Katara finds out that the guard's name is Lee.
It's a common name for men of the Fire Nation, he tells her when he gives her a cup of water. She was right that he was slightly older than her. He's actually in his mid-twenties; premature graying is something that runs in his family.
It seems that a night's worth of sleep has made him talkative and he asks her about herself now that he's told her his name and age.
For her part, Katara looks over the edge of the cup at him, her eyes suspicious. She's wearing the robe that Zuko gave her last night even though it's all bunched around her legs underneath the heavy covers of the bed. It was surprisingly chilly in the metal ship during the night.
"My name is Katara," she offers. He probably already knows this – maybe? She can't recall any time when someone did address her by her name but she could just be looking over it – but that's all that she's telling him.
Lee frowns. "How old are you, Katara? You can tell me about yourself. There isn't any ulterior motive here."
Her eyes narrow and she shifts so that she's sitting up against the headboard a little straighter. "Old enough to fight in a war. Why do you care? I'm just a Water Tribe peasant who's also a prisoner. If you're trying to gain my trust so you can get information out of me you're not doing it in a smart way. I'm not stupid."
"No one ever said you were."
"Then why are you trying to act like you're my… my friend or something? You don't like my kind and I don't like yours. So how about you drop the nice-guy image and stop trying to get to know me just so you can throw it all back in my face later on."
She realizes when his face falls a little that she might have been a bit harsh. Katara looks away from him, a tad bit ashamed, and focuses on the clear water in the cup. He has been nice to her… Would it be so bad to have an ally on this ship? She may just need one…
Her eyes go to the empty bowl on the table that had been filled with warm soup a few minutes before. It's sitting right beside a large pitcher of water. He had carried that in just for her. And yet, here she was, lashing out at him when he really hadn't given her any reason not to trust him besides just being from the Fire Nation.
Katara sighs. "I'm from the Southern Water Tribe." There's – that pretty useless information and it's not like he probably doesn't know. He had been in the room when Zhao had cut her dress to show her skin etching to Zhao. It's still an effort though and she hopes that he will appreciate it enough to satisfy his curiosity.
"I've been to the South Poles. It's quite… cold there. Not exactly a place for a firebender." He smiles awkwardly at her.
"You don't say?" She replies blandly. He looks confused for a moment and the thinks back to what he says. Realization dawns in his eyes and he opens his mouth to apologize when she waves it away. "I don't want to hear some half-hearted apology that you probably don't even mean. But you're right: it isn't a place for a firebender."
Katara can only imagine what that means for her new semi-ally. Lee had probably been a Southern Raider before joining Zuko's crew. He had killed, kidnapped and tortured tribesmen and women. People who were, and still are, her kin. It makes her angry and hurt and confused because at the same time she can't really imagine him committing those violent acts that still haunts her memories and sleep.
Besides, if she really wants to make an effort to have an ally on this ship then she can't be thinking of him butchering her kinsmen when they're together. She'll end up drowning him or pushing ice daggers through his throat.
He can tell she's slightly unsettled by the revelation and he stands from the seat that he's pulled close to her bed. Lee clears his throat and soothes imagined wrinkles from his uniform, grabbing the bowl but leaving the pitcher and cup as he turns to leave her.
Lee pauses at the now-opened door and Katara swears that if he apologizes, she will rip him to shreds. But he just glances at her, a frown on his lips and he leaves quickly. She lets out a sigh of relief and reaches to pour herself another cup of water.
Did he leave the pitcher here for a reason…?
She stares at it. It's now only half-full because she's been drinking so much. It's enough to get to the deck. Then she'll have the sea around her to control.
Her palms are itching. She flexes them, squeezing the handle of the pitcher and the cup in her hand tighter as she looks down at the water in the jug. It's enough to make it to the deck; but is she strong enough?
No, she decides. She isn't. Not yet. She would pass out from exhaustion before she could wipe out the deck. What use would it be then? The escape attempt would fail and she'd be in an even worse position than she is in now.
Though Katara does have to admit that she doesn't exactly hate where she is now. In comparison with the cell, her new prison doesn't really feel like a prison. There are no windows and the room is small, but there's a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, a bookshelf with a few worn books and a chair. The door has a heavy lock and her mattress is a bit scratchy but honestly… she'd pick this over the pallet in a cell any day.
That doesn't change the fact that she's still a prisoner. Katara keeps reminding herself that despite the comfort of her new cell, it's still a cell. It just doesn't have any bars.
Putting the now-empty cup down, she flings the covers off and climbs out of the bed. It's difficult – she slept a lot longer than she had planned and the air is chilly in comparison to being underneath the blankets. She stretches her legs out a little before she stands, groaning at the soreness at her back. Too bad there isn't a mirror in the room for her to see how much it has healed already.
She should look around. Maybe there's something in her new cell that can potentially help her later. The dresser has a few more robes and tunics – they all look secondhand and several sizes too big for her so she assumes they're clean leftovers from the crew – but she is surprised to find a drawer of bindings and other wraps. When she takes a closer look at them, she notices that they're used for healing. She can still use them to replace her tattered bindings though.
Katara takes out a few strips before she moves to the night table. There's a tiny drawer but it's empty when she opens it. The bookshelf has books that have been used so much that the words have been rubbed off of the covers and the scrolls are torn around the edges.
She picks one – a red and gold trimmed one that's so dusty she nearly coughs when she breathes in close to it – and tosses it to the bed. The robe slips off of her body and onto the floor and then her tattered Water Tribe clothing follows. She only has to tug a little for the bindings to tear off.
Quickly because she's worried that Lee or someone else is just going to come in, Katara winds the fresh bandages around her breasts, tightening them down as best as she can. She picks up a black tunic she had grabbed from the dresser earlier and pulls it over her head.
The tunic stops at the tops of her knees but she pulls on a pair of leggings anyway as a precaution. The clothes are big; the tunic practically hanging off of her and the neckline is cut a little deeply but it'll do. She doesn't really have any other choice.
As soon as she sits on the bed and opens the dusty old book, someone opens the door. She jerks her head up, a bit surprised and sees two unfamiliar guards.
"The Prince requests your presence. You are to come quietly if you would like to continue living in comfort." She stands as the guards come in. They take her arms – not roughly but firmly – and lead her to the door.
She doesn't say anything as they make their way through the metal ship. She has no idea where they're going. Unlike Zhao's, this is unfamiliar so she tries to keep track of where they're going for future reference. A few turns and some narrow hallways later – this ship is rather large – and they finally stop at a large door. One of the guards knocks before he opens the door. Katara is pushed inside and then it's closed.
Zuko himself is sitting behind a desk. There's an old, grey-haired, plump man sitting in the corner of the room with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He gives her a gentle smile that she doesn't return; Zuko keeps his eyes on the paper that he's furiously writing on.
It's warmer in here than it is in her room. Probably because this room has a large window on the back wall, sun pouring in through the bars that protect it from being broken.
Katara looks at the sun and realizes just how much she misses the moon – her moon.
Zuko places his brush on the desk and he stands; Katara's eyes flicker down to him, waiting for him to speak and tell her why she's been brought down here. He's looking at her new clothes though and a smirk teases the corners of his lips that she wants to wipe away.
"I see you've looked through the room."
"Oh, whatever was it that gave me away, Prince?" She can't help but spit out. He looks back at her eyes and she's glad that he's no longer looking at her body even if it is almost indiscernible in the baggy clothes. "It'd be reckless for me to not take inventory of my new cell."
"Looking for weapons?"
Katara shrugs. "Perhaps."
"Did you find any?"
"Maybe," she says with a slow smile.
His good eyebrow quirks up at the comment and the man in the corner of the room chuckles. She keeps the smile on her lips. What she needs to do is find a way to make him tick… Zhao's was his anger, what would Zuko's be? His temper?
"Anything can be a weapon, Firebender," Katara continues. She realizes for the first time that they didn't bind her hands together before she came in here. Did they forget? She shifts her hands behind her back to keep them from view just in case they did.
The movement doesn't go past Zuko's notice. "If you don't try to bend I won't have your hands bound."
"Not a very smart move." Maybe it's not his temperament – maybe it's his recklessness.
"You're in a room with two Master Firebenders in the middle of a ship with dozens of other firebenders. I'm not exactly worried about you, Waterbender."
Her eyes narrow. Was he trying to insult her? "Maybe you should be. I'm not exactly a novice myself. I did help train the Avatar –"
She stops herself. No – she will not speak about Aang here. Katara straightens up and looks at the Prince blankly. He's smirking at her now though, pleased with her little slip-up. It's not exactly groundbreaking information, but he managed to get her to talk. At the very least, he now knows that she's somewhat close with the Avatar.
Zuko has managed to get more information out of her than Zhao ever did. And they're only talking.
"Perhaps the Waterbender would like a nice, heated bath?" The old man offers. He's still smiling. "Or maybe a nice cup of tea?" He gives Zuko an expectant look. The Fire Prince sighs and shakes his head.
"I don't want your tea," she spits out. She knows the game they're playing – she figured it out a long time ago. They're not going to win her over with nice acts and beds and baths and tea.
The two looked unfazed. Zuko seems to have expected the answer. "It wasn't really an offer. The bath, however, is. Zhao didn't exactly…keep you in good shape. You'll need to heal your back so that you won't get infected, too. We don't have the time for you to get sick."
He really is reckless. Allowing a Waterbender a bath when she's a captive? Does he know the effect that will have on her strength and bending? Being allowed to soak in the water will replenish a lot of her lost strength. It won't be the same until she sees the moon again, but she won't be weak anymore. Especially with the constant supply of water and food being brought to her by Lee.
Zuko's stepping around the desk and walking towards her. She stays her ground, refusing to back away even though his eyes as hardening with each step. He's right in front of her – she has to look up a bit to meet his eyes because he's so tall – and she doesn't even flinch when he starts to speak.
"You will be supervised and if you are caught trying to bend or escape I will prove to you that I can be just as cruel – maybe even crueler – than Zhao was. Do not test me on this, Waterbender. You have no hope of escaping."
"That a fact, Prince?"
"Yes. Yes, it is." Zuko bends down to her ear, grasping onto her arm so that she can't back away from him. "Try to test me if you want. I've always wondered how quickly a Waterbender could burn."
Katara is scowling at him when he straightens up and steps away. She jerks her arm out of his, glowering at his completely blank façade as a guard enters the room. Other hands are on her, pulling her towards the door but she keeps her stony eyes on him until she can no longer see him.
She will freeze him in a dome of ice so frozen that even his fire won't save him.
-/-
The bath is more than nice. She sits in the water for what feels like hours. When it turns cold, it doesn't bother her; she's just so glad that's she's finally one with her element that nothing matters. Her skin turns pruny and her hair dries in thick tangles because she doesn't comb through it with her fingers but she really could care less.
Water.
She feels the energy rush into her body the moment she steps into the tub. Katara feels her back healing as soon as she's in. It feels divine – she's no longer having to reach deep into her stores of energy to feel the rush and calmness that the water brings her.
The fact that the only thing separating her and a female guard is a black screen doesn't even bother her. After living on a ship for about a year, modesty is something that Katara has all but abandoned. When it comes to other women, at least. Being exposed in front of men is still semi-taboo to her.
"All right, Waterbender. Let's go. You've been in there long enough."
Katara jumps in the water as the guard bangs on the screen. Well that was rather rude.
She grips the sides of the tub and pulls herself out of the tub reluctantly. There's a towel on the floor and she dries off, then wraps it around her body. She would put back on the clothes she had earlier but even though they might still have been clean, she shudders at the thought of putting her own filth back on.
They don't come across any other soldiers on the way back to her room – thankfully – and when she gets in, she quickly wraps herself in some bindings and pulls on a fresh tunic and leggings. Black, of course. She eyes the reds and oranges disdainfully and slams the drawer shut with a bit more force than necessary.
Katara puts on the black slippers that the female guard had given her – after she reminded her that they were hand-me-downs just like the rest of her clothes – but manages to find a pair of black socks first. She plops down on the bed, hair slightly damp but hopelessly tangled and opens up the book. She reads while her fingers work through the knots as best as she can without a mirror. When she's finished with that, she braids and re-braids the ends just to eat up time.
The tides tell her that it's dusk when Lee comes at her door to tell her that it's dinner time. She shuts the book filled with mostly poetry written by people of the Fire Nation and climbs off the bed.
"You look… better," he tells her when he's leading her down the hall towards the kitchen. "Clean. You smell clean, at least."
"Thanks, I guess?" She laughs a little. "You look the same as you did this morning. Very Fire Nation soldier-y."
Lee runs a hand down the front of his armor as if he forgot that he is even wearing it. "I guess that's a good thing then considering that's what I am."
The kitchen is larger than she expected but it also doubles as the cafeteria. On the Water Tribe ship, meals were always eaten on the deck so that waterbenders could absorb the moon and they could all listen to the water. It was as if they were closer to home when they were out there.
Quite a bit of the crew is seated around long, rectangular tables and they all look at her when she goes in. Even without the Water Tribe clothes, she's clearly an outsider. The baggy clothes, the thick and wavy brown hair, the darker skin and the blue eyes loudly proclaim not only her heritage but the fact that she is also a prisoner. Not that they were unaware of her presence on board anyway.
Katara wonders if the Fire Nation has any superstitions about women being on board war ships like the Northern Water Tribe does.
Lee doesn't say anything else to her as he leads her over to the plates and drinks. He hands her a tray with a plate of fruits, bread and a piece of meat, a glass of what smells like ricewine in the corner. Katara quirks an eyebrow as she looks at the food, her stomach rumbling, but she manages to follow him to a relatively empty table in the far back.
She saves the fruit for last. It's such a delicacy to her people that it's almost strange to know that she's able to eat not only a mango, but a pear and a pomegranate as well. She wipes the juice with the back of her hand and she's finished quicker than Lee is.
There's a knife on her plate. It's still a bit dirty from when she was cutting the meat and the fruits with it but still… it's a knife. Katara tries to eye it without showing Lee what she's thinking. If she could just sneak it back to her room… she could use it just in case she ever needed it. Zuko's apparent kindness could be fickle, and if it ever comes down to a brawl she'll need it.
Katara stands and picks up the tray. "Where should I take this?"
Lee finishes swallowing a bite of his papaya. "Don't worry, I'll take it."
"You're too kind. Seriously, just tell me where to take it. I don't like other people cleaning up after me when I'm more than capable of doing it myself."
"I can respect that." He nods and points to the other end of the room where there's a large basin. "Just put it in that. The cooks will wash it if we stack it neatly. Try not to break anything."
"I think I can manage that much," Katara turns away and goes to where he pointed. She tries to ignore the stares but even she's not impenetrable to scrutiny. Was it something about Fire Nation soldiers that made them think staring was totally acceptable?
She angles her back so that no one can see that she takes the knife and slips it up her sleeve.
Her tray is in the bin and she thinks about just how easy it was when a hand snatches her wrists before she can move away. Katara launches into attack mode – her other arm swinging for his head but the soldier ducks it easily. She goes for a kick instead and this time she doesn't miss. He's hurled away from her, landing on the floor a few feet away from her.
Chair are scraping across the floor as people stand. Some even make a move towards her and Katara drops into a defensive stance. She can't take all of them now – but she damn sure will try. She's not going to be cowered into giving up just because she's in a damned kitchen of all places.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lee is quick to step between her and a firebender who was moving closer to her at a quicker pace than the others. He stops – Katara doesn't rise. The knife is still in her sleeve, sticking to her skin while her wrists and arms are up, palms itching to start bending.
"The bitch attacked me! I was just going to warn her to empty the plate of scraps before she puts it in the bin!" The soldier she had kicked whines as he gets up from the floor.
"You grabbed me and didn't say anything!" Katara retorts defensively.
He scowls at her. "Don't worry. I certainly won't be trying to help you out again."
Lee looks over his shoulder at her and she frowns. Was he just trying to help her? She was sure that he had seen her take the knife.
"Everything's all right just… go back to your meal. The waterbender will be leaving and we –"
"She owes him an apology!"
"I don't owe anyone anything!" Katara snaps.
The firebender steps forward. Lee steps in between them again so Katara twists so that she's glaring at the man. "I'll make you apologize, water peasant."
"I'd love to see you try you inbred lump of coal." Katara shifts lower into a stance, smirking when she sees the firebender's cheeks burn red. She waits for the first movement of a bending.
Lee grabs her arm though and he hauls her – practically running – towards the door. Katara has no choice but to let him pull her along. She still scowls though and punches him so that he lets her go when they're far enough away from the kitchen.
Katara yanks down the tunic that's ridden up. "What was that for? I had everything completely under control." The knife is still in her sleeve.
Lee looks at her in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? That was under control? You almost got yourself killed!"
"I could take him," she growls and starts walking back towards her room. She recognizes the hallway as hers.
"Maybe. But what about the next one? And the one after that? And then the one after that? Did you think that if you won that fight it would have stopped then?"
Well, she had assumed that… Wait, no, she hadn't. Katara pauses with her hand on the handle and chews on the inside of her cheek. Yeah, she really hasn't thought about the others' reactions to her fighting with the firebender.
She doesn't even look back at Lee as she quickly escapes into her room, shutting the door behind her firmly so that he won't come in. She wouldn't be able to stop him, but he doesn't seem like the type of guy to just barge in.
Katara really did sort of act restless out there. But what was she supposed to do? Let the man grab her? No – that was not going to happen.
Maybe her little display, however ill thought out it had been, would show others that she was not going to just sit by idly. She would fight back if they laid a hand on her. She wasn't some puny little prisoner. She was a waterbender with the blood of the firsts Southerners in her veins. She was strong; she was powerful; she would fight back just like her people had been doing for the past one hundred years.
Katara takes the knife out from her sleeve and wipes it on the inside of the tunic so that it's clean. Slipping it under the pillow, she sits back on the bed and reaches for the book of poems again. Knowing that the knife is close by helps ease her mind a bit. She hasn't had much experience with weaponry because of her bending but Sokka had showed her a few things.
All she had to remember was to stick them with the pointy end. It wasn't an art for her like bending was. If she had to use a knife, she was in desperate need for survival so she would use it like the tool it was.
Her fingers slipped through the pages but her mind, for some reason, was on the knife under her pillow. She had killed men before – drowned them, froze them, stopped their hearts and done other terrible, horrible things all in the name of war and survival. But stabbing a man?
Why was it making her stop and think? Stabbing was just like drowning – and she had no problems doing that to those her threatened her or hers. Sokka had always poked fun at her violent nature when it came to protecting those closest to her. She wasn't practically avoided on the Northern ships just because of her gender.
So why was the idea of stabbing someone so difficult for her?
She can't pinpoint it, exactly. There is the idea that it's bloodier, but that doesn't make sense because she trained with Hama for Sprits' sake. That, and the fact that she's a pretty decent healer immediately crosses out the idea that she's afraid to get actual blood on her hands rather than on the ground.
Perhaps because it's an actual weapon? Maybe. But that's sort of far-fetched too.
Katara slides her hand underneath the pillow to pull the knife out. The book settles forgotten in her lap and now her entire focus is on the cool piece of metal in her hands. It's not very sharp. The edges are dull and she should probably try to sharpen it before she actually uses it so that it would be effective.
She lets her fingers glide over the smooth edges like she had seen Sokka do when he was sharpening his own sword. She catches a glimpse of her reflection but she doesn't look at herself for too long.
Why – Why does this… kitchen utensil make her so unsettled? She knows that she needs it. Otherwise, she wouldn't have taken it in the first place. Katara needs to be able to protect herself. If her bending fails then she will literally have nothing but her wits and her fists and she's not Sokka. She can't get herself out of those situations without her bending like he can.
She puts the knife back where it will stay for now: under her pillow. She'll need to tie something around her thigh so that she can hide it underneath her tunic. Or she could put it underneath her leggings. There is the odd chance that it will get jarred and fall though, so she throws that idea out quickly. There's no telling what will happen to her if they find out she has a weapon with her, even if it is a puny kitchen knife.
But that will be a thought for tomorrow. Katara settles against the headboard and draws her legs up to her chest so that she can prop the book on her knees.
She tries to forget about the knife underneath her pillow. It stays in the back of her mind until she's finally able to fall asleep much, much later.