AN: Thank you all for your reviews! It was wonderful to read them. I heart feedback. : D
Musiclover-chan: Yeah? In the show they call them sandbenders. Watch Book 2 Chapters 10& 11: The Library and the Desert.
Sassyprincess: Thanks! And no kidding. Zuko goes through so much crap in his life. ): But I love him!
Nene428: Thank you. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Midnight iris: Thanks, I really appreciate it. Haha oh am I? Why would that be? And thank you again. I understand that there are mistakes, but I don't have a beta and I'm too busy (or is the correct word 'lazy'? xD) to go through it all and rephrase the sentences that sound weird. Maybe you want to be my beta? And maybe show me some of the ropes, as I still mostly don't know how this community works. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar, would I really be writing a fanfiction for what SHOULD have happened?
The first thing that he felt when he woke up was pain. It was as if an earthbender soldier was practicing throwing rocks at opponents in Zuko's head. The constant pounding greeted him as he came back to consciousness. Needless to say it wasn't a pleasant experience. He moaned softly at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and raising his hands to touch his poor, aching head—
Something suddenly tugged on Zuko's wrists. He couldn't reach to touch his head. He could barely move his hands at all. What…? With an effort he opened his eyes. At first everything was blurry, but after a moment or two it came into focus. The exiled prince was met with more unwanted revelations. His feet ankles were tied together with chains. Turning his sore neck he saw that his wrists were shackled to the wall that his back was pressed against. On top of all of that he was bare-chested, and his feet were without shoes. They had also taken his hooded cloak, his shirt, his visor, and obviously his pack and Dao's, as well as a knife he had hidden in one of his boots.
He sighed heavily. The scar on his face ached slightly; the ghost of an old pain. It hurt sometimes in times of stress. He wished it didn't. It just made it harder to focus on his surroundings, which was currently what he needed to do. Where are you? He asked himself and forced his tired brain to work, What do you see around you?
With a deep breath to calm himself Zuko focused his strength and prepared himself for what he would see. Canvas. He was in a tent. A fairly large tent at that, for it was propped up and supported by various beams of wood. Most of the other walls were also of tent material, but the one Zuko had his back to was hard, compact earth. He pulled with his wrists, but both the wall and shackles were too tight to allow the Prince any wiggle room. He gave up for the moment as the desire to look at his surroundings again seized him.
The wall his back was pressed against made up a semi-circle and when Zuko looked down it he could see other men. They were chained to the wall. Prisoners, then, just like he was. And just going from appearances, he'd guess that they were Fire Nation. Some of them were shackled to the wall, like Zuko. Others, with chains, had more leeway. They all appeared to be sleeping. Not that Zuko was thrilled with the prospect of speaking with them, but if he did then he could at least learn more about this place. Maybe he could begin to formulate an escape plan.
Most of the rest of the tent was empty. The floor was sand and there were no torches or any other source of fire nearby that would of use to Zuko. Not that he could bend the flames when he was restricted like this anyway, but it was good to look for what may very well be a future weapon.
From the light that came tinted through the canvas the exiled prince assumed that it was either sunrise or sunset. If he took into account the sleeping prisoners it was more likely sunrise.
For several moments all that he did was sit there and try to piece his mind back together. He was still exhausted, his head hurt, his wrists and ankles stung with the bite of the metal, his body was bruised, beaten, and malnourished, his thigh burned where it had been sliced open, he had no idea where he was and Katara still had not been found.
This was a disaster.
After another minute or two the effort of staying awake was too great, and the battered prince fell back into unconsciousness.
x
It could have been hours or days when consciousness once again touched his mind; this time not in the form of pain but an icy splash of water. Zuko sputtered as he jerked awake and his mind scrambled for several moments as he remembered where he was and how he had gotten there. Searching for Katara… lost in the desert… sandbenders… shackles. And now a bare-chested, beastly looking man.
The man in question was standing right in front of Zuko, the leather straps that crossed his neck studded with various knives and weapons, everything bathed in the light of midday. His face was red, scarred, and yelling a loud stream of words at the exiled prince. While his head still pounded and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep again he knew that this was important. He had to be on his toes and keep his eyes open constantly if he wanted to survive here, if he wanted to eventually escape. So he ignored his pain and listened.
"—so your punishment for being from the worst nation in the world as well as trespassing on our land will be to entertain us!" Zuko was sure he had heard wrong. Entertain? What sort of punishment is that? He was about to find out.
A moment later the shackles on his wrists were being parted to allow his arms freedom. Zuko watched with predatory golden eyes. He was a panther waiting for the moment to strike. Waiting for the right moment… the chains on his legs were removed… and he leapt.
Except Zuko had not thought about his exhaustion or his injuries. He wasn't in his right mind and predatory instincts had begun to take over. His anger and frustration came out as his weak legs threw him into the barrel chested man. Zuko hit the main in the throat with his palm and was satisfied to hear a choking noise and see his captor stumble back. In the background there was a soft clinking of chains as the few prisoners who were still chained to the wall looked up.
Unfortunately, now that the advantage of surprise was gone Zuko's chances of inflicting further damage weren't very high at all. The prison guard took a second to catch his breath before his dark eyes flashed to look at the exiled prince. He took a step forward and simultaneously drew his arm back in preparation to hit the new prisoner. Zuko saw this coming and ducked, but his weak muscles moved too slowly. The punch clipped him in the head instead of the intended target that was his jaw. With frustration at his own weakness he fell to the sand.
"Call a medic!" A rough voice said. Zuko saw spiderwebs of darkness appear to fringe his vision and knew that unconsciousness was coming. No. He thought, No. I won't leave. I'm going to find out what is going on here. So he clung on. It hurt, but he did it.
Several heartbeats later Zuko felt rough, calloused hands roughly pat him down. He was too weary to do anything in protest. Another several heartbeats passed. Then Zuko heard distant voices, one male, one female. He couldn't make out any words. Then there was the sound of feet moving through the sand and a tent flap being moved aside. The voices came again, this time audible.
"This is him?" The female.
"Yes, miss," the gruff voice of a man. Zuko tried to shift his neck to get a better view but pain lanced through him when he tried. Better now to just lie and see what would happen. What occurred next almost caused Zuko to flinch. Someone was touching him again, but these hands were soft, gentle, and held none of the roughness that the earlier set had.
"You've treated him badly," she said with disapproval. I don't need you to stand up for me, he wanted to say, but kept quiet.
"Yes, miss. He's Fire Nation." The other man stated simply.
"That's no excuse," she countered. "Here, let's take him to my tent," The man did not reply to his with words but by roughly grabbing Zuko's shoulder and maneuvering his body so that he was thrown over the prison guards shoulder. What happened next was a bit of a blur, as all the blood was rushing to Zuko's head. He pieced together that they left the tent and out into the sun before eventually entering a different tent. A much cooler tent. He was placed face up on a cot of some kind.
"Thank you, sir," the woman said, and maybe she nodded or offered him a smile, but Zuko couldn't see from his position on the cot. He did however turn his head slightly, eager to catch a glimpse of this woman who had come to his rescue, who had taken him from the hot tent and shackles and shouting men. She had her back to him as the prison guard left. Zuko stared at her long brown hair, the simple sand bender dress, bandages, boots, arm braces…
But when she turned around, the exiled prince was much less worried about her clothing than he was her face, for standing there in the sand bender tent was none other than Katara.