This War of Ours: Year Two
SUMMARY: Harsh realities of war slowly seep through the Academy's walls. Old allies disappear and new ones take their place. As Katara starts her second year in the school, she is faced with secrets that are ripe to be uncovered. [Zutara AU, inspired by Harry Potter. Book Two of This War of Ours series]
A/N: Credit for the chapter title goes to Merlinda Carullo Bobis' Politics: "the deaf are gathering / in the plaza / so the mute can debate / in the plaza / the fate / of one beloved nation."
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Harry Potter.
CHAPTER 4
the mute can debate
She was set to be married in a week.
Yue's stomach twisted at the idea. While custom dictated that she and her betrothed— the word still sent bile up her throat— were not to see each other until their wedding day, Yue still couldn't wrap her head around what was supposed to happen afterwards, despite her mother's attempts to assuage her anxiety. Her chambermaids, her etiquette tutor, even her seamstress— they all seemed to have some piece of advice that did nothing to quell the fear in the princess's mind.
On top of all that, she still had no clue as to her father's plans when the Southern delegation arrived. The Fire Nation soldiers that patrolled their streets gave no indication that something sinister was brewing on the horizon, but she honestly wouldn't put it past them to overturn her father if they found anything remotely treasonous in his actions. Once again, Yue wondered at her father's logic— yes, protecting their home from the Regime of Fire was paramount, especially if there were evidence of transgression on the Fire Lord's part, but to sacrifice their sister tribe as well? Didn't they have enough warriors in the North? Did her father think so little of their brave men? Why include the Southern warriors as well?
Her room was growing dark. She was vaguely aware that her relentless pacing had scruffed up the ice floor. Exhausted, mind spinning with the same unanswerable questions, Yue dropped onto her bed and burrowed into her pelts, falling into an uneasy sleep.
She dreamed that she was encased in an ice cage— no amount of bending could break its translucent walls, and every now and then, people would pass by and ogle at her as she lay powerless on the cold floor. She saw Sokka's face in the crowd, and she shouted out, asking for help, but the boy just looked mournfully at her and vanished. Then Hahn appeared and tapped on the icy wall, leering maliciously as she startled.
"Stop it," Yue muttered as the tapping pounded in her sore head, "Leave me alone… please… I'm trying to sleep—"
She opened her eyes, silver moonlight filtering in from her window. Blearily, she scanned the room, trying to figure out what woke her in the first place.
The tapping continued, and Yue blinked as she saw a face peering through her window. The face grinned at her cheekily.
"Gumi?"
Her friend pressed a finger to her lips, warily looking over her shoulder. She relaxed after a moment and melted part of Yue's wall— the princess was surprised to see that Gumi was standing on a column of water, much like the one Sifu Pakku taught them.
"What are you doing here?" whispered Yue, sliding out of her bed. Gumi guided her water column back to the canals without so much as a splash.
"I'm busting you out!" she whispered back giddily. "At least, just for tonight. So you wouldn't have to practice alone."
"How did you know—" began the princess, but Gumi tugged on her hand and led her to the hole she created.
"I heard Dad's friends talking about it," Gumi replied in a low voice. "I don't think it's fair that they think we have no right to use our bending for anything other than healing, especially since Sifu Pakku already started teaching us combative moves. Let's go!"
"Gumi, if my parents find out—" stuttered Yue, gathering her trailing robes and looking down at the three-storey drop before her, "Father would get so angry, and it might jeopardize my union with Hahn—"
"Oh, relax, Princess Yue, we'll be back before dawn," said Gumi, calling up the water once more. "Besides, I know this secluded place where no one would think to look for us— it's where Dad and his buddies smoke their tundra cotton after going on a hunt. They won't be there tonight, they just had a big haul yesterday."
Yue looked back at her room uncertainly.
She was set to be married in a week, and this was the most freedom she could get before then.
She sighed and nodded at her friend, jumping into the pillar of water that awaited the two of them.
The old woman was a persistent hag, Zuko decided.
She'd steered him all over the marketplace, asking him insinuating questions that he tried to ignore in favor of sulky silence. When asking relentlessly led her nowhere, she just dug her veiny old claws further into his arm and dragged him to even more stalls, insisting on making him carry the produce she'd plucked from several vendors. It was really annoying and insulting, but even more than that, Zuko still couldn't shake the creepy feeling he had when she'd come across him.
"Would you care for spiced tea, dear?" Hama commented, perusing a selection of tea leaves in various jars. Zuko hefted her full wicker basket in his arms and shook his head mutely. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at him before purchasing a bag of leaves, anyway.
Zuko was beginning to wonder when he'd make it back to this inn of hers— he was still a little waterlogged from having crashed on the coast— when a disturbance from the village's plaza gained the attention of everyone nearby, and Hama stepped back with a hiss.
The crowd parted for the newcomer, and Zuko gasped.
"Uncle!"
Iroh was striding towards him, a severe look on his face. Zuko gulped. He'd only ever seen this side of his uncle back in his childhood, when Iroh had still been a general with a fearsome army at his back.
I'm in so much trouble.
"Uncle, I—" he began, but as his uncle neared, Zuko realized that the stormy expression was not directed at him, but at the old woman who had shrunk in on herself beside him. It seemed all her persistence had evaporated into a picture of frailty.
"Master Hama," began Iroh gravely, his expression still thunderous. Zuko started at his greeting— Uncle knows this hag? Why is he calling her a master?— but his uncle was speaking once more. "It seems we have some accounts to settle. May we speak in the privacy of your inn?"
"Yes, of course, General," sneered the old woman, before sharply turning on her heel and marching in the direction of a decrepit building across the village.
"Uncle, what's going on?" Zuko asked, but his uncle took his elbow and led him towards Hama's Inn in silence. A look around revealed that several Fire Nation soldiers were shooing curious merchants back to their stalls. Those muttering to each other about the Dragon of the West's presence were promptly whipped by the guards.
Ahead of them, Hama wrenched open the door to her inn, shuttering the windows before they even entered the building. Iroh closed the door tightly behind him and Zuko, and stood imperiously before Hama, who had dropped her frail act and was watching both of them with a disgusted twist on her lips.
"You have plenty to answer for, Hama," Iroh began bluntly. "What is this I hear about you breaking your oath?"
Zuko opened his mouth to ask either of them to explain, but the old woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
"I am guilty of nothing, Grandmaster," she said, steel in her cold, clouded eyes. "I have found your nephew and kept him safe, just as you asked."
"It is not only my nephew that I have asked protection for," said Iroh, drawing himself up to his full height. "Why have you restarted your meaningless crusade, Hama?"
"You and your wretched Order have done nothing for the balance of this world," she hissed venomously. "I am just righting the wrongs you are too afraid to face."
"They are innocent men and women!" roared Iroh, and Zuko jumped back at his tone, heart hammering in his chest, still ignorant of the gist of the conversation before him.
"They are of the same blood as those who took my brothers and sisters from me!" shrieked the old woman, pushing herself close to Iroh threateningly.
"The Order already took care of those involved in the capture of your people," Iroh responded unflinchingly, staring her down. "Do I need to remind you what else the Order has done for you, Master Hama? Need I remind you whose inn you are tending?"
Hama's nostrils flared and she glared at Iroh with such contempt before backing away and spitting at the floor.
"There are rumors… whispers and murmurs of terrible things about to befall my people, and you are doing nothing," she seethed. Iroh sighed heavily and folded his hands into his sleeves.
"We are all but pieces in the Pai Sho game of life," he replied sagely. "Our place is not to know, but to act when called upon."
"And who calls upon the pieces, Grandmaster?" Hama replied spitefully. "You have spent all these years sitting idly while our enemies gather more forces. What use is your precious Order?"
Iroh's gaze flitted to Zuko, who pressed his lips into a thin line. There were so many things he didn't understand about this whole interaction, and his uncle's reaction— his uncle's distrust— left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Perhaps this is a conversation for another time," Iroh finally said, and to Zuko's surprise, Hama relented. She started shuffling away, beckoning Zuko with a bony finger, and Zuko shot his uncle a questioning scowl before following the old woman into a small dining room. She gestured for him to set down her basket of food on the table, her movements sharp and agitated.
"What—" started Zuko, clearing his throat. "What was that?"
Hama cackled humorlessly under her breath.
"You watch out for your uncle, boy," she told him mysteriously. "Don't let him spin you into his web of lies."
"Uncle— Uncle is not a liar!" shouted Zuko, heart in his throat. "How dare you suggest—"
"Oh, yes, I dare, Prince Zuko," she replied with a malicious grin. "I dare suggest it, because I know more about the comings and goings of the Dragon of the West."
"Well— well, what about what Uncle said about your— your crusades on innocent men and women?" Zuko retorted hotly, grasping desperately at the conversation that didn't make sense. "Why should I trust your word over my uncle's? You aren't coming off as honorable as he is, you old hag!"
"You firebenders and your precious honor," scoffed the old woman. "Sometimes, one must dirty their hands for the sake of justice."
"Justice for what?" asked Zuko, but the hard lines on Hama's face made him backtrack. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but if you are harming innocent people for the sake of justice then it's not justice at all!"
Hama raised an eyebrow, frowning in displeasure.
"You truly are your uncle's nephew," she said pensively, before nodding back towards the antechamber where Iroh stood. "Hurry along, Prince Zuko. Tell the general I have much to think about."
Zuko blinked and stumbled back into the other room, where his uncle was gazing out of the now-open windows, looking every bit as placid as he usually was.
"Uncle?" ventured Zuko tentatively, and Iroh turned to him with a soft smile.
"Ah, nephew, you're done helping Master Hama in the kitchen?"
Zuko nodded and fidgeted with his cloak. He glanced back at the other room.
"She told me to tell you that— that she has much to think about," he said haltingly, peering up at his uncle to gauge his reaction.
"Oh," Iroh said, eyes wide in surprise. He stroked his beard thoughtfully before smiling hugely at his nephew. "Well, it seems you have gotten to her, my boy. I've never known Master Hama to change her mind without much struggle."
Iroh's compliment fell on deaf ears. The lack of knowledge— and the way Iroh was speaking, as though Zuko still had no say in the situation— made his hackles rise.
"Uncle, none of this is making any sense!" hissed Zuko angrily. "I demand to know what this is all about!"
Iroh didn't even look the least bit perturbed at his outburst, and he simply looked at his nephew pointedly until Zuko deflated and muttered a reluctant apology under his breath.
His uncle steered him into a lumpy old couch in the corner of the room.
"Nephew, the lotus only opens to those who know her secrets," Iroh said cryptically, and Zuko groaned in exasperation. His uncle held up a finger sternly. "Some mysteries will only reveal themselves in the proper moment, Prince Zuko. One needs to be patient in order to watch the moon flower bloom."
"What does that even mean, Uncle?" muttered Zuko belligerently. "And it's not just that. How did you even find me?"
Iroh looked at him sadly.
"Well, there was a rather important missive missing from my desk…" he began lightly, and Zuko dropped his head into his hands. Iroh clucked his tongue at him. "What was your plan, Prince Zuko? You will traipse into the mainland? Disguise yourself as a commoner? And then what?"
"And then I'll find the Avatar before Zhao does!"
"You seem to be missing a few steps," his uncle commented dryly, shaking his head. "You never think things through, nephew."
"I had to do something!" Zuko almost yelled, his clenched fists smoking from agitation. "I have to regain my honor, Uncle. For Zhao to just swoop in and— and— and take that chance away from me— this is my destiny! How dare he—"
"Is it your own destiny? Or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?" Iroh interrupted gently. "Oh, nephew, how many times do I have to tell you? Your honor was never taken away from you. You are more honorable than Zhao could ever hope to be."
Zuko opened his mouth to argue, but Hama appeared in the doorway and nodded at Iroh.
"Food's on the table. Also made spiced tea," she gritted out, and Zuko scowled suspiciously— was she trying to poison them? Iroh, however, smiled genially at the woman.
"Oh, we don't want to overstay our welcome, Master Hama," he said, and Hama frowned at him, almost petulantly.
"It's your inn, Grandmaster. Stay as long as you want," she replied frostily, shuffling to the exit. "I have business to take care of in the mountains."
"That's good news," muttered Iroh, and Hama shot him another glare before slamming the door shut behind her.
Iroh stood up with a smile on his face and clapped his hands together.
"Now, then, nephew," he announced, "Why don't we have some of Master Hama's famous spiced tea?"
The dap-ay, a circle of rocks in the middle of the village where the tribal leaders usually made important announcements and resolved disputes, was surrounded by people, far more than Katara had seen in her whole life.
Conflict resolution in her village usually didn't attract too much attention— usually, the council just settled petty offenses and domestic affairs, like that time Kallik, the hide curer, ran off with a younger woman and left his wife and newborn son.
The only time the dap-ay was this crowded with people was when her father asked the tribe for permission to set sail with all the men to exact revenge on the Fire Nation.
Katara's heart leapt to her throat. That couldn't be the case, could it? Her father wouldn't leave them again. Not when they had just resuscitated the tribe. Not when she and Sokka were now going to the Academy.
She felt Sokka sidle up beside her. One sidelong glance at him revealed that his face was grim. He hadn't been allowed into the lodge to witness the Northern delegates' meeting with the village elders, and he'd spent the entire night griping about it. After a summer— well, a week, really— of joining the council sessions, he'd felt robbed when their father ushered him out of the meeting.
"Do you think the elders agreed?" Katara whispered to him as they approached the dap-ay. Several of their tribesmen were also murmuring the same question.
Sokka shrugged.
"Doesn't matter if they agreed or not, right?" he said blithely, scowling as he tucked his mittened hands under his arms. "The tribe gets to vote. I just don't know how they're gonna present the whole situation when we've got all these Fire Nation soldiers listening in on us."
"I think that's why Bato invited most of them for a round of moonshine last night," snickered Katara, looking over her shoulder at a guard who was leaning a little too heavily on his spear. Sokka snorted a laugh as the soldier almost toppled over.
"Brothers and sisters," greeted their father, the ceremonial wolfskin cloak hung around his shoulders, making him appear massive and menacing as he stood atop one of the stones in the dap-ay, "I come before you today to ask for your guidance and your blessing. Our kin in the North have come to our home to invite the men of our tribe to their princess's wedding. The elders have decided that it is a worthy endeavor to reach out to our sister tribe and… offer our felicitation."
"Why only the men?" asked Bato's wife, Sampi, and several of tribeswomen echoed her concern. Bato exchanged a glance with Hakoda before placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and addressing those gathered.
"It is a Northern tradition that we have to respect," he said simply, and Katara heard her grandmother scoff behind them and leave.
"Who will care for the women and children when all the men are gone?" questioned another, and a ripple of disgruntled murmurs broke through the crowd— some recounted the days of starvation during the harsh, dark winters, while some expressed their disapproval of the Northerners' proposition outright; some even went so far as to accuse the North of purposefully weakening the Southern Water Tribe.
"My pack," called Hakoda authoritatively, silencing the crowd. "I assure you— you will not be left unguarded. Only a select number of men will accompany the Northern delegation across the world. We will decide, here and now, who will join our group, should there be no objection to… this endeavor."
No one seemed to find any point of objection. Katara glanced around desperately. Surely the rest of the tribe knew what her father was really asking— for her, it didn't seem enough reassurance that some of the men will stay behind to protect the tribe. They had to know there were politics involved in all of this. They had to know it was more than just Yue's wedding.
Sokka seemed to be on the same page as her.
"They're just fine with it?" he asked quietly, his voice cracking with incredulity. "Don't they know we're basically going to war again?"
"Maybe they don't," Katara breathed in dismay. Their father probably thought it was better for the tribe to know less about their trip to the North Pole. It could provide them some sort of protection— their tribe would seem less involved, like they were just caught in the crosshairs of whatever turmoil there was between the Fire Nation and the Northern Water Tribe.
It made sense to Katara, yes, but she found herself watching in resentment as several of her father's men strode forward and volunteered to join him on the journey.
"We've come of age together, we've shared meals together," a large, burly man called Gilak said as he walked to Hakoda's side. "We will sail together, be it in battle or no!"
The other warriors thumped their chests at his proclamation, and Katara felt sick to her stomach. These were the people who knew what lay in store for them— they were part of her father's inner circle, the ones who survived the Southern Revolt, and despite all that, they were still eager to go back and risk their lives for the North? Why were they so eager to leave their own families, their own homes?
"Sis, you okay?" Sokka nudged her with his elbow, and she belatedly realized that she had formed enough snow at her feet to bury both of them up to the shins.
"Why are they so eager to leave?" she hissed, blinking away the tears that smarted the corners of her eyes.
Sokka shrugged helplessly as more men joined their father's side.
"Maybe it's their way of being brave," he replied, but Katara shook her head adamantly.
"It's not brave— it's selfish and stupid!" She angrily wiped her tears away. "They think the North needs them, but don't they know how much we need them, too? How can they just leave us behind?"
Sokka turned to her in surprise.
"Whoa, you're talking about someone else now, aren't you?" he asked without really needing an answer. His face softened as he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Look. I get it. I understand why Dad had to leave us before, but it still— it still hurts. Even now. Especially now, since he's leaving again."
"I know we still have Gran-Gran, and she loves us more than anything, but—" Katara glanced back at their father, who was now assigning which of the warriors would stay behind, "Back then, we were just so… lost without him."
"Well, now we won't be," her brother told her, tightening his grip on her in reassurance. "Amaruk said that Dad told the elders they won't stay in the North Pole for long, because the Fire Nation might think they're up to something if they don't leave after the wedding. Dad thinks they just invited the warriors as a show of force, anyway— just something to scare off the Fire Nation troops in the area."
"I really hope that's the case," muttered Katara sincerely. Both she and Sokka looked back at their father, who had clambered down from the ritual stone to end the assembly.
"Sokka, Katara," he called out, waving them over as he made his way to their home. "We still have more to discuss."
The two of them exchanged surprised looks. That was not his Dad Voice— that was the voice of Chief Hakoda, and whatever he had to discuss with them, they knew it was connected to the tribe, as well.
Hakoda held their hut's flap open for them— Gran-Gran was already inside, preparing five flavor soup in one corner. She eyed Hakoda in dry resignation before turning away with pursed lips. Sokka and Katara sat down by the fire pit, sending curious glances between their father and grandmother.
Hakoda settled down across them with a beleaguered sigh, shrugging off his wolfskin cloak and setting it aside. The flames in the middle of the pit lent an even rougher look on his face, the shadows making him appear more rugged than usual. He looked at his children tightly for a few moments before speaking.
"When I leave for the North Pole," he began, "I will be bringing you two—"
"Alright!" crowed Sokka, but Hakoda held up a hand tiredly.
"I will be bringing you two," he repeated pointedly, "To the Academy."
"What?" cried Katara, at the same time Sokka exclaimed, "Why?"
"Both of you know why I agreed to send you to the Academy," their father said gravely, meeting their eyes with a hard look. "By staying there during our visit to the North, I have ensured with Headmaster Iroh that the pact will not be compromised from either end."
"You'll have us stay at the Academy as collateral?" Sokka gasped incredulously. Katara similarly stared at their father in disbelief.
"The Academy is the safest place you can be," replied Hakoda, the words taking on a practiced tone, grated and scuffed from overuse. "General Iroh is the best headmaster that the Academy has ever seen. He has given his word that he will protect you no matter what."
"What about Gran-Gran and the rest of the tribe?" cried Katara, flinging a hand towards her silent grandmother. "Who's going to protect them?"
"The Fire Nation will not touch the tribe as long as you two will behave yourselves—" their father began, but Sokka interrupted him.
"Us being in the Academy won't protect the tribe from getting obliterated if you do what Arnook tells you, Dad!" He threw his hands up agitatedly. "You said that being a man is knowing where you're needed the most. Here is where you're needed the most! Those Northern rubes can take care of themselves! They've been doing it since the beginning of time!"
"And we will not stoop so low as they did," Hakoda said firmly. "We are all children of the ocean. We will not leave our sister tribe defenseless, no matter how lowly they think of us."
"But we just got you back," Katara whispered, hating how her voice broke and how her throat closed up. "We just got the tribe back on its feet. So many things could go wrong— if the Fire Nation even suspects you're working against them—"
"They will have no reason to, once I drop you off at the Academy," said Hakoda with finality. Katara glanced desperately at her brother, but found him looking speculatively into the fire.
"There's something else, isn't there?" he muttered, brows furrowed, one hand stroking his chin. "The Fire Nation won't send troops just because they felt like it. They've already won the war, and the Northern Water Tribe was the first one to surrender to them. They have to have something to pin on Chief Arnook— and for you to agree to help him, instead of just saying no… there must be something we're gaining from this."
Their father was silent for a few, long, excruciating seconds until he closed his eyes with a sigh.
"You're too smart for your own good, son," he muttered with a dry chuckle. He scrubbed a hand over his face and spoke in a low voice. "Alright. Both of you— promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone else."
"What's going on, Dad?" asked Katara pleadingly, "How bad is it going to be?"
Hakoda sighed again before meeting their eyes seriously.
"The Regime of Fire is looking for the next Avatar— a waterbender," he said.
Katara gasped and clutched her mother's necklace. Beside her, Sokka swiveled his head between her and her father, his jaw slack from surprise— it would have been comical if Katara's heart was not pounding in her throat.
It all makes sense now.
Of course her father would send her to the Academy. She was the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. The Fire Nation would immediately zero in on her if they thought she was the next Avatar.
And even if she wasn't, handing her over to Headmaster Iroh was the most sensible way to show the Fire Nation that the Southern Water Tribe was still very much willing to cooperate with their demands.
The revelation gave her an odd sense of deja vu— hadn't she felt this way with the warriors earlier? She'd known that it all made sense, yet it still cut her on the most visceral level.
"But— but—" she stammered, her heart still bounding in her chest like a rabaroo, making it hard to think. She managed to sputter out, "I-I'm not the Avatar!"
Sokka snorted beside her.
"Would be pretty easy to know if you were, sis," he told her, crossing his arms, "'Cause if you were, I'm pretty sure you'll firebend when you're angry."
His rather fast recovery from the news that their father had just dropped on them helped thaw Katara out of her shock.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I'll just bury you in a rockalanche whenever you annoy me," she retorted haughtily, folding her arms over her chest. Sokka stuck his tongue out at her and she smiled tremulously before turning back to their father.
"When— when do we leave, Dad?" she asked. How much time do we have with you?
"Tomorrow, after the farewell feast, so you better start packing," replied Hakoda, standing up. He looked back at his mother, who was watching her grandchildren mournfully as she prepared dinner. Hakoda smiled at her tightly before addressing Sokka and Katara. "You kids eat dinner without me. I need to iron out some things with Bato and the crew."
He lumbered out of their home, shrugging on his parka as he did so. His children gazed at his retreating back in silence, and their grandmother huffed behind them.
"I tried to persuade him to let you stay, you know," Kanna said, hefting the pot of soup over the fire. Katara immediately got up to help her slide the other ingredients into the soup base, but Kanna waved her away. "But of course, your father is right. We are still at war, no matter what the Regime of Fire says. And at war, sacrifices have to be made, whether we like it or not."
"Are you gonna be okay here, Gran-Gran?" Sokka asked earnestly, holding out empty bowls as their grandmother stirred the broth. Kanna smiled wryly at him.
"Oh, don't you worry about me, my brave warrior— I have survived a great many things," she said, handing him a full bowl, which he slurped up almost instantly. Kanna tsked at his manners and slapped his hand lightly. "Don't eat like your food is running away."
"I just can't believe Dad's leaving us again. And in the Fire Nation, no less," Katara said, clutching her bowl close to her chest. Gran-Gran's five flavor soup was always comforting and mouthwatering, but right now, she doubted she could stomach any food. She exhaled slowly, watching as steam wafted away from her soup. "When are we gonna be together again as a family?"
"Oh, my little waterbender," her grandmother murmured, shuffling over to embrace her. Katara's lips trembled as she leaned into her touch, and beside her, Sokka scooted closer to wrap an arm around them both.
"When we meet again is up to destiny," Kanna said, her gravelly voice thick with unshed tears. "Until then, you must keep each other safe. Family is all we have in a world such as ours."
A/N: Woof, there's a lot of information in this chapter, and yep, I won't be feeding you the backstories yet! Any guesses on what will happen next? How are you all liking Book Two so far? Comments/reviews are always welcome!
Oh, and just as a cultural side note, a dap-ay is something that exists in Cordilleran culture in the Philippines, and its functions are basically how I've described them here, except that the village elders are the ones who sit upon the stone and resolve conflicts, not just the chief of the tribe.
Cheers!