"Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things."
— Terry Pratchett
Prologue 2: The Death of Hope
Katara was roughly tossed onto the unforgiving metal floor of the ship's brig.
Her prison cell lacked the basic commodities for living, with the exception of a crude, thin straw mat on the floor, which she guessed was for sleeping.
Not that she would be getting much sleep though.
There were also a pair of manacles hanging from the central wall.
A small team of soldiers filed into her cell. One of them bent down to start loosening her gag. As soon as it came off, she started to wail.
"I wanna go home! I wanna go home!"
A fire punch that came threateningly close to her face shut her up.
"Silence, brat," one of them hissed at her, his voice sounding venomously inhuman through his helmet, "If you want to live, stop your crying and do as we say. And don't try to escape."
As one of the soldiers started unlocking her shackles, Katara feebly nodded, too cowed to protest any further.
When he had finished freeing her hands, she sat up submissively, rubbing her wrists. One of the other soldiers tossed a prison uniform down on the floor in front of her. It consisted of a pair of dark grey pants, and a lighter grey tunic with short sleeves. The uniform looked ragged and worn.
"Now," said the first soldier, "Take off all of your clothes, except your undergarments. Then change into these."
Again, Katara nodded timidly and did as she was told.
She started by taking off her boots and socks. Her parka, knitted by her now-dead mother, was discarded next, though not without pangs of mournful longing and sorrow. Her gloves, undershirt and pants then followed, leaving her little body clothed only in sarashi wrappings.
For reasons that the young girl couldn't entirely fathom yet, she found herself greatly intimidated by the leering looks that the soldiers gave her. So she resolved to put on her prison uniform as fast as her trembling hands could manage.
The fabric of the pants scratched her skin uncomfortably, and the pant legs were ripped at the edges. The texture of the tunic wasn't much better, and it had several patches in the front and back of its midsection.
When Katara had finished, she looked up at the guards, who had yet to react.
"Um… I'm done," she said, feeling self-conscious.
"Good," the leader replied. He turned to where the girl had piled up her Water Tribe clothing, and with a spark of flame set them alight.
"No!" shouted Katara, but it was too late. Distraught and frightened, she began to cry loudly again.
Rough hands seized her shoulders and shoved her small body against the metal wall.
"Shut up," hissed the soldier who had pinned her. None too gently, he yanked out her hair clips and hair ties, eliciting sharp cries of pain from her, and tossed them into the fire, which was now starting to burn out.
Two other soldiers loomed over her, and overcome by terror, Katara shut her eyes. She felt metal bonds clamping down on her skin again, and heard two distinct clicks as the manacles were locked into place on her wrists, chaining her to the wall behind her.
Seeing that she was secured, the soldier finally released her and she slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by shock and fear.
The leader spoke up again.
"Now go to sleep and tomorrow you shall be given food and water."
With that, he turned to leave. The rest of the guards followed him out and the cell door banged shut.
Katara curled up on the mat, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
Having cried herself to sleep, Katara was abruptly woken the next morning by harsh banging on the door of her cell.
"Wake up, scum! Your food is here!"
A grate at the bottom of the door slid open, and a food tray was pushed through, scraping horribly against the floor.
Katara cringed at the noise and then made her way over to the tray. She was thirsty, and she was starving. The chains rattled and pulled taut as she moved. The manacles were just long enough to let her reach the tray. She had to use her foot to drag it over to arm's length.
There was only a slice of bread, and a small cup of water. But at the very least, it was something.
The little girl wolfed down the slice of bread and quickly gulped down the water. She soon came to regret rushing through her breakfast when she realized that it would probably be hours before her next meal. The dull ache of hunger in her stomach had lessened, if only for a little while, but she had now noticed that her thirst hadn't been entirely quenched.
There was the sound of harsh banging on her cell door again.
"Put your tray near the slot when you're finished. And hurry up, otherwise I'm coming in to take your food away!" the soldier's voice yelled from the other side.
Katara followed the command, tentatively kicking the tray with one foot so that it slid back over to the grate, and then went back to lying down on the mat. She would daydream the time away.
The slot slid open again and a pair of armoured hands grabbed the tray, before the grate closed once more. But by then, Katara was lost in her memories.
Memories of snow, and ice. Of snowmen and snowball fights.
She and her mother pitted against her big brother and father. All of their excited shrieks and joyful laughter intermingling in a happy, harmonic melody that made the young family forget about the horrors of the war, and gave them escape from the difficult hardships of their lives.
And when they had had their fun, Gran-Gran would call them inside the igloo for dinner. And they would join her and eat happily together.
Homesickness washed over Katara like the ocean's tide and she began to sob again.
A few minutes later, a soldier came in with a metal bucket, and told her to do nature's business.
Though he threatened to burn her if she tried to bend anything, which left her bewildered.
What exactly could she bend in this place? They only gave her enough water to drink, and…
Oh.
Oh yuck.
Lunch was given to her after several hours.
Another meagre slice of stale bread and another small cup of water that again failed to entirely sate her hunger and thirst.
Dinner was served after an afternoon of periodically alternating between a bored state of mind, and degenerating into tears of uncertainty and heartache.
A slice of bread and a little bit of water. Again. She still ate and drank what was given, taking in a small amount of comfort at the fact that she was still being fed.
Then afterwards, she'd lie down and drift off into more dreams of home. The ever-so-slight rocking of the boat on the ocean was a small comfort that she was grateful to the spirits for. It helped her find sleep a little bit easier.
But she was still a prisoner here. And her dreams would end up transforming into nightmares, resulting in her waking up in the dead of night, screaming and crying until her rapidly beating heart finally accepted the utter hopelessness of her situation.
And then, with her spirit broken, she'd go back to an uneasy sleep.
That was the pitiful routine that she resigned herself to for the rest of the voyage.
She eventually lost count of the days as they bled into weeks, and when the movement of the boat finally came to a halt, she was sure it had been over a month. Likely much longer than that.
The door gave a clank and slid open.
The same team of soldiers who had settled her in for the voyage entered her cell once more.
The leader approached her first.
"Your wrists will be shackled and afterwards you will follow us out. Unless you want to die, don't try anything stupid," he said, amber eyes glaring down at her.
Katara acknowledged the order with a small nod. Her wrists were shackled in front of her, the metal rubbing painfully against her soft skin. A length of chain was attached to the front end of the shackles, giving the soldiers the means to lead her wherever they so wished. But finally, for the first time since she had been taken on board, she was led out of her cell.
After negotiating a maze of metallic corridors and climbing up several flights of stairs, the group reached the main deck. As they passed through the doors, Katara felt her senses swamped by the intense heat of the tropics. Though her prison rags were threadbare, the pervasiveness of the hot climate almost immediately caused her to start sweating away what very little moisture her body had left.
She swallowed nervously when she remembered that the last time she had drank water was during yesterday's dinner.
The sunlight painfully pierced her eyes. She had been locked away in the cell for weeks, and the only sources of light in that dark metal box were two small flaming torches on the left and right walls, and a small glass window on the door.
The sun had also heated up the metal deck of the ship. Her small legs trembled as her bare feet walked along the hot surface, step by painful step.
Walking down the wooden plank from the ship onto the dock was simply a change of one foul location to the next.
Villagers, pale-skinned and tall, so much unlike her people back home, greeted the Southern Raiders as they returned from their latest expedition.
Then they spotted the little waterbender at the back, being dragged along by the chain like livestock. Their stares turned from curious to merciless.
Jeers from the crowd filled the air, and Katara heard curses and insults levelled at her. She kept her mouth clamped shut, desperate not to cry.
Cruel mercy gave her that wish when the leader of the Southern Raiders barked orders for the villagers to clear a pathway for the soldiers. They were headed on foot to the Fire Nation capital.
A few hours passed during the trek, during which time the sun rose ever higher in the sky.
During a water break by a small stream, Katara got a little time to herself to silently ponder the irony of how she would've appreciated, for once, to see some thick grey clouds in the crystal blue sky. Back home, stormy grey clouds brought raging blizzards and thick snowfalls, while a clear sky meant a brief respite from the unforgiving cold of the South Pole. In the Fire Nation, clouds would've given her shade against the burning glare of the sun.
Realizing that homesickness was threatening to swamp her mind again, Katara forced herself to brood on something else. Mild stinging on her arms and legs made her eyes wet, and blinking through her tears, she looked upon her recently attained wounds.
Her bare feet were cut, bruised and bleeding from walking along the rough roads. Her elbows and knees were scraped and bloodied from the three times that she had tripped and fell along the way. Her wrists had been rubbed raw from the shackles clamped around them.
She wanted to sleep, to faint, to let unconsciousness whisk her away, but she didn't dare for fear of cruel retribution from the soldiers.
Somewhere from the front, a scout shouted that the capital was within sight, and within a few moments the soldier who held her chain painfully yanked her to her feet and led her away from the shade of the tree where she had been resting.
The pace had quickened. The soldiers were jogging now, and with her smaller body and shorter legs, Katara had to run to keep up. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and stitches in her stomach made it nearly impossible for her to breathe. The road had turned into a torturous uphill endeavour.
But mercifully, after a few minutes of agony, they had reached the entrance to the city.
The group slowed to a casual walk, which was another thing that Katara was immensely grateful to the spirits for. It also allowed her to observe the city that lay before her. Or rather, below her.
The Fire Nation Capital was situated inside a huge crater. Gran-Gran had told her tales of how huge cavities in the ground came into being by forming themselves out of extinct volcanoes – huge mountains that could shoot molten earth.
The volcano which housed the city had long since died off, and what had once been a place of origin for destruction now hosted hundreds of people in a thriving environment.
The citizens of Royal Caldera City had received the news from their Fire Lord.
The Southern Raiders had returned and had brought with them the last waterbender from the South Pole.
To celebrate, the city had been transformed into one big festival ground. Coloured flags, banners and ribbons were strung up on every building. There was a band playing in the town square, and large quantities of the Fire Nation's best cuisine and produce were on sale in the main streets.
It was a lively and exuberant atmosphere.
For most people, anyway.
"Ugh, could this day get any more boring?" droned a young girl of nine years of age. Her ebony black hair was fashioned into a pretty hairstyle for the momentous occasion, though one could tell by the look on her face that she pretty much wasn't enjoying it. Not one bit. Not at all.
"Mai," her mother hissed warningly, "Behave yourself or you shall be skipping lunch during the festival."
"Yes, mother," sighed Mai sadly, frustration also building up in her heart, "Can I go find Ty Lee and the others?"
"Yes, but join your father if he goes looking for you."
That was the answer that Mai had been hoping for.
She found Ty Lee hanging out with Azula, near the Fire Lord's banquet table.
"Hey, whatcha doing?" Mai drawled.
"Mai, it's good to see you!" Ty Lee beamed, skipping over next to her. Azula sidled up to them.
"Greetings, Frown Face," smirked the princess.
"Where's your brother?" sighed Mai, rolling her eyes. She was not in the mood for this. Suddenly, spending time with Zuko sounded like the better option, even if he was a boy and a year older than her.
"Off to the side with mother."
Mai muttered her thanks as she slinked past the younger pair of girls.
After Mai had skulked off, Ty Lee turned innocently to Azula.
"Was it something we said?"
"Ah, she'll bounce back."
Not one to dwell on potential negatives, Ty Lee turned her mind to more intriguing matters.
"How soon do you think the Southern Raiders will arrive?"
"I don't know for sure, Ty Lee," Azula responded, yawning for dramatic effect, "The city has already been in a state of excitement for days. I don't know if all the preparation has been worth it for just one Water Tribe peasant, but if the capture of the savage brings us closer to winning the war, I'm all game for it."
"What do you think she's like?"
"What makes you think it's a she, Ty Lee?"
"Just got this feeling…"
"It could be a he, it could be a she. They could be young, they could be elderly. I don't care. As long as they suffer."
"Okay, sure," Ty Lee smiled.
Sometimes, the easy-going and agreeable nature of her self-proclaimed best friend startled even Azula. Though the little princess quickly shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
Obedience from subjects is always desired, her father always told her.
Ty Lee, meanwhile, had sensed a change of atmosphere. Over the past few days, the city had been filled with excited bustle as preparations for the festive occasion had commenced, and it had increased today when news that the Southern Raiders had docked finally reached the capital and the celebration began proper.
But they had still yet to see the waterbender make its appearance.
But something, somewhere in the city, had stirred the crowd's attention, for a hush was beginning to spread amongst the people.
Ty Lee then observed Fire Lord Azulon making his way to his raised seat in the plaza, without a word. Prince Ozai took his place on a seat beside his father's. Azula raced over and Ozai picked her up, settling her comfortably into his lap.
Ty Lee decided to hover close nearby to her friend, so as to get a good view. She stood a few paces away from the prince's chair.
The area around her was beginning to grow quieter, and she could see that people were starting to part off to the sides to make way.
The main show was about to begin.
"I think the star attraction has arrived," Mai said to Zuko as the quietness of the crowd became increasingly apparent.
"Mom? Can Mai and I go watch from the stairs?" the young prince asked his mother.
"Of course, Zuko," Princess Ursa answered.
Taking Mai by the hand – and not noticing the blush that crept up on her cheeks – Zuko led the way to the stairs near the center of the plaza, where his grandfather's seat was.
There, he observed that his father had already sat down at his place in anticipation, and he spotted Azula making her way over to their sire. Ozai gently picked her up and placed her on his lap, and a feeling of envy bubbled within Zuko's stomach. Thankfully, Mai chatting beside him distracted him from his thoughts.
"Well… where is it?"
"Who?" he asked distractedly.
"The waterbender, duh."
Mai needn't have asked, for soon the last of the people blocking their view parted, and the Southern Raiders' procession marched into the town square. Their live trophy was displayed at the front, the threat of a spear aimed at her back keeping her walking along, though at a meek and timorous pace.
It had become apparent on why the crowds had fallen silent. Most of the citizens had been expecting a fully-fledged and fully-matured waterbending master as a war prize.
Instead they saw a frightened little girl.
"She looks to be around Ty Lee and Azula's age, but a bit younger," thought Zuko, nonplussed. Beside him, Mai wasn't quite sure how to react to this revelation either.
Glancing at his mother, who was standing in the midst of the gathering, Zuko saw pity and remorse etched on her features.
He briefly wondered if kidnapping and imprisoning a child was something his nation should take pride in.
The little girl was trying hard to ignore the obtrusive stares that his people were shooting her way. It wasn't hard to see why. She was an awful sight to behold.
Her brown hair, loose and dishevelled, hung messily in front of her face, and ran down her shoulders and back in an unsightly manner. There were bruises and wounds on her arms and legs, with streaks of dried blood staining her skin and clothes. Fearful of looking at anything else, her blue eyes just gazed down at her bare feet, which were caked with dirt and blood. She looked like she was in agony with every step she took, and occasionally she stumbled in pain.
Clad in her ragged prison uniform, she looked downright pathetic.
A part of him, the part of him that Mother cherished and loved so dearly, felt sorry for the poor child. He knew very well what it was like to be a laughingstock to the public. But his Father condemned such thoughts, labelling them as weaknesses. The part of him that his sire cultivated and fostered told him to take pleasure in seeing such a pitiful waste of life being laid low.
This clash of conscience raged inside the young prince's head. The dualities of his parents' philosophies waged war against each other, wearing down his psyche. The moral dilemma unfolding right now threatened to overwhelm him, and he silently wished that his Uncle was here, not off fighting in the war, leading the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Even if it brought his Uncle great honour, Zuko desperately craved for his advice right now.
Before his mind broke with the strain and he did something on instinct that he would come to regret later, Azula decided to take charge.
"Oh, look at the poor little peasant! Wanna cry?"
One moment later, the entire assembly of citizens erupted into a noisy hive of contemptuous scorn.
It was a horrible cacophony of insults, ridicule and mockery.
Katara was sure she'd go deaf. Or insane. Either way, she didn't care.
She just wanted it to stop.
Was it not enough that they had killed her mother?
Was it not enough that they had taken her away from her home?
What else could they possibly gain from humiliating her too?
Stop. Stop it! Please, just stop it!
But they didn't. No matter how hard she wished.
With the spiteful taunts of the unrelenting villagers battering down on her soul, Katara felt like she was turning to clay. Movement in this cruel world of captivity and heartlessness seemed like an unreachable goal, an impossible task.
Only the sharp jab of the spear against the rear of her shoulder made her move her legs on instinct. But she continued on with her wet eyes fixated on the road, unwilling to look up. Her long hair helped somewhat in hiding her shame, loose strands hanging in front of her face.
She was pulled to a stop in front of the Fire Lord's plinth, where he, his family and his closest advisors all sat. She shrank under their withering stares. The worst of it came from a girl who smirked smugly at her. The utter lack of compassion in the girl's dark, golden eyes made Katara shiver.
However, upon closer inspection, she noticed that the mother of the girl – her guess based off the similar features the two shared – looked resigned and haunted. Almost sad, even.
And the older boy standing nearby, he looked confused. Addled. Bewildered at the sight before him. He seemed to pity her, if that was even possible for someone from the Fire Nation. Katara thought that the boy looked like the older brother of the girl who had been sneering at her, and momentarily she thought of Sokka, back home. Her heart ached at the thought. A cold voice spoke up before she had much of a chance to truly dwell on these feelings, though.
"We've seen enough," the Fire Lord said at last, "Take her to the Waterbender Prison."
The soldier holding her chain took the lead again and dragged her along once more. The rest of the Southern Raiders followed in procession.
At least they could leave quietly, it seemed.
But then…
"Enjoy your stay there, peasant!"
The girl was sneering at her again, and the rest of the mob restarted their hollering.
With the horrible, cruel jeers assaulting her hearing once more, Katara was left in grievous disbelief at the sheer heartlessness of the mob, and she lingered for a moment too long.
Her wrists stung sharply as the soldier holding her chain suddenly gave a fierce yank to force her to move again. Unprepared for the sudden jerk, Katara tripped and landed face-down on the rocky, dusty road.
The crowd just roared louder, merciless in their mockery.
With her eyes screwed shut, Katara could only feel the jeering of the horde thundering throughout her body. She could feel the painful, panicked thumping of her frightened heart as a fresh wave of terror crashed down on her. And then the shackles scraped her wrists again as the chain was pulled taut, and there was a grazing pain on her elbows and knees as she was brutally dragged up to her feet again. There was fresh blood on her arms and legs and face, and her joints now ached and throbbed anew. Her eyes stung with tears of pain and humiliation, and the dust from the road had peppered her face.
She gave a painful sneeze, and the crowd laughed louder still. But even with her vision blurred by her tears, she could feel their withering, burning stares.
Her spirit broken, Katara was grateful that the scornful chorus was indeed deafening. That way, no one could hear her weep.
Just keep walking.
That was the only thing that Katara had the strength left to think about.
They had left the city, and its horrible laughter, far behind hours ago. The sun was low in the pink sky, just about to sink below the horizon.
Katara would've found it beautiful if she weren't so tired and hungry and thirsty. Not to mention the fact that she was still being unwillingly dragged along by a chain, practically dead on her feet, towards whatever prison that awaited her.
She was so exhausted that she barely took notice when they passed by a pair of metal doors and entered a courtyard, which was surrounded by metal walls on all sides.
In front of them lay a steel complex, intimidating and imposing in its sheer size. The building didn't have any windows, and there was the low hum of industrial machinery at work inside.
The prison neither looked nor sounded pleasant.
The warden in charge approached them.
The leader of the Southern Raiders strode to the front and took Katara's chain from his subordinate.
"Warden Eiji," the raider greeted, "I bring you a gift. The crippling blow to the Southern Water Tribe. Their last waterbender."
"Thank you, commander. My men and I will take a lot of pleasure out of her detainment," said the warden, taking the chain from the raider's hand. The commander turned back to his troops to address them.
"Alright men, let's move out. Our work here is done."
The raiders followed their commanding officer out of the prison courtyard, though not without hurling some final insults towards their trophy.
Katara just stared down at her toes, utterly demoralized by now.
The warden suddenly turned, and she was sharply yanked along by her chain again. She groaned, stumbling a little, her bare feet stinging on the harsh, stony ground.
They entered the prison complex, and Katara's eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. The only source of light in the building came from grates in the ceiling high above, and the temperature had doubled. The sudden heat wave made Katara nauseous, though she was too dehydrated at this point to even vomit.
The only sounds to be heard were the rattling of the chain links, the ominous rumbling of machinery, the dull thuds of the warden's boots, and the pitter-patter of her bare feet.
But other than that, the silence and stillness of the prison was overwhelming, the deathly quiet somehow more deafening than the ruthless roaring of the crowds.
It only made Katara feel even more alone.
Eventually, they came to a large chamber that was filled with rows of metal cages. The cages were suspended high off the ground by chains attached to the ceiling.
They walked down the aisles in between the rows. Though she already felt sick the moment she stepped in the building, what gave Katara a horrible, sinking feeling was that all the cages she had seen so far were empty. The prison was so vast and huge, and she was so small and insignificant in comparison that her feelings of loneliness and isolation were heightened substantially.
After a short while, they finally approached a section of the prison that was inhabited by people. Six rows of cages held prisoners within them. Each row had six cages. And all of the cages were occupied, except one.
There were thirty-five prisoners in total. Adding her, that total came up to thirty-six.
Thirty-six was already a large number. That was a considerable amount of waterbenders. And yet, they were nothing compared to the vastness of the prison.
Altogether, they wouldn't even fill up half the amount of cages she had seen on her way here.
Katara remembered all the stories that her Gran-Gran would tell her about how the Fire Nation had captured all the other waterbenders of their tribe long ago. She suddenly realized that she was looking at the remnants of that particular persecution.
Despite the intense heat, a chill ran down her spine at the revelation.
The warden came to a stop in between the third and fourth rows. On the right was the fourth row of cages, the very first one in the line empty.
So this would be her cell, for the rest of her life.
They had all noticed her by now. Their awareness and perception had been sluggish and lethargic, but as she focused on studying the faces of her brethren, they were now busying themselves with gazing upon the unfortunate newcomer.
An old man inhabited the first cage in the fifth row. After spotting her and noticing her age, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, his long and knotted hair falling in front of his face.
An old woman was imprisoned in the cage behind the empty one. A look of horror ghosted her face, before despair sagged over her aged features and she too bowed her head, closing her eyes.
While there were several other elders, most of the prisoners were around her father's age. There were sighs of resignation and sadness, and some curled into themselves.
But other than a few small reactions here and there, they all just stared emptily at her, their eyes barren and soulless.
Katara just stood numbly herself, not trying to escape even as the warden started unlocking the shackles on her wrists. She had long since learned that obedience would be the only thing that would keep her alive.
Once the shackles and chain were released, landing with a clatter on the walkway floor, the warden unlocked the first cage in the fourth row. His hands roughly seized her by the waist, and he yanked her small body off the ground, hurling her onto the floor of the cage. She yelped at the impact.
"Enjoy your stay here, child," he snarled in a low voice, his eyes alight with cruel pleasure, "For you will never see the outside world again."
Still sprawled on her side, immobilized by pain, Katara could only watch tearfully as the warden slammed the cage door shut.
There was a loud clang, and her soul, already broken, finally shattered.
And now for some symbolic trivia.
It won't be obvious just from description, but the cage that Katara is locked in is the same one where Hama was kept prisoner long ago.
And Azula. Sadistic, little Azula.
I'm definitely building up a more prominent rivalry between Katara and Azula in this universe.
The many parallels between those two in canon has always intrigued me. Now I've got the chance to explore their dynamic to a much greater degree here.
This chapter was just the beginning!
PUBLISHED ON = 15 / 01 / 2019
REWRITTEN ON = 16 / 08 / 2021