Southern Star

Chapter Eighteen: Were We Thirsty, Thorned With Wild Eyes?

The ceiling was blank. Song stared at it, not a thought in her mind. The pain was still horrific, but it had died down, and she wasn't lying in bed naked anymore. That was good, she supposed distantly. Every little while, attendants would come to help her undress and submerse her in ice-cold water and help her use the restroom. That seemed to have done some good as well, though it hurt too much for Song to feel self-conscious about being bare to the eyes of the attendants. She couldn't do anything without their help.

She wondered vaguely when they would return. Trapped in her mind and in her pain, she had no concept of time, and the shadows on the walls didn't help because she was too delirious to really tell what time of day it was. Perhaps the attendants had just left; perhaps they would return soon. She heard footsteps. Was that them?

The door opened, but rather than three simply dressed women who never made eye contact, Princess Azula was standing there. The lazy feeling of endurance vanished, and Song's vision went white with terror as a raspy, startled noise escaped her mouth.

"It would please you to know that I have just been made Fire Lord," said Princess Azula in her cruel, careful voice. She didn't come closer, just stayed in the doorway, staring. "Goodness, I had thought the water would help diminish the burns. I guess not."

Song had no idea what she looked like. There was a mirror in the adjacent bathroom, but she had never looked in it, both because she was afraid of what she would look like and because it wasn't in view of either the bathtub or the toilet, and she couldn't move without the help of the attendants. She guessed that she looked horrible, though.

Azula turned away and waved a hand. "Heal up. Or don't, I suppose. I want you by my side for my coronation."

Song was too relieved that Azula hadn't come to torture her to really process what she had said. Instead of thinking about why Azula was being made the Fire Lord, she went back to staring silently at the ceiling. Perhaps the attendants would return soon.

The Shirshu charged on, with little rest and little food. They followed it, and Jun, across mountains and plains, deeper and deeper into the Earth Kingdom. All the while, Zuko was nervous. He didn't have Song with him, and the thought of facing his Uncle alone was terrifying. If his Uncle's behaviour while he'd been in prison was anything like what it would be when he made it to him... Zuko did not have high hopes. Not that he deserved better, though.

And what of Song? Zuko suddenly felt guilty for obsessing over his own nerves. It was safe to assume that Song had been captured, and that she was in the custody of his father and sister. They wouldn't send her to the prison she had been in, and they wouldn't send her to Boiling Rock, and he was at least pretty sure that the palace didn't have any sort of dungeon. What were they doing with her? If she was being detained in the city, could she escape? Zuko knew it had to be more difficult a second time, but if she was able, Song could do anything.

A horrible thought occurred to him. Both Song herself and her Black Wing alter ego were wanted, dead or alive, by the Fire Nation. With nowhere to hold her, would they kill her?

That was a whole new worry that Zuko had no idea how to process.

In the distance, the great, ruined walls of Ba-Sing-Se were waiting, silent and foreboding. As the Shirshu stopped running and started scratching at the heap of rubble, Appa landed, and Sokka said, "We're going to Ba-Sing-Se?"

"Your Uncle is somewhere beyond the wall," said Jun to Zuko. "Nyla is getting twitchy, so it can't be too far. Good luck." And with that, she steered the Shirshu away and was gone.

Zuko, who already didn't have much courage to begin with, wasn't ready to face his Uncle quite yet. "It's been a long day," he said to the others. "Let's camp and start our search again at dawn."