Chapter Six: Locked
Peace is a river, that’s locked in its roar,
The Self is a lover, tossed up on the shore,
Betrayal’s a dagger, the sweetest of sins,
And fear is a nightmare, about to begin.
The room was cold when he entered, the sound of the hangings swishing closed behind him strangely loud in the sudden silence which greeted him. The messenger in front of him shivered, and then bowed as he proclaimed the customary signal. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation!”
It was not needed. Zuko’s battle-trained ears had already heard the abrupt cease of mutterings seconds before he had crossed the threshold, and now as he strode through the center of the War Chamber, he felt their eyes eat through him as he passed. His shoes sounded heavy on the polished floor, his back was stiff and straight as he walked up to the awaiting empty throne. For a moment, time stretched in his mind as he stared at it. Despite its magnificence, the seat itself seemed to look so innocuous. And yet... only a few years ago, his father had sat in this seat, in the war meeting that had led to the scream of a young boy on a lonely Agni Kai arena. And only a few weeks ago he had sat himself at its side, half of him basking in the feel of Ozai’s approval, the other half screaming in horror.
Zuko’s heart hardened. And then, before the standing men, he turned.
With deliberate slowness, Prince Zuko lowered himself into the throne. A heartbeat passed, during which the Ministers and Advisors had time to draw in quiet gasps, before Zuko surrounded the royal seat with fire.
Azula had taken the throne before the coronation, Zuko knew that. But that was when Ozai had already proclaimed her heir, and had ascended himself. In meetings of state, however, it was rare that anyone other than a fully coronated Fire Lord took the throne; even Fire Lords-to-be were expected to sit in the smaller seat by its side. His deliberate act of forgoing custom and taking his place, rightful in all but tradition, was a calculated message, and he watched all of his nobles’
faces with an eagle-hawk’s eye as they digested it. The ones who smiled slightly he would consider trusting, the ones who wavered he would watch, and the ones who remained impassive he would watch even closer.
And as Zuko sat, surrounded by the men who had served his father, he couldn’t help but be all too aware of his popularity, or rather his lack of it. For too long his nation had known him as the banished, and then the traitor prince. Among his father’s advisors and subjects, he would have to be doubly wary.
“Well?” he finally spoke, and the sound chased away the inheld breath in the chamber. “What have you to report?”
Everyone breathed, and then as custom dictated, the men re-seated themselves before the first to speak stood once more. Zuko’s eyelids didn’t flicker as he regarded the man. The Minister for Culture, Education and Citizenship was a neat, round-shaped man who was one of the few in the room who hadn’t served in the army. He brought a sheaf of paper up to his eyes before clearing his throat.
“Well, the school system reforms that have been proposed recently have yet to be passed...”
Zuko brought the flame up higher, blocking them from his vision as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, preparing himself for a long wait. He’d forgotten how damn boring this stuff was. Then again, it was his fault that he’d called for a general Ministerial meeting. He should have focused on the rebuilding instead. But still, he’d been away from the nexus of his country for so long, it felt right to know everything that had passed.
After the Minister for Culture, Education, and Citizenship had finished and sat down again, the Minister for Rural and Urban Development took his place. And then it was the Minister for Agriculture and Environment, then the Minister for Innovation, Science, Research and Transport... the details and the news flew thick and fast, and Zuko found himself struggling to retain and process it all. Finally, there were moments when the figures got so boring and pointless that he contented himself with surreptitiously studying the men in front of him.
The long table in the center of the room was actually divided into two, the larger half further away from him filled with his ministers, the four closest demarcated seats holding the three Royal Advisors and the Chief Advisor who presided over all of them as the Fire Prince’s ostensible right-hand man and Treasurer. Zuko let his gaze rest on the old man for a long while, always making sure the flame distorted the air enough that none of them could pinpoint exactly where he was focusing his attention.
He remembered him from when he was a child, an austere old man who never raised his voice and never seemed to have an unduly harsh word to say. Even then he had been at Ozai’s right hand side, a close confidante who exuded wisdom and power wherever he went. Zuko’s eyes narrowed at that memory. No matter how kind or wise Chief Advisor Hui seemed, he would need to work a miracle to gain Zuko’s trust after over a decade at Ozai’s side.
At that, Zuko let his eyes sweep over the rest of his Ministers. If it came down to it, he would have been happy to get rid of all of them. They had served by Ozai for so long he was sure that they couldn’t be trusted. Besides, he had seen them, seen their very nature over the few times that he’d been present in this hall. Subtle liars, cowed followers, proud arrogance. Very few, if any at all, would be loyal to him after he ascended. The mere thought made him wish again that he could start afresh... but he knew that the chaos and turmoil that would cause amongst the noble families would set back any efforts for peace for years. He pulled a face that none of them could see and settled back into the chair. That, or cause a coup or a civil war, and to be honest, he just wasn’t ready for either. Zuko rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to concentrate again. Agni, he wasn’t even Fire Lord yet.
The current speaker, the Minister for Health and Human Services, finally took his seat again. Zuko blinked his eyes and tried to remember what the man had said, but found his thoughts somehow lost between “failing medical system” and “prepared influx of the wounded”. He shot a glance at the Chief Advisor again, who caught his gaze and nodded slightly. Despite himself, Zuko relaxed a little. That nod, he knew, meant that there was nothing too much to worry. Then again, the fact that he’d suddenly found himself relying so instinctively on the benevolent old man quickly offset his relief.
Zuko sat up straighter as the announcer called for the Minister for Foreign Affairs. Paranoia. He was good at that.
The Minister for Foreign Affairs was a surprisingly humble-seeming man, given the arches of arrogance surrounding him. His craggy face was half-hidden by a grandfatherly beard, but his eyes sparked strong with the energy of one much younger. Zuko eyed him silently as he stood and began his introduction, citing the general snatches of news they had heard in the last few days. Without meaning to, the Fire Prince felt his mind begin to wander again. Much of the information he already knew from his diligent hours at his father’s desk. So it was very easy to let himself drift, thinking of the free hours spent with the Avatar and his friends with a strange sense of longing...
What General Jiang said next, however, jerked him firmly back to to the present.
“Your highness, I submit that perhaps it might be better to leave many of the soldiers in the Earth Kingdom where they are.” The general paused, as if waiting for an explosion, but none came. Paying full attention now, Zuko merely tightened his jaw so infinitesimally that behind the wall of flame, it was indiscernible. Patience, patience. Hear him through, then cut him down. Don’t show anger, don’t show weakness, don’t show fear.
The deafening silence resonating from the throne was broken only by the low crackle of the flame, and so the general hesitantly continued. “I submit this for three reasons. Firstly, if you forgive me, your Highness, it will be well nigh impossible in a practical sense to withdraw all troops immediately. Secondly, it will be very costly, both in monetary and resource terms, to undertake such a quick withdrawal. And finally...”
The General swallowed slightly, and then darted a quick look at the Chief Advisor, who returned his gaze with calmness. The moment did not go unnoticed. Zuko’s golden eyes narrowed, but before he could make more of it, his Minister continued.
“Finally, and most importantly, even though the war is over, the divisions and damage caused by it most certainly are not. I propose that having contingents of our own soldiers helping with the rebuilding effort in the Earth Kingdom might aid in healing both. ”
All thoughts of the unspoken moment between Hui and the Minister for Foreign Affairs vanished. As Zuko turned the idea over in his head, he was surprised and not a little shocked to realise that the idea had some merit. Struggling a little to contain the sinking feeling in his stomach, he did what was expected.
“Chief Advisor?” he asked mildly.
The old man inclined his head in a seated bow. “Perhaps your Highness might like to open it to the floor?” Hui suggested calmly. “That way we can get everyone’s opinion.
Zuko hesitated briefly, and then nodded. “Very well.”
A moment later he was regretting it. A few moments after that, Zuko resisted the urge to hold his head in his hands as the room descended into bickering. He didn’t even need to listen properly... snatches of sentences came at him thick and fast as he sat impassively on the throne, the grown men in front of him descending into a room of arguing children.
“But then there will be issues with taxes...”
“The commoners are already muttering...”
“Besides, who says those Earth Kingdom peasants will even appreciate it?”
“They could attack us...”
“Reduce our military force...”
“And what of revenge? Now we’re the Avatar’s lackeys, we’re sitting ducks! The military should be brought back immediately to defend...”
“Enough!” Zuko raised his voice, and the echoes of it pushed against the walls of the room. He sat back a little startled at himself. He’d forgotten how well the chamber could command sound, how naturally the fire and the heat channelled itself forth from his lungs. It didn’t matter though; the word had served its purpose. Everyone quieted, and their eyes turned to their Prince.
“I have heard what you have all had to say,” he hesitated, made his decision, and ploughed on ahead. “And for now, the General Jiang’s proposal stands. It is wise and it is practical. However, we will need more information on how that will affect our safety at home. The Minister for Security?”
Nobody answered for a few moments, and then the Chief Advisor stood and bowed. “Forgive him, your Highness. I believe he plead family business a few minutes before the meeting started. Perhaps he will see you in person and in private at a later date?”
Zuko tried very hard not to grind his teeth in frustration as he waved the old man down again. Family business. He’d have to ask Shen Li later, but for now, the glaring absence was nothing more than a pointed insult that he couldn’t do anything about.
“Very well,” he spoke behind his wall of flame. “Then that brings us to the report of... the Minister for War.”
Before he even saw the man who was beginning to rise, Zuko felt something uneasy crawl beneath his skin. Perhaps it was the title... he made himself a mental note to order the Sages to rename it the Minister for Defence. But those thoughts quickly vanished when the man stood up fully, pushing aside his chair and clearing his throat. Zuko’s eyes narrowed. His Minister for War had sharply distinct aristocratic features that marked him as one of the highest noble families in the Fire Nation. A pointed nose arced down to a pointed chin, the face all slides and edges that looked as if it were carved by a sword. If that wasn’t enough to make Zuko instantly distrust him, he remembered that the man had also served as a high-ranking General in his Father’s army, and therefore one of his closest advisors.
Carefully, he rearranged his features to make them even more stone-like than before. General Hang didn’t need to see anything he could use to his advantage.
“Since my area is outside of the Fire Nation, I’m afraid I haven’t much to report,” he began, his voice a hair away from condescending. Zuko’s fingers pressed into the arms of the throne. Given that the Minister for Foreign Affairs and the Minister for Trade and Economy had already spoken, they both knew how useless that excuse was. “However, the messenger hawks which have been swift of wing have reported that the town of Gesing has officially recognised the end of the war...”
Zuko fought his growing annoyance as the man went on, the sly amusement in his voice showing how well aware he was that most of the news he had was trivial or useless and unfit to be presented in a meeting of this sort. It could almost be forgivable given that it had only been two days, and the world was a big place... but not quite. Not with his voice, and not with the fact that he was obviously drawing out the moment. Zuko’s narrowed eyes narrowed even further with the implications, and it was a relief when the man’s shifted position finally signalled his last announcement.
General Hang paused and cleared his throat as around him, the Ministers and Advisors shifted out of boredom. “Oh, and there are reports from the Earth Kingdom that the citizens are slaughtering our soldiers,” he finished calmly, before seating himself again.
It took a moment for Zuko to register the words. And when he did, the old trained mantras rose in his head. Breathe. Calm down. Show no worry, show nothing. Don’t let them know your weakness, don’t let them...
... screw it.
“WHAT?!” The Fire Prince erupted, and as he leapt to his feet the flames he commanded rose too, until they were dancing along the ceiling and advisors and ministers both flinched away from the reflected heat. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
General Hang lifted his head almost languorously, one of the few who had not jerked back in shock. “But I just did, your Highness.”
He would have sounded almost innocent if it hadn’t been for the mocking laughter in his voice. Zuko clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. In his mind, he pictured himself leaping from the dais, his directed fire scattering and sparking around him as he grasped the general’s throat and squeezed...
He opened his eyes. He breathed. He was not his father. He frowned at the thought and set his shoulders. No, he was definitely not his father. Ozai would have been the perfect Fire Lord, not showing any emotion, dealing in practicality... after all, what were a few more dead soldiers in the long run amongst the thousands that had died since the war began?
Zuko breathed again, and slowly lowered the wall of fire in front of him until it was below his feet. With deliberation, he stepped over the border towards the Ministers, his gaze never wavering from the one staring back at him.
“I think you know quite well what I meant, General Hang,” he said, and he was surprised at how calm it was, and how even though he hadn’t raised his voice, the sound carried to the corners of the chamber. “And I may not be my father, but I assure you that I have his memory for treacheries and dishonesties.”
He waited until his message sank in, until he could see his own words imprinted across their eyes and their faces and the souls that lay lurking behind them. And then he abruptly turned for the exit.
The curtains whispered shut behind him, but he was too focused on the path in front of him to even care about the murmurs building up on the other side. Prince Zuko’s mind never wavered on his goal, brushing aside guards and escorts with not even a sound as he continued through the maze of his Palace.
Because he had an Avatar to find.
8 8 8
Shen Li glanced out the window and stretched, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays smooth over his hair. A tiny edge of guilt scratched at his conscience as he enjoyed the solitude, knowing that rooms away, the Fire Prince he’d silently sworn his fealty to was enduring the office and pomp of Ministers and Advisers who mostly hated him. Still, it had been Prince Zuko himself who’d insisted that he begin work on the prisoners immediately, and that he could handle himself...
Shen Li shook his head with a soft smile at Prince Zuko’s stubbornness. He’d have doubted that statement a few days ago, even when he’d seen his Prince defeat the Princess and regain his honour in the eyes of the citizens who had witnessed it. But now, he felt the first few inklings of trust sweep that uncertainty away from him. The seventeen year old would be fine, teenager though he was. It was true that he had a lot to learn, but if he wasn’t a fast learner, Shen Li was sure that he would knuckle down and do it the hard way. Most importantly, from what he’d seen, the Prince had his heart in the right place. And that gave the guard captain a comfort he hadn’t felt for a while when thinking about the Royal Family.
With another small smile decorating his face, he turned back to the stacks of paper laid out neatly on the desk. Half an hour ago, the Fire Sage in charge had led him silently to the shelf he needed, and then just as silently melted away as the guard captain had frozen, blinking in shock. The files were piled much higher than he’d expected; pages upon pages of meticulous notes ranging from the dusty to the fresh. He’d swallowed as he’d gathered the most recent volumes, his well-trained body straining under the weight as he’d walked to a curtained-away side room to study his finds.
So far, he hadn’t found much, but that quickly changed when he tossed aside the current tome in disgust and turned to a neatly printed entry filed only a few days ago, hoping that there might be something about the Fire Princess’ companions in there. For the first few paragraphs there seemed to be nothing, not even oblique references to the possible identities of the prisoners whose details would fill the next twenty pages. Then Shen Li’s eyes fell on a small, innocuous line, and his eyes widened.
34 has died, leaving 75 and 87 left from the Southern Water Tribe.
It was simple, so simple, and so it took a short while for the words to sink in. And then a small explosion of energy erupted, and the guard captain’s hands and fingers spread out over the references and flipped through the books in front of him, suddenly distracted from his immediate task. He hadn’t even known that there were still Southern Water Tribe prisoners being kept. That there were some still alive. And as he delved deeper, he found more. Waterbenders. An Earth Kingdom higher-up. And members of his own country... rogue soldiers, obstinate minor nobles’ relatives, principled former settlers. Shen Li suddenly found himself staring at a whole sordid history of imprisoned lives wrought by the Fire Nation, from all three peoples alike. Soon, he forgot about where he was, forgot about his misgivings, forgot about the time. In fact, he was so engrossed in the numbers, in the dry rustle of the paper and the unspoken stories that were screaming out at him to fix it, that he didn’t even hear the soft swish of the curtain until it was too late.
In the hollow space of the library side-room. a step sounded.
There was a second’s delay, and then Shen Li’s head jerked up, his eyes instantly catching the distorted shadow that the half-opened curtain cast across his vision. At that very moment, clouds drifted across the face of the sun, darkening the light in the room. The change blurred the shadow the intruder cast, the figure half cut off by the arch of cloth still bunched in his hand. Still, Shen Li didn’t need to see him to know who he was.
Agni.
There was a whisper, and then the curtain closing off the room from the rest of the library fell shut. Shen Li didn’t move as silence crept around him. He couldn’t move; the chair seemed to freeze beneath him, locking into his body like an iron rod. There was nothing to be done, nothing but sit stiff and straight, his gaze blank and unseeing towards the wall as the intruder spoke.
“Well, well, well... from Guard Captain to Chief Bodyguard.”
The voice was almost sibilant in its caress. Someone lesser might have shuddered, but Shen Li kept his posture tall, waiting and silent like a reed in the wind.
“Such a meteoric rise is impressive. Such sudden power and honour is lucky.” Slow footsteps approached from behind him, and he could not control it when he began to sweat. “Your... fortuitous luck honours your family, Shen Li.”
The guard captain unconsciously bit his lip. Breathe.
The sound of boots suddenly stopped, right behind him, and he found that his body was unwilling to obey. Shen Li froze again, his heart a tiny butterfly against his ribs. As always, cold fear wormed its way up from his stomach, but for the first time he could also feel the deep-seated anger licking at its ankles. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my county. I did it for Prince Zuko.
... I did it for myself.
And then, out of nowhere, a hand descended firmly onto his shoulder, and it took every muscle fibre within him to stay still as the pressure increased and he felt a hot breath brush past his ear.
“You honour me, my son.”
That did it. Shen Li jerked away, half-rising from his chair and scattering papers on his desk. “Why are you here, father?” he demanded, still facing the wall.
There was a pause, and then the armoured man moved into the light from the window, and Shen Li saw his shadow fall across the blank surface in front of him. “And why wouldn’t I be?” General Sheng asked, a soft tone of controlled amusement bleeding into his voice. “My only son has been given a great honour - a place of trust near the Fire Lord. Is it not natural for a proud, proud father to congratulate his child?”
Shen Li clenched his jaw and turned around. General Sheng was a tall man, and he had to tilt his chin to meet his rock-chipped gaze. Perhaps it was the filtered lighting, but he could swear that for a moment, his father’s eyes looked like a bird of prey’s - colder and more calculating than he had ever seen them.
“What do you want?” he asked, suddenly weary.
General Sheng spread his arms out wide, as if embracing the world, and enfolded the limp young man in his grasp. Shen Li’s face scratched against the shoulder of his father’s armour as he clung back weakly, and he was glad when he was released. As soon as his father’s arms dropped, he stepped back and leaned heavily against the desk, hoping those sharp eyes wouldn’t notice.
Perhaps he was lucky, perhaps he was not, but when General Sheng’s gaze flicked down to the hand supporting his son, he made no comment. Instead, he smiled, and it could have been the light that softened his features.
“Whatever you want to think, my son, I am proud. You have brought yourself honour.”
For a moment, Shen Li almost believed him, almost believed the warmth and the pride.
But that moment quickly fled.
“And the Fire Lord is lucky to have such a loyal subject...” General Sheng paused, and then his voice deepened and thickened, spreading like a film of blood over fine water. “A subject, I trust, who will do what is right for his country.”
From deep within him, Shen Li felt the tiny tongue of anger rise up like a flame. For a moment it hovered in his throat, surrounded by the crushing shadow of his fear, and then it dispersed and he fell back into himself.
“The Fire Lord is the country,” he said at last, but his voice was trembling. General Sheng heard it, the lightest touch of what he perceived as surrender, and he smiled again.
“Good, good boy,” he said softly, before turning away.
The swish of his father’s blood-red cloak and the silence that surrounded it stayed with Shen Li for a long, long time. It trickled down through his ears, a background to his thoughts even when he finally moved again, shifting woodenly back to his work. It hung in the air, distilling his mind back to the task he had been given; to find one woman amongst thousands, her name, her last noted appearance, and her likely companion the only clues he had to sift through pages and pages of official entries. And it echoed in the sunlight as he rechecked the records, tracing names and numbers with a slow finger... only fading away into the distance when his gaze finally rested on the right words, and he sat back in his chair with the scroll in his fingers settling to the table.
There was no doubt in his mind when he looked at the paper again. According to the prison records, Ty Lee and Lady Mai, the companions of the Fire Princess, had been buried deep in the heart of the Boiling Rock for the past few weeks.
And it was time to get them out.
8 8 8
The first thing he noticed was that the main window was wide open, letting the curtains flap into the wind. Perhaps she’d just left them unlatched... but for a moment, he stared at them, his mind cast back to a different time a century ago. And a sickening feeling dropped into his stomach.
No.
The second thing Aang noticed was the small square of paper propped up on the pillows. He walked to it woodenly, fearing what it could possibly say. Because it couldn’t be, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to find her in her room when she wasn’t in the infirmary, and...
Aang stared at it.
It was fragile in his fingers, like it could fall away at any moment and float through his element to the floor. But he didn’t let it. He gripped it tighter, until he thought it might tear, and its sides crumpled under his skin. The sweat from his fingertips began to wear through. Given a little longer, he just might have destroyed it simply by refusing to let go. But his grip compulsively slackened when he heard the door slide open, sending the paper spiralling to the floor as he twisted to face the intruder.
“Twinkletoes?”
He didn’t register the almost resigned tone to her voice until much, much, later... but for now, he could do nothing but stare at his earthbending teacher with a strange emptiness in his eyes.
“She’s gone,” he whispered.
The girl cocked her head to the side and stepped in, letting the door swing shut. “What do you mean?”
Aang swallowed, his unneeded breath bobbing up and down in his lungs. “I mean she’s gone. Gone. Katara’s gone!” He felt the slow hysteria build up, until he thought it would fly out of his chest and strangle him. On his shoulder, Momo chirped uneasily and flew off, landing on a more stable perch in the chandelier-like light hanging from the ceiling. The Avatar didn’t even notice.
“Katara’s gone. But she didn’t say where!” the boy looked around wildly, as if the waterbender herself would suddenly appear behind a curtain. “Spirits, Toph... Katara’s gone!”
“Hey now, calm down,” Toph picked her way neatly across the floor, avoiding all the furniture in her way until she was standing by her student. A small, warm hand closed itself around his arm. “Breathe, Twinkletoes,” she instructed. When he did, taking in large gulping breaths that sounded almost comically loud, she rolled her eyes. “Come on, relax. Katara’s a big girl. She can look after herself.”
The earthbender snorted and then grinned despite herself. “Heck, she’s been looking after all of us as well as herself all this time. This must be a relaxing break for her.”
It was like Aang hadn’t even heard her. He remembered the note, spinning wildly, grabbing it and thrusting it into her hands. She rolled her eyes again. “How many times do I have to tell you people...?”
Aang shook his head violently. “You don’t get it, Toph. Katara’s gone, Katara’s gone and I have to...”
“Wait!” Toph threw up her empty hand to silence him, her face crumpled into a frown. “I hear something...”
Seconds later, the door flew open again, this time with a crash. The two of them jerked away as the Fire Prince rushed into the room, his topknot slightly askew and his breathing as panicked as the Avatar’s.
“Aang!” Zuko shouted. “Agni, there you are... look, you have to come quickly! Earth Kingdom citizens are attacking my soldiers in most of the occupied towns! Please! You have to go there, you have to stop this insanity!”
It was as if the words were reaching him through water. Aang blinked slowly. “What?”
Zuko came to an abrupt halt, “Didn’t you hear me?” he thundered. “Earth Kingdom Citizens. Killing. My. People. You have to go stop them... oh Agni... before this all falls apart...”
Toph began to develop something like a headache, the stonework in the room providing too much conductivity for the hammering heartbeats she could hear from both of them. “All right, fine. Both of you calm down, we’re not going to get anything done otherwise. Just what do you expect us to do, Sparky?”
The exertion of his sprint finally began to dawn on him, and Zuko answered through pants and gasps. “Get on Appa... that’s the quickest way. Agni, I just wish I could... go with you. But someone has to stay... keep the peace... if only Uncle was here...”
Toph nodded, perfectly in control. “Right then,” she said, thinking aloud. “Well Sugarqueen’s out of the question, Snoozles is kinda laid down at the moment, and Fan-Girl’s likely going to be staying with him...” she smiled grimly. “I guess it’s just one-third of Team Avatar to the rescue.”
“No.”
Zuko spun around to meet what he was now going to term the-stubborn-Airbender look. He felt his heart rate go up again as he clenched his fists. It was funny, but he was beginning to recognise a pattern. Because every time the-stubborn-Airbender look popped up, the urge-to-strangle-said-Airbender followed quickly afterwards...
“What do you mean by ‘no’?” he demanded. “Aang, you have to stop this insanity! My soldiers are under new orders not to attack anyone, but they’re going to crack if they keep getting bombarded! The war will start all over again, and this time, we won’t be able to...
“That’s not what I meant,” Aang’s eyes hardened as he gripped his staff. “What I meant was that it won’t just be one-third of us going. I’m going to find Katara first.”
He was seconds away from launching, the glider already open in his hands, when the earth surged beneath him and locked itself firmly around his ankles. The sudden stop, combined with his propelled motion, was enough to bring him to his knees. Shocked, he wobbled clumsily to a standing position as the stone rotated him around. By the time he could stand up straight, he was facing them again; the grim lines of his earthbending master, the desperate ones of his firebending teacher, And Aang wondered at how little he felt.
“No, Twinkletoes, you aren’t. You’re going to let Katara go on her merry way, because that’s what she needs.”
Toph paused, as if listening to something that no one else could hear, and then her face settled again into a determination matched only by the stubbornness of the boy she had trapped.
“And it’s what you need too, whether you like it or not.”
“No,” Aang tried to pull his feet out, but the earth gripped him tighter. The world narrowed down in his vision until it was just him and the lack of Katara, and suddenly he had never felt so absent, so detached. “You don’t know what I need. I do. I... I need Katara, and I’m going to find her!”
There was electricity crackling between them, Zuko swore he could almost feel it. It arced around them in threads of invisible tension, feeding off the Avatar's anguish and the earthbender's disbelief. And so he was loathe to speak up, loathe to break into whatever was happening between them until he felt his body doing it for him.
Zukko swallowed dryly. “What exactly is happening?”
He got nothing but a piece of paper shoved in his direction, the earthbender’s sightless gaze never leaving the boy in front of her. He didn't look at it, suddenly too riveted on the scene playing out in front of him.
From far, far away, the Avatar saw her expression crease into frustration.
“She doesn’t want you going after her! Why do you think she left? After everything she’s gone through this last year, she needs some time on her own. And you’re going to take that away from her?”
Aang felt his resolve lie still and hard, like a layer of ice. “I’m not taking away anything from her,” he said stubbornly. With the words came a rush of remembered power, and he jerked his hand up sharply to break the earth around his ankles. A look of surprise crossed his face when nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, the Avatar split his stance and tried again to free himself from the stone. At that, there was a small groan as a crack split across the rock pinning his feet, but the bindings themselves didn’t budge.
“Damn you, Aang!” Toph said through gritted teeth, the nerves in her arms plainly twitching as she fought with all her might to keep him held. “Why don’t you think these things through?!”
The sound of his name from her lips seemed to jerk him up short. He’d gotten used to the sly wit and the almost affectionate tone that surrounded ‘Twinkletoes’. ‘Aang’ though, spat out like this, so hard and unyielding and powerful... it was like a shower of cold water. “I thought you cared about her!”
It took a moment for the words to hit him, and then... “I do!” he burst out angrily. “I love her! How can you even say that?”
The look that crossed her face might have been called a smirk, if there hadn’t been so much bitter pain behind it. “How can I say it? Have you been listening to yourself for the past couple of seconds? Heck, you know what? I thought that telling you what Katara wants might work. But since it hasn’t, why don’t we up the stakes a little? Because guess what, Twinkletoes? Katara will never forgive you if you let hundreds of people die.”
It was as if a magic word had been shouted, freezing them all in their positions. Inwardly, Zuko winced and recoiled. Across from him, a twitch passed over Toph’s face before she wiped it expressionless. If she’d gone too far, then...
Well. So be it. She hardened her jaw. After having been a lie her entire life, she sure as hell was not going to let anyone else escape with it.
And as for Aang... he stopped suddenly, as everything she’d been saying finally reached him. At almost exactly the same moment, he felt the rock around his feet tighten again, reform and reshape to strengthen its hold.
It’s funny, he reflected distantly. I still haven’t told her how earth saved the world.
The rock shifted around his toes, careful not to crush his feet, but still locking him in place nonetheless. He glanced down at his bindings, knowing that if he really, really wanted to, he could probably shift into the Avatar state and break them. And yet, there was already a strange shifting through his chest from her words, a reappraisal that made him remember to breathe.
“Toph,” he said quietly, with the utmost calm. “Let me go.”
The earthbender cocked her head and listened. His heartbeat, which had been jumping around like the unsteady pattering of rain had steadied to a calm drumbeat. The control had returned to his voice again, the agelessness that felt so right coming from him, and so she loosened her stance and complied. When the rock broke around him, she finally felt her tiredness from the late night as well as the exertion of trying to keep an angry Avatar still catch up with her. But before she could fall, the boy she’d enclosed in her element steadied her.
“Thanks,” he said.
She wanted to demand “For what?” but it didn’t seem right. So she just stepped to the side, watched his hand fall away from her shoulder, and said “You’re welcome.”
The stillness that followed was broken only by the sound of Zuko clearing his throat. At the unexpected noise, the two jumped back, suddenly remembering his presence. The Fire Prince resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he folded his arms, the unread note firmly pressed into the crook of his elbow.
“Well,” he said gruffly, “Now that that’s blown over, are you going to tell me what you plan to do?”
Aang paused, his gaze sliding back to Toph. Her unseeing eyes glimmered reflectively, like shadows over a mirror. There was a strength behind that look, one that seemed to ground him, and he took a deep breath and felt the mantle of his responsibility settle over his shoulders once more.
I am Aang. I am the Avatar. I am Avatar Aang.
“Momo?” he called out suddenly, and the little lemur who had been sitting near the ceiling swooped down to his shoulder again. “Go tell Appa to get ready.”
