AN: More thanks for reviews, follows, favorites, and for being patient. Life hasn't been easy on me, but I really wanted to get something out so here it is. Let me know what you think. :)

She wasn't in the mood to sit around feeling useless. She wasn't in the mood to do much of anything really, but since that wasn't an option, Kanna practiced her katas. Her movements were slow and thoughtful, but her body was tense, likely because she kept thinking about how badly she was beaten by the prince.

Of course he had great advantages over her. He grew up surrounded by benders, was trained from a young age, instructed by masters. Even though he had never encountered a water bender before, he was able to subdue her quickly. And now she'd "lost" something they called "honor," something in her culture that could not be taken away by another. Honor was thrown aside, but never stolen.

Frustrated, she paused in her practice to jump up and down, shaking her arms to loosen them up. She took her stance and began again, this time more quickly. It didn't help. She would have to calm down before she was able to practice properly, but her agitation did not seem like it would leave soon. Rather than continue and strain herself, she collapsed on the floor and looked out her window.

It was a blank sky, pale blue, not a cloud in sight. This sky was strange to her. She was used to cloud cover over the entire landscape, but here the sun touched everything beneath it. Iza would say it was a nice day, but Kanna felt like she might melt. The difference in culture was too great for her to think she could ever become used to the place.

She rolled onto her side, tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Everything in her was drained, and she wanted to rest, when a question entered her mind, unbidden. What would Sokka do if he were here? Her gut tensed and she clutched a blanket to her chest. There was no use thinking about it, because he wasn't here. She closed her eyes and pretended she was anywhere else, hoping to escape the pain and longing.

Fear clung to her. That she would always feel this pain of separation, or worse, that she might become numb to it. That the loss of her family, home, and culture might one day have as much significance as one of the many cuts she had received while fishing. Everything had been obliterated that day, but they still put her on that boat, the next day still came, and the next. The world did not care that hers was gone forever. Somehow the world still turned and people still lived their lives, but hers was at a standstill. She was still on the beach, unable to comprehend.

The day melted into evening and Iza arrived home, walking with an odd gait. She giggled and told Kanna about the rest of the party, which was very uneventful in her opinion, until a group knocked on the door and heckled Iza to go out and celebrate some more. The woman feigned reluctance, but with more badgering from her friends, she went off with them, to drink more, Kanna supposed.

With nothing else to do, she laid back down and continued staring at the ceiling. The sorrow crept into her chest, and she thought of everything and everyone she loved. Nothing was right. She was a lie in personified, and she wondered if she ever made it out, would she remember who she was? Or would she have turned into nothing more than the lie? Kanna. Southern Water Tribe. Savage. Assistant seamstress. Troublemaker. That was all she was now.

The people here had no idea of the rich diversity of her tribe, the diversity of herself as an individual. Not that she answered peoples' questions truthfully, or that she ever willingly told them about her life. The less they knew, the safer she was, and the better her chance of escaping.

She sang quietly, her voice trembling. It wasn't what she'd meant to sing. It was the song for those far from home, lost and weary. Tears filled her eyes as she continued, unsure if she sang for herself or her father and brother. How would she ever get home when this entire country was a prison, when she was in the center of it?

Before she finished, her voice broke and she fell into great, heaving sobs. She held the blanket to her chest desperately, gritting her teeth and wailing to the ceiling. Why was this happening? Why why why. If they knew who she was, it would only be harder to get out. She might be treated marginally better, but she refused to consider it. That act would be one of betrayal, surrender. It would let them know she was hopeless, and although she distinctly felt it, she wasn't going to let them see it on her face.

When the tears ended, stillness and silence took her. She fell asleep from exhaustion, her head in pain from crying, and her heart heavy with grief. A dream followed, strange and unsettling.

She was outside of the sewing room, then walking down the stairs. Only the guards were there, standing at the bottom of the stairs. The fire in their hands cast shadows across the walls that danced like terrifying and excitable monsters. Unsure of what to do, she turned and headed upstairs. When she'd made it to the top, she found no one. It was devoid of all light but for the few stars that shined through the small windows. Cobwebs clung to corners of the walls and dust covered the floor. Not even the footstep of a badger-mouse disturbed the thick dust. She walked cautiously, sideways to avoid hitting anything, her arms out on either side to detect whatever might be there.

Her heart sank and she let her arms rest at her sides. She wasn't going to escape from here. After she broke the windows and alerted the guards, she would have to make it down all the floors.

She breathed deeply and let it out through her nose, turned back, and made her way down the stairs. On the stairs down to the seventh floor, she saw a figure walking up. Panicking, she shoved herself into the corner above the steps, not breathing, her eyes wide. She listened hard but heard no steps, and wanted to cry. Fatigue was taking over, and she was losing it. If she couldn't keep it together, there was no way she was going to get out. She wondered if they could kill her for wandering around late at night, then remembered they almost killed her for not kneeling.

Someone cleared their throat, made it to the top of the steps. They made no move to continue on their way, and Kanna couldn't see them from where she was. She kept absolutely still, her muscles shaking with fright. The person grunted and walked on down the hall, opened a door, closed it.

She stood still, unsure if they had entered the room or were waiting for her. Steeling herself, she peaked out, saw all the doors closed, no one in the hall.

A small breath of relief escaped her lips, but then she was on the verge of screaming. Before the sound could leave her mouth, a masked figure that had dropped silently from the ceiling put a finger to it's lips. It worked, and the words died on her tongue, but she still stared at him with large eyes and put her body in a fighting stance. The figure-a man-did not, only continued to stand with his arms at his sides.

"What are you doing?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

He pointed at her, put his hands under the side of his head like a pillow and watched her expectantly.

She took a step back, her brow furrowing. Was he biologically mute, or was it voluntarily? "I only see my mother dying when I sleep. Or my brother and dad being tortured," she said contemptuously.

The figure didn't know how to respond, and looked down for a second, then back to her. Then he motioned for her to follow him.

She took another step back.

He looked around for something, then picked up a potted plant and pointed into it.

"Plants?"

He shook his head, paused, unsure of how to proceed. After a beat, he lifted the pot to his face and pretended to drink from it.

"Water?"

He nodded emphatically.

"Why?" she asked, incredulous.

He pointed at her, then moved his arms up and down, motioned back to the plant.

"You want to see me bend?"

He nodded again, giving a hand signal of encouragement.

It sparked inside her. Suddenly everything felt good and clean and new. He believed in her. It didn't matter who he was, as long as it was someone. A smile overtook her face, she moved forward to embrace him. As she settled against him, he stroked her hair, when she felt a sharp pain in her back. She looked up at him in disbelief, her mouth agape. The mask was gone and she saw his face. His skin was smooth and pale, devoid of any unseemly marks. Golden eyes had turned a deep brown, and his lips turned up at the corners in a heartless smirk.

He chuckled. "Your kind will be gone soon."

Kanna sat up with racing heart, gasps ripping her throat. She pushed her hands against her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow, then put them on the sides of her head, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind raced to burn the face and mask into her mind only to realize the fear had driven them out. She groaned and fell on her back, an arm thrown over her eyes. Her mind focused on breathing calmly.

"It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream..." She repeated the phrase until it seemed to lose meaning, until all that was left was a sick feeling that latched onto her memory. A sigh escaped her and she turned onto her side to stare at the door.

She avoided the main hallways, the kitchens, anywhere congestion was normal, and walked as close to a jog that she could. The more she avoided people, the safer she felt. They couldn't kill her if they couldn't catch her.

Despite this, she made herself more conspicuous by bleaching her dress white, then redyeing it blue. She didn't wear shoes, she wouldn't wear makeup, and she returned to wearing her hair loopies as she had before her capture and imprisonment. Wherever she walked, she kept her head high and looked directly into peoples' eyes. More people heard about this than saw it themselves since she was never around to be seen.

It wasn't really people in general she was avoiding. It was the prince. Although he had been kind in the placement of her burn, she felt anxious, afraid she would meet him somewhere and not be able to get away. That would be from his uncle, who seemed to kind to be blood related to the Fire Lord. But as luck would have, she ran into him two weeks after the Agni Kai.

She had been running, looking behind her when her body met with something solid and was thrown to the floor. A guard called out and she heard footsteps rushing forward to meet her.

"What's going on?"

Kanna looked up and her heart fell. Great.

The prince was looking to the guards for a response.

One spoke up. "She was bending."

He looked at the guard, waiting for more information. "And?" he asked hotly.

The other guards looked away, while the one that spoke stumbled over his words and said nothing of substance.

The prince rolled his eyes. "Bending is allowed, training is allowed. That's what benders do, regardless of their status here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Prince Zuko," they all echoed.

"Go on, then."

They scurried away with their tails between their legs, while Kanna was still on the ground, mortified and furious.

She stood up and straightened her dress, bowed to him, and turned to go. He grabbed her shoulder, and she had to restrain the instinct to fight back. She smothered the thought that he would beat her just the same as before. As she turned to face him, she grit her teeth hard.

"You're okay," he said, more than asked.

"Yes, thank you, Prince Zuko. Please excuse me."

"Wait."

She did. When he didn't say anything, she prompted him. "Is there something I can do for you, Your Highness?"

"Um." He bit his lip, shook his head, absentmindedly waving her off. "No. Go on, Kala."

She smirked as she bowed and left him. It was probably hard to remember names, and hers was unimportant to the royal family. She was the dark one, the savage one, the one with creepy eyes, the troublemaker. Kala was close enough to Kanna was close enough to her real name, which no one on this continent needed to know.

It was nice to have a secret, but it was difficult to have no one to share it with. Instead exciting, it felt shameful. The truth wasn't only a secret: she herself was the secret.

As she continued to live in the palace, her moods fluctuated rapidly and without warning. Her acceptance of the situation became blinding hatred for the Fire Nation, her apathy became depression, her fear became anxiety. She forgot to eat, or ate until her stomach hurt. She laid awake at night, afraid of the dreams that would come, nothing but fire at her front and knives at her back.

Although she trained every day, her heart was not in it; she only did so to feel some sort of normalcy. She faced away from the firebenders, but heard the flames crackling, their kicks whip through the air. An hour a day slowly whittled down to ten minutes a day when the firebenders weren't training.

One day she sat down and forced herself to watch them. Her reasoning was that the better she knew them, the better she could defend herself against them. To her relief, no one here could produce white flames. But then relief became bitterness and worry. He could still be out there, could be fighting against the Water Tribe.

"Lady Kanna." Iroh sat down beside her, his eyes on the benders.

She bowed her head. "Hello, Iroh."

"I see you've changed your clothing style."

Her heartbeat sped up and her breath caught in her throat.

"It suits you," he finished.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

They watched the firebenders, silent. She kept her focus on the prince and princess. He had more persistence, but she had more talent, bent almost carelessly and recklessly. Blue lightning shot into the sky from her fingers, a hard, proud smile on her face. The prince showed no emotion, worked more like an engine than an animal. He turned in his kata to face them, and shot a flame from his fist.

She jumped from her seat and held her hands to her chest, gasping.

Iroh stood beside her and took her arm. "Are you alright? Why don't we go inside and have some tea?" He tried to lead her away, but she resisted.

"No, I'm fine."

His face softened, saddened. "Avoiding your feelings is like avoiding the weeds in a garden. They'll become out of control, and you'll be lost in the stickers and thorns." He motioned to the flawless garden around them, picked a small flower and put it in her hand. "Beauty grows from everything naturally, but ugliness grows from suffering in silence, in not asking for help."

Her own face became hard. "Your wisdom doesn't reach the ears of your countrymen. I am everything this nation believes to be ugly, and it came to me naturally: through my blood and upbringing. " She dropped the flower and left him without bowing, unafraid because she knew there would be no consequences.

They weren't going to execute her. They were going to let her die slowly, through the erosion of herself, until she was smooth as a stone in the ocean. Then they would shape her in their forges, until she was fire itself.