Southern Star

Chapter One: Oh, My Drunken Southern Star

With one inhale, sharp, painful, and all at once, she came awake.

She kept her eyes closed, kept as still as she was able to. She was in a new place, which was quiet and smelled musty and metallic and still. It was nothing like the uncomfortable wooden prison she had gotten used to on the ship with Iroh. She could feel the chill of the metal floor through her thin clothes and the straw mat she was laying on.

Song Lee didn't remember anything after falling asleep on the prison ship on the fifteenth day. She didn't remember being dragged or carried through the prison, and she didn't remember being changed into whatever it was she was wearing now, and she certainly didn't remember someone looking over the wounds on her sides and forehead, and yet, it was clear that all of those things had happened.

Two weeks at sea. No one had seen to her wounds while she'd been on board. Her only company had been Uncle Iroh. But in this prison, she was fully alone.

They had both known that this would happen. Song Lee just didn't know how long she'd be able to handle it.

Behind her, the cell door opened. She could hear the screech of metal and the horrifying creak of it swinging open. She kept her eyes closed, squeezing them tighter together, and then she relaxed them again, along with the rest of her body. She forced herself to even out her breathing.

"What's she still doing asleep?" someone asked, their voice quiet and deep.

"You should've seen the scars on her side," said someone else. Song Lee didn't like their voice; it was much louder and a lot more abrasive.

"Scars?"

"Oh, yeah. You can tell she got cut by some sort of poisoned blade."

"Poisoned, huh."

"Yeah, it had to be necrotic or something. The skin's just straight-up black around it. You gotta believe me."

"Couldn't we just look? She's still out cold."

"Nah, we're not supposed to touch her again. You heard the lieutenant. She's dangerous, or something. Besides, the scar's on the other side."

"She's nothing more than skin and bones," the quieter voice retorted.

Silently, Song Lee begged for them to come closer, to try lifting her shirt, to get their arms broken.

They didn't, though. She heard footsteps approaching, and something was set down behind her. As she inhaled slowly through her nose, she was able to pick out the scent of burnt rice.

Song Lee was so hungry that she had to force herself not to stop pretending right there.

"She'll wake up eventually," said the more abrasive voice, which was suddenly a lot closer to her. Whoever they were, they were the one that had given her the rice.

The two left after that, talking about something else. Song Lee didn't pay attention.

Months ago, after she had woken up from her coma in Ba Sing Se, Song Lee had avoided looking at the wound inflicted upon her by Princess Azula. In fact, after she had fully recovered from the effects of the poison, she had bathed exclusively in the dark to avoid disturbing Uncle Iroh and his nephew's sleep, and she had kept the resulting scar otherwise covered at all times. She had no idea what it looked like.

Song Lee waited until she was absolutely sure no one was waiting behind her before she slowly moved and sat up. Immediately, her vision abandoned her. Song Lee waited until it came back, her arms spread out to help her balance and orient herself, and then she slowly lifted up the edge of the tan prison shirt that was far too large on her.