Mercy (Zuko)

Chapter One: The Blue Spirit

Mercy; a concept that had such a straightforward definition, yet it often yielded such wildly differing interpretations.

"Hurry up."

Giving a blanket to a freezing child could be merciful, despite being the one who let them freeze.

"I said, hurry up."

But if you see that poor child outside by themselves, teeth chattering and blue in the lips, mercy could be taking them into your warm home, even if you weren't the one who left them outside to catch their death.

"That took you long enough, girl."

Or you could simply put them out of their misery. That'd certainly be merciful.

"Alright, put her up. Colonel Shinu is supposed to be coming around with Commander Zhao soon — we don't need him demanding our healer too."

"As if he has the authority to demand such things."

The men laugh.

I hate their laughs. They aren't malicious or evil; they're youthful and carefree. A lightheartedness that I haven't experienced for a long time. Time doesn't really seem to exist anymore. I think I prefer it that way, though.

"The hell are you staring at?" one asks me. "Oh." He walks out of my room, then reenters a moment later, a crudely carved wooden bowl in his hand. "Here." He thrusts the bowl at me, sloshing around whatever meaty gruel was inside.

I choke it down; it's disgusting and mealy, but I don't care. I haven't eaten in days.

"Alright, c'mon, Ji. We gotta get you looking presentable," the other one says, leaving my room with his comrade in tow.

The door shuts and the sound of it bolting from the outside pierces the air. It goes quiet again, aside from the sound of my poor attempts at chewing whatever tough game is swimming around inside my rice.

That's how they keep me. Locked away with no food or water for days on end. They never let me starve too badly, or else I won't be able to waterbend properly, but they let me get hungry enough to be desperate. I'm weak and pathetic, but I don't care. I let them keep starving me and using me. I'm smart enough to know that if I don't, they won't hesitate to get rid of me permanently. I'm not worth the bowl of food they waste on me if I was just going to fight with them.

I'm sure if I stop playing stubborn, they'll feed me more or treat me nicer. But I could never submit myself fully like that. I already feel enough like a traitor to my tribe as it is, I could never freely offer my services without the threat of death. It's not much, but it at least makes me feel a little better.

My name is Kohina; I am a daughter of the Northern Water Tribe.

Nights are cold. Even though I'm used to the bitter bite of the northern winds, I still shiver on my cot. They gave me a burlap tunic the first day they brought me to this stronghold, and it, combined with the threadbare blanket, doesn't do much to keep the cold away from my malnourished body.

I remember a time when I was never hungry. My father is a strong Water Warrior; a commander of ships. Or he was — I watched the Fire Nation slaughter him in the midst of a skirmish. The thought doesn't hurt me as much as it used to, but the memory of it left a nasty scar on my heart.

Clang!

I shoot up. Surely they wouldn't be back so quickly — unless someone is in dire straits. Normally I'd feel the aching pang of hunger before they made me waterbend for them.

My door slowly creaks open, and my heart pounds. Something isn't right.

The gleam bouncing off of a sword is the first thing that catches my eye; then a black leg; then, most horrifyingly, an unfamiliar blue theater mask.