Title: Silk
Author: Traxits
Chapter Rating: Teen.
Chapter Content Notes: Mild violence.
Chapter Word Count: 2171 words.
Author's Notes: This fic is an alternate timeline fic set at a change in episode 4 (the Warriors of Kyoshi) of season 1, where Aang and Sokka and Katara all stop that the Kyoshi island. Originally, I planned on submitting this story for Kinked, a big bang on , but sadly, I missed the deadline, and after rereading it, decided it really wasn't all that thematically appropriate.

(Chapter 1, Capture and Demands)

He wasn't going to make it. Sokka had seen that the moment that he had locked in combat with that bastard of a prince. The Kyoshi warrior dress was far heavier than the tribal garb he was used to wearing. As he did his best to avoid fire blast after fire blast, he spotted Katara across the town. Suki had her by the arm and was dragging her away; Suki was a good girl— and not just a girl, but a warrior. She knew what was happening, understood that there was no other way for this to end.

Instead of drawing attention to them by shouting, Sokka adjusted his grip on the fan. He forced the prince to watch him, to continue the fight; he didn't dare let up, even when the flames skated over his arm. He could smell the smoke from the village burning. He could smell burning flesh, could hear the screams of the villagers as they ran through the village. Water sizzled as they tried to put out the fires. He screeched when a hand wrapped in his hair, and then the water poured out of the sky. The Unagi soaked everyone, and the fight was suddenly over.

Zuko spun around, his hand still tight in Sokka's hair, as he snarled and shouted his orders. "Don't lose sight of him! Back to the ship!"

Sokka struggled to get free, gasping when he felt the steam pouring off of Zuko's skin. The firebender boiled the water off of his skin and clothes, and Sokka jerked as far as he could to get away from it. Zuko seemed to remember him in that moment and glared down at him. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, and then the Fire Nation soldiers ran up behind them.

Zuko didn't say a word, only jerked Sokka along behind him, hand still tight around his ponytail, as they ran to the ship. Sokka's heart stopped as he realized what was happening. Appa faded away into the distance, Suki and Katara both looking back toward the island.

They had left him.

It wasn't like they'd had a choice. Zuko would have destroyed the whole town in an attempt to grab Aang, and they couldn't let that happen. They were there to protect Aang, and if protecting him meant being left behind, so be it. It was his duty to suffer through it.

So he sulked in the small room that they'd stuck him in. He wasn't a bender, so they didn't even bother posting a guard. Instead, they had locked the door from the outside, and he was trapped. It was humiliating, knowing that Aang or Katara could have gotten out of that mess, but he couldn't. Not without some kind of outside help or a skill set that he didn't have. After all, it wasn't like he'd had much opportunity to practice picking locks in the South Pole.

They'd taken his hairband as well, apparently concerned that he could do some sort of damage with it. So he was stuck with his hair loose around his face, still wearing that awful make-up and the damned Kyoshi warrior dress. He was glad that it was so heavy, since they weren't giving him blankets. He sat across the room from the single window, just a narrow rectangle across the top of the room that let him see the sky.

There wasn't a light in the room either. In fact, it looked more like a small storage closet than anything, except that there was a cramped washroom in the back. No running water to the sink though. Soldiers dropped off meals, and Sokka ate. He glad that they hadn't forgotten him as much as he was scared they might. It was two days before he saw Zuko again.

He wished it would have been longer.

The lingering make-up was tacky against his skin, itchy and thick. He just didn't dare soil the uniform any further by rubbing it off onto the silk threads. He wouldn't dishonor the warrior who had shared her uniform with him. No matter how hard he worked, he couldn't get the last of the make-up off with just his fingers. He was in the middle of rubbing at his eyebrows when the door flew open.

For two days, the door had opened just enough to slide a meal tray in. So it opening fast enough that it hit the wall made him jump. He leaped to his feet, hands in tight fists at his sides. Zuko scowled at him, and Sokka lunged, planning on grabbing something, anything. He couldn't sit there staring at that little slice of the sky forever.

Zuko didn't say a word as he bent the fire from the torches and forced Sokka back. Sokka threw his arm up to protect his face, stomach clenching. Flames glinted off of the gold insignia on the uniform. Zuko's arm slammed across his chest, pinned him against the wall, and Sokka gasped. He tilted his head back and gritted his teeth.

"Where is the Avatar headed?"

"I'm not telling you."

Zuko's frown deepened, and he clenched his fist. The Water Tribe boy didn't even blink; he just scowled back at Zuko through that smeared make-up. He looked awful, but that was to be expected after sitting in the small room for so long. It might have been a sight better than any prison that Zuko had seen, but it was still far from ideal quarters.

"You will tell me," Zuko promised, and he applied a little more pressure to the boy's throat. He could feel fingers digging into his arm, trying to peel him away, but he wasn't moving, wasn't giving in to some Water Tribe boy wearing a girl's dress. He let up just enough to allow him to breathe, and then the pressure was back on.

At least, it was until someone jerked him away, and he scowled at his uncle, who knelt to check on the boy as he crumpled to the floor

"You have to forgive Prince Zuko," Iroh said quietly, as he rubbed the boy's shoulders. "He has a temper."

"He is a prisoner, Uncle, not a guest. He will be treated as one." Zuko's frown deepened as the boy's eyes flashed at him.

"I won't—" He coughed, and Iroh rubbed his back before he moved to stand. "I won't tell you anything. You should just go ahead and kill me." He was defiant, sticking his chin out and locking his jaw. Something about it just made Zuko angrier, made him want to push the boy back, to make him submit.

"Would you like some water? Or tea?"

Both Water Tribe and Fire Nation turned to stare at the old man, and Iroh held up his hands with a sigh. "Just because you are our prisoner doesn't mean we must treat you as an animal. We are all honorable men here. Prince Zuko," Iroh got to his feet as though it pained him, "we should send him something to drink before we ask him to speak to us."

The boy was so shocked at this that he didn't even try to attack them again as they left, Iroh pulling Zuko along behind him.

"What was that, Uncle? I have to question him—"

"You will get nothing out of him like this." Iroh's voice was calm, certain, and it made Zuko falter. His uncle was a brilliant tactician. If nothing else, Zuko could assure himself of that. There were glimpses of that brilliance from time to time. Zuko just had to remind himself that it wasn't until after he saw them that he often realized how clever his uncle was.

"What do you suggest we do then?"

"Be a little more... flexible in your dealing with him. Treat him as a person." Iroh waved down one of the crew and requested that they take a pitcher of water, a cup, a bowl, and a washcloth to the prisoner. Only, he called the boy their 'guest'. Zuko sighed.

"How does treating him as a person get me what I need?" He didn't like this deception, this attacking problems from the side. He wanted to run in, to charge and attack. He wanted to see what he was fighting and know the tactics that worked on it.

Iroh offered him a strange smile, one that bordered between his usual goofy grins and something harder; almost cruel. It was something that seemed much more at home on the Dragon of the West's face than the uncle that Zuko knew. "Make him be the unreasonable one. Bend him to you instead of trying to break him."

Zuko stopped walking mid-stride and cast a look at his uncle. He turned the words over and over in his head, his frown deepening as he considered that. The boy was certain he was right, was certain that this was a fight— and he was right about that; it was a fight, one that Zuko did not plan on losing, and his eyes widened as he glanced at his uncle again. He nodded after a moment. "Flexible," he said, and when Iroh nodded at him, he straightened his back, drew a steadying breath, and stalked down the hall. He could be flexible; he just needed a few things first.

He took his time collecting clothes. It wasn't hard because there were plenty of spare uniforms on the ship, and he found one that looked like it might fit almost right away. The rest of the clothes he pulled from a trunk that Iroh had been working on ever since they'd left the Fire Nation. He'd packed clothes into it at nearly every port. Zuko wasn't even sure why his uncle bothered, but it didn't stop him from doing it, no matter how often Zuko pointed out that it was a futile effort, that there would be no one to wear any of those clothes until after Zuko had restored his honor, had returned home. At least now the clothes would be put to use now, would be used to leverage the boy into wearing what Zuko wanted him to, into giving him that victory if nothing else right away.

Bending him would be easier after Zuko had scored one victory.

He didn't bother sorting the clothes from the trunk, just grabbed them and hauled them up in his arms before he headed back to the room the boy was being held in. He shoved the clothes into the arms of the first soldier he walked by, then he pushed the door open and motioned for the soldier to drop the armload of clothes in the middle of the floor. The boy jumped, blinking up at him, lowering the rag from his face slowly, and Zuko tilted his head slightly toward the door. The soldier needed no other encouragement before he left the room. Zuko gave him a low order, an order to stay there that the boy couldn't hear, and shut the door behind him before he studied his prisoner.

The boy had cleaned up well enough, and without all the make-up, Zuko realized that there wasn't necessarily a whole lot that could be considered feminine about that face. His dark hair was short— too short by Zuko's standards— and it brushed just past high cheekbones in the front, but it was even shorter in the back. It was some sort of Water Tribe thing, because this boy wasn't the first Zuko had seen wearing it. His jaw was too wide for a girl's, and his mouth was a little wide to sit comfortably on his face.

Zuko's gaze narrowed as he studied him, then he tilted his head, cleared his throat, and he pointed to the pile of clothes. "If you change, you can come out. There is a guard outside, and he will show you to more... accommodating quarters." He started to leave, and he stopped, hand on the door. "What is your name?" He glanced back after a moment, when the boy didn't answer him, and his frown deepened. His uncle wouldn't have approved of that though, and he drew a breath before he worked on finding a smile to give him instead. "It's only fair," he added. "You know mine."

"Everyone knows who you are," the boy replied sullenly, and Zuko had to work to keep his smile in place. As it was, from the expression on the boy's face, Zuko was pretty certain that he had only managed to make it more pained. Finally, there was a muttered, "Sokka."

Zuko didn't respond before he stalked out of the room, leaving Sokka to make his decision. He nodded to the guard posted at the door before he clarified his order for the man to stay where he was. If Sokka cooperated, he would be moved into one of the guest rooms across from Zuko's. At the least, Zuko would be able to hear him if he tried anything too foolish.