[act two; chapter nine     -     marble-made perfection]

    After a startling portrayal of their group in what Lian believes to be the worst play she has ever seen, she finds that the days move quite slow. They wait, of course, for the time to come. For Sozin's Comet to envelop their world. For the day to come when they are expected to lay down their lives if it means finally achieving world peace.

    Lian finds, more often than not, that she holds her breath. Constat anticipation, waiting for it all to go wrong. For every good thing that they have before them to simply just...disappear. For it to be taken away, to crumble like the sand below her feet.

    It is rare, in her life, to watch training rather than be the one doing it. Sure, she has taught and assisted Aang plenty. Even Toph. But it is not often, she finds, that she simply watches.

    Zuko had been helping to teach the Avatar firebending, strengthening his skills and perfecting them. Though, she realizes, that the techniques are filled with other forms of bending, movements akin to airbending, earthbending, and waterbending.

    Aang kicks his legs in wide arcs, followed by quick movements of his arms, fire trailing his every movement. A shadow under the light of the sun.

    "More ferocious!" Zuko tells him, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Imagine striking through your opponent's heart."

    Aang stops with a singular punch, groaning as he turns, his arms splayed out on either side of him. "I'm trying."

    "Now let me hear you roar like a tiger-dillo."

    The Avatar turns, arms out and level with the height of his shoulders, fire spewing weakly from his mouth and his hands. He finishes the move with a feeble smile, avoiding Zuko's eyes.

    The firebender shakes his head. "That sounded pathetic. I said, roar!"

    Aang completes the move with absolute efficiency. Perfectly, is what Lian would have said if she were his teacher. And while she was, in many ways, a teacher of Aang's, firebending was not something she understood, if only fundamentally.

    As he turns, finding Zuko's nod of approval, Katara asks, "Who wants a nice, cool glass of watermelon juice?"

    But as Aang moves to get a cup, Zuko grabs ahold of his robes, pulling him back. "Hey, your lesson's not over yet. Get back here!"

    Suki sighs, arms braced in front of her body with a frown. "Come on, Zuko, just take a break. What's the big deal?"

    With a sigh and much apprehension, he lets go of the boy, grumbling, "Fine. If you wanna lounge around like a bunch of snail sloths all day, then go ahead!"

    Not surprisingly, they found themselves at the beach only a while later. Zuko, of course, had refused to join them, though Lian could not fully disagree with his words.

    She found that she sat further from the others, sitting on a towel. She hadn't spent much time, admittedly, without being fully dressed. This meant, of course, that her scars were on full display. Her burns. The entirety of her upper body was marked with them, all varying in shades of red and roughness. All marking her with the reminder that she had lost a fight and paid dearly for it.

    She could almost feel it, then, the fire clawing at her skin. It had been some time since the fight in Ba Sing Se, since she ran from her home. Yet, still, she swore she could feel it. The way that Azula had laughed, the way that flames had shot towards her, the way they had clawed into her skin and dug so deep she thought she would see bone.

    She had grown used to seeing them, really. Those specifically marring her hands and arms. Her neck. They had faded some, she supposed, from spending so much time in the sun. Exposed to it. She found, however, that the ones she felt were hardest to look at were the ones she could not see without a mirror. Her back had been ravaged. Torn. Seam from seam as if she were a doll sewed together by string.

     It had been caused, she guessed, by the way the flames had curled around her. How they had seemed to cradle her, hold her as if it were her dying moment—she had thought that it was, then. When it happened. She had prepared herself, even. Prepared for it to be the moment that she no longer found herself existing as a living thing. She had been ready for it; had waited for it. But then she had lived. She had pushed herself to her feet and found an escape.

     It had been then, that her friends found her. Alone and dying in the very place that she had called home.

    Her attention had been stolen, then, by a sudden blast of sand. Fire, she realized. She watched from afar as Zuko leapt from the dunes closest to the house, firing blow after blow in Aang's direction. He was chasing the Avatar. Hunting him until he could go no further.

    "What are you doing?" Aang shouted as he hid.

    "Teaching you a lesson."

    The attacks were relentless and without pause, the others rushing around the beach in confusion. Katara joined them, then, on the sand. "What happened?" She asked.

    Sokka through sand over his head, his foot kicking at what little remained of a horrible sculpture that he had made. "Zuko's gone crazy! I made a sand sculpture of Suki and he destroyed it!" There was a harsh pause, the girl waiting for more. Waiting for him to reach the real root of the problem. Eventually he did, turning to face her. "Oh, and he's attacking Aang."

    They ran after them, seeing in the distance how the firebender chased him to the house, following his every movement.

    The sun's rays chasing the shadows.

    By the time they reached the house, they watched, helplessly, as Zuko fell from the top story of the house, having been blasted through the wall by Aang.

    Katara stood above him, shaking her head. "What's wrong with you? You could have hurt Aang."

    The older boy turned, pushing himself to his feet. He pointed to all of them angrily. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with all of you? How can you sit around having beach parties when Sozin's comet is only three days away?"

    Lian faltered, even if only for a moment. Her gaze softened, understanding now what his frustration was about. Though, of course she had her suspicions. But to see him like this, to see him so concerned...he was worried. Which meant that he cared.

    He looked between them all, his eyes wide. "Why are you all looking at me like I'm crazy?"

    "About Sozin's comet—" Aang led, stepping closer to Zuko with hesitance, his arms braced in front of him as if he were approaching a wild animal. "I was actually gonna wait to fight the Fire Lord until after it came."

    Lian's head snapped to him, her heart racing. She could feel his heartbeat, the way it was completely and entirely still. Normal. There was nothing irregular, nothing that stood out. He was okay with this. With the decision he had made. Or, perhaps, was trying to make.

    "After?" Zuko questioned. He couldn't believe it. Not really.

    Aang shook his head slowly. "I'm not ready. I need more time to master firebending."

    Toph tapped Lian on the arm, saying, "And frankly, your earthbending could still use some work, too."

    The firebender looked between them all, his eyes flitting from one person to the next. "So, you all knew Aang was gonna wait?"

    Though no one else responded, not in the way Zuko had been searching for, Lian shook her head, ensuring that he saw. She saw him relax, even if only slightly, though he tensed once more when Sokka spoke, saying, "Honestly, if Aang tries to fight the Fire Lord right now, he's gonna lose. No offense."

    Katara looked between them all. "The whole point of fighting the Fire Lord before the comet was to stop the Fire Nation from winning the war. But they pretty much won the war when they took Ba Sing Se. Things can't get any worse."

    Lian looked away. Eyes falling to the ground. She felt it, then, the shame. The way it crept up and grabbed ahold of her heart, squeezing. She felt as though she could collapse at it. The reminder that she had allowed her home to be taken. Not just from her, but from all of those who lived there. From the entire Earth Kingdom. She knew, in her heart and mind, that it hadn't been her fault. Not really. She had fought, she had sacrificed so much. Sacrificed her body. It hadn't been enough at the end of the day.

    "You're wrong," Zuko announced suddenly. She lifted her head, watching him as he turned away from them. "It's about to get worse than you can even imagine. The day before the eclipse my father asked me to attend an important war meeting. It was what I'd dreamed about and wanted for so many years. My father had finally accepted me back."

    (And suffering will be your teacher—)

    She could remember that day. The day that he had found her in her room, the day he had been invited, finally, to sit in on a meeting. He had been so excited, so elated. He had crashed onto her bed and told her all about it. About his excitement, his anticipation for this moment to prove that he could be the prince his father had wanted. To be the heir that he felt he needed to be.

    It had ended, however, with fear and fear alone.

    He explained, then, his father's plan. How he and Azula had wanted to destroy the entirety of the Earth Kingdom. How, among this discussion, a more private one had been held. The want, Zuko explained, to have hope snuffed out. He went in depth, more than he had wished to. He told them, with a wobble in his voice, how Ozai had created a plot to murder who he viewed as the last threat to his destruction of the Earth Kingdom.

    Lian. He had plotted her death. He had planned it.

    Zuko had left after that. He had run from his home and confronted his father. He had run, then, to find her. To keep her safe.

    "I wanted to speak out against this horrifying plan," he said quietly, turning. His eyes, then, settled on her. On Lian. "But I'm ashamed to say I didn't. My whole life, I've struggled to gain my father's love and acceptance. But once I had it, I realized I'd lost myself getting there. I'd forgotten who I was."

    Katara shook her head, her eyes wide and blinking. Tears, Lian realized, is what pooled within them. She looked up, her eyes finding the earthbenders. "I can't believe this."

    "I always knew the Fire Lord was a bad guy." Sokka's voice was soft. Afraid. "But this plan is just pure evil."

    Lian took a step forward, then, ignoring how their eyes followed her. She crouched down, dropping to rest upon her knees before Zuko. She grasped his hands, holding them gently. Feeling the warmth. "It is okay," she murmured to him. Only to him. "You lost your way, but that led you here. You know who you are now. That's what matters."

    He looked up, his eyes, filled with shame, finding her own. He shook his head, not accepting her words. "I don't deserve that. I can't—he wanted to kill you. He wants to destroy your entire nation. He wants to hurt you and all of your people—"

    "It's not your fault."

    He stops. Stares. Nods his head once, as if allowing the words to sink. To settle within his heart, in his gut. To realize that it was true.

    "What am I gonna do?" Aang asks, though his question seems like less of a question and more of a thought. A thought that has no end and no beginning.

    Zuko stands, helping Lian to her feet, and turns to the Avatar. "I know you're scared. And I know you're not ready to save the world. But if you don't defeat the Fire Lord before the comet comes, there won't be a world to save anymore."

    The Avatar, however, seems to switch. Within a moment, just a singular moment, he goes from sad and scared to angry. "Why didn't you tell me about your dad's crazy plan sooner?"

    Zuko follows after him, saying, "I didn't think I had to. I assumed you were still gonna fight him before the comet. No one told me you decided to wait."

    "This is bad," Aang murmurs, his hands raising to his head. "This is really, really bad."

    "Aang," Katara says, slowly approaching him. "You don't have to do this alone."

    Toph, joining Katara's side, just as the others do, says, "Yeah, if we all fight the Fire Lord together, we've got a shot at taking him down."

    Sokka throws an arm in the air, smiling broadly. "All right!" He shouts. "Team Avatar is back!" He points to each of them individually, giving them names as he goes, his enthusiasm growing with every moment.

    Aang looks between them all. "Fighting the Fire Lord is gonna be the hardest thing we've ever done together. But I wouldn't wanna do it any other way."

    They all stand together, then, even if only for a moment. And for that moment, when it was all of them together, it was okay.

    Only for a moment.

———

    Lian had parted ways from the group, claiming exhaustion had taken over, rendering her too tired to do much else than simply sit.

    This, of course, hadn't been true.

     No, she hadn't been physically exhausted. Not truly. Not in the way that she had claimed. Rather, she found that she was exhausted in ways that words could not simply explain. In ways that made it nearly impossible to think or do much more than allow her thoughts to run rampant.

    She had found herself in a quiet room—an old, deserted bedroom. She sat, then, at the center of it all, placing her hand on either knee, which rested carefully against the ground, the soles of her feet pressed together. She shut her eyes, forcing her mind to become quiet. For every thought, rushing like the waves of the ocean, to still.

    She felt it, then, as her body began to float away. As it began to separate, untethered from the mortal world. She hadn't known how she did it, really. How she so easily managed to slip into her memory, into the Spirit World.

    It seemed to invite her in, as if it had wrapped its arms around her in a warm embrace. As if she had always been meant to be there.

    (Perhaps she had been.)

    When she opened her eyes once more, she was no longer surrounded by the walls of Zuko's abandoned summer home, but rather by the familiar walls of her childhood bedroom. Of her chambers. Surrounded by what had once been her life.

    It had not changed, she realized, from the moment she saw it last. Or, perhaps, it had not changed from what it had been in her memory. The walls were still the same shade of green. The golden chandelier still dangled precariously over her bed. Her shelves of scrolls and tales of history remained untouched, though covered in a thin layer of dust.

    And Lian sat, then, in the center of the room, surrounded by the essence of childhood. Or, at least, parts of it.

    The rest came knocking, a fist pounding against the door. She cast her eyes to the windows of the room, finding that the sun had just begun to rise into the sky—it was sunrise. She was always told to wake at sunrise. Told—ordered—by Long Feng.

    She pushed to her feet, her voice echoing all around her, even when she had not realized she was speaking. "Enter," she called, slipping back into what once had been her way of life. The routine that had been carefully curated since she was five years old. Since she had shown true promise with bending. With her intelligence.

    Maids entered, surrounding her in an instant. They brushed through her hair, washed it, dressed her, and paraded around her as if she were nothing more than a statue.

(Marble.)

    She felt the way she stiffened as their hands brushed along her arms, the way she flinched away at sudden movements that she had not seen coming. She felt the way her entire being froze when she felt it. His footsteps growing closer. Growing nearer to where she stood.

    Long Feng, then, stood in her doorway. Hovered there silently. He eyed her, watching as her hair was finished, as the maids exited. As Dai Li approached, surrounding her on all sides. As they guided her from her room, shadowing her every movement. Six in the front, six in the back.

    She hardly shied away from the realization of where they were taking her. It was familiar. All of it was familiar. Long Feng, walking at the front, looked over his shoulder as the dark, hooded lights of the catacombs surrounded them, swallowing them whole.

    She was locked in a room, then, with nothing but her mind. To remain there for as long as Long Feng would wish, as long as he would deem it necessary to burn into her that she had no choice. That, in life, his word was final.

    She would be a marble statue. And statues had no thoughts, no feelings other than what had been carved out for them by their maker. Always made to perform, she thought. Even when encased so eternally, she had always been made to perform. Made to be controlled. Made to be perfect.

    He would come to her later on, then. Slide the doors open and crouch before her, sitting adjacent to where she had sat, unmoving, unblinking for hours. And he would smile. He would reach forward, his hand grasping her chin, and he would say, "If you dare to step out of line, Princess, you will find your next days staring into darkness."

    She had behaved, after all. She had been given orders to do so, she would not defy them. Not now. Not yet.

    It had been not long after, mayhaps only a year, that she had discovered the truth of it. That it was all a facade. That Long Feng had no true power over her. That she could move and breathe and feel and think how she wished. How she had been designed. She perfected her bending because she wished to. She visited the Wall for the first time because she could. She did as she wished because she was the Princess, the heir to the Earth Kingdom throne. She was not Long Feng's puppet. She would not allow it, not allow him to—

    She had learned of Lake Laogai, then. Just weeks before the awaited arrival of the Avatar. They had dragged her from her bed, her father unknowing. They had grasped at her arms and legs, pulling her from her room. That had clamped a muzzle over her face and dragged her away, her wrists and ankles bound with metal. She had no choice.

    They sat her in a chair, chained her to it. Forced her to look upon the light at the center of the room, forced to watch as it circled her time and time again. Circling her until she hadn't realized how much time had passed.

    And then he had said, "Fire Lord Ozai has wished for you to join him in the capital in four weeks' time. You are set to continue your betrothal to the Crown Prince. You will be married. You will live and die as the Fire Lord's wife." He leaned in, his face only inches from hers. From her face that had gone dull and void. "You will be the perfect marble statue."

   She gasped, lurching forward, palms planting heavily against the floor in front of her. Sweat dripped from her brow, her chest heaving for air.

    She collapsed forward, falling onto her forearms as she planted her forehead into the cool, wooden floor beams. And she let herself rest there, even if only for a moment. She couldn't help the tears, the sobs that wretched through her body, tearing