, so she couldn't do much more than crawl. They fed her once a day, and allowed her to relieve herself in a chamber pot after she had eaten. She was pathetically grateful that they didn't make her stay in her in her own filth, like they did with some of the prisoners who were more difficult to break.
Katara soon found herself longing for the Freedom Duels. She had once thought they were the most reprehensible things imaginable, but the Fire Nation never ceased to surprise her with the sheer inventiveness of their cruelty. At least there they had a vested interest in keeping her in fighting shape, but here, as long as she didn't die, they could do anything they liked.
When she realized that she had likely doomed her father to the same fate, she wept and screamed until one of the interrogators threatened to give her something else to cry about.
Several days later — she wasn't sure of just how many — an imperial guard came for her. She could tell that they weren't an interrogator because there weren't any bloodstains on their armor or their skull mask. They came in and hauled her up without a word, dragging her out of her cell and up through the halls because her legs were bound to keep her from walking.
Katara's unease grew the further they ascended, the sunlight making her squint even as she struggled to keep mostly upright. The chains soon became hot against her bare arms and she went limp, unwilling to risk burns that she wouldn't be able to heal.
Even though they were going through passages and courtyards populated solely by servants, who whispered and pointed as she was dragged past, she could tell that her surroundings were growing steadily more opulent. What was going on? Was the Fire Lord planning on publicly executing her?! Did Fire Nation nobles have nothing better to do than to watch people die violently?!
The next courtyard they entered was even more beautiful than the one she had seen when she first arrived at the palace, but her panic gave her little ability to appreciate it. She began to wriggle against her bonds once more, gritting her teeth against the hiss of heated metal where the guard's hand touched her chains.
Katara's futile rebellion came too late, however, and she was unceremoniously dropped like a stack of driftwood.
"The Waterbender, Princess," the soldier droned, impressively toneless considering the annoyance evident in their less than gentle handling.
"Excellent," came an unfortunately familiar voice. "You may leave."
The guard shifted reluctantly, and ventured, "Princess, we aren't supposed to leave her unguarded—"
"She's practically hogtied, she isn't going anywhere," Azula sniffed, and insouciantly stepped over Katara, who was attempting to roll her front out of the dirt (with limited success). "Unless you're doubting my ability to keep a restrained, untrained little Waterbending savage from harming me?"
"N-no, Princess, of course not," the guard said. They bowed low and beat a hasty retreat. Katara wasn't naive enough or lucky enough to believe that the courtyard wasn't surrounded by soldiers, but it was nice to have them out of sight. It was the first time since she was eight that there wasn't one within a few yards of her.
Azula, after snickering at her ineffectual writhing for a moment, dug a pointed boot into her ribs and flipped her onto her back. "Enjoying your stay in the palace so far?"
Katara glared icicles up at her pretty, smirking face, and resolutely kept her mouth shut.
"So this is the Water Tribe princess? She's so pretty!" a bubbly voice gushed, and a brightly smiling girl popped into view. "Not as pretty as you, Azula, but still."
"She smells," another girl opined, in bored monotone. "Do Waterbenders not wash?"
Katara sat up, gritting her teeth at the way her weight and the chains were crushing her hands, and growled, "Do Firebenders not teach their children manners?"
Azula laughed, and the third girl sighed gloomily.
"Don't mind her, Mai, she likes to pretend to be brave. But you're right, she is rather filthy." Another smirk split her face. "I wonder… can Waterbenders swim in chains?"
Katara stiffened, but opened her big fat mouth, anyway. "Can Firebenders learn to shut up?"
Azula sneered, abruptly less amused. "Mai, Ty Lee, throw her in the pond. Maybe we'll learn something."
"I have to touch her?" Mai asked, sounding disgusted.
"C'mon, Mai, it'll be funny!" Ty Lee chirped, grabbed her under her armpits, and lifted her clear off the ground. Katara flinched, surprised. Useless, pampered nobleman's spawn she is not.
Mai lifted her feet with considerably less enthusiasm, and they began carrying her to somewhere she couldn't see, no matter how much she twisted. Ty Lee's hands were like iron, so she couldn't dislodge her grip, but Katara managed to kick Mai in the stomach. She stopped fighting once the knives came out.
Panic was twisting in her gut once again. She had apparently avoided execution, but for what? She was going to drown at the whim of a couple Fire Nation leeches. Hama would be so embarrassed if she ever found out. She forced herself to breathe. She was the last Southern Waterbender, and water was her element. She'd be fine.
Ty Lee stopped and began to swing her, Mai following suit at her insistence, and Katara closed her eyes, trying to reach out and feel the tug of the water, trying to stay calm. It still didn't stifle her shriek once she was tossed into the air, weightless for all of a second before the water closed above her head.
She sat up a moment later, dripping and humiliated. Azula was giggling openly, the sound disconcertingly sharp for a girl her age, while Ty Lee followed suit, her laughter much more sincere and all the more grating for it. Even dour Mai gave a loud snort.
A turtleduck quacked in alarm as a thin layer of ice spread across the pond, and she spat icicles at her trio of tormentors. They flew maybe two feet and fell harmlessly to the ground.
Ty Lee giggled harder. Mai just smirked.
Azula, however, was watching her carefully. "Manipulating an element without the use of your limbs is… impressive. I can do it, of course, but most our age can't." She stepped closer, expression abruptly calculating.
"Maybe Firebenders are just slow," Katara said mulishly, shivering in the mild autumn air, frost in her hair and in the folds of her clothes. She hadn't actually meant to freeze anything, but there was no way she was letting them know that. She'd just been so angry.
Katara was still angry, but the discomfort from accidentally giving herself brain freeze made spitting more icicles seem unwise.
Azula smiled the way she had when they first met, before she had first seen her cry. "You're going to be my new sparring partner."
Edited May 14, 2018.