An Ice Cold Heart

Part I

Eska had always known that she was born set apart from other girls her age, but whether that was good or bad remained a mystery while she grew up as Princess of the Northern Water Tribe. The day she first struggled with this dilemma was when she was still a small child and she and Desna were accompanying their father on a walk through the royal city one afternoon. As Unalaq stopped to speak with a city guard, his children halted as well and waited obediently side by side, and it was then that little Eska noticed a group of girls about her age giggling and chattering to each other as they all entered a large igloo, herded closely by an old woman who smiled fondly down at them.

"What do you think they're doing?" Eska whispered quietly to her brother.

"Who cares?" He replied, not the least bit concerned about a bunch of stupid girls. "That old lady is the healer woman who comes to the palace sometimes. She must not be very good because Father doesn't like her."

"You are correct, Desna," Unalaq spoke down to his children after sending the guardsman away. "Healing is a branch of waterbending for the weak. However, it is traditionally taught to female waterbenders, and Nakoma is supposedly the best in the North," he said with a rigid scowl on his face as he nodded to the building where the elderly woman had taken her students. "Have no fear, Eska, I will teach you all that is necessary for you to know. Now let's return home. It's time for your evening meditation."

Eska complied silently as she and her brother matched each other step for step and followed their father back to the palace, but her young mind was anything but quiet. Why would she need to fear learning from such a kind looking woman? Healing didn't sound so bad, even if she had to be trained alongside a bunch of other girls. In fact, that didn't seem bad either – they had appeared to be enjoying themselves after all.

Later that night, Eska visited her father in his study where he was going over some scrolls on his desk.

"It's late, Eska. You should be preparing for bed," he muttered with nothing more than a swift glance in her direction.

"I want to ask you something," she stated feebly from the doorway, feeling less and less certain about coming to him with her request.

Unalaq set down his papers and lifted his head to give his six year old daughter his full attention. "Alright, tell me what is," he said with a light smile and motioned for her to come forward.

"I think I want to learn healing from Nakoma with those other girls," Eska answered plainly as she approached the desk, regaining fortitude as she recalled the joy and excitement in their eyes, wanting to taste it for herself.

Her father let out a sigh and ran a hand down his face before responding, "We've already had this discussion. You are not going to become a healer. Besides, you're not like other girls, and you're not meant to fraternize with them. You are a princess and my daughter, which places you in a role of distinction."

Eska felt her confidence fall at his words, but she still wasn't quite ready to let go of her small hope. "But it could be useful-" she began to point out, hoping to appeal to her father's proclivity for logic.

"Well it did nothing to help your mother!" Unalaq suddenly snapped, causing Eska to jump slightly. "Nakoma's healing couldn't save her, which makes it completely worthless to me!" Then he visibly calmed himself and spoke in his usual sedate tone, "Rest assured you will not be useless. Many are unaware that greater minds often have plans for their talents, and they will be called upon when the time is right." He released her from his cold gaze and returned to his scrolls. "I don't want to hear another word about healing. Goodnight," he uttered with a cold ring of finality.

Eska dropped her head and turned to walk out the door, feeling ashamed for asking and knowing she would never mention it again. Her father had never lost his temper with her like that before, and yet she should have remembered that any subject relating to her mother was supposed to be off limits, but then again, so was argument of any kind. An order was an order, something to be obeyed and observed, never negotiated.