(Zutara) Let Me Pretend; Your Soul is Winter Fire

Self Defence

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Four Months Previously:

Return to Omashu

Katara stares into a firing squad of green. Green robes, green bricks, green sewage permeating her every sense. Even the sallow light which illuminates the chamber they've been dropped into is done by a sickly, weak drizzling of lanterns. Sokka and Aang look around the stone chamber, over the heads of the hundreds of Earth Kingdom fighters watching the three intruders warily.

She gets to her feet, trying to reorient herself to this densely packed, stinking chamber. Climbing up into the city through the sewage passage had been bad enough. Here, the oppressive press of bodies heightens everything to an unbearable funk of sweat, fear and desperation.

"Long way from the palace," Sokka mumbles.

Katara has no idea what he's talking about.

Yung and his men don't seem to notice the stink. How long have they been down here?

"Is King Bumi with you guys?" Aang asks from beside the stern rebel. "Is he leading the resistance?"

Katara isn't as well versed in Omashu as Sokka and Aang, but she sees Yung's fists ball at his sides at the mention of their King. Her heart sinks for Aang. "Of course not! The day of the invasion, we readied ourselves for battle. We were prepared to defend our city, to fight for our lives and for our freedom."

There can't be more than four hundred Earthbenders in the cavern. For a military force like the Fire Nation, four hundred would constitute their vanguard before they flooded the city with their true might.

Yung's voice echoes in the cramped underground hall. "But before we even had a chance, King Bumi surrendered."

Aang's huge grey eyes betray his disconcert. His grip around his staff tightens. Bumi's the last person left of his old life, a lifeline to an existence long passed and buried, and not by Aang. He won't believe it.

But Yung's recollection of the day is crisp and detailed, as if the invasion were two days past instead of two months. It's only when he recalls how Bumi laughed after his decision to do nothing does Aang's will to believe in his friend crumple.

She puts her hand on his shoulder when his head bows, as if she could hold him together with the inadequate touch for a man she's never even met.

"It doesn't matter now," Yung declares, as if a king's betrayal is any more painful than a friends. "Fighting the Fire Nation is the only path to freedom, a freedom worth dying for."

Aang doesn't see the rebel's self-satisfied smile. The weight of his grief is so heavy he leans on his staff to offload some of its burden, neck bent so Katara can't see his face. She squeezes his shoulder again.

Please don't buy into their foolishness. She may not know Omashu, not know these people the way Aang and Sokka do, but that was because she was trapped on a Fire Nation ship. She's seen their power, seen a Prince's unfailing belief what they're doing they do in the name of spreading wealth and prosperity. When you have a faith like that and thousands of soldiers to back it up, no amount of rebellion in the name of freedom will be enough, especially one made up of only four hundred shaken, disparaged souls.

"Actually," Aang's voice murmurs, soft yet echoing in the dim cavern, "there's another path to freedom. You could leave Omashu." He captures hold of Yung's horrified expression. "You're directing all your energy to fight the Fire Nation, but you're outnumbered. You can't win. Now's the time to retreat, so you can live to fight another day."