HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT I'M NOT DEAD
new laptop tho, which I hope excuses the long absence. (it doesn't)
Man, this chapter fought me. Each scene took me a month to finish and it's not even 3k words. I hope it's worth it? (it's not)
Warning: there is an allusion to pedophilia in this chapter, and the character katara suspects of it does not deserve that bs. pls forgive her anyway, she's had a rough week.
Katara woke up on something deliciously soft, and for a second she thought she was back on Hama's rug, dozing after a yet another grueling lesson. The painful heat on her back soon shattered that dream — Hama would never burn her. She had beat her, cut her, hit her, and even given her frostbite before, but her wounds would always, always be healed. Katara's master was one of the only people in her life who did not take any pleasure in hurting her.
She lay perfectly still, suddenly but acutely aware that she was in unfamiliar enemy territory. She was on top of the softest thing she had ever touched, almost as comforting as the half-remembered furs of her home. A tentative sniff yielded pungent odors she remembered from the infirmary under the arena, and a slight shift told her that her torso had been tightly bandaged, and that the burn, while painful, hadn't destroyed her nerve endings.
"You're awake, then," said a low, slightly nasal voice. Katara tried to jump to her feet, but a flash of pain across her hip and part of her lower back made her think better of it.
She shifted gingerly to face the strange man, and was met with someone significantly less intimidating than she had expected. He was tall, but bony, with thinning hair and an even thinner moustache. He was impractically dressed in all white, with a few rusty splotches on his well-worn apron and the hems of his wide sleeves. A pretty, fascinatingly round young woman was standing behind him, her expression equal parts wary, disdainful, and curious. Katara had heard of fat people before, but her company had only ever consisted of the battle hardened and the slowly starving.
"Where am I? And who are you people?" Katara rasped. She was on her front on some ridiculously luxurious bed, one of many in the colorless room. The last time she had seen so much white in one place was when she had still been in the South Pole. Her shirt was gone, but her chest had been bandaged along with her burn. She didn't have much of one to begin with, so the cursory attempt at preserving her modesty confused her; the Fire Nation did not bother to protect the dignity of their chattel.
"Master Akimasa is the palace physician," the woman said. Her tone implied that Katara was stupid for having to ask. "Who are you?"
"...Katara."
"I know that," the young woman sniffed, "But are you really a princess? I didn't know that you ice rats even had royalty."
"Ice rats?" It was in moments like these that Katara wished she was as clever as her aniingaq, and capable of a quick, snappy comeback. All she could do was sit there, mind furiously searching for a rejoinder that wouldn't get her killed.
"Ro," Akimasa cut in, "If you have time to chatter, you aren't working hard enough. Fetch the patient some water. These are basic duties you're shirking."
Ro shot him a dubious look. "Master, are you sure we should be giving water to a Waterbender?"
Akimasa sighed and rolled his eyes. "She's currently incapable of even standing, and I'm fully confident that I can turn the bed into a pyre if she tries anything, Puppetmaster or no Puppetmaster."
"Firebenders can heal?" Katara blurted. How can someone heal with an element that only destroys?
The physician predictably did not deign to answer her question. "How's your back feeling?"
"Fine." Even if it was somehow possible to heal with fire, she wanted no part of it. And, as injuries went, it could have been worse.
Akimasa gave her an unimpressed look. "I did see you try and fail to get up just now."
Katara grimaced. "I could manage it, I just figured that you would attack me while I was doing it."
"Ah," he said, a slight furrow in his brow, and moved on to poking at her bandages while asking a number of odd questions she couldn't see a point to, like exactly how she would "rate" her pain and how easily she could move different parts of her body. Were they recording it for Azula? Did she take notes on the injuries of her victims to learn how to maim more effectively in the future?
"I'm back," Ro announced, holding a miniscule, half-empty cup to Katara's chapped lips. "Try anything and the doctor will kill you." Ro dribbled half of it down her chin when she tilted it for her to drink, and Katara almost wanted to risk another burn to bend it from her bedspread and into her mouth.
The doctor caught a glimpse of her face and ordered Ro to fetch more, overriding her sneering protests and telling her to bring a bigger cup while she was at it. "And if you can really sit up, I expect you to put on a shirt," Akimasa said to her. "Two people visited while you were unconscious, though only Agni knows why. There are some fresh clothes at the end of the bed for you to wear, though you'll be giving them back as soon as you're well enough to return to your cell."
He didn't comment on her full-body flinch.
After Katara had been hydrated and made presentable, her first visitor arrived.
He was an old man, even rounder than Ro, with a long gray beard and a broad, open face. She watched warily as he exchanged pleasantries with the doctor and his assistant, making Ro's sour expression brighten and Akimasa's fatigue lessen. He was jarringly jovial, looking for all the world like a genial grandfather. He wouldn't look out of place in the tribal lodge, telling long-winded stories and bouncing babies on his knees.
No, Katara reminded herself. He's Fire Nation. He's probably killed a bunch of people.
"Hello, Princess Katara," a warm, slow voice said, and Katara jumped, hissing when she jostled her wound. At some point he had sat on a stool near the foot of her bed, and was observing her with deceptively warm, curious eyes. She had to stop letting her mind wander; it would get her killed.
"Don't call me that," she said, her voice tight with suppressed hostility.
He quirked a brow. "Oh? I am sorry. I heard you were the daughter of the Southern Chieftain."
"I am," Katara growled. "That doesn't mean I'm a princess. I'm nothing like Azula."
The old man's expression was diplomatically blank, but something in his amber eyes suggested that he didn't quite agree with her.
"Who are you?" Katara demanded. "Why are you here?"
"I simply want to know you better, Miss Katara," he said. "Please forgive an old man's curiosity."
Katara wasn't sure what to make of that claim, even if it was almost certainly a falsehood. "...That doesn't answer my first question."
"Ah," he said, almost reluctantly, "My name is Iroh."
Katara thoughtfully narrowed her eyes. The name sounded familiar; perhaps she had heard her father speak of him before. He was most likely an admiral, then.
"How many of my people have you killed?"
Iroh sighed, folding his hands over his belly. "I was stationed in the Earth Kingdom. It is… uncommon for anyone but the Raiders to come across a tribesman."
"It's not uncommon for a tribesman to come across a Firebender. The man who stole me melted my mother's face." Katara had meant it as a barb, but her voice wavered when she said it. She had allowed far too many Firebenders to see her cry today.
Her gaze was focused on the floor, so as to hide the tears in her eyes, but his reply was soft and sad. "I doubt it means much, coming from me, but I am sorry for your loss, Miss Katara."
"She's not dead!" Katara yelled, snapping her head up to glare at him. Ro made as if to approach them, but Iroh stopped her with a sweep of his arm.
"I apologize for misunderstanding," Iroh murmured, eyes never leaving her own. "And I'm sorry that your mother was hurt."
Katara opened her mouth to call him a liar, but what came out was a soft, "Really?"
No citizen of this country had ever pretended to be kind before. They hadn't pretended to care about her suffering.
They hadn't pretended to care about her mother.
Iroh smiled at her, though his eyes were dark and pained. "I am, though I should not say so."
She couldn't help but smile back. After so long it kind of itched.
His smile widened, and he didn't say anything when a stray drop slipped down her face.
They sat together for a slow, quiet minute, Akimasa and Ro squabbling softly in the background. Katara took the time to tuck her fear under her skin, to breathe in deeply, to feel the pain in her body and catalogue it. She had been ignoring it until now, but the silence gave her time to think about what she would have done to heal it, if she were still under the arena. Hama wouldn't be pleased if she thought that Katara had forgotten all of her lessons on non-combative Waterbending.
"I will not take up your time any longer, Miss Katara," Iroh said, making her refocus on him. "My nephew visited you earlier, and I would like to tell him that you're awake, if you'd let me. I think you could learn from each other."
"Will you come again?" spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it. Iroh looked genuinely surprised, and gave her another smile that made her lips twitch up against her will.
"It would be my honor." He reached forward and took her hand between both his own, and she snatched it away. Illusion of kindness or not, he could sear her flesh in an instant if she let him touch her.
Instead of taking offence, Iroh gave her an apologetic grimace. He rose to his feet without the stiffness or the grunt of effort she had expected from a person his age. "Goodbye, Miss Katara. I hope to speak with you at greater length in the future."
"...Bye," she whispered, once the door sliding door had been pulled shut.
Katara sighed, and lay down again to wait for his mysterious nephew. Her hand skimmed under the pillow, and stilled when it brushed against something soft. She lifted it up, and uncovered a sweet bun.
She didn't know how long she sat there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the bun in her hand.
Who was Iroh really? He had mentioned being stationed in the Earth Kingdom; was he a soldier of some kind? But if that was true, then he was most likely a Firebender, and everyone knew that Firebenders were monsters. Every single one that she had ever met had hurt her in one way or another, and the nonbenders of this nation weren't much better.
Yet Iroh had been kind.
The only possible reason for his behavior was that he wanted something from her, something that violence would not yield as easily. But what did Katara have to offer, other than her use as leverage?
Katara's mind wandered back to her time in the defunct Waterbending prison, when the eyes of the guards on her body made her feel filthy and ashamed. Hama had warned her against being alone with any men…
Her thoughts shied away from the connection she had drawn. She was still a child, in form if not in function; there had to be depths that even a Firebender would not sink to.
He had mentioned being stationed in the Earth Kingdom. Maybe he was a spy?
She couldn't make assumptions. Hama had warned her against it more than once. There was no point to thinking in circles if there was nothing she could do, anyway. Her goal was to stay alive.
The bun had begun to soften from the warmth of her palm. Part of Katara wanted to throw it away on principle, but…
She was so, so hungry.
Surely, if Iroh planned to hurt her, he would do it more directly than with poison, right?
Katara popped the whole thing in her mouth before caution could get the better of her, and chewed slowly, savoring the texture and the sweet bean paste within. It didn't make her as happy as the first time, when her despair had made any consideration precious, but she allowed herself a flash of gratitude when she finally swallowed.
At that moment, the sliding screen door flew open with a bang, causing Ro to drop the pestle she was using to grind medicine and Katara to choke. She doubled over, her hip burning in protest, hacking profusely.
Akimasa sighed, rubbing at his inner canthi, and bowed. Prince Zuko stood in the doorway, eyes wide as Katara did her level best to cough up a lung.
"Prince Zuko!" Ro exclaimed. She jumped from her stool and sank into as low a bow as her belly allowed her. "I'm so sorry that you must witness something so unsightly! I will take the patient away so that you may speak to Doctor Akimasa in peace."
Katara continued wheezing.
"Uh, no," Zuko said, "I'm here to talk to the Waterbender."
"Ro and I will be in the next room. Please send word if you require anything, Prince," said the doctor, his simpering assistant trailing behind him. They disappeared through what she had thought was a stationary screen. (Doors were still a little esoteric to her, considering that her home's architecture consisted of igloos and not much else.)
Zuko turned his head to someone out of view, and ordered, "Wait outside." There was a metallic echo of consternation — bodyguard, then — before the prince pushed the door shut in his face.
"...That was rude," Katara croaked.
He whirled to face her, mortally offended. "Was not."
Katara straightened up as best she could, gritting her teeth against the pain, and said, "Was too."
"Was no—" Zuko's lips smacked shut abruptly, and the color rose high on his face. "This is idiotic. I didn't come here to argue with a peasant."
"You started it," Katara muttered, sneering at the tone he had taken with her. She could handle insults from adults, but insults from high-and-mighty ponytail boys whose voices didn't even crack yet was pushing the envelope. She had gotten enough of that from Sokka.
"Did not!" Zuko said reflexively, then realized his mistake.
Katara grinned despite herself. "Did too."
"Rrgh, shut up!" Zuko yelled, his ponytail bouncing furiously. She valiantly suppressed a snicker, but the look on her face just made him blush even brighter. He whirled around and made as if to stomp from the room.
"Wait, wait," Katara called, swallowing her giggles, and reached up as if to stop him, but the sudden movement pulled at the burn on her hip and back, and she couldn't stop a gasp of pain.
Her mirth crashed down around her as she curled in on herself. What was she doing?
Hesitant footsteps came to her bedside, and from the corner of her eye she could see the pointy toes of his dumb little boots. "...Are you okay?" he murmured.
Katara sat up as quickly as she could without crying out, which wasn't very quick at all, just so she could give him the stink eye that question deserved. "No."
The Fire Prince shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the doors as if he didn't want to be overheard. "I've been burnt by her too, though not as bad, but the pain medicine should be kicking in soon. So. It'll be okay."
"...Pain medicine?" Katara asked, furrowing her brow.
"Medicine that makes the pain go away, duh," Zuko said snottily.
"I know that." (She hadn't.) "Why would they give that to me?"
"...Oh," he said, then louder, "Of course they wouldn't! You're just a peasant, after all."
Katara narrowed her eyes at him. If she didn't know better, she might've thought he seemed almost… perturbed. "What do you want, Fireboy?"
"My name is Zuko," Zuko growled.
"And my name is Katara, not peasant!"
"I knew that already!" he said, and then turned red again. "A-anyway, I didn't come here just to let you annoy me."
"Funny, I thought you came here just to annoy me," Katara mumbled.
He made an incoherent (but very expressive) outraged noise. "As if I care about you!"
"Then what did you come here for?"
Zuko finally broke eye contact. Katara waited for a few long moments, and was just starting to get impatient when he whispered, "I came here for advice on how to fight my sister."
idk if this is a dun dun dunnnn moment. probably not. but it deserves some sort of dramatic music shift, imo.
Let me know if you're still reading! I hope you are, at any rate.