AN: Thanks to "Created to Write" for writing all those reviews, everyone for favoriting and following, and again being patient. I swear I wrote about seven different story lines for this chapter and was unhappy with all of them, and this finally came about from a little side note in an earlier draft. Hope you all like it!
She woke up early that morning, before the sun. It was unnatural to her, but she felt completely awake, had no desire to lay back down, though she still felt tired.
Groaning, she got up and walked to the small vanity. She brushed her hair for long minutes, bored and unsure of what to do with her extra time this morning. After fingering the little bottles and jars on the vanity, and with nothing else to entertain herself, she put on a clean, blue and white dress, fixed up her hair loopies, and left the rest in a braid.
The girl peaked out the door, found only guards patrolling and a scarce number of others tending to errands. She crept out of the room and walked aimlessly, wondering what to do until breakfast. It was at least two hours until then, and Iroh forbidden her from going outside without himself or the prince to make sure she was well.
Some instinct pushed her deeper into the area where the royal family's rooms were, so she followed were few doors on each side, and the tile floor felt warmer underfoot. No one bothered her much about going barefoot; they just stared and rolled their eyes for the most part. A servant walked past her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, harrumphing as he went.
As she went on, guards filled the halls thickly. They looked at her, watching her walk, but didn't move to stop her or attack. She couldn't see their faces, but she could feel their suspicion and misgivings. Apprehension rose in her. Maybe she should just turn around and pretend she got lost. But that might have a worse outcome.
She continued, when a guard suddenly moved in front of her and blocked her from passing.
"This area is off limits. Turn back."
"Okay," she said quietly, and turned.
Two figures were walking towards her now, and she could make them out. She hesitated, unsure of what to do but with no other option, she walked towards them as well. It felt horribly wrong to be there now, like she was invading, nosing her way into a place she didn't belong. Breathing felt difficult, so she just held it in, but then they were upon her.
"Good morning, Your Highness, Jee Sang." She bowed and felt lightheaded, her vision attacked by thousands of white dots.
"Kanna, how are you liking working with the seamstress?"
"Very much," she lied. "Though the doctor has placed me on sick leave for the time being."
He looked confused. "Why are you walking around the royal rooms then? And so early. With no shoes."
"Oh." A blush crawled up her face, and she scratched her head. "I woke up early, and I didn't know what to do so I started walking around. I forgot my shoes on the way out." She assumed he hadn't seen her about lately.
"Well, go on back," he said, waving her off. "This is a restricted area anyway."
"Yes, Jee Sang. Your Highness," she said, bowing to each of them.
"Did you not sleep well?"
The girl took a step back, looking at the prince with surprise. "I slept well, Your Highness. I suppose the sun just woke me," she lied.
Jee Sang noted, with an ironic smile, "You're becoming like those of the Fire Nation."
Her face became slack. "I suppose so."
"It's good to know you're learning to adjust. Go back and put some shoes on, and don't go wandering around the palace for no reason; you'll get in the way." He turned and walked past the guard that had blocked her.
The prince stayed where he was. "Why are you walking around here?"
She shrugged. "I just felt like walking. Your Highness."
"Prince Zuko," Jee Sang called.
He looked over the girl's shoulder at him. Nodding to her, he walked past and fell into step with Jee Sang. She watched them go, Jee Sang waving his arms while the prince looked slightly down. His back looked tense, his shoulders a bit hunched. But the same guard stood in front of her and blocked the view. Annoyed, she stared into his helmet.
"You working on a hit list, foreigner?"
She shrugged lightly, an innocent look on her face. "Maybe I just admire your prince and - whatever Jee Sang's title is."
He didn't speak again, just waved her off.
With a roll of her eyes, she left, and went out into the garden.
It was cold. As the sun rose, the cold leftover from night pushed down upon her. She embraced it, eyes closed, heart something close to bliss. The sun broke and shined, orange and golden, on her face. That was one aspect she liked about this place: the sun came and went everyday more equally than back home. The sun was up the majority of day and night in summer, and barely seen in winter. Here, it was more in balance, and she could enjoy it every day.
She went to the usual pond and sat beside it. Looking at the walls around the palace, she lazily bent the water, sloshing it back and forth to create miniature waves. Her breath came slow and steady. The isolation and lack of freedom were there, but she was making an effort to push them aside, to think of more useful and healthy memories and ideas. Killing herself wouldn't solve anything, truthfully, and she knew it. To escape, to return return home and find what was left of her family, that was the ultimate goal. She would have to start small. And she realized she already had: wearing her colors, remembering her heritage and traditions, speaking the old language, they were all forms of rebellion, no matter how small. The problem would be increasing that rebellion without being caught, pursuing it in such a way that no one cared, that no one would expect her to escape.
It would be a longshot. All the guards and staff, along with the royal family, they would likely always suspect her, but there had to be a way around it all. She breathed, slow and steady, knowing that her progression would have to be the same to escape.
A breeze came whooshing down and caressed her face. She closed her eyes to it, smiling a bit, pretending it was the lost Air Nomads accepting her thoughts and spurring her on. Had they all died, even the Avatar? Was there a new one in the Water Tribes?
The Fire Nation had destroyed so much, including the sense of safety and stability. Without the Air Nomads, with no Avatar to keep the spiritual and material worlds in balance, it seemed nothing would return to safety, stability, and balance. Everything had changed, none for the better. If anything could stop the Fire Nation, the worldwide terror, the poverty and desolation, it would be the Avatar.
They must be in hiding, she thought. To try and take on this powerhouse without aid would be a poor decision. Allies, supplies, plans were staples they would need to knock the mongrels down. Secrecy would be the most important ingredient; the element of surprise the best possible advantage against the Fire Nation. But if the Avatar were still an Air Nomad, they would be decrepit and likely unable to fight. If from a Water Tribe, possibly too young and inexperienced. Either way, it seemed improbable that they could do anything about this enemy at the present moment.
She laid back in the grass and looked up at the cloudy sky. Maybe at some point in her lifetime, peace would be restored, and she could return home without having to escape. She could visit the ocean side where the dead were cast into the sea, and speak with her mother. The tribe might rebuild, even if it were small, and life could resume in some sense. Breathing deeply, she imagined herself on a ship, headed home, landing, meeting those that survived, living with them, rebuilding, marrying, having children, telling them stories of her time in the enemies' home, of her journey home. A warm feeling spread throughout her chest, tugging a smile from her solemn face. Rage, dismay, and a sense of uselessness still resided in her, but this story she told herself enlivened her. It became her dream.
The thought of having a son in particular made her think of someone it hurt too much to think about. Her heart ached, imagining her brother beside her, pointing out strange shaped clouds, complaining of the heat, then getting up and throwing his boomerang at anything he might be able to hit. She didn't want to think about him. Every time she did she ended up in tears, but this time she allowed herself.
She recalled a time when they were little, in the snowy hills, and Sokka was waving at her from the top. He looked so small up there, wearing tiny gloves and tiny boots. They must have been around eight and six. "Come on, Katara," he called. "Dad said he wants to show us something." Sokka disappeared over the other side of the hill.
For a moment, she had stood there, staring at where he had been, then chased after him. She fell over the side and went sliding down it, stopping when a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist. Her father put her up on his shoulders, and he took Sokka's hand, heading toward the beach.
The sun was rising slowly, a deep orange. Its reflection on the snow burned her eyes, and she covered them with her arm. "Dad, where are we going?" she whined.
He pulled her arm away and pointed at the sun. "You see that?"
Sokka said, "I thought Mom said we weren't supposed to look at the sun."
Laughing, he told them, "You have to look into the heart of things. That's where its secrets are."
Her brother was overrun with the prospects of secrets, and began pestering their dad about what secrets the sun could have. He continued prattling all the way to the beach, asking if dragons still existed, maybe there were eggs in the Fire Nation that they were keeping in case of an emergency.
"What kind of emergency would you need dragons for?" their father asked.
"Well," he said uncertainly, thinking up an answer. "Well what if the ocean around the ports froze? You'd need them to melt all the ice so you could go sailing."
She never found out what it was their father had in mind. All they did was sit there and watch the sun turn about in the sky. He didn't tell them any secret about the it either. Maybe he just wanted to spend time with them before the battle.
When it was about time for breakfast, Iroh found her in the garden and invited her to eat with him. They sat outside of Iroh's rooms, which were closest to the garden. During the meal, they spoke of light, pleasant topics she didn't care about, but the normalcy was something she appreciated. She was drinking her usual-the medicinal tea to promote her reproductive health while the old man had a blend of ginger and green tea. Each bitter and pungent sip made her grimace, and sweeteners were not allowed with this concoction. Downing it was not an option either, as the doctor had noted; it had to be sipped throughout the day to enter the bloodstream at a steady rate. She wasn't sure it worked that way, but she followed orders to be safe. It might have been handed down from the Fire Lord to increase her own bitter and pungent emotions.
"What do you see?" asked Iroh.
Looking out over the green, sunlit landscape, she sighed, wondered what home was like. White and grey and dark, how it always looked in winter. The thought warmed her, remembering the fires, the smell of fish and seaweed, images of her grandmother, mother, and herself weaving baskets and fishing nets.
"Green," she said. "Grass, trees..."
"Not much color, is there?"
She looked to him. "I thought you said it was normal for the flowers to go away in winter."
He nodded. "But only for a few weeks. Our winter is long this year." After a pause, he chuckled. "We're at the equator, you know, or close enough, so no flowers and more rain is really all the change we get."
Flowers returning were not a big concern of hers, but she didn't want to give him the chance to turn the conversation back to his worry about her giving up on hope. He'd already encouraged her to use the old language, remember the stories. Trusting him came easily, but their family was taking a keen interest in her, and she knew nothing good would come of it.
"What do you think is causing it?" she asked.
Iroh took a big inhale, let it out slowly, then looked to her. "What do you think it is?"
Her father had done this, all the older men had. Ask a question, and they'll ask what you think the answer is. There was a reason the question was asked, instead of trying to figure it out herself: they were more knowledgeable about what she was asking. It must be universal, she thought. But she decided to play along. He seemed to like spending time with the foreigner, the prisoner, the sickly, the outcast.
She shrugged. "Too many fire benders?"
He laughed a bit.
"No, I don't know. Could it be something to do with the spirit world?"
"Like what?"
"Like maybe...maybe we're neglecting the spiritual, and focusing more on the material, and it's manifesting here in ours. We aren't supporting it, so it isn't supporting us."
He nodded sagely. "That very well could be. Are you focusing on the spiritual?"
The girl hesitated. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said, about remembering the stories, the old language..."
"It's always important to remember your heritage, and your family."
She looked at him, and saw him watching her. His face was serious, the lines in his face set hard, lips unsmiling. They stared at each other for a moment, tense, until he spoke again.
"What do you think about your family?"
"I don't want to talk about them," she said bluntly, sipping the tea.
Iroh took a big inhale through his nose, let out a small sigh. "Kanna, I know it's hard, but-"
"No, you don't. You've never lost anyone, anything in your life. You can get anything you want to replace whatever you've lost, so don't tell me you understand." She sat back with a huff and looked away, and the old man sat silently.
The greenery calmed her eyes and mind. Staring at it all, she felt unable to remain quite so angry. He might not understand, but he was trying to comfort her. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or if it would make her sympathize with her captors.
He didn't know her, and she shouldn't pretend she knew him. There were things she had never told a soul, and she was certain it was the same with him. One could never know how much they truly knew another.
Frustrated, she sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He looked back to her with a small, sad smile. "You're in pain. People don't do what they should when they're in pain. Grief, anger, fear, they don't discriminate, Water Tribes, Fire Nation, rich, poor, ugly, pretty. They touch us all, leave us with something missing.
"Have you ever meditated?"
She looked at him hesitantly. "When I was younger, before the war started getting so close and my dad had to go fight in the battles more often."
"Was he the one who taught you?"
She nodded.
"I think it would help you. Sitting silently, mindfully, it helps you learn and remember who you are, the truths and nature of this world, this life."
"So you'll teach me?"
"Well," he said, in such a way that indicated he had other plans in mind, "I've got some upcoming music nights, and there are a lot of sales that I need to go to. You can find the best things at markets, things you never even thought you needed until you see it-" He glanced at her and chuckled. "We can talk about all that later. But I thought Zuko would be a good teacher.
"He's more serious about it than I am-which can sometimes be a bad thing, but he has more time, and if he's going to be Fire Lord, he needs to learn to communicate with others better, so this will be practice for the both of you." Iroh smiled at her, happy with the conclusion.
Any attempt to get away from that man was a failed attempt. Fate, destiny, and Iroh continued to put them together when she wanted to be anywhere else. Thinking of the prince teaching her to be calm and quiet, to embrace compassion, sounded like a bad idea; he still seemed to have trouble in some of those areas. She wanted to keep her distance, and she couldn't do that if he was going to teach her.
"Are you nervous about it? You look worried."
She wrung her hands in her lap. "Well, I guess so. He doesn't seem to want me around, and his girlfriend might get jealous. I just don't want to cause any problems."
"He spends time with the both of us, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, but that's because he was just doing what you told him to."
He arched an eyebrow. "Since you fell ill, he's come all on his own."
The girl sat back suddenly, looked away from him.
He poured himself another cup of tea. And from what I've seen, he and Lady Mai are not getting along well lately."
"Oh." She took a gulp of tea, and tears came to her eyes. "She'd be more upset that he'd spend time with me, then."
He set his cup down. "Why are you avoiding him?"
"I'm not," she said, too quickly. "I just..." She sighed, decided to tell the truth. "I want to go home. I don't want to pretend that I'll ever belong here; no one else bothers with it. The more time I spend around people here, the more tired and broken I feel. Having tea, playing games with you and him, it's all a lie."
"But the less time you spend with people, the more isolated you'll feel. I don't want you to think you have no one. It might not be under the best circumstances, but you have me, if not Zuko, here for you, Kanna."
She was silent for a moment. "You like taking care of the unwanted, don't you?"
"I like taking care of those that need and will accept being taken care of," he corrected her. "If you don't want Zuko to teach you, I can find someone else. I just thought you'd be more comfortable with him than a stranger."
It was strange to realize he wasn't a stranger. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. If he'll do it."
"There's no 'if' about it," he laughed. "That boy needs to learn to talk."
The rest of the day she spent planning. Time might not be on her side, so she was going to work it. She scribbled down the moon phases for the next two months, began collecting dry goods for the far off journey, and asked Iroh about the classes they gave to the younger girls. In a land with complex social structures and rules, the children were taught by tutors or their family member, and as she didn't have any family members, she asked Iroh for a recommendation. Assimilate, she thought.
Rather than give her a reputable source, he told her to talk to Ty Lee, Mai and Azula's friend. "She may be eccentric and she doesn't usually follow the rules, but she knows them, and won't charge you. If anything, she'll just want you to spend time with her in return."
With a sigh, she thought of the saying, "Keep your friends close and your enemy closer."
She must not let her heart waver. Yes, she wanted to be a good person, and yes, she still cared about other people, but she needed to care for her people, she needed to get away. Iroh might be hurt in the process, but no one else. And if she didn't get away, she was almost certain she would be executed. Again, only Iroh would mourn for her.
In preparation, she laid on the floor and closed her eyes, pretended she was dead. She had been a part of this ritual with others in the tribe. When the warriors went off to battle, when the elderly were getting sick, their family would sit around them and look at their bodies, knowing the would stop working one day, disintegrate and become one with the earth again. The warriors and elderly would feel the life slip from their bodies and remain there for some hours. But the girl did this alone, for only an hour. She would do it the next day, and the next, until her planned date of escape, and if she made it past that, until her dying breath. Death had been prevalent in her childhood, something she understood though wished didn't happen.
She was afraid. Not existing wasn't a conceivable reality to her; all she had ever been and known existed. She clutched at her chest to make sure her heart was still breathing, felt her chest rise and fall. Thinking of Iroh, she wondered if he would consider this some type of meditation. When she died, she would return to the spirit force, be reborn to a new body. She reminded herself this. Death wasn't forever, only for a time. Maybe she would find her mother again. Her mind might question it, but in her heart she was sure she would know that whoever this person was, they felt safe, like home, like the ocean embracing you.
Images flashed in her head. Shensha cooking fish over the fire, rolling her and Sokka up in blankets, bickering with Gran-Gran, kissing Hakoda on the cheek, out in the snow and realizing her daughter was a water bender for the first time, her eyes bright and shiny with tears. Teaching her to make needles out of bone, sitting down and painting designs on the few scrolls they had, tasting the lychee nuts Sokka had finished soon after, the sunlight gleaming on her hair, celebrating sunreturn with the other tribesmen, paddling in the canoe, with the sun in her face, and the sun and the sun and the sun.
Her chest felt heavy again, tight, and her eyes burned. Tears leaked from her closed eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. "I miss you, and I need your help," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her mother was off elsewhere, in a child's body. She tried to picture the child, but the image kept shifting. Shensha could be anyone now, a boy or girl, from any of the nations. She could be Fire Nation.
The girl opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Could she really be kind and gentle when she was trying to escape? She would hesitate, and her life would be over. Sokka, what do I do? She felt a warmth settle around her shoulders, calm and gentle, and fell asleep, a thin smile on her face.