A/N So I sped-run this ficlet in 2 days and only a few hours, so if it's absolutely horrible, I apologize for it.
Anyways, in case you didn't know, Whumptober is an event hosted on Tumblr in which for the entire month of October, you create media, be it fic or art or edits, that portray characters from any fandom (or even your own OCs) being harmed in some way based upon the prompt. Each day is a different prompt, and you can find it at the whumptober2021 blog on Tumblr!
So this is my very first Whumptober ficlet, written for day 2 (posted early so I can post it on time on my Tumblr blog), so I hope you enjoy!
Theme: "Talking is overrated"
Prompt Chosen: Choking
TW: Probably torture? Also violence
The world first appeared as blurred red-orange blobs that blended together with the dark brown, almost black background, like a painting that had been smudged together. Even when Aang blinked a couple of times (why were his eyelids so heavy?), the world seemed oddly muted, indistinct.
Gradually, however, the borders between objects sharpened, and Aang found himself kneeling on the cold ground with his hands behind his back, staring up at huge menacing walls of brown brick that stretched over him into a large arch over his head. It reminded him of the holding cell he had been in when he had been captured by Zhao, which was not what he wanted to be reminded of at all.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened to lead up to this point. Everything was a whirlwind, a blur of activity that he could barely decipher—and the fact his head throbbed fiercely did nothing to help jog his memory. He squeezed his eyes even harder, mentally racking his brain with something, anything that could help him remember.
Fire roaring through the courtyard, hot air searing his skin.
The screams and shouts of his friends as they ducked for cover.
Whirling around frantically, searching for them, hoping, begging that they were alright.
Something hard and heavy being slammed into the back of his head, stars exploding in his eyes.
Katara's wide, horrified eyes the last thing he sees before the world goes black.
The back of his head throbbed harder than ever, like it was loudly protesting his getting caught by the Fire Nation. Aang instinctively made to rub the aching spot, but when his hands jerked, he looked behind him and realized his hands were chained to a grate in the ground, metal links wrapped around its bars.
He suppressed a sigh. Of course.
Aang slumped and looked around, dully watching the firelight flicker. It was rather unfortunate, he mused, that he was captured by the Fire Nation, but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care that much about it, not if his friends were able to escape safely.
Better him than them.
They could take care of themselves, he knew, which is why he's confident that they escaped; they wouldn't have made the same mistake he had, letting a Fire Nation soldier sneak up on him like that.
(he wondered if Toph had seen—well, felt—it happen, and amused himself with the thought of her lecturing him when he got himself out of this mess)
(if he got himself out of this mess)
The sound of the metal door scraping against the stone floor echoed throughout the chamber, and Aang glanced over to see four firebenders enter the chamber, followed by…
A cold stone of dread began congealing in the pit of his stomach. "Azula."
The Fire Princess placed her hand over her heart, her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "So you do remember me." She smirked, her eyes calculating and mirthless. "How flattering."
The scar in his back tingled.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded loudly, trying to ignore the twinge in his back. He had meant it to sound confident, firm, maybe even angry, but it sounded more scared than he wanted it to.
And from the sadistic gleam in her eye, Azula heard it too.
"What makes you think we want something from you?" she purred, circling him in an almost predatory fashion, as if she were a wolf eyeing a piece of fresh meat. Aang tried to shrink in on himself, unnerved by the piercing look in her eyes. "Why, you're the Avatar; you were the only obstacle standing in our way to total victory." She walked away from him, her back to him. "There wouldn't be anything else we would want from you, other than your capture.
"Unless, of course…" She turned to regard him with a sly smile that Aang didn't like the look of. "You're saying you have information we would want."
"I don't," Aang said quickly, realizing too late a bit too quickly.
And from the way Azula's eyes narrowed, it didn't go unnoticed. "I see."
She stopped, tilting her head to the side, as though considering something. "Actually, now that I think about it," she said—something in her voice made ice slither down Aang's back, "there is something that you would be most… helpful in providing for us."
Fear crawled up Aang's throat at the way her golden eyes gleamed. No… she couldn't possibly…
Azula leaned in so close, all he could see was her flaxen eyes that gleamed menacingly in the dim firelight as she hissed, "Where is my traitorous brother?"
Aang jerked his head away from her, leveling a defiant glare at her as he tried to hide the terror he felt. "I don't know," he said forcefully. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." He tilted his chin up, squarely meeting her narrowed gaze with his own.
Azula's eyes flitted over his face, as though gauging for any weakness, any vulnerability in his face. Aang kept his gaze steadily fixed on her, refusing to waver.
Then, she did the last thing he expected her to do.
She smiled.
"I know," she said pleasantly—a chill ran down Aang's back. She stepped away from him, a sly, menacing smile fixed upon her face. "Which is why we have the perfect bait."
Aang's breath caught in his throat as it hit him. "No…"
"Oh, yes." Azula twirled her bangs, looking as though she were very much enjoying the panic that was now rising in Aang's chest. "I take it they're very… fond of their Avatar. It would be a shame if they were to come back for you and"—she sneered—"something were to happen to them."
No, no, no— Aang jerked against his chains, cold panic filling his lungs and rising in his throat. He strained against his bindings, but it's not enough, not as Azula begins speaking.
"Perhaps we'll throw the earthbender into a lake of water," Azula mused aloud. A sadistic smile flitted on her face. "I hear she can't swim."
No no no—
"Or maybe we'll throw that water tribe barbarian into the fighting ring. I'd be interested in seeing how long he lasts before he inevitably perishes."
"Stop!" The word exploded from Aang's mouth on its own. He was only distantly aware of cold tracks on his face as he struggled against the chains tying him down. He squeezed his eyes shut, not caring about the tears running down his face or how pathetic he sounded, and wished with all his might that he could block out Azula's sickeningly sweet voice.
"Maybe I'll personally escort poor Zuzu to our father." Cruel disdain dripped from her tone as she inspected her nails. She sneered with contempt. "Perhaps our father will burn in the lesson he never learned the last time he rebelled."
Nonononono—
"And, of course, the water tribe wench."
Aang's heart stopped.
A finger slid under Aang's chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to stare into those cold, cruel eyes. "Now I wonder," she said softly, deliberately, "what the best way to kill a waterbender is. Perhaps it would be fitting, to bind her hands and drown her in her own element. Or maybe she should suffocate deep underground, where no one will ever hear her scream."
No…
"But do you know what I think is the best way to kill one?" Azula leaned in so close to his ear, her lips brushed against it. "Burn them alive."
Something in him snapped.
One second, Azula was right in front of him; the next, she was slamming against the metal door across the room with a resounding BONG! before crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Aang ducked as a fireblast shot overhead, the firebender guards snapping into action upon seeing their princess lying prone on the ground. A firebender came at him, fist cocked and wreathed in flames, but Aang brought his feet out from underneath him and slammed them into the guard's midsection, sending him reeling into another firebender.
Another guard charged towards him, throwing out his fist towards Aang's face. Even with the limited maneuverability of having his hands tied down to a grate, Aang managed to dodge before sweeping his leg out, tripping the firebender. The guard stumbled over his own feet before crashing to the ground, rolling into a heap.
He felt the air currents ripple and moved just as a katana sliced through the air, barely missing him by a hair. He turned and kicked out, sending an airblast that slammed the guard head-on and sent him skidding back several steps.
The firebender backed up, sword brandished warily as though second-guessing his choice of engaging in battle. Aang glared at him. I like to see you try.
As if taking his silent challenge, the firebender charged again, steel blade whirling as he advanced on Aang. Aang slipped around his slashes and stabs easily, and the firebender visibly grew more frustrated with every blow that failed to connect, his sword swings growing more aggressive and reckless.
Finally, Aang jerked forward just as the sword came down, and it sliced clean through his bindings. He lurched forward, his hands free, and whirled around, punching out an air blast that sent the guard slamming into a brick wall.
For several moments, all was still. Aang looked around at the firebenders laying prone on the ground, their groans the only sounds echoing in the chamber.
Then he felt a ripple of heat in the air currents, and he turned just as blue flames filled his vision.
Aang slammed against the wall, head smacking hard against the bricks and making stars explode in his eyes. A palm slammed into his throat, fingers closing around his neck, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
Aang gasped for air that wouldn't come, scrabbling at the hand (or was it a claw?) pinning him against the wall, at the fingers digging into his windpipe. Frantically, he kicked out, desperately trying to dislodge his attacker, but the fingers clenched into his throat tighter until his vision flashed white.
Wheezing, he pried desperately at the vice-like grip around his neck as he fought for air, fought to breathe. The world was beginning to spin all around him, turning inside out and flipping upside down until he was no longer sure what was up or down.
Gasping desperately, he opened his eyes to see piercing gold eyes staring back at him.
A cold smirk played on Azula's lips as she forced his head around, studying him with no more interest than an insect she was about to dissect. "I've always wondered what would happen if you cut an airbender off from his precious air," she sneered. Her fingernails dug into his skin, piercing into his throat, and his vision whitened.
Wild now with blind panic, Aang thrashed. He reached out for his element, pleading, begging for respite, for the very thing his body was starved of.
Never had he ever been so deprived of his own element.
(all alone)
He clawed
(why were his fingers so heavy)
at the crushing grip around his throat.
(so tired)
Darkness marching steadily over his vision.
(why was he still fighting?)
His fingers slackening from the hand against his neck.
(so heavy)
The world falling away to black.
(sleep)
He closed his eyes.
(floating, intangible, untouchable)
(nonexistent)
(what was up?)
(what was down?)
(was he flying?)
(or had he always been falling?)
When the world faded back into reality, Aang found himself limp on the ground at the feet of the firebenders, involuntarily coughing and sputtering, his throat burning but free of the crushing grip. His chest heaved laboriously as he gulped in air, his limbs floppy and still like a broken doll's.
He was sure Azula said something, but it was lost in the blood roaring in his ears, in the pounding of his head. Every sound was muffled as though he were underwater, every object blurred and indistinguishable except for splashes of color that flitted in his vision.
Azula said something else that he couldn't hear, but the sinister tone behind her words were enough. Then footsteps retreated, followed by the sound of a heavy door slamming shut.
Aang curled in on himself on the cold stone floor, body trembling involuntarily. His breaths sounded unnaturally loud and ragged in the sudden spacious emptiness of the stone chamber, echoing eerily all around him.
He thought of Zuko, of Toph, of Sokka, of Katara. He thought of their passion, their determination, their compassion, their willingness to fight. They would come for him, no doubt.
Then Azula's sadistic laugh echoed in his head, and his throat constricted in on itself.
Please, he prayed to the spirits, a tear rolling from his cheek. Keep them away. Don't let them come after me.
He squeezed his eyes shut and reminded himself to breathe, just breathe. He breathed and breathed and breathed, inhaling and exhaling over and over again, trying to reassure his body that there was air, trying to convince himself that he was safe.
And if there was something warm trickling down his neck, he ignored it.
He was still breathing.
He was still breathing.
He was
still
(claws digging into his throat)
breathing.
(but how long until they take that from him too?)