Chapter 3
Katara shivered against the cold, hard ground. Rolling over slightly, she let out a cough and a steamy breath. Her body ached in a way that made it difficult to sit up, but she was determined to get to her feet. She had not forgotten her purpose in her moment of injury, but it had certainly been an immeasurable amount of time since the world had darkened for her.
Putting a cold hand to her forehead, she rubbed it slightly and managed a kneeling position. Her eyes ached against the light that filled the temple, but she had to find out where she was. Where had she fallen? Where was the old man? Squinting, she looked around.
The same hallway that she had arrived in greeted her and she let out a frustrated cry, the statues and archways looking decidedly less beautiful as her anger built. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up into a standing position and let the dizzy feeling pass before setting off into the temple once again. This time, she was waiting for the man that she knew would be there – it was no chance that he had appeared twice to her.
He cast a glance towards her and her frustrated posture, and a displeased scowl crossed his features.
"Are you done blemishing my home?" He snarled, looking past Katara. She followed his gaze to the crack in the floor where she must have landed. It bought a wince to her face; not only because she remembered how painful the fall had been, but that she had damaged the last waterbenders' temple.
"I-I'm sorry." She said, genuinely sorry for the damage done. She shook her head, looking at the crack. It did not look to compromise the structural integrity of the building, only the aesthetic. "Do you know the way out of here?" She asked, turning to him. Immediately, she wanted to snatch the words back into her mouth and swallow them.
"Be gone! Be gone from here!" He cried angrily, waving his staff at her.
Katara wanted to say that that was all she was trying to do, but the seething – almost murderous – look that he had in his eyes caused her to forget logic and run away from him…for the second time. Thankfully, however, she managed to get away from him the second time without rendering herself unconscious.
Sighing, regaining her breath, Katara looked ahead at the door she had travelled through before…she knew where it would lead, but she had no other option. She had to figure out a new plan, to find a new way…she was not getting anywhere with her current strategy and she definitely did not want to pass the livid old man again.
Lowering herself to the floor, Katara focused on taking the weight off of her freezing feet. She jumped slightly as her bare legs hit the ice, but it gave her toes a break. Shoes would certainly have been a good idea; the cold was beginning to frustrate her, hindering the amount she could think. Perhaps that was the reason for it.
As she settled, she looked around the temple once more to try and find an alternative door, but nothing presented itself immediately. Scouring her mind, she found no alternative routes there, either. She wondered to herself whether she would ever leave the temple, or whether she was destined to spend her entire life there. Was that what had happened to the old man? She furrowed her brow, thinking about it, glancing back the way she had come. She had sat on the ice of a long while, thinking of different routes that simply were not there, and felt her heart sink. What if she never got the chance to take her vows? She had never heard of anyone not coming out the other side, but she could easily have been in the temple longer than anyone ever had been with her moment of unconsciousness.
Her body was cold now, and her breath came out in a thick haze within the room. What had once felt warm and comforting, ice, felt disturbingly cold in comparison now. She rubbed her hands over her arms, feeling the goosebumps there, as she tried to create enough friction for some heat. The skin of her hands was too cool and smooth to get any purchase, and the action only resulted in her feeling colder from her own touch.
Perhaps braving the cold was one of her tasks, as the dress she was wearing offered little to no protection against the biting air. She could feel her legs going numb where they rested on the glass-like floor and heaved her body into a standing position, wrapping her arms around herself as she finally decided she could not sit there any longer. Katara knew what the cold could do to her, if she did not keep her body temperature up, and it seemed silly to damage herself that way unnecessarily – she would have to move and think.
However, as she went to push the doors open to begin the same loop again, guilt settled in her stomach as she thought of the man she had encountered several times now. He was old, and frail, despite having a temper, and seemed to not like her very much…but she knew what she had to do.
For the first time, Katara walked back on herself and headed back through the temple hallway. When she came up behind the old man, she chose not to speak. He seemed to be deep in thought, and she did not want to disturb him – she had come back for a reason, and that was not to pick another fight with this man.
Stepping past him, she locked eyes on the mark she had made in the floor. Down the steps was an alcove that housed a large statue of grand proportions…so grand, in fact, that she was awed to have missed it during her travels of this room. The eyes bore down on her, and she found something familiar in the face of the man. He was young, and strong, large and tall, but his eyes were soft and stern all at the same time. She felt her hand reach forwards and rest on the boot of the carving. Without thinking, she sent him a silent question.
Who are you?
"Jaqen H'gar." The man answered.
Katara whirled around to lock eyes with the man who had so cruelly spoken to her before. She furrowed her brow, opening her mouth, and watched his expression go from one of disinterest to anger. When she stopped herself, and closed it, he went back to disinterest and back to his menial task.
What was that all about? Katara wondered to herself, running a hand through her hair. I only opened my mouth–
"To speak." The man finished her thoughts for her. Her wide eyes landed on him once again. He paid her no mind and handed her a rough rag that looked like it had seen better days.
She wanted to ask what it was for, but he seemed adamant that she work that out for herself. Frustration build in her and his expression turned hostile again. It knocked the fight out of her and he went back to indifference.
What is going on?
"Would it not be wondrous if we could all simply ask for the answers we seek, instead of using our minds to figure it out?" The man said. He seemed unaware that he was speaking and it confused her further.
Why did he seem so murderous whenever she spoke? Why had he handed her this cloth? How did he know what she was thinking? It unnerved her to think that she had entered this temple and perhaps invited in spirits to read her thoughts. She could not be completely certain, but she thought she saw the old man's lips twitch slightly as she thought that.
Looking down at the cloth in her hands, she ran a finger over the rough surface. It grazed her skin almost immediately and she pulled her hand back, keeping an eye on it curiously. Why would it slice into the finger that touched it so gently, yet feel warm and comforting on her other hand, where she held it?
In the corner of her eye, she spotted the crack in the floor and how it had grown with time…was it the weight of the temple causing it to grow worse? Was it too late? She assumed that she was right to return to fix it, and perhaps that was what the rag was for. From personal experience, she knew how hard ice was to sculpt and manipulate, and the rough cloth in her hands seemed more than capable of the job.
Still furrowing her brow, Katara knelt down on her hands and knees, despite the biting cold of the floor, and ran the cloth over the crack in the step. One stroke revealed shavings of ice that fluttered past her as though the wind had taken them. Looking up to the old man, he was getting on with polishing the statue…the statue of Jaqen H'gar.
Going back to her work, Katara found that the crack was shallow and, as she had suspected, an aesthetic blemish. With a few more sweeps of the cloth, it began to disappear. Once she was finished, she looked down at the frosted ice and glared at it – it was not the same as the rest of the step. The step had been tainted by the work; despite not being blemished anymore, the work she had done seemed to make it worse.
Looking up to the man again, he was now closer than she expected and staring intently at what she had done. She opened her mouth to speak, to apologise and ask forgiveness, but stopped herself. Cautiously, she focused on the words very carefully. There was only one way to find out whether her theory was correct.
Now what? She asked silently.
He looked up to her in that moment and they locked eyes. She jumped back slightly, the intensity startling her. In this foreign place that she thought she might never leave, everything seemed magnified.
"As the winds change, as should the direction in which the tree sways." He said, once again the words not seeming to come from him consciously. She wanted to ask what he meant, but she knew it was futile.
Sitting back on her haunches, she tried to figure out the riddle he had given her. What did the changing winds have to do with the mistake she had made? Would he attack her again if she left? They job was half-done…barely making up for the damage she had caused in the first place.
Looking at the cloth for a moment, it struck her. She looked to the hand she had used to hold the cloth and, as she had suspected from the lack of pain, it was clear of injury. The hand that had not been holding the cloth still held the scrapes on her fingertips. They were red and had long since stopped oozing with blood, but were still damaged.
Picking up the cloth once more, she winced and hissed a little as she held it the other way around, pushing it lightly to the step and running it over once. Her once unblemished hand stung now, but she saw the smoothing of the ice and allowed herself a triumphant twitch of her lips before buffing in circles over the frosted area.
It was a lot more work than getting rid of the crack, but the step eventually blended in with the rest of the floor and Katara's smile was reflected back up at her. She lifted her hand from the cloth and turned it around again, allowing the few final scratches and cuts to be made before attempting to hand it back to the old man.
When she looked up, however, he was gone. She let out a breath, looking more carefully around the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. The room seemed eerily quiet without him, though she had not noticed him leave, and a worried feeling settled upon her.
Placing the cloth to the side, by the statue of Jaqen H'gar, Katara looked down at her damaged hands. They were sore, and some of the cuts were still bleeding, but they would heal. She felt better for preserving the beauty of the temple and found her feet quickly. She spared her work another glance as she used the step, but something stopped her.
On the step were still a few shavings that had not been taken away by the light wind that had carried the others away. Come to think of it, Katara had felt no movement in the air…not at all since she had entered the doors.
The shavings began to move, but in swirls of a force she could not feel around her feet. Her dress stayed perfectly still as they wound around her legs. It frightened her slightly, and she wanted to move, but found herself unable to disturb their graceful dance through the air. Instead, patiently, she waited.
In a flash of movement, they lashed from her legs behind her and she struggled to keep up with their frantic pace. The dance had become more violent, and further reaching, as more and more shavings joined them. Katara stepped back, feeling uneasy at the display. She could feel the wind now, and it bit at her exposed body, despite the thin dress she was wearing.
Forgetting her modesty, since she was alone, she held a hand in front of her face to stop the sharp-coming bits of shaving from getting into her eyes. She felt a few nip and scratch at her skin, but there was no blood that she could see.
More and more white shavings joined the swirl, a shape forming in the middle of what looked to be almost a hurricane. Katara's hair whipped around her face, and her dress fluttered around her legs. She took another step back, but was met by a wall. Sparing a glance, she realised that the steps were gone and she was now faced with a white, shining wall, within a room she had never seen before.
A bright light came from the centre of the hurricane, from the centre of the shape forming, and Katara had to shield her eyes from the intensity of it. The wind upset her balance, and she fell down onto one knee, still covering her face from the shards as they continued to flutter around her violently. She had shut her eyes tightly, the wrinkles that would one day settle there showing for a moment with the strength she put in to holding out the light.
Managing to open her eyes ever so lightly when the light lessened, Katara laid eyes on the figure of a woman floating in the centre of the flurry of ice that had now slowed slightly, though the wind still played with her hair. The breath was taken from her lips when the woman became clearer, and her body began to descend to the floor.
Her skin was snow white, whiter than any skin Katara had ever seen, with a glowing effect around her, as though she were a spirit in human form. The dress she wore draped elegantly from her body, though her arms were bare, showing the markings of High Valyria proudly to the temple. Her hair was as white as her skin, falling straighter than taught cotton strings down her back, unaffected by the settling wind around her. Upon closer inspection, her hair fell nearly to the floor, merging with the whiteness of the adorning capes that fell from either shoulder of her celeste gown.
Katara fell back against the wall, seeing the woman. It was like seeing a God come to life before her and she had no idea how to react. She did not trust her legs to stand and simply watched with wide eyes as the beautiful being before her touched her feet to the ground weightlessly and the ice fell from the air as though at her command.
She could have stayed in that moment for all of eternity and the splendour of the sight before her would never have lessened; never have become normal and mundane to her. Katara knew that her mouth was hanging wide, but she hadn't enough control over her body to close it. Apparently, her dreams of staying unnoticed were dashed as the woman turned her eyes onto Katara.
There was a moment of silence between the two women, and it seemed pregnant with something Katara could not name. Her body was tense as she cowered – without shame – from the being before her. The glow was gone, but the lady before her still seemed regal and ethereal…her striking white hair would be scorched into Katara's memory for the rest of her life. It was no wonder to her now why no one was allowed to speak of the goings-on inside the temple; no one would believe them.
"Katara…" The woman said, her voice washing over her like a sheet of satin. It was so smooth and bell-like that Katara felt envious of her effortless poise and grace. "Do not be afraid." She said, a pucker showing in the woman's forehead where she frowned.
Getting up quickly, though not very gracefully or steadily, Katara kept a hand on the wall as she watched the woman. Would she shout at her if she spoke with her mouth? What was appropriate etiquette? What if she offended this spirit? Was she even a spirit, or was she a God, a deity?
"My, my, you have a brilliantly fast mind." She said, a chuckle falling from her lips. It sounded like bells jingling and caused the hairs on the back of Katara's neck to stand up. This woman, too, did not need verbal communication. She was in her mind.
All of a sudden, Katara felt even more exposed than she had when dealing with the old man in the previous room…despite everything she had ever done being supposedly watched by spirits. It was different when you were directly confronted with one, she had to say in her own defence.
"As for etiquette, it is quite alright to speak. My friend is very stuck in his ways about communication." She said, smiling at Katara as though they were old friends. It seemed almost like a nurturing smile, one that Katara was familiar with from her father and had hazy memories of from her mother. It caused the muscles in her back to relax slightly and she stood a little taller.
Now that she knew she could speak and not suffer the fate of…well, whatever happened to those who offended a spirit, Katara was lost for words. It was not a matter of which question to ask first, for her mind had gone completely blank. She had not taken her eyes off of the woman since she appeared, and it seemed almost dangerous to now…and so, she just kept staring in shock.
"You are not much like your brother." The woman said, warmth to her voice once again as she spoke. Katara felt her body relax a little more with the familiar reference and swallowed to clear her throat. She could stand and stare at this woman all day, but that would not have been the purpose of this meeting.
"W-What was he like?" Katara asked in a small voice. She was ashamed of it, but she was very uneasy about the situation, despite all of this woman's politeness.
Katara had always been a fierce girl, with little or no fear when it came to facing danger…it was the unknown that unsettled her, and Sokka had preyed on it during their childhood. She had hated it, the feeling of fear and the anxiousness that came with it.
"He voiced every question you thought." Said the woman, a fond smile coming to her lips. "As did your father before him."
"And my mother?" Katara whispered without thinking. It was not her place to demand information from such a woman, but it was a sense of knowing that she was drawn to.
"Your mother was a lot like you." She smiled, tilting her head to the side as she looked at the Kingdom of Water Princess before her. "Kya was brave, even in the face of the unknown." She told Katara, the smile reaching all the way to her eyes.
The final tense feeling in her body left her as she watched the woman speak so fondly of her family, and she let her fingers fall from the wall. Picking her posture back up where she had left it upon seeing the old man the first time, she straightened and faced the woman, bowing lowly.
"It is an honour to meet you." She said dutifully. Flattery could do no harm in this situation.
"The honour is all mine." The reply came as a surprise to Katara and she looked up at the white-haired woman in shock, her eyes wide. "Come now, we have much to discuss." She said, holding her hand out gently for Katara.
Unsure of what possessed her to leave the safety of the good distance between them, yet unable to fight the pull, Katara reached forwards and took the white-haired woman's hand. It was soft, and surprisingly warm, and wrapped around Katara's in the same way her father's usually did. It was comforting to feel so safe in the presence of something so…unknown.
A/N: Hey, guys, this is just a quick upload as I have one foot out the door going to see my nan across the country.
Since I won't be writing for the next 4 days, I figured I'd give you an extra-long one. I'm sorry but I can't do the character Q&A this time, but definitely next chapter…and, to be honest, there weren't really enough questions to answer…there's a little incentive for you!
Hope you like this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it…let me know!
LivingInACasket
