Categories > Cartoons > Avatar: The Last Airbender > The First Cut
Chapter Two
0 reviewsIn-Progress. AU, pre-Northern Siege. Katara is taken aboard Zuko's ship as a hostage.
0Unrated
Chapter Two
The ship is kept warm, simply by the temperature of those within it, but that does not change what it is: solid iron, black and unwelcoming and heavy, armored boots make thunderous steps that vibrate the floor beneath, the walls that cage, even the ceiling overhead.
Zuko uses the noise like a metronome for his thoughts, clearing and balancing his head. He has a feeling his uncle knows this because Iroh appears at crucial moments minutes after Zuko has begun to walk the halls. He glances at the general as they fall into step together and can't help but raise a brow, though he knows one no longer exists on that side of his face.
"...Do you take your tea in the brig now, uncle?"
Iroh smiles at him, his hands holding carefully, sturdy, on the tea tray he carries - one pot, two cups. "Tea is very calming, Prince Zuko. In my experience, hostages are more forthcoming when they're calm."
The prince eyes him for a few more moments before turning away, his attention back on the hall before him. "We'll see. A hostage is still a hostage - spoiling one will do us no good."
His uncle merely nods without reply, but Zuko knows that's only because he doesn't need to. Iroh does not waste his words when demonstration will do and when Zuko pulls open the door to the brig and starts down the stairs, he knows the general's reply will be restrained in the cell, three down and to the left.
+8+8+
When the door opens, Katara does not bother opening her eyes, but her body tenses all by itself. The bandages itch today, but she doesn't want to ask for them to be removed. She can feel them from her shoulders to the small of her back, the bottom of her thighs to her ankles, and even if she thought the request would be obeyed, the fact that she was unconscious, stripped, treated, and re-dressed does not sit well with her on a ship full of men.
When Zuko sets eyes on his hostage, splayed on her belly with her face turned away, his first thought is not her bandages. His lip curls.
"So this is the Waterbender. I wonder if you're in the habit of ignoring people when they approach." He smirks a little, head tilted as he admires the prize - not so much the girl, but the restraints, the gloves that keep her helpless. "Perhaps you think if you ignore me, I will go away. I won't."
He keeps his voice calm, conversational almost. There is no need for him to shout when his prisoner is helpless before him.
"Where is the Avatar?"
+8+8+
Nothing.
Five minutes of Prince Zuko speaking, five minutes of the prisoner ignoring him and nothing still.
Thirty seconds ago, Prince Zuko lost his patience.
"This is the Waterbender that faced me by the river?" he hisses, eyes narrowed, teeth bared, body thrumming with insult/; she hasn't even turned to /face him. "The girl that denied me answers and threw offers in my face? Do you think you will save them with your silence? Do you think we haven't followed you before? Twice now, I've caught you, twice by your own foolishness!"
--She twitches. She twitches and something inside Zuko cracks, just a little, and lets in the light.
"Will you lie there like a broken bird, Waterbender? Have you admitted defeat already? The guards tell me you have not moved, but you /cannot/, can you, even with wounds so small! A 'bending prodigy, but your body is weak, isn't it? You can't even stand and face the one who has caught you and plans to capture your friends as well!"
She shifts, and he can see the clench of her jaw.
He scoffs, unimpressed, and lowers his voice to a hiss. "You are nothing without your 'bending, are you? Nothing. You can't even stand, can't hold your head up. Or is it shame, Waterbender? Are you ashamed to have been caught so easily? Were I you, I wouldn't get up either out of the embarrassment I'd feel at being brought down with such /ease/."
There.
Her hands have balled into fists now, rattling the chains and she moves, bringing her palms in close to her face and pressing them to the floor. She pushes up, shoulders rolling, a knee drawing in to take her weight and Zuko's smirk is unconscious when she makes a soft, mewling noise of pain.
Still, she rises.
Both knees are drawn up, her arms straight, her head hanging and the long braid she wears falls over one shoulder. Her teeth are clenched, eyes narrowed and he can see the tremble in her arms and legs as they fight to hold her weight. Her back arches and the chains rattle as she draws her arms up, palms flat against the wall as a brace as she slides to her feet. The rattle of the chains hides her quiet protests, but he can see them in her eyes, in the line of her lips, in the clench of her jaw.
When she is standing, ragged and dirty and trembling with effort, glaring at him, he matches her ire easily with a smirk.
Silent for a moment, they take no heed of his uncle or the guards over his shoulder, and Zuko steps in close, nearly touching the bars himself. "Good job," he whispers, sarcasm obvious in his praise. "You've just completed a task everyone, everywhere has to do everyday. Are you proud of yourself? Does this make you feel better about your failure?"
She surprises him for the first time, her eyes hard and cool on his, when she speaks back in a whisper, not a yell of outrage. "No," she replies softly, and the chains rattle as she moves again, "but this does." She turns her back on him.
She turns her back on him.
+8+8+
Five minutes later, despite the tensing of her shoulders, the tremble of her legs, the rattle of chains as her fingers clench, the tensing of her jaw, the one time she made a sound as if to scream at him, and after Zuko has progressed from whispers to questions to shouts of demand, she has not said another word.
The bars and the wall she faces now are scorched, but the girl herself is untouched by his flame, though Zuko breathes steam now with his ire. "You will tell me where he is!" is shouted, all in a rush, and the flames that burn at his fingertips are contained within clenched fists.
She says nothing.
A growl rips from his throat, anger and, worse, humiliation for he's captured her, his hostage, and still she won't speak, still she acts as if she has power. He had her tied to a tree once, a /tree/, and still she denied him and he wonders if he is so easily contemptible or if she is really just that stupid.
"You." He points, but his eyes do not stray from her, and it's anyone's guess if his finger actually rested on someone, but one of the guards steps up. "When do you deliver her meals?"
He can't see the man move from the corner of his eye because he stands on Zuko's left, but he can hear the shift of armor as the guard glances to his comrades. "Ah... once in the morning, once at midday, and once in the evening, Prince Zuko."
"Deliver none of them tomorrow."
The guard nods-- the hostage does nothing.
Zuko's jaw clenches. "What is your name?"
"Officer Zheng, sir."
"Officer Zheng, she will take no meals the next day either."
Still, she does not react.
The game continues until the orders fall that she will eat nothing for a week. Zuko steps close to the bars again, his voice dropped as it was when the interrogation began. "Do you know what happens to the body after a week with no food, Waterbender? It dies." He doesn't expect her to answer, so he gives her no time to do so. "Do you want to die, Waterbender, when the answer is so easy to give?"
In the following silence, Zuko decides that it is not contempt she holds, but a stubborn backbone of idiocy.
He breathes fire in his frustration, blackening the iron overheard further, and stalks from the brig with shoulders locked and fists clenched so tight, the release of tension might break him apart.
When Iroh steps forward, it is with calm words and a remorseful tone, still holding the tea tray in front of him. "Your tea--"
A javelin of fire hits the tray, heat licking at his uncle's hands as tea and tray both hit the wall with a crash and a spray of liquid. "/AND NO TEA EITHER/."
"--will be a little late this morning," Iroh finishes, smiling at her back before following the path his nephew had taken in a calmer, less heated fashion.
The ship is kept warm, simply by the temperature of those within it, but that does not change what it is: solid iron, black and unwelcoming and heavy, armored boots make thunderous steps that vibrate the floor beneath, the walls that cage, even the ceiling overhead.
Zuko uses the noise like a metronome for his thoughts, clearing and balancing his head. He has a feeling his uncle knows this because Iroh appears at crucial moments minutes after Zuko has begun to walk the halls. He glances at the general as they fall into step together and can't help but raise a brow, though he knows one no longer exists on that side of his face.
"...Do you take your tea in the brig now, uncle?"
Iroh smiles at him, his hands holding carefully, sturdy, on the tea tray he carries - one pot, two cups. "Tea is very calming, Prince Zuko. In my experience, hostages are more forthcoming when they're calm."
The prince eyes him for a few more moments before turning away, his attention back on the hall before him. "We'll see. A hostage is still a hostage - spoiling one will do us no good."
His uncle merely nods without reply, but Zuko knows that's only because he doesn't need to. Iroh does not waste his words when demonstration will do and when Zuko pulls open the door to the brig and starts down the stairs, he knows the general's reply will be restrained in the cell, three down and to the left.
+8+8+
When the door opens, Katara does not bother opening her eyes, but her body tenses all by itself. The bandages itch today, but she doesn't want to ask for them to be removed. She can feel them from her shoulders to the small of her back, the bottom of her thighs to her ankles, and even if she thought the request would be obeyed, the fact that she was unconscious, stripped, treated, and re-dressed does not sit well with her on a ship full of men.
When Zuko sets eyes on his hostage, splayed on her belly with her face turned away, his first thought is not her bandages. His lip curls.
"So this is the Waterbender. I wonder if you're in the habit of ignoring people when they approach." He smirks a little, head tilted as he admires the prize - not so much the girl, but the restraints, the gloves that keep her helpless. "Perhaps you think if you ignore me, I will go away. I won't."
He keeps his voice calm, conversational almost. There is no need for him to shout when his prisoner is helpless before him.
"Where is the Avatar?"
+8+8+
Nothing.
Five minutes of Prince Zuko speaking, five minutes of the prisoner ignoring him and nothing still.
Thirty seconds ago, Prince Zuko lost his patience.
"This is the Waterbender that faced me by the river?" he hisses, eyes narrowed, teeth bared, body thrumming with insult/; she hasn't even turned to /face him. "The girl that denied me answers and threw offers in my face? Do you think you will save them with your silence? Do you think we haven't followed you before? Twice now, I've caught you, twice by your own foolishness!"
--She twitches. She twitches and something inside Zuko cracks, just a little, and lets in the light.
"Will you lie there like a broken bird, Waterbender? Have you admitted defeat already? The guards tell me you have not moved, but you /cannot/, can you, even with wounds so small! A 'bending prodigy, but your body is weak, isn't it? You can't even stand and face the one who has caught you and plans to capture your friends as well!"
She shifts, and he can see the clench of her jaw.
He scoffs, unimpressed, and lowers his voice to a hiss. "You are nothing without your 'bending, are you? Nothing. You can't even stand, can't hold your head up. Or is it shame, Waterbender? Are you ashamed to have been caught so easily? Were I you, I wouldn't get up either out of the embarrassment I'd feel at being brought down with such /ease/."
There.
Her hands have balled into fists now, rattling the chains and she moves, bringing her palms in close to her face and pressing them to the floor. She pushes up, shoulders rolling, a knee drawing in to take her weight and Zuko's smirk is unconscious when she makes a soft, mewling noise of pain.
Still, she rises.
Both knees are drawn up, her arms straight, her head hanging and the long braid she wears falls over one shoulder. Her teeth are clenched, eyes narrowed and he can see the tremble in her arms and legs as they fight to hold her weight. Her back arches and the chains rattle as she draws her arms up, palms flat against the wall as a brace as she slides to her feet. The rattle of the chains hides her quiet protests, but he can see them in her eyes, in the line of her lips, in the clench of her jaw.
When she is standing, ragged and dirty and trembling with effort, glaring at him, he matches her ire easily with a smirk.
Silent for a moment, they take no heed of his uncle or the guards over his shoulder, and Zuko steps in close, nearly touching the bars himself. "Good job," he whispers, sarcasm obvious in his praise. "You've just completed a task everyone, everywhere has to do everyday. Are you proud of yourself? Does this make you feel better about your failure?"
She surprises him for the first time, her eyes hard and cool on his, when she speaks back in a whisper, not a yell of outrage. "No," she replies softly, and the chains rattle as she moves again, "but this does." She turns her back on him.
She turns her back on him.
+8+8+
Five minutes later, despite the tensing of her shoulders, the tremble of her legs, the rattle of chains as her fingers clench, the tensing of her jaw, the one time she made a sound as if to scream at him, and after Zuko has progressed from whispers to questions to shouts of demand, she has not said another word.
The bars and the wall she faces now are scorched, but the girl herself is untouched by his flame, though Zuko breathes steam now with his ire. "You will tell me where he is!" is shouted, all in a rush, and the flames that burn at his fingertips are contained within clenched fists.
She says nothing.
A growl rips from his throat, anger and, worse, humiliation for he's captured her, his hostage, and still she won't speak, still she acts as if she has power. He had her tied to a tree once, a /tree/, and still she denied him and he wonders if he is so easily contemptible or if she is really just that stupid.
"You." He points, but his eyes do not stray from her, and it's anyone's guess if his finger actually rested on someone, but one of the guards steps up. "When do you deliver her meals?"
He can't see the man move from the corner of his eye because he stands on Zuko's left, but he can hear the shift of armor as the guard glances to his comrades. "Ah... once in the morning, once at midday, and once in the evening, Prince Zuko."
"Deliver none of them tomorrow."
The guard nods-- the hostage does nothing.
Zuko's jaw clenches. "What is your name?"
"Officer Zheng, sir."
"Officer Zheng, she will take no meals the next day either."
Still, she does not react.
The game continues until the orders fall that she will eat nothing for a week. Zuko steps close to the bars again, his voice dropped as it was when the interrogation began. "Do you know what happens to the body after a week with no food, Waterbender? It dies." He doesn't expect her to answer, so he gives her no time to do so. "Do you want to die, Waterbender, when the answer is so easy to give?"
In the following silence, Zuko decides that it is not contempt she holds, but a stubborn backbone of idiocy.
He breathes fire in his frustration, blackening the iron overheard further, and stalks from the brig with shoulders locked and fists clenched so tight, the release of tension might break him apart.
When Iroh steps forward, it is with calm words and a remorseful tone, still holding the tea tray in front of him. "Your tea--"
A javelin of fire hits the tray, heat licking at his uncle's hands as tea and tray both hit the wall with a crash and a spray of liquid. "/AND NO TEA EITHER/."
"--will be a little late this morning," Iroh finishes, smiling at her back before following the path his nephew had taken in a calmer, less heated fashion.
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