Author's note: Hey everyone! So I'm switching things up a bit. I have a LOT of content and feel like I'm releasing it too slowly, so I'll be posting the equivalent of 2 chapters in each post from now on. I hope you like it! (And hopefully it'll get us to the exciting stuff faster :)
Disclaimer: I do not own A:tLA of its characters, just my own.
A shiver ripped through Zuko's body and he ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm the exposed skin there. Since he was safely hidden in this ice cooler, he stoked his inner fire and let it course through him, heating him from the inside out. When they let him out he would have to pretend to be cold, but there was no reason for him to suffer. He was glad Uncle Iroh had taught him how to maintain a fire within his body.
"Your outer strength comes from within," Iroh had told him back when he still trained with the old master. Azula had finished her training with Uncle and had moved onto another master who had fought in the war, but she had been with them that day.
"That makes no sense," she said, thrusting her palm and blasting a torpedo of blue flame at a nearby tree, almost incinerating it. A couple branches caught on fire and it quickly began spreading. Zuko shook his head.
"Sure it does, Azula. Look." Zuko put his fists together and took a deep breath. He held it for a moment, then let it out slowly, controlling the air flow from his nose. He did this a few more times and when he looked up, the flames on the tree had died out. Now it was only smoking, the wisps being blown away by the warm breeze, and he looked at Azula with a smug grin.
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I'm still better than you!"
Zuko stuck his tongue out at her, but she had already turned away to go sit on the stone steps that led up to the palace.
"Very good nephew!" Uncle Iroh exclaimed, ignoring the childish exchange, and clapped a hand on Zuko's back. "You have a healthy fire inside of you."
"What about me?" Azula called from the steps. A glum frown pulled on her face and Zuko briefly pitied her. Then he remembered that she was better than him at basically everything else and didn't pity her anymore. "What's wrong with my fire?" She got up and walked back over to them, hands on her hips.
"Well, Azula," Iroh started, looking uncomfortable, "perhaps you are not balanced inside, and so your fire outside cannot balance either."
She pursed her lips. "Is that why my fire is blue?"
At this age no one had told Azula that her blue fire was a result of her prestigious bending ability, because no one had wanted Zuko to feel pressured or deficient. Soon she would be told, and after that she would take her bending much more seriously. Her skills would improve exponentially.
But for now, Iroh only said, "My dear, all fire, blue or orange or pink, burns just as brightly in the dark. But an unbalanced fire will quickly go out, and you wouldn't want to be caught in the dark without it, would you?" Both of them shook their head no, and Iroh got back to the lesson.
It didn't hurt Zuko to think about Azula anymore. It just made him stronger. More determined.
He was about to let another wave of heat loose when the lock of the door began to turn. He quickly bent over, trying to look as cold and pathetic as he could, and the door opened to reveal a guard with sinewy muscles and a mean grimace standing before him.
"Time's up fire brat," he grumbled and jerked Zuko to his feet. He was dragged across the room and deposited on a floor mat in front of another guard with a mustache and heavy eyebrows. A scar ran across his cheek and he smiled treacherously when Zuko sat up. He barely had any teeth in his mouth and those that remained were rotted or yellow.
"Fresh meat," the man growled. He got up and grabbed a wooden pole leaning on the wall. He twirled it a few times, surprisingly adept with it, before swinging it down at Zuko, who narrowly avoided it by rolling over.
"What are you doing?" Zuko exclaimed, jumping to his feet and ducking, feeling the breeze of the rod whizzing over his head.
"My job." The man jabbed the rod at Zuko's chest and swung it around again. Zuko dodged and looked around for something—anything—to fight back with. But if he tried to take any weapons surely the guards would all jump him. The man attacked and Zuko leaned forward into a somersault. When he looked quizzically at Zuko, he realized he was acting far too lively for someone who just spent an hour in a freezer. He had two choices: He could keep fighting and probably blow his cover, be sent to the other prison or maybe not even make it that far alive, or pretend be weak and be beaten to a pulp. Either way was going to end in pain.
So when the guard brought around the rod, Zuko didn't move. It connected with his shoulder and Zuko was flung to the side. He landed on the mat with an unsettling shock of pain that echoed throughout his frame, and curled up into a ball as the guard swung the rod like a club into his ribs. The other prisoners had warned him not to cry out or scream, but it was easier said than done. As the rod hit his back he bit his lip so hard his teeth broke through the skin.
Soon he couldn't take it anymore and he tried to crawl away, only to have the man step on his ankle and drag him back. He barely managed to keep in the scream that was bubbling up in his throat. The rod came down on his side again and knocked the wind out of him, making him cough. He felt the familiar surge of heat in the pit of his stomach, an automatic response to the feeling of helplessness, letting him know his element was there if he needed it. But he repressed the urge to lash out against the guard. He wouldn't be able to help anyone if they knew he was a firebender. If they found out, he definitely wouldn't make it to tomorrow. Now, he had a slim chance of surviving that long, and he was going to give it everything he had.
Two hours later, after finishing his 'spar' with the guard and being strung up on a pole where he was whipped with water, the guards dragged him, and the rest of the prisoners, back to their cells. Zuko almost blacked out the minute he was thrown on the ground, but he managed to stay awake long enough to hear the two men across the hall talking.
"They sure made up for the last few days you've missed, kid," the man Zuko had talked to earlier said. Zuko stirred and painfully lifted his head from the ground.
"Yeah," the other one who had tented with Zuko commented, "you got it bad. You'd probably be better off giving up and letting them drag you to the other prison. At least they're not being tortured, like us."
"It's like they have something personal against you," the first one said.
Zuko eyed the man's green Earth Kingdom clothing. I wonder what, he thought sardonically. Even if he did give up, they'd never let him, a Fire Nation citizen, go with the other prisoners. He'd be dead long before.
They must have misunderstood his silence, because one of them, he couldn't tell which, said, "Don't take it too personally. They hate all of us."
"Just be grateful they didn't bring you to the Black Room."
Zuko raised himself to his elbows. "What's that?"
Both men looked down, their silence more telling that their words. Zuko frowned. He'd been through Hell today. What could possibly be so bad about the Black Room?
Finally, the first man spoke, and Zuko vaguely noticed there was a cut across his chest that hadn't been there the day before. "You know how some waterbenders can bloodbend? It's a rare ability, but a revered and powerful one."
Zuko nodded.
He continued in a whisper, his eyes dark. "Well, they have to practice somewhere. Somewhere the rest of us can't hear the screams."
Katara wasn't sure what to expect when she opened the door to her chambers. She'd made an official order to send the girl to her lady's maid to get cleaned up, but what if her brother, or her father, had intercepted them? What if they'd taken the girl back down to the prison or worse: sent her away to the Pit to die?
Her hand hesitated on the knob of the door. There was a part of her that didn't even want to see what awaited her behind the door. She took a breath to steel herself and opened it.
The girl sitting on her bed was almost unrecognizable. Her long dark hair, which had been tangled and matted, was piled neatly on top of her head in a servant's bun. She was dressed in a clean uniform and her face had been scrubbed free of dirt, although the bruises on her cheekbones and beneath her eyes were more noticeable now.
When Katara entered the room the girl jumped off the bed and faced her, eyes unfocused and wild.
"Hello," Katara said softly. The girl did not reply. Katara shut the door behind her, hoping she might feel more comfortable with some privacy. Her hands were fisted at her side and her lips were tightly shut, making her chin jut out. Even though she was trying to look tough, or maybe proud, Katara could see she was afraid.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. Again, the girl said nothing. Katara took a few more steps until she was right in front of the girl. But she did not look at Katara's face. Rather, she was staring at her chest. Katara glanced down, making sure she didn't have any food on her dress. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," the girl said, finally. Her voice was high and pretty, but definitely defiant. Katara bent to look into her eyes, and only when she got close enough did she recognize the glazed over look of them, the way that they stared straight ahead into nothing. She was blind. Just to make sure, Katara waved hand in front of the girl's face. As she guessed, the girl did not react. But then she said, "I'm blind, not stupid," and Katara blushed. She spun around, too embarrassed to face the girl even though she couldn't see her, and even though she knew she had no reason to be. She should be embarrassed for talking so improperly to me! Katara thought.
Once the feeling of idiocy subsided, Katara studied her. She was quite different from the cowering little girl in the torture room. This girl radiated strength, resilience, something unbreakable. Even though she was obviously young, this girl was not fragile.
"I apologize," Katara said, and sat down on her bed. She patted it, gesturing for the girl to sit next to her, and blushed again when she remembered she couldn't see. "Please, sit."
After a moment's hesitation the girl sat, although she was not relaxed. Her back was straight as a plank of wood and every muscle seemed coiled like a spring, ready to jump. Katara decided she had to be careful with her.
"What is your name?" she asked, looking at her even though the girl stared straight ahead at Katara's desk.
"My name is Toph."
"That's a beautiful name."
Nothing. Alright then. Katara made a mental note to avoid flattery and leaned back, considering her. She had a slight yet sturdy build. Her hands were small but calloused as if she worked in fields or a farm. The maid had given her a bath but there was still dirt under her fingernails and ingrained into the swirls of her skin. Her eyes, wide and green, were framed by a slender face and a delicate nose. Most of her hair had been tied back into a servant's bun, but a few strands had fallen into her eyes. Her lips seemed to be in a permanent pout. She couldn't be more than 13 or 14.
"You're from the Earth Kingdom."
"And you're observant. Earth Kingdom people wear green. Did you learn that from your Daddy?" she said, and even though her expression remained defiant, her face turned red. Katara smirked.
"You know I could have you executed for saying that."
Toph swallowed but she didn't say anything. Her hands curled around her knees, though, and Katara wondered if she was restraining herself from saying—or doing—something she might regret. She wondered what the girl was actually capable of.
"But I won't, because you serve me now." Katara put on her authoritative voice. "Do you understand that? I saved you from that prison so that you can help me here in the palace. I expect you to be grateful for that and serve me accordingly. Do we have a deal?"
Katara put her hand out to shake. She started to pull away when she remembered stupidly that the girl was blind, for Spirit's sake, but then Toph slapped a palm against hers. "Deal."
Katara smiled, pleased. "Very well, then. Would you prefer to sleep here in my chambers or upstairs in the servant's quarters?"
The girl wrung her hands, and Katara was prepared to call her lady's maid to gather bed supplies, when the girl stood up. "I'd prefer to sleep with the other prisoners—er—servants. Your Highness," Tops said, and curtsied. She left the room without another word, without a dismissal, and yet Katara was frozen, unable to call her back. She could tell the girl was going to be trouble. But for some reason that Katara couldn't explain, she liked her.