Katara scrabbled blankly at the stone, her teeth chattering mutely in her ears, the cuts on her fingertips seeping blood but void of pain. She was too numb to feel anything now; the color had fled from her cheeks, her skin a death-pale with frost, the ice under her eyelashes clinging cruelly to her tortured face. The cave was dark and bare, and her knees sank onto the hardened earth with the faintest feeling of hope. But her peace was short-lived; darkness encased her and impressed, none to gently, the futility of her efforts. With the wind still blowing steadily outside, she knew it was only a matter of hours until her body gave out from exhaustion.
She curled up on the floor, wishing for the hundredth time that her jacket remained around her shoulders. Her eyes shook in attempts to cry, but the sub-zero weather stole the comfort of tears from her.
Her sobs were dry and they sapped her of energy. Nonetheless she continued in her grief, her gaze shifting from the bleak gray wall into something she wanted to see, something that brought her inner comfort even when her body ceased activity.
He had helped her to water bend, all those ages ago when they were stranded together on that beautiful island...Katara shivered into a smile as she remembered their intense rivalry, her annoyance with his apathetic attitude, his irritation at her own determination...how angry he had been at seeing his own reflection that night in the glade, how he sobbed in the water, drenched and pitiful, rejected by the world...how boldly he had stood against the terror of his father, how he disregarded his mortal wounds and fought til the great tyrant had breathed last...how softly he looked at her, scarred physically but healed through her love, his soul bent solely on her happiness...
"As long as I'm your hero."
She turned her gaze slowly to the tunnel entrance and a red light filled her eyes. Zuko?...no, it wasn't. She knew Zuko's flame much to well, knew the emotion that made the fire flicker, the spark ignite. And in this reverence of her love she looked upon this foreign light without fear.
A figure stood there with the bright flame in his hand, cast behind with the white of snow like an angel. Katara wondered, briefly, if he had come to seal her fate; but she lost consciousness as the angel approached.
Aang's fists crashed against the door again, and the metal caved in slightly. Fearing he would shatter his already bleeding knuckles, Sokka grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back.
"Aang! Cut it out! If you crush your hands, you won't be able to bend -"
The Avatar's tattoos glowed a blinding blue and a fearsome jet of air sent the warrior sprawling to the other side of the cell. The spirit had overcome the boy and reason was a thing of the past. Fire hissed in his palms and rode furiously up his shoulders, threatening to burn with each red flame. He spun and his shoulder rammed against the iron door, the fire exploding in tremendous yet ineffective fury. The force of the impact shot pain through the boy's side and the light faded rapidly. Aang sank to the ground and clutched his shoulder feeling the bruises beginning to form along his flesh.
There was a clatter and both Avatar and warrior stared instantly at the door. Sokka did not have boomerang or blade, but he assumed battle stance with fists clenched. When the locks came undone he faced something that threw him off balance for several moments.
"Zhao?" said Aang suddenly, to stunned to continue his anger.
Zhao glared at them both, grinning wildly in his own devilish delight. His eyes fell on the Avatar and Aang's fury returned full throttle; he leapt towards the man in a righteous wrath as the wind swirled in torrents around him, his fist seeking the center of the man's hated face.
The blow came, predictably, and he crumpled to the floor. The currents in the air died and Sokka leaned over his friend, his own anger freshly inflamed. His shoulder shook and he ran towards the man, furious.
"What the HELL - you're going to fucking PAY for this, I'll kill you, you bastard -"
Sokka felt a sharp sting in his side and his attack failed miserably. Zhao's hand clenched around his jaw in such unforgiving strength that his head felt on the point of caving in. He kicked blindly at the man and met his gut; Zhao, winded momentarily, dropped the warrior to the ground and Sokka leapt towards him a second time.
Zhao was furious by now and when he regained hold on Sokka's throat his hand was flaming mercilessly. Sokka roared as his skin burned but continued to glare hatefully at the man as Aang, recovering, was pulled down by several guards in the background. Zhao studied the warrior carefully.
"Pity," he snarled. A light lit in his eyes that caused a terrible fear to twist its way in Sokka's heart. The flames in the Admiral's hand strengthened significantly as his gaze grew wild. "You would have been a great warrior to fight, you know. A few more years of training. Even now you show much strength..."
Aang roared something inaudible and a fire bender shoved his head cruelly to the floor. His chin slashed open and blood splattered against the metal. The burns etched across his face twisted into fury.
"Let us go - you don't - Katara, Zuko is -" he struggled to speak but the blood from his chin seeped into his mouth and he spluttered between his words. Sokka glared down at the Admiral, his face a matching set of fresh burns. He couldn't speak for the hand clenched at his throat, but her struggled and thrashed nonetheless in Aang's support. Zhao let himself have one, wonderful, demonic grin.
Something smashed into the side of Sokka's head and his brain seemed to explode. He barely had a moment to realize he had been thrown, quiet viciously against the iron wall before he felt a hand on his shoulder. There was a twist and a snap; he howled as he felt the bone break.
"You will be fun, young warrior," smiled Zhao. He gestured to a guard and they dragged him from the room as he clenched his teeth in efforts not to scream.
Filled with fresh fury, Aang's eyes glowed and the air thrashed the guards from him; he sprang towards Zhao like a wildcat and fire found his face.
He fell to the ground, his tattoos still glowing but his body beaten. Zhao was too excited about his new torture toy to care much for the Avatar, and walked slowly from the room. Aang's voice reached him in desperation.
"Don't...hurt him, or I'll...I'll..."
"You see, Avatar," said Zhao instantly, savoring the boy's anguish, "I would like to incline to your request...really I would. But you see..."
He eyes lit up sinisterly with the idea. The young boy's face met his in confusion and hatred and Zhao barely managed a sorrowful look.
"It is by order of Prince Zuko, my boy. I am very sorry."
He shut the door with the roar of angry winds echoing behind him.
Zuko glared at her back, willing her mentally to hurry up; the snow was falling in thick layers and the thought of what lay ahead made his heart scream from the injustice. Against his will the anger fell to flame and the fire scorched his armor as it bled from his fingertips. He just wanted to get it over with, get back to Fire Nation, where he could have ten wives and wipe Katara from his painful memory...but the thought of other women just made him feel more guilty.
Then I'll never have another love, he swore to himself. Yeah. Solitude. That's what he needed. It would keep him from these conflicting thoughts, from emotions. It would keep him from feeling. Good.
He could see the great mound of earth rising in the distance and he twitched visibly. His hands were still flaming, but he strode ahead of the priestess in a silent and apathetic air. The woman watched him carefully as he stopped before the mound, before the single dead hand that jutted between the rocks.
She had been listening, quiet carefully, to the movements of his heart. His soul was rent, scattered, broken like so many pieces of shattered windows. But who had thrown the rock to break the glass? The loss was heavy on his heart, but there was more guilt on him than he seemed able to endure. Pain burrowed in his heart and sat there, rank and destructive, and he seemed unable to discard it. This terrible Prince, with so much pain? It did not make sense...unless -
"This is her. Do whatever customs are necessary. If you require pay, it will all be given generously."
She stared at the body, the dead hand, the dirty fingernails, the broken blue necklace that hung from a discolored wrist...
"You said, she is a woman of Water Tribe," she whispered. Zuko's lip twitched at this obvious statement and he turned his gaze away from the body, seething.
"Yes. Now get on with it," he snarled. For a moment, the priestess didn't move.
"Was she a Bender?"
Zuko's irritation increased. His teeth ground against each other and he nearly hissed in frustration.
"Yes," he snarled. Again, the priestess stood in silence.
"This is not a water bender, Prince."
This statement made more injustice flare inside the fire bender. To lose his love was one thing - t have her insulted in death was quiet another. He sprang towards her motionless figure, the flames blaring between his armor, his hands blazing with red fury. He bared his teeth and his golden eyes flashed into madness.
"SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL, HEAVENLY, KIND-HEARTED ANGEL, AND YOU WILL NOT INSULT HER WHILE I STAND HERE," he roared, a great trail of smoke rising slowly from his flaming form. The woman kept her gaze on him, undisturbed.
"If you were not blinded by your grief, you would know I meant no insult, Prince," she said softly. The flames faded slightly but Zuko's wrath remained white-hot. If she tried to play his emotion one more time -
"Look at the hand, my Prince. Look at the way it is turned. Can you not feel the brown earth cry in sorrow? Can you feel the way the spirit at our feet begs for the body? The earth desires her, not the ocean. She is to be buried. She is an earth bender, Prince. If you had listened to the flames of your own spirit, you would know the difference."
Zuko's anger gave way. He glared at the woman, thinking she was lying, but his gaze faltered. He could feel the earth in its restlessness, feel the anguish the ground felt...but he thought it was the snow begging to sned her to the sea, thought it was the grief in his own heart tricking his senses.
His hands shook and he glared at the woman for a long time. They played a war of eyes, and golden was constantly striving against peaceful blue. When fire fell away water remained strong, continuing her search of his heart.
"You have been deceived, Prince," she whispered. Zuko stared at his denial surfaced. The flames engulfed him in renewed fury.
"Your giving me false hope, you old witch, your just trying to make me hurt more -"
There was a loud slap and Zuko's head spun to the side. When the world slowed and ceased spinning he looked back at the woman incredulously, her hand raised to his red cheek.
"You are being foolish, young Prince," she said. Zuko stared at her, dumbfounded, as she continued to scold him in such a motherly fashion that he dared not fight back. Her gaze was fierce but fair.
"This earth bender will be blessed by her own people in time. The woman you thought she was is not lost; I feel her presence in you just as she feels your presence with her. I know now why your anguish sets so deep. Your love for her must be beyond compare. Nonetheless she is kin to me, and even if you falter in your loyalty I am obliged to save her. Now will you search with me, or shall I leave you here to freeze your royal, bad-tempered hide off?"