Author's Note: These next few chapters are shorter than the previous, so I decided to upload 3 this week. As always, thank you to my wonderful beta Katie, and thank you for all the follows/favorite/reviews. I love hearing from you guys! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from A:tLA, they belong to Bryke and Nickelodeon.
"…and must be put to death."
The Emperor said this casually, as if he were telling the cooks what he might like for dinner, not sentencing a mass of innocent people to death. There was an audible silence around the Great Hall. Even Sokka quit playing with his knife and looked up. Katara stared at the table. Of course she thought it was an awful idea, but she did not dare express this. To doubt her father in the privacy of her own mind was one thing, but to oppose him out loud?
As if reading her mind, the Emperor turned to her. "Katara, what do you think? As heir to my throne, you must begin forming your own opinions about such matters, even if you are only a woman," he chuckled, and a few men around the table laughed with him. She saw Sokka smile wide out of the corner of her eye. Sexist hogmonkeys, she thought bitterly, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes. Even though she was heir to the throne, she would never be more to these men than a little girl playing dress up with her father's crown.
She knew she was blushing furiously, but she raised her head anyway, swallowing back the hurt she felt like a lump in her throat.
"You are absolutely right, Father."
The laughing stopped instantly. One of the men across the table made a show of cleaning out his ear, as if he hadn't heard her right. But her father looked at her steadily and so she continued. "They are traitors and rebels, and must be punished accordingly." He nodded almost imperceptibly and opened his mouth to speak. "However," she said quickly, and hoped he would not punish her for interrupting, "it would be too easy to simply end their lives, and I do not believe it would send the right message to the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom."
"No?" the Emperor said, visibly amused. She shook her head and glanced around the table. She saw a mix of emotions: Fear, confusion, amusement, like her father. Sokka, she saw, was now glaring at her, gripping his knife like he wanted to stab it through her chest.
"No," she said, refocusing on her father. "The people of the fire and earth nations already think we're bloodthirsty savages, bent on destroying anything and everything that opposes us. And they're not wrong," she added with a smirk, eliciting a few noises of approval from the room. "Killing their refugees will only enforce that image, give them reason to continue to fight. But," she started with a surge of anticipation. An idea was already forming, a plan to spare as many lives as possible without looking weak. In fact, if this plan worked, she and the Water Empire would look even stronger, despite a reduced number of lost lives.
"What if we only kill half of the refugees? The weakest, the oldest, those with nothing to give. Put their heads on stakes, parade them through the city, stone them. Do what you want. Take the other half, those with something to offer. Imprison them, starve them, break them, and then put them to work. Give them something to live for. If you can convert them to the Water Empire, they'll have no reason to want to fight against us. Even more so, we will show the earth and fire nations that their people would rather stay with us—that they believe we are worthy rulers. They don't have to know about the means, just the ends. They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Keep the refugees in the city." Katara finished talking and stilled, breathing in and out through her nose, worried about the static silence that had overtaken the room while she spoke. Her father had not once looked away from her, but his eyes had narrowed, and his mouth was drawn downward. She turned away from his stare and bowed her head respectfully.
Finally, finally, he spoke. "General, perhaps my daughter should take your job."
Her head snapped up. The Emperor looked at General Attika contemplatively, and the General, wide-eyed and sweating, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, speechless. In fact, no one spoke, and there were few frightening moments of uncertainty, until her father clapped him on the back. "I'm just joking, old friend. Although," he paused, looking back at Katara, "my daughter is exceptionally bright for her age." He smiled widely, but his eyes were probing. "I'll have to keep an eye on you, my dear." Katara did not miss the threat delicately woven in his words.