Water
The Admiral
He was making progress, Uncle told him. Training was hard. For him, it always was, but Uncle seemed to think that Zuko was finally getting the hang of the more advanced forms.
Zuko tried to be happy about that. He was happy about that. Happy enough.
He still wasn't anywhere near where he needed to be. He hadn't mastered any of the new forms yet, and he still had ages to go before he would reach an acceptable level in his training, but Uncle was working with him now. Zuko was moving forward.
It was a start. Maybe that was all he could hope for.
"Excellent work, Prince Zuko." Uncle clapped him on the shoulder, seeming not to care about the sticky film of sweat across his back. "We will resume tomorrow. And in the meantime, I believe the lieutenant had something to discuss with you."
Zuko turned, and Jee curled his upper lip. "Uh—with respect, General Iroh, I'd prefer to discuss the matter after Prince Zuko has had a chance to clean himself up."
Uncle laughed like that was the funniest thing he'd heard in weeks. It probably was.
Zuko scowled at both of them and stomped off to his cabin. Even as they moved farther north, into cooler climates, the sun still baked down on him with every training session. It wasn't his fault that he turned into a sweaty mess by the end. It wasn't funny either.
He slammed the door after him and scrubbed away the sweat before changing back into his regular clothes. Jee probably wanted to argue about repairs and fuel again. Not that there was anything left to argue about. Their stop was only a few hours away now, and there was no possible way they could go further.
He emerged a few minutes later to find Jee waiting in the corridor, arms crossed, looking severe.
"If you don't mind, Prince Zuko, we should probably discuss this somewhere private."
Zuko raised his single eyebrow. That tone was unusual, coming from Jee. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was almost respectful. But Zuko did know better. Jee had never respected him. Zuko was just bad at understanding people.
"Fine." He closed the door behind him and followed Jee up to the control tower. This was probably going to be a waste of time, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Jee kept his silence until he closed the door to the control tower after Zuko.
"You know we're dangerously low on fuel."
Yes, this was definitely going to be a waste of time.
"I know, Lieutenant. That's why we'll be docking later today."
Zuko had already made all the necessary arrangements. There would be extra guards for the waterbender, extra watchmen on the deck and the observation platform to keep an eye out for the monk. That was the best he could do for now. And once the repairs were finished and the ship refueled, they could return to sea and everything would be normal again.
Or as close to normal as things ever were for him.
And if everything went well, Zuko might even be able to look for the monk while they were docked.
"I understand that. We're cutting it close, but I think we'll make it to Weiji." Jee uncrossed his arms and pointed out the south-facing windows toward the horizon. "But that is a bit concerning, don't you think?"
Zuko squinted into the brightness. All he saw was sea and blue sky, with a strip of mountainous coastline miles to the east. Nothing remarkable at all—but when his eyes adjusted, he could make out a faint, dark smudge against the sky. Smoke. Directly south of them and half concealed by the glare of the sun.
"That's—"
"Zhao, I expect," Jee finished for him. "I can't think of anyone else who'd be following us."
Zuko could think of several others, but none who would leave trails of smoke in their wake. His hands clenched.
"We can't outrun him." Zuko wanted it to be a question. He desperately, desperately wanted it to be a question, but he knew better. They couldn't run at all.
Jee shook his head. "Not unless you want us to fill up the engines with wood."
"Would that work?" He hated the desperate, childish hope that snuck into his voice.
"I've done it before. Wood burns cooler than coal, and it clogs up the engines, but we could keep moving." Jee shaded his eyes, watching the smoky smudge in the distance. "Don't know if that would give us enough speed to outrun him or if we'd survive going any faster, but—"
Zuko's heart sank. He couldn't tell if the speck on the horizon was already growing larger or if it was just his imagination, but it looked closer. It looked inescapable.
"Why are you telling me this, Lieutenant?"
"Because we're under your orders, Prince Zuko."
He almost wanted to laugh. That was new. Jee never came looking for orders. He never sought Zuko's opinion deliberately. Especially at times like this, when the only alternatives were bad.
"What choice do we have? If we don't keep our course, we either sink or run out of fuel, and Zhao's going to catch up either way." His jaw clenched, and he pinched the bridge of his nose before looking out to sea again. "Why even ask? Going anywhere other than Weiji is a death sentence."
Jee shrugged. "That's what I thought about the typhoon too, but you pulled us through. I had to at least ask."
Zuko scoffed and shook his head. Luck had pulled them through the typhoon. The only thing Zuko had done was push the ship out the other end as quickly as possible while he tried to keep the crew from losing their collective minds. If the storm had been any worse, if it had carried on any longer, then he couldn't have changed anything.
But at least then, there had been a chance. Now—even if the ship stayed afloat, running would look suspicious. Zhao would assume the worst, and he would act accordingly.
"We have to go to Weiji for fuel," Zuko said. "When Zhao finds us—" His pulse sped up at the thought, and the old, healed burn on his arm stung. "I'll just have to be prepared."
He felt Jee's gaze on the side of his face. "What do you expect Zhao to do?"
Anything. Zhao knew no remorse. He could attack Zuko and his crew, call another Agni Kai, search Zuko's ship for the monk, try to take the waterbender away—or he could do all of that. He could even do worse.
"I don't know," Zuko snapped. "Just keep us on course, Lieutenant. And alert me as soon as you identify that ship for sure."
Katara watched out the porthole, heart racing as the ship pulled into the docks. For the first time since Zuko had captured her, there was solid ground outside, near enough that she could watch the people on the banks. People who weren't firebenders.
Of course, Zuko had also placed an extra guard outside the cell, but she was close. So, so close to breaking herself free, to running to dry land, to finding the boys and flying far away from here. All she needed was another hour or two. She could find that much time, somehow. She had all the water she could possibly need, and there were only a few more inches of steel left to cut.
"You!" Masao barked behind her. "Away from that porthole."
Katara scowled back over her shoulder.
Taro shook his head and whacked the older man. "What do you think she's going to do? Melt herself through the glass?"
Masao whacked Taro back. "She's a waterbender. There's water outside, isn't there?"
Katara's forehead scrunched in confusion. "You do realize that this is a ship, don't you? There's been water outside the entire time."
"Exactly." Taro crossed his arms. "If she was going to do something with the water outside, don't you think she would've done it by now?"
Katara scowled again and turned back to the porthole. Taro was right, but she didn't need to be reminded. She could almost feel the water's presence outside, but it was too far for her to reach. And even if she could take hold of the water out there, what could she possibly do with it? The hull was still too thick for her to cut through without the help of the Avatar State.
Hmm. Maybe she should try that. If she could get into the Avatar State, maybe she could use the water outside to cut away the entire wall and escape that way. She wouldn't have to wait around for the guards to leave her alone if she didn't have to sneak around the ship to get out.
But she wasn't exactly confident in her ability to get into the Avatar State. She could waste a lot of time sitting around meditating and never reach the Avatar State. Or she could get into it and fail to free herself. Or she could free herself and escape, but the guards would know who she was and spread the word to all of their firebender friends, and then there would be even more people after her. Zuko was bad enough on his own. She didn't need any other pursuers.
She would just have to wait and do this the way she'd been planning all along.
"What are we stopped for?" she demanded.
"Supplies and repairs mostly." Taro said.
"That's why we've been moving so flaming slow for the past few days," Masao added. "Can't go too fast or all the dents and dings from the typhoon will pop open and we'll all go flying into the sea."
She snuck another glance outside. "Aren't any of you going to shore? It's been a long time since we landed."
Masao scoffed. "You must think pretty highly of Prince Zuko. Letting us go to shore."
Taro rolled his eyes. "You're always the last back on the boat when shore leave is up. Don't act like you don't get your time." He looked at Katara. "Maybe we will. But there are a few other things to take care of first."
Zhao's ship pulled into the harbor shortly after Zuko's. Well, into the harbor was a bit of an exaggeration. The mouth of the bay was too narrow to admit a ship much bigger than Zuko's, but Zhao had taken his ship as far as he could and anchored right in the middle, obstructing the whole harbor. Spaces remained on either side for small fishing boats to squeeze out, but Zuko was trapped.
He wasn't surprised about that. It reminded him of Crescent Island, actually. Of Zhao using all his ships to box Zuko in, to block his pursuit of the Avatar.
It was nothing more than an intimidation tactic. Zuko knew that too. Unfortunately, it was working. Though it had been more than an hour since they docked, though he hadn't seen any sign of Zhao coming closer, Zuko's stomach kept twisting itself into knots.
Zhao could come closer. Zhao could do worse than trapping him here.
But he tried not to think about that. The supplies and workmen had been procured, Jee was taking them around to assess all the storm damage, one of the other men had gone off to order fuel and supplies, and Zuko still had plenty to do. This stop had to be as brief as possible, which meant that they had to resupply quickly. Which meant that Zuko had to check all of their provisions. And maybe if he was lucky, keeping his mind occupied with that would drive Zhao out of his thoughts.
Or that was the idea, at least. Zuko was halfway down the stairs to check their supply of fresh water and food when a distant shout reached him from the deck. His head snapped around, and he jogged back up the stairs.
"What is it now?"
One of the watchmen waved toward the mouth of the bay. "Skiff's coming. The admiral is coming into port."
Dread filled him from the bottom up. "Is he coming toward us?" His feet were rooted in place and he forgot to breathe.
The watchman peered out his telescope again. "Mmm, looks like it."
An icy hand gripped his insides, and Zuko forgot about checking the water supply. There were more important things to do now. Things like getting his story straight with Uncle and making absolutely sure that Zhao would never set foot on his ship.
"Can you see it?" Aang called from Appa's neck, the wind whipping his voice back toward Sokka.
After scanning the horizon one more time, Sokka lowered his telescope and shook his head. "Nothing."
That shouldn't be possible. A whole Fire Nation ship couldn't just disappear. Zuko's ship, in particular, couldn't disappear. Not while Katara was still on board.
Over the past few days, Zuko's ship had been moving slowly. Slowly enough that they'd taken to spending longer periods of time at camp, then racing ahead and taking shortcuts over dry land to catch up with the ship every afternoon. They had more time this way. More time for Sokka to plan, more time for Aang to practice his waterbending—which Sokka wasn't convinced that he did half the time—more time to prepare for their next rescue attempt.
It was simple math. Sokka knew how fast they were traveling, which meant that he could calculate how far the ship had traveled each day, which meant that he knew exactly where to direct Appa when they took off from camp.
It should have been foolproof. He'd never yet failed to find Zuko's ship, and he was more confident than ever in his calculations.
But Zuko had ruined the plan today. They'd reached the point where the ship ought to be, and yet there was no sign anywhere. Not even a trail of smoke in the sky.
"Ugh." Sokka dropped the telescope beside him in the saddle and pressed his head between his hands. "I figured it right, I know I did. Zuko should be right here."
Aang looked back over his shoulder, his eyebrows drawn so tight that his forehead crinkled all the way up to his arrow. "Well—maybe Zuko just sped up. He's been going really slow, so maybe he wanted to make better time. Which means that if we keep going north—"
"Or," Sokka said, "he slowed down even more and we overshot it."
He hated this. Katara was on that boat, and it could be anywhere by now. All because Sokka had thought that it was a good idea to take longer breaks and let the ship out of sight for hours on end.
"Well," Aang ventured. "We can't look both ways at the same time. Where should we start?"
Sokka frowned out at the empty expanse of ocean. If Zuko had slowed down or stopped, they'd just get farther from Katara by speeding off to search to the north. But if Zuko had sped up and they waited for the ship to catch up or even doubled back, they might never be able to catch up. The ship had chased them far enough for Sokka to know how fast it could be. And if they went the wrong way, they would never know the difference.
"North," he decided at long last. "We'll fly as fast as we can for a few hours, and if we still don't spot it, we'll double back and hope that they stopped somewhere."
With a nod, Aang tugged on the reins to turn Appa northward, and Sokka held the edge of the saddle even tighter. He hoped his guess was right. It had to be, for Katara's sake.
After a while, watching out the porthole got a little dull. She could only see a small wedge of the seaside village from here, and the people were distant and indistinct. Much as she wanted to keep watching, she had to admit that it was probably a waste of time. She'd committed the few houses, the treeless hills around the bay, and the distant forests to memory by now, and she could hardly expect some Earth Kingdom passerby to see her peering out, realize that she wasn't Fire Nation, and come to her rescue.
She didn't need help anyway. As long as she waited for the right opportunity, she'd get out just fine on her own.
That was the hardest part. So much waiting. She was sick of Masao's grumpiness and Taro's attempts at conversation in almost equal measure. All she really wanted was a few minutes alone, but it didn't seem like she'd be getting that anytime soon.
So she did the only thing she could think of. After freezing the water in the sink for the twelfth time since they'd landed, she pulled as much moisture as she could from the air. Only a few drops. It wouldn't be enough to practice her forms, but if it kept her mind and hands occupied, she couldn't ask for much more.
Perched on the edge of the bunk, she shaped the droplets into a sphere the size of a large pea, then pulled outward until it flattened and expanded into a disk. Frowning in concentration, she pulled at the sides, stretching delicate legs out from the edges one at a time until she had a lumpy, wobbly approximation of a snowflake. One of the legs was shorter than the others, so she gave it another small tug, and the whole droplet shot out of her control and splashed into the wall.
Hmm. Apparently, she had to be more delicate.
She gathered the water back up and started over from the beginning. Sphere, disk, then the legs. She moved slower this time, and just when she was almost satisfied with the symmetry, the door at the top of the stairs slammed open and two more sets of footsteps descended her direction.
Already? It seemed a little early for a shift change.
"Get up, waterbender."
She gave Zuko a sideways scowl and then turned back to her halfhearted snowflake. It looked more like a wilted flower than anything else. Stupid Zuko. That one was his fault.
"I'm not sleeping. I don't know what you're yelling about."
Zuko didn't acknowledge that. Instead, he thrust a rumpled bundle of blue at her through the bars. "Someone important wants to meet you. Hurry up and change."
Katara's eyebrows crept downward as she stared out into the hall. Taro, Masao, Zuko, and the general. Even if she wanted to listen, that was four people too many.
"Sorry, I'm not interested."
"That's not a request!" Zuko's voice sounded ready to crack, and if she wasn't mistaken, she thought she saw his hand shake just a bit.
She met his gaze for the first time. Though his uniform was in order and his hair—well, it wasn't good, but it was no more stupid than usual—something about him made her think about that night. The night when he'd burst out of nowhere, still wearing half of his Masky disguise, just to wake her up and ask silly questions. He looked frazzled, that was probably it. His eyes were a little too wide, a little too wild, and the hand holding her clothes through the bars was shaking a little.
She stood. "I'm not your entertainment. I'm not an amusement you can trot out for 'important people' to gawk at."
"Miss Katara," the general interrupted kindly. "I assure you that this is nothing of the sort."
She glared at the general, then turned to Zuko again. Whatever this was had to be his idea. "What is it, then? And why do I have to change? Have those even been washed since yesterday?"
Zuko scowled at her for a second before he dropped the bundle on the end of the bunk and turned back toward Masao and Taro. "You two, out. I'll call you back once this is over."
"You haven't answered any of my questions."
The general looked like he wanted to speak, but he remained silent until the door finally closed behind the two guards, then gave Zuko a nudge.
"Admiral Zhao," Zuko finally said, his voice taut. "He's insisting on seeing my prisoner. He—" Zuko swallowed visibly and looked upward. "He thinks I'm keeping the Avatar hidden from him."
Something heavy and cold landed in the pit of her stomach. What was that supposed to mean? Was this about Aang? She knew Zuko had gone looking for him—right after that letter from Zhao, now that she thought about it. Was that what this was all about? Or—or was it something else? Was this about her? Did somebody else know?
"Of course it's ridiculous." His voice crackled, and his forehead creased. "Everyone knows that the Avatar is an airbender."
Katara forgot to breathe for a second. "You haven't told—"
Tight-lipped, Zuko shook his head. "They already think I'm crazy. If I told anyone the truth—" He shook his head again. "It's safer this way. For everyone." He met her eyes for an instant before he had to look away. "As far as anyone knows, you're just an ordinary waterbender. When Zhao meets you, that's what he has to see."
Much as she wanted to argue with him, Katara found that she couldn't. It was bad enough that the whole world was chasing after Aang. She couldn't reveal herself to any other firebenders. She couldn't give them another target. They would only search harder and fight more ruthlessly if they knew the truth.
"What if I refuse to meet him?"
"You can't. I couldn't keep him off of my own ship." A flash of discomfort overtook his scowl for an instant, and Zuko shifted. "If you try, he'll just come down here instead and make everything worse."
She looked to the general for confirmation. The old man gave no response, but the solemnity in his eyes, the severe creases in his forehead were answer enough.
So Zhao is just like you.
You don't know what you're talking about. I'm nothing like him.
Was that true? Was Zuko really any different than Zhao? Any better? And what did that mean, anyway? Katara knew so little about the rest of the Fire Nation that she'd never really know if Zuko was different. She'd never be able to tell if he was less of a threat.
Except that she already knew that Zuko was different. That there were worse threats in the Fire Nation than him. That was why she kept asking what the Fire Lord would do to her, given the chance. That was why she felt safe enough to even ask. Because Zuko had limits, and she knew from experience that there were others who didn't.
She let out a slow breath and jutted out her chin. "And if I agree?"
"Then you'll come to meet Zhao, and this will all be over in a few minutes."
Zuko was going to let her out? She went absolutely still, heart pounding louder and louder. Was there a chance that she could slip away from him? Could she make her escape before she ever laid eyes on Zhao?
Hands shaking just a little, Katara picked up her crumpled clothes from where they'd fallen. She couldn't get her hopes up. Zuko probably expected her to try. He'd probably already taken precautions to stop her. But if she didn't try, she wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself. Her freedom mattered more than anything else.
The general watched her hands tighten around the dress, crumpling the fabric even smaller, and gave Zuko a nudge. "We will give you some privacy, Miss Katara."
She nodded mutely, and Zuko turned a scowl on her.
"Make it quick. Zhao isn't going to wait much longer."
The general frowned at Zuko, but they both turned to go, and Katara stood motionless until she heard the door close. She let out a shaky breath and spared the half-severed hinges a glance. So much time, so much work, and if things went well, it might all have been for nothing.
She didn't regret a moment of it. She would much rather leave a half-finished escape plan unused than pin all her hopes on this one. If she couldn't sneak away when Zuko let her out, she felt infinitely better knowing that she had another chance.
By the time that Zuko and the general returned, Katara had left the Earth Kingdom outfit folded neatly at the foot of the bunk. Her clothes most certainly hadn't been washed yet, and the blue would make for a poor disguise, but if she had to look like an ordinary waterbender, she would. If she had to wear unwashed clothes and run farther and faster to keep herself hidden, she would.
Anything if she could escape.
When Zuko emerged again, just a few steps ahead of the general, he held a pair of bulky shackles out to her. "Put these on," he said gruffly.
Katara stared at him. "You have to be kidding."
"I'm not stupid," he snapped. "I know you'll try to run the second this door opens."
She couldn't decide what was worse—that he knew her well enough to guess at her plan, or that he expected her to put the shackles on voluntarily. Did he think that was better? Was putting the chains on herself rather than being forced into them supposed to help?
For several long seconds, she waited, hoping he would change his mind.
"I—please." It seemed to take some effort for Zuko to get the word out. "Just until Zhao is gone."
Play along, something in the back of her mind told her. She could run, she could bend with her hands bound. She'd done it before. If she managed to escape, surely somewhere in an Earth Kingdom village she could find someone willing to cut her free.
And if she couldn't manage it—Zuko wasn't much of a liar. He seemed sincere enough about removing the chains. She would have another chance.
Still, her throat burned as she took them from Zuko's hand. "I really hate you."
It was so faint, so fleeting that she couldn't be sure she'd seen it at all, but she thought that Zuko winced.
"I'm aware." His voice was tense, and he refused to look at her.
Katara tightened her jaw. She wasn't giving up. This wasn't a defeat. She snapped the shackles into their loosest position so that they dangled down over her hands, digging into the skin. If they were loose enough to wriggle out of later, this could still work. If they were loose enough for someone else to cut them free, that would be better than nothing.
Zuko still wouldn't meet her eyes, but his gaze found her hands, both secured, and he nodded. He didn't look happy about it. Still, he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, and jammed one into the lock.
Katara's heart sat in her throat as the door swung open and she looked out without bars blocking her view for the first time in weeks. There was relief and wonder to the feeling, but also deep, sinking dread. Zuko meant for this to be the last time she ever saw the world unobstructed by bars, didn't he?
Zuko motioned her out, and Katara stepped forward, holding herself as steady as she could, despite her racing pulse and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She couldn't give anything away. She had to play along until she had a real opportunity to escape. A real chance.
"Uncle, go ahead. We'll follow."
A hand closed around her elbow, and Katara was struck by the familiarity of the sensation. Just like that night on the pirate ship, except that Zuko wasn't wearing gloves this time, and she could see his face. She knew his intentions, and she couldn't decide whether the clarity was better or worse.
"Where are we going?" she demanded, voice brittle, as he led her forward, down the hall to the stairs.
Zuko's voice was just as tense as hers felt. "My cabin. Zhao barged in there before I could stop him."
His cabin. She imagined opulence, a spacious cabin, an enormous bed, red banners and golden ornaments hanging everywhere. Some odd mix of King Bumi's palace and the temple on Crescent Island—something both regal and undeniably Fire Nation. She couldn't expect anything less than that from a prince.
Her brow fixed into a scowl. "And what makes this guy so important that he can barge into your cabin and you'll still go out of your way to satisfy his curiosity?"
From the corner of her eye, she saw Zuko's jaw muscles working. "He's an admiral."
"So? You're a—"
Her voice cut out when they mounted the stairs and she saw the corridor above lined with soldiers. All in full armor, all wearing their helmets with the white, skull-shaped cutouts, and all staring at her. She remembered those masks far too well.
Her blood ran cold, and for a second, she almost forgot where she was.
Zuko's grip on her arm tightened, and he tugged her forward. "And there's that. Keep moving, waterbender."
Her legs felt numb, and she couldn't take her eyes off of the dead, empty eyes of those helmets. Zuko kept pulling her, and somehow, she kept moving. So much for running away. So much for breaking out of Zuko's grasp and sprinting for the ocean. Even if the sight of those skull-shaped cutouts didn't flood her memory enough to leave her half-paralyzed, there were too many firebenders. She couldn't fight them all. She couldn't even outrun them all. And under those helmets, she couldn't tell whether these were the firebenders she'd come to recognize or if they were strangers.
Strangers, she had to assume. Even Zuko seemed a tiny bit uncomfortable, a tiny bit tense as he pushed her down the hall, between the parallel rows of featureless soldiers. If these were his own men, Zuko wouldn't be nervous.
Katara expected a longer trek, more twists and turns past more soldiers, around and about the ship to wherever the fanciest cabin was. Instead, Zuko led her up the stairs, a few paces to the right, then through a half-open door on the opposite side of the corridor. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the relative darkness as Zuko closed and locked the door behind her. And once she could see more clearly in the dimness—well, the sight certainly surprised her. After everything she'd come to expect, Zuko's cabin was profoundly underwhelming. Though his bunk looked more comfortable than the one she'd been sleeping on, there were few other decorations or comforts, and the cabin could hardly have been more than two paces larger than the cell in either direction.
"This is your cabin?" she asked Zuko incredulously.
He scowled down at her and clamped his hand on her elbow again. "What do you think it is, a bathroom?"
She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but a deep voice cut her off before she had the chance to speak.
"You kept me waiting long enough." From his place at the back of the room, a man with bushy sideburns turned away from the banner he'd been examining to face them.
Katara recognized him, but only vaguely. If Zuko hadn't mentioned Crescent Island, she wasn't sure she would have remembered Zhao at all. He was menacing, but that was hardly unusual for a firebender.
"I told you, she's a difficult prisoner," Zuko snarled, pushing her a few steps farther from the door.
Hey. She wasn't any more difficult than Zuko himself. Katara kicked him in the shin.
"Ouch." He glared down at her. "This is exactly what I meant."
With a dismissive shake of his head, the admiral clasped his hands behind his back and walked a slow circle around them both. "I don't know why I expected the difficulty to be anything more than juvenile bickering." He stopped by Katara's left side and leaned a little too close for her liking. "A little Water Tribe peasant. This is the prisoner you were so determined to hide from me?"
Katara pulled as far away as she could, and although Zuko's grip on her arm didn't loosen, he let her. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the general by the door, frowning with his hands clasped across his stomach. Even he looked wary of Zhao, which wasn't exactly reassuring.
"She's a friend of the Avatar," Zuko answered, his voice stiff.
"And what do you hope to accomplish with her, Prince Zuko? Do you really think this little girl is going to help you capture the Avatar?" Zhao chuckled, and a chill ran up Katara's spine.
"What does it matter to you? I won the right to keep chasing the monk."
"'Won' is a strong word for what happened that day." Zhao rounded a little farther and grabbed Katara's chin, wrenching her face upward.
She jerked back, and the admiral laughed again.
"Nothing remarkable at all. Are you even sure she's a bender, Prince Zuko? The Southern Water Tribe—don't tell me that you paid so little attention to your history lessons."
Katara bristled, and pinpricks of red danced at the edge of her vision. Zhao almost sounded smug about that, like what the Fire Nation had done to her people was something to be celebrated. Like her people didn't matter anymore because she was their only remaining bender.
So much for the firebenders in the corridor. So much for the skull shapes in the helmets that called back all her worst nightmares. She wanted to fight this guy, and she was too angry to care who saw.
"Take these chains off of me, and I'll show you how well I can bend," she hissed.
"Bold talk for such a little girl," Zhao said.
Katara tried to kick him, but Zuko seemed to anticipate her movement, and he wrenched her back before she could make contact.
"Don't," Zuko growled, angling himself ever so slightly in front of her. He glared up at the admiral. "If you're so convinced that I'm running this mission the wrong way, you can take your men and get off my ship, Admiral. I'm going to keep searching the way I see fit."
"By all means, Prince Zuko. Who am I to tell you how to conduct your little vanity project?"
She felt Zuko almost lunge forward, then restrain himself at the last instant. The grip on her arm was just a little tighter than before, just short of uncomfortable.
"You didn't consider it a vanity project when you shut down all of Pohuai to celebrate the monk's capture."
Katara's heart skipped. The night when he'd woken her up just to ask how old Aang was. The night when she'd noticed the burn on his arm for the first time and realized who Masky had been all along. That was why Zuko had been sneaking around? Because Zhao had captured Aang?
The admiral's glare darkened, and he stood a little straighter, towering over both of them. All three of them, actually. The general still hung back, but Katara could almost feel his presence, his gaze trained on Zhao, watching for any sign of trouble.
Zhao stepped to the side, looming over Zuko this time. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Prince Zuko? I understand that your ship wasn't very far off when the monk slipped out of my grasp."
From the corner of her eye, Katara watched the muscles in his jaw working. "All I know is that you sent a letter congratulating yourself one day and another to say that you'd lost the monk the next."
Katara wracked her brain for the details of that night. Zuko had denied knowing where Aang was, but he'd never said anything more than that. He'd never denied seeing Aang. He'd asked to many questions for it to be idle curiosity. So Zuko must have known where Zhao was keeping Aang. He must have gone there in disguise, broken Aang out, and then—then what? Had Aang escaped from him? That made the most sense, except—Zuko hadn't been angry enough for that.
Had Zuko let Aang go free?
"Is that so?" The admiral meandered across the room to where a pair of swords hung on the wall. He ran his thumb along the edge of one of the blades. "In ready condition, I see." He looked back over his shoulder. "I don't suppose you know how to use these, do you, Prince Zuko?" Though his tone remained relatively even, the accusation was clear.
"Why would I?" Zuko's voice was so tense, so unnaturally stiff that Katara had to bite down on her tongue. If he was that staggeringly bad at lying, why on earth did he leave his swords out for anyone to see? At that point, he may as well hang the mask beside them to remove all doubt.
"What concern do you have with swords, Admiral?" Zuko continued. "I thought your division was made up of benders."
"Only that I've heard reports that the Avatar didn't escape unaided. A man wielding dual swords was spotted lurking around the stronghold on the night of his disappearance." A long pause. "The night when your ship was anchored just a mile away."
Zuko's voice crackled when he spoke again. "Are you accusing me of something, Admiral?"
"Certainly not." Zhao loomed closer again, leaving the swords in their place. "You, of all people, know that it would be high treason to release such a valuable prisoner. You are familiar with the consequences." He only stopped when he was a few paces away from Zuko, staring down his nose. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "What would your father think?"
Zuko spluttered, and from the corner of her eye, Katara watched some of the color drain from his face.
She couldn't stop herself. "I don't know about the Fire Lord, but I think it's pathetic that a grown man is trying so hard to intimidate a teenager."
Both—no, all three of them, the general included, looked her way. If derailing the topic had been her goal, she'd certainly succeeded. There wasn't any danger of Zhao digging any closer to the truth of what happened to Aang now. But the weight of three firebenders' gazes, two of them enraged, was a bit much.
Zhao spoke first. "What gives you the right to speak, waterbender?"
Her temper flared, and she stood as straight as she possibly could. "The way I hear it, you asked to meet me. Why shouldn't I speak?"
The admiral came even closer, glaring down at her. "You ought to learn your place in the world, little girl. It's never wise to speak back to your betters."
Katara narrowed her eyes. "I don't see anyone who fits that description here. All I see is a grown man who thinks threatening children makes him powerful."
Zhao's upper lip curled into an enraged sneer, and before Katara knew what was happening, he dropped into a lower stance, and his hands came up, palms turned her direction. Zuko yanked her back and stepped forward as the general lunged in from the side and wrenched Zhao's hands upward. There was an oppressive rush of heat and light, and when Katara's eyes focused again, there were streaks of sooty black etched on the ceiling.
She didn't even have time to catch her breath before the shouting began.
"What is wrong with you?" Zuko's voice was tight enough to shatter, and Katara wasn't entirely sure who he was yelling at.
The general kept his grip on Zhao's wrists. "Control yourself, Admiral Zhao!"
Had she ever heard the old man that angry before? She didn't think so. She didn't even think she'd heard him raise his voice before.
For another moment or two, Zhao remained wild-eyed, then seemingly composed himself in a single breath. He shook the general off and took a second to rearrange his uniform, gaze still boring through Katara. She couldn't move. And she was the tiniest bit grateful that Zuko was still standing in the way.
"I'm not in the habit of indulging this kind of insolence from prisoners," Zhao said. "But I suppose in this instance, I must respect the choices that my prince has made." His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Zuko extended an arm to hold Katara back, and she got the sense that he was trying to restrain himself too. She couldn't blame him. Though her heart was still racing from the admiral's attack, rage was beginning to bubble up in her stomach again.
"But I want it to be very clear," Zhao continued, "that such behavior would never be tolerated on my ships. Nor anywhere else in the Fire Nation. You're lucky that Prince Zuko is such a softhearted failure. It won't be the same anywhere else, I assure you."
"Admiral Zhao," the general barked. Though he stood a full head shorter than the admiral, his voice commanded Zhao's attention. "That is quite enough."
She heard the beginning of another interjection from Zuko, but before he could finish, a pounding at the door interrupted him. Katara whipped back toward it. What now?
With a smirk, Zhao elbowed his way past all of them. "You don't mind, do you, Prince Zuko?" Only the slightest mocking edge remained in his tone. He gave a short, almost convincing bow before he continued, "I hate to presume, but I believe that's for me."
Again, Zuko started to say something, but again, Zhao didn't give him the chance to finish. He unlocked the door and swung it open to admit a soldier in from the corridor.
Katara couldn't help but take a tiny step to the side, edging just a bit behind Zuko. Those helmets again. She hatedthose helmets even more than Zuko. Much more than Zuko.
"We've searched the ship," the soldier announced in a deep, muffled voice. "Every inch. No sign of the Avatar anywhere."
"You've what?" Zuko lunged forward and jabbed a finger at the soldier's chest. "This is my ship. What makes you think that you have any right to—"
"It was my order, Prince Zuko," the admiral said smugly, advancing behind him.
"I know that," Zuko snapped. "And I told you there was nothing to find. You had no right to search my ship." The side of his face that she could see grew redder with every word, and he jabbed his finger accusingly at Zhao this time. "This is my mission, and now that you know I'm not hiding anything, get off of my ship!"
Zhao's smile only broadened. He made a great show of bowing again before he motioned the soldier out and shut the door. "I would be delighted to leave. But I'm afraid that I have orders that supersede even yours."
Zuko spluttered. "But—my father—"
"The Fire Lord has requested that I call off all inessential missions and gather all our forces for more important operations. I thought you would prefer to hear it in person rather than by letter."
"But—I—my mission is essential! The Avatar—"
"Is a small child. Hardly worth the resources you've wasted on him."
Zuko kept reddening all the way back to the tips of his ears. "He got away from you. Do you have any idea what else the Avatar is capable of?"
"It hardly matters. Once this mission is complete, the Avatar will never be a concern for the Fire Nation again." Zhao narrowed his eyes and shot a look at Katara. "You've wasted your time keeping the bait fresh."
By now, Zuko was positively shaking. His voice dropped, and he took a small step back. "Get off of my ship, Admiral. Take your men with you. I don't want to see a single one of you when I get back, is that understood?"
Without so much as a pause, Zuko grabbed Katara by the elbow again, his fingers digging into her skin, and slammed the door open.
—orders that supersede even yours.
The Fire Lord has requested—
Inessential missions—
The Avatar will never be a concern for the Fire Nation again.
Zuko tried to drown out the echoes. He couldn't listen to them. He couldn't believe them. Zhao was lying. He had to be. The Avatar was important. The Avatar would always be important.
Father wouldn't take away Zuko's last chance to go home like this. He wouldn't. Not now. Not when Zuko was finally getting close. Not now, when he finally had a chance to succeed.
The waterbender squirmed. "Zuko, if you don't stop squeezing my arm, I'm going to kick you again."
Was he squeezing? He couldn't tell.
He pushed her toward the stairs and followed half a step behind her, letting the door slam shut after them.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice tight enough to crack. "You can't argue with Zhao like that. He was going to burn you. He might have killed you."
"Oh, and you're concerned about my safety now? Is that what this is about?" She snorted, not looking his way. "Brilliant timing, Zuko."
He couldn't find a response to that. He realized he didn't care. The burn on his arm, though long healed by now, was hot and aching. "You don't have any idea what kind of a person Zhao is." They approached the cell, and his vision blurred a bit around the edges. "You don't know what he's capable of."
"I think I got a pretty good idea when he tried to firebend at me."
Zuko shoved the girl through the open door, and she gave an indignant yelp when she nearly tripped over the bottom of the frame. Before she could look back, he grabbed the door and slammed it shut after her.
"You don't know," he repeated. "Zhao is—" He fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them.
Why were his hands shaking? They shouldn't be. He wasn't afraid of Zhao, he was angry. Angry at—someone. He didn't know who exactly. Not just Zhao. It felt too wild, too unpredictable to just be Zhao.
Her voice was close and quiet when she spoke again. "You said you were better than him."
Zuko glanced up just long enough to see the girl staring into his eyes.
"Do you still believe that? You think you're better than Zhao?"
He finally found the right key and jammed it into the lock, twisting until it clicked shut. By his own nation's standards, he was a failure. He was too soft for his own good. He couldn't be the same kind of ruthless, efficient leader as Zhao. According to every single thing that mattered in the Fire Nation, Zuko was worse.
But he wasn't as cruel. He wasn't as thoughtless.
He reached through the bars and grabbed her wrist, fumbling again for the right key to remove the shackles. "You're better off because I'm not Zhao."
The girl kept staring, her gaze so even and so sharp that it could have carved through his flesh. "For now."
"Excuse me?"
"Maybe you aren't going to hurt me, but what happens if you go through with your plan? If you manage to take me back to the Fire Nation, am I going to be any better off?"
Of course she would be. Zuko would never do any of the horrible things that Zhao would do. He wouldn't hurt her. Hadn't he done enough to prove that? Wasn't it enough that he'd gone out of his way to make sure that she was getting enough to eat and drink? That he'd asked Uncle to make sure that she felt safe enough to rest? That he'd taken his entire crew on a detour to find her a change of clothes, then given her water to bathe? That he'd given her necklace back to her?
Wasn't it enough that he'd pushed her out of the way and shielded her when Zhao tried to burn her?
But after—after this was over—
He felt a little lightheaded, and it hurt to breathe.
"You might not have hurt me yet, but if you're planning to take me back to the Fire Nation, it's still going to be the same thing in the end."
He clenched his jaw, and the key clicked in the lock, freeing one of her wrists.
"If you want me to believe that you're better, you have to prove it."
"I—" his voice came out hoarse, and he swallowed, then pulled back from the bars. "I'm not the same as Zhao. Taking you back there isn't the same."
"Different doesn't mean better!" Her voice crept higher. "You've never answered me when I asked you what would happen if you took me back. Why?"
Zuko choked on the words a little. "Because—I don't know what my father would do."
She shook her head. "That's ridiculous. You have to at least know what your own father is like."
He did know. Zuko knew Father, he knew how Father saw the other nations, how he saw Zuko himself. He knew how far Father was willing to push the Fire Nation in battle. But he didn't know what Father meant to do with the Avatar. He wasn't even sure that Father knew that.
"Is your father better or worse than Zhao?"
Zuko forgot how to breathe for an instant. They couldn't be compared. Zhao and Father were different, so, so different, but to compare one to the other—that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
His pulse roared in his ears, and his chest felt even tighter. He couldn't keep listening to her. The waterbender's questions were wrong. Father was Father. He was the Fire Lord, his word was law, no matter what.
Zuko took another step back. He had to get away. If he stayed here, her questions would only get worse, and he'd have to search for answers. He couldn't do that. He couldn't think about any of them.
"Zuko?" Her voice reached him through a haze, but he was already turning, already making his way back for the stairs, back for the privacy of his cabin—somewhere, anywhere that he could lock himself away and block out the thoughts and the echoes of her voice.
"Zuko! Finish taking these shackles off of me, you jerk!"
He kept moving. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't turn back now.
"Zuko!"
He slammed the door at the top of the stairs and bolted across the hall into his own cabin. He forgot to check whether the corridor was empty, whether Zhao and his men had left the ship.
It didn't matter anymore.
Is your father better or worse than Zhao?
Zuko sank onto the edge of his bunk and pressed his hands over his ears. Stop, stop, stop.
Zhao was incompetent. Zhao was cruel. Zhao would burn people for the crime of speaking out of turn. Zuko had proof burned into his own arm, and right now it hurt almost as much as when it was fresh.
Father was better.
Father was—
Father would—
The scar over Zuko's eye began to ache as well, a phantom pain so intense that it carried him back three years. Back home. He could hear the crowd again, could see his own skinny hands pressed to the floor as he begged for mercy, and could smell the burning.
Is your father better?
Zuko felt like he was going to be sick, and doubled over, head hanging between his knees as he tried to remember how to breathe.
Author's Note:
Does this count as a cliffhanger? I'm not a good judge of that.
There are a lot of things I could talk about here, but in the interest of not spoiling anything, I'll hold off until... a few weeks from now. What I will say is that I've been vibrating with excitement over this chapter since even before I wrote it, and I don't know how I'm going to last until next week before posting the next one.
I'll try, though. And in the meantime, reviews (and general screaming) are very much appreciated!
