Sparrowkeet (Post A)
Title: Sparrowkeet
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: M
Characters: Katara, Zuko, Azula (K/Z)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warnings: Explicit sex, general darkness
Summary:
Ba Sing Se has fallen and Katara has been captured. She finds herself on a long journey to the Fire Nation... with only her enemies for company. Zutara one-shot. Post-S2 AU.
A/N: This is my first time writing for source material directed at the pre-teen set, so let me start by saying this is not a story for children. I know none of you young 'uns will listen, but I'll ask anyway: Adults only, please. I don't want an express ticket to the Special Hell.
This is not my first time writing in this format. It's actually one of my favorite narrative structures (and is ideal for roadtrip tales, of which I've written a dozen or so in my life; I'm a creature with simple tastes, what can I say). So my apologies to fandom crossover readers who are looking for something totally unique. Though the plot is different, the style will feel familiar.
Speaking of crossover readers: for those who have been waiting on my other projects, please direct your ire to likexaxdove . For those like the story, please also direct your appreciation to likexaxdove . This distraction is entirely her fault and she admits it. Thanks to her and cretin_me for soothing my ego as I went.
Though it is divided into two posts because of character limits, please consider this fic as a one-shot. The flow gets shot otherwise.
Anyway, enough chatter. We begin at the end of the season two finale, The Crossroads of Destiny.
Sparrowkeet
seems I'm damned to live a lie / unaware of what's outside
Chiasm, "Isolated"
The world glows white.
The Avatar rises.
The world splinters blue.
The Avatar falls.
Katara acts on instinct as she calls the water of the canals to her hands and wipes out the Dai Li in a single gushing wave. She rides the bend forward and catches Aang before he hits the stone floor.
The moment he falls into her arms she knows there is no life inside him.
She dully registers that fireballs are rushing toward her. For a moment she is sure that this is the end, that her flesh will fall from her bones under the joint strikes of the Fire Prince and Princess. Her arms are full of Airbender and she cannot block the attack. But then two blasts appear from nowhere and throw her assailants off their feet, and Iroh -- Iroh! -- is there.
"You've got to get out of here!" the former general shouts as flames shoot from his fists. "I'll hold them off as long as I can!"
She has to escape.
Except there is no life inside Aang.
If she runs it could be too late. She's already exhausted from the fight; by the time they are free she may not have the energy left to heal him, to save the only hope any of them have left.
She turns Aang over. She breaks the vial from the Spirit Oasis. She pours the water across the open wound in his back.
"Go! Now!"
She lays her hands on the Avatar and puts every ounce of her strength into the most important thing she's ever done.
The fire throws her backward, and when she hits the wall she passes out.
***
She's still on the cold stone floor when she hears voices. The smell of cooked meat is thick in the air, and for a fuzzy few seconds she thinks she's back at home waiting for Gran-Gran to finish roasting the seal steaks for dinner.
"You didn't have to do that."
"He allowed Uncle and the Avatar to escape. This isn't the time for one of your fits of compassion. This is the time to make an example."
"Burning a man alive isn't--"
"Zuko, we have taken the Earth Kingdom. We have done it in the name of our father. You have restored your rightful place in our family. We will be welcomed home as war heroes. Must we argue over methods of troop discipline at this exact moment in time?"
"...I guess not."
"Good. You can be such a wet blanket. Speaking of wet, is that peasant still alive?"
"I doubt it." The words turn bitter. "You struck her down."
"True. Still."
Katara keeps her eyes closed and listens to the approaching footfalls. She wonders if this is what Toph feels.
A foot wedges under her ribs and rolls her onto her back, and she cannot hold back a groan of pain. Everything hurts, especially her head.
"Oh, how annoying." There's a sudden, intense heat above her. Katara tries to flinch back, but her body doesn't obey. "Perhaps we should strip that robe off first. I detest the smell of burning fur."
"You're going to kill her?"
"No, I'm going to invite her to dinner. Yes, I'm going to kill her."
"Why?"
A snort. "Because, Zuko, she's a Waterbender who has supported our enemies and opposed our respective missions." The heat above flares hotter. "Also she cut my hair."
The next words come from directly overhead, instead of at a distance. "Keep her as a war prisoner," the other voice hisses. "I've been watching these people for months, Azula. Trust me, the Avatar will come for her."
"I didn't miss. The Avatar's some newborn at the North Pole by now."
"We can't be sure of that. You'd be amazed at how lucky he can be."
"I really don't have time for--"
"I'll take responsibility. She's... valuable, Azula."
A long pause, and then a colder laugh than should come from a creature made of fire. "If you want a pet, Zuzu, we could get a sparrowkeet. It'll eat less and smell better."
Silence.
"...oh, fine. I can't believe I forgot how sentimental you can be, brother." The next words echo through the cave. "Take the Fire Prince's new pet to my ship. If she fights or bends, don't hesitate to knock her out again. And don't be gentle about it."
The stone vibrates with the heaviness of approaching Earthbenders.
"Well? Aren't you going to thank me?"
A sullen, "Thank you."
"I hope your manners improve by the time we get home. Father doesn't care for rudeness. But I suppose you remember that, don't you?"
When several rough hands lift her from the floor Katara finally opens her eyes. She can't focus, but she can still make out the scarred face watching her impassively.
She is a Waterbender, and when she spits at his cheek, she doesn't miss.
***
It takes Katara two days before she's able to sit up without dizziness. It's another two before she can bend again.
Not that bending does her any good. At first she is confused about why they dare to shove small skins of tea through the slot in the door along with her rice -- until she tries to freeze the lock. It makes no difference at all, and most of the ice falls through the keyhole. The guard in the hallway laughs at her.
After that she drinks her tea instead of wasting it. A dried out Waterbender is a useless Waterbender.
***
Every evening she is taken to the bathroom by a member of the Dai Li, her hands cuffed behind her back with solid rock. There's no way to escape in there either, at least not that she can find in the sixty seconds she's allowed for each visit.
On one walk back to her cell she tries to simply run. She gets twenty feet. For the next three days they give her nothing to drink and she lays on her cot, too dehydrated to cry.
***
She wonders if Aang is alive. She thinks he must be. She thinks she would somehow know if he wasn't.
She wonders if he'll come for her. He'd want to. Toph too. Sokka, though -- Sokka can stop them. He will remind them of their mission: Prepare the Avatar for the day of Black Sun. Sokka is strong and capable of sacrificing his sister in the name of the greater good, even though it will kill him inside. If Iroh is still with them he will agree, and between the two of them they'll force Aang to keep his focus. Hopefully.
Katara doesn't want to die here, but more importantly she doesn't want Aang to die here. Everything hinges on Aang. He is the Avatar. Katara is expendable.
***
At night Katara comes to the conclusion that she is mentally defective. At least when it comes to boys.
She had believed him. All he'd had to do was say That's something we have in common and she'd caved. For months he'd chased them across the world with a blinding evil fixation, and in one little moment of apparent humanity she'd offered to waste her spirit water on his stupid face. Five minutes later he'd been whipping fire at her. He tricked her.
Not that he was the first. All Jet had had to do was mention his tragic past and then there she was, in his tree hut, worshipfully doing things that would make Gran-Gran shake her head with disappointment. And he'd just wanted to use her waterbending to kill innocent people.
Even Haru had gotten under her skin with all his talk about lost parents. Haru turned out to be honest, but she'd had no proof of that at the time. Twenty minutes of conversation and she'd been willing to get herself arrested for him.
She spends the long hours obsessing over an idiot she's been. Her compassion has been used against her time and time again. And the cave beneath Ba Sing Se was by far her most costly mistake.
She swears that this time she has learned.
***
After two weeks Katara notices a strange vibration in the metal floor. Shortly thereafter she feels a soft, gentle rocking. The ship has finally left port.
The water swaying her cell treats her to her best sleep since leaving the South Pole.
***
"Up, Waterbender."
Katara squints at the outline of the Dai Li in the doorway. Constant darkness has not done good things for her eyesight. "Why?" It's not time for her trip to the bathroom.
"The Prince wishes to see you. Make yourself presentable and follow me."
"Presentable," she grumbles under her breath. "Let me take a bath and wash my clothes, then."
A sneer crosses the guard's face. "That much water? How stupid do you think I am?"
Katara just looks at him.
The guard binds her hands with rock cuffs, then takes her up three flights of stairs and down a long corridor -- toward the center of the ship, she thinks. They come to a stop in front of a huge set of double doors, and when the guard knocks the sound of metal echoes.
If Katara gets out of this alive she never wants to see metal again.
"Enter," a rasping voice calls.
The guard turns the handles, and for a moment Katara can't decide whether it would be more defiant to walk in with her head held high or to plant her feet and make him drag her forward. She decides to walk. She is the daughter of the chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe, and their last bender to boot; if blood is so important to these people then she's entitled to just as much respect as the spoiled two-faced brat of the Fire Lord.
The empty room is large -- twenty feet high, forty feet long, thirty feet wide -- and it occurs to Katara that this ship must really be enormous. She'd been unconscious when brought in and hadn't gotten a look.
Prince Zuko is there and pacing. His hair is pulled back into a formal topknot and he's wearing red silk robes with the formal insignia of the Fire Nation. She's wearing a Water Tribe tunic that has nearly disintegrated with filth. She is a prisoner. He is royalty.
Aang would probably disapprove of how much hatred she feels right now.
Zuko looks up as they enter, and his strange yellow eyes widen at the sight of her -- the right far more than the left, of course. Then, to Katara's complete shock, he wheels on the guard. "Why does she look like this?"
The guard appears even more surprised than Katara feels. "I beg your pardon, Prince Zuko?"
"Why does she look like this?" Tiny flames lick at the Firebender's fingertips. "Where has she been kept?"
"In-- in the prison hold."
The flames creep up Zuko's knuckles. "What?"
Katara notes with some interest that the guard is clearly terrified. "Prince Zuko, I assure you, we received no orders to give the girl special consideration. She has been treated as a standard prisoner--"
"I'll decide how she'll be treated!"
The girl in question is lost.
Zuko looks away and takes a few heaving breaths. The fire disappears from his hands. "Unbind her and get out," he says. His tone reminds Katara more of the Prince at the North Pole and less of the boy in the cave. "Have a proper room prepared with appropriate safety measures. She's of no use to me in this condition."
Katara's blood goes cold as the guard's face lights with understanding. "Of course, Prince Zuko. Right away." The cuffs disappear from her wrists, the rock welding itself around the Dai Li's forearm.
Then he leaves, and it is just her and her enemy.
Katara can't let him have the first word. "Thanks," she says sarcastically, "but I'd rather stay in my cell. I don't care about being of use to you."
Zuko frowns -- and a tiny blush appears on his right cheek. "That isn't what I meant."
"Right."
"It isn't. I wouldn't--"
"Why not?" Getting flame-broiled is starting to sound like a more appealing fate every minute. "What's stopping you? It's not like you have any honor to worry about."
Her words have their intended effect: Zuko flinches as though he's been slapped. But he recovers quickly. "You could be a little nicer," he snarls. "You'd be dead under Ba Sing Se if it wasn't for me."
Katara gapes. "Are you kidding? You're the reason I was injured in the first place!"
"You were protecting the Avatar! I had no choice!"
"Of course you do! Everyone has a choice!"
"I don't!"
"Right, because of your precious destiny--"
"That's right!"
"So is it my destiny to rot here until someone uses me for fish food?"
"Forget it! If that's what you want, next time I'll let Azula finish the job!"
"I hope you do!"
Zuko makes a wordless noise of frustration and smacks his palm against his forehead, but Katara barely notices. Spots are appearing in her vision. Yelling takes effort and this is the most she's exerted herself in two weeks.
She sits down hard on the floor.
"Katara?"
"Leave me alone," she mutters as she wills the room to stop spinning. "Unless you'd like to get me a really big glass of water."
Obviously, he doesn't.
In a few minutes she's steady enough to look up at the Prince instead of just focusing on his boots. His expression is unreadable. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "You weren't supposed to be down in the cells."
She snorts in a way she learned from Toph. "I'm sure feather pillows will make being held prisoner much more fun."
"It might. So will real food."
She silently resolves not to eat a bite.
"Look, I thought you'd be in better shape right now. I have a proposition for you, but it can wait until you can... um... stand."
"I can stand," Katara snaps. "I'm just... choosing not to, is all."
She knows she sounds petulant. She really doesn't care.
The red boots shift, and then Zuko is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. It's another moment where she can't decide what is more defiant: to refuse to meet his eyes, or to stare at him full-on. She decides to stick with insolently studying the gold embroidery of his collar.
"You're a good bender," he says with the reluctant air of someone who's never been asked to give compliments. "Really good. A lot better than you used to be."
Katara squelches the little spark of pride in her chest. It's true. She was Master Pakku's best student, and since the North Pole her skills have only grown.
"And the Avatar has improved, which means you must be a good teacher too."
She is.
"So I want to fight you."
Katara does meet amber eyes at that. "Fight me?" In spite of herself, she starts to scramble backward. "That's not fair, that's cheating, there's no water in here--"
"Spar," he adds quickly. "Just spar. And not now. Once you're stronger." Zuko gestures around the empty room. "That's what this space is for: nighttime firebending practice, so no one sends up flares announcing the ship's location. You and I would use it during the day."
Katara stares at Zuko as though he's grown a second head. Maybe even a third. "Why? Why not practice with Azula?"
"I've fought her a thousand times. She doesn't have anything to show me. And Uncle--" Zuko falters briefly and looks away. "Uncle was able to invent firebending moves no one had ever seen before. He learned them by studying the Waterbenders."
She finds herself mouthing wordlessly for a few moments. She'd picked up a lot about Zuko in the past months -- his obsession, his selfishness, his arrogance -- but insane was an adjective she'd reserved for his sister. Apparently he hasn't escaped the family curse after all. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to help you learn better moves."
The temperature rises several degrees. "Not better," he snaps hotly, clearly insulted. "Just new."
"New, huh? So you can use them against me? So you can use them against Aang?"
Zuko jumps to his feet. "So I can use them against anyone!"
Katara's eyes narrow. So I can use them against Azula is what he doesn't say in that moment, but she hears it anyway.
That makes things a little different.
The Fire Prince paces again in short lengths. "It's not like there's no advantages for you," he says. "You'd get practice, too. Maybe you'll beat me." His tone makes it clear how unlikely he finds that.
Oh, she wants to beat him. "Even if I did," she reminds him, "it's not like I can get away. I can't just fly out of here." She knew the minute the ship put to sea that she was well and truly trapped, so there's no point in launching some grand escape plan. Unlike some people, she thinks things through.
"We won't be at sea forever. We're going around the Earth Kingdom instead of through it. That's a long trip -- two months, maybe. Once we're home, who knows what you could do. Maybe you'll be powerful enough to fight your way free."
Katara crosses her arms. "But what about Aang? Aren't I supposed to be bait?"
When Zuko doesn't answer, the pieces fall into place. Yes, she's bait, but that's not what Zuko had meant when he told Azula she was valuable.
She realizes the only reason he saved her is to study her.
"All right," Katara says.
Zuko's angry pacing stops abruptly. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh. Um... good." Her sudden, flat acceptance has clearly thrown him off. "I'd thought we would get started immediately, but I guess we should probably wait a few days. Until you're stronger."
"Right," she says. "Stronger."
The Waterbender can study the Firebender, too.
***
The new room is more comfortable. There's still a guard outside her door at all times, but now she has a real bed, a small table to eat at, a shelf with a half-dozen scrolls, and a new set of clothes. The latter are Fire Nation color and cut, exposing far more skin than Katara would prefer. She wears them anyway because they are clean, and tries to adjust to the air against her stomach and shoulders.
She even a tiny bathroom of her own. Katara spends hours with her hand on the tap, feeling out how the water runs through the plumbing of the ship. If she tries she could turn it to ice. The pipes -- all of the pipes -- would shatter. The ship would sink. She'd die, of course, but so would the only children of the Fire Lord.
But it would also mean drowning the crew. They are people with friends and family and Katara knows they're at war but it would still feel like murder.
She keeps the pipes clear in her memory anyway, just in case.
***
Her intended hunger strike doesn't last more than thirty seconds after the guard delivers a tray of dishes that make her mouth water. But the new food burns her tongue and blazes down her throat; she chokes so hard on the komodo chicken that she gulps down all of her tea in two swallows. Her nose stings every time she exhales and the only other part of the meal she'll touch is the rice.
Sokka would have eaten it. Sokka would have complained, but he would have eaten it. Meat is meat. Except when it's not meat. But if it tastes like meat, I guess that's good enough. Unless it doesn't taste like meat. Then you should get real meat. Mmm. Meat.
Katara wonders who is taking care of him. Who is taking care of all of them.
She thinks the guard must have heard her coughing, because dinner is plain fruit salad.
***
After four days Katara is fed and rested enough to be brought back to the training room. The Dai Li guard keeps her wrists bound in stone as they travel through the hallways. She's in better accommodations and clean clothes but she's still a prisoner, not a guest.
The double doors lock behind her, and the first thing she notices -- and how can she not notice it in an empty space -- is the enormous wooden barrel. She can hear the sloshing inside as the ship rocks.
Without thinking she pulls so hard that the barrel explodes outward, raining the room with splinters, and then she is encased in a cool, salty cloak of liquid. It takes no concentration to cover herself from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, and she absorbs the moisture through her skin like a frog.
Water.
Through her cloak she can make out muffled speech. Katara opens her eyes to slits and watches the blurry orange form of Prince Zuko standing a few feet away, waving his hand in front of her face, trying to communicate.
She knocks him off his feet with an icy fist.
An instant later she's throwing up a shield to block a fireball and then they are locked in battle, waves striking flames over and over and over and over.
In less than half an hour Katara is panting and shaking with fatigue, while Zuko is still deflecting her blows with annoying ease. That's all he's been doing, really: deflecting, deflecting and watching her technique. She knows she shouldn't make herself such an easy study but she's too angry to hold back now that she's got her element at her fingertips.
He tricked her, so she will fight until she literally can't.
That moment comes a few minutes later, when Katara is too slow to dodge the razor-thin flame that whips toward her. The crack echoes through the room and the searing lash slices into her cheek.
Katara staggers back, hissing. It hurts -- a lot -- and when she instinctively claps a palm against her face it hurts worse.
The light dims as the fire dies, and Zuko stands on the other side of the room, staring at her in horror.
Katara waves her free hand and shoots a few half-hearted ice spikes in his direction, but she drops them out of the air when he doesn't move to block. The fight is clearly over and it would be... cheating to just impale him like that when he's not even trying. She doesn't have to cheat to make him sorry. And she will, soon; even if she's lost this battle she will win the war.
When she moves her palm some of the skin pulls away; her eyes fill with pained tears as she probes at her cheek and assesses the damage.
"Stop, don't, that'll make it worse. I'll have the guard bring some lotus oil--"
"Don't bother." She kneels in the puddle at her feet; her red skirts cling wetly to her legs. Her reflection shows a long crimson welt running from her chin to her temple.
Katara places her hands flat in the water, closes her eyes, and exhales slowly. Cool energy -- life and growth -- pulses through her blood, and when she raises her fingertips to her face the pain vanishes almost instantly.
She's getting better at this.
After another quick stroke to make sure she's gotten all of it, she glances at Zuko. His sparring robes are soaked too. His fingers are on his own cheek and he's looking at her with a strange mix of jealousy and shame.
"I would have healed you," she says spitefully.
"I know," he replies.
The guard takes her back to her room; she sleeps solidly for several hours, then lies awake through the night.
***
They spar every day.
For the next few sessions he does nothing but block, and not very well. Like he's doing some kind of penance. As though he's surprised burns are a consequence of lobbing fireballs at people when he, of all people, should know better.
But Katara realizes she's misjudged the situation when she suddenly finds herself dodging a series of flaming rings that careen through the air at amazing speeds. The rings look, move, and feel suspiciously like her ice discs.
She curses at Zuko with language that would make her father's warriors blush. She curses louder when he smirks at her.
***
She focuses on his footwork. The way his waist twists and his shoulders rotate. How his bending is sharp and forceful in places where her bending would be smooth and fluid.
Her water whips begin to move more like fire whips. They become thinner and faster, and one afternoon she jerks her wrist and forms an ice blade on the end just before it strikes his arm. If he notices the blood dripping from his elbow, he doesn't show it.
***
Her stamina catches up to his quickly. Before long the matches have extended from twenty minutes to nearly two hours, with high sparks and low ebbs, of course. The explosions from their bending must be felt around the ship, because whenever the guards come to collect her they look like they never quite believe she and the Crown Prince are still alive.
Every evening she stands by the sink and repairs her bruises and aches from the day's training. By the next morning she is always ready to fight again.
She doesn't know how her partner is managing, but he can't keep it up forever.
***
"We need... better vents... in here," Zuko wheezes, spread-eagled on his back.
Katara nods against the iron floor.
They have discovered that hitting jets of fire with jets of water over a long period of time only results in a lot of evaporation. Katara gave up first because the effort of constantly reforming the steam sapped her strength, but it was close because Zuko had had to work twice as hard to maintain flames in the sticky air.
Given that they are both half-conscious on the ground, Katara figures it counts as a draw.
The humidity is wretched, even worse than the Foggy Swamp. Katara closes her eyes and blows out slowly; the condensation nearby freezes into tiny ice crystals and the space around her body cools thirty degrees.
For a moment she watches Zuko continue to gasp like a dying koi. Then -- because she always felt sorry for the twitching, struggling nets the men would haul from the sea -- she makes a weary gesture in his direction.
Snowflakes melt against the Firebender's face, and his breathing becomes steadier. "Thank you," he says hoarsely.
Katara grunts in acknowledgement and rolls onto her side.
***
The next day Zuko asks her to have tea with him.
Katara refuses.
As she's led back to her room she hears a thud that sounds a lot like a water barrel hitting a metal wall.
***
Every night before she goes to sleep she plays a game called What Would They Say?
It goes like this: Katara thinks of something that has just happened, something she would have shared over the campfire. Today a wave rocked the ship and my tart pie fell off the table.
What would Sokka say? Did you catch it? No! Oh, lovely tart pie, we hardly knew ye...
What would Aang say? It's okay, Katara, we'll get you another one. A hundred years ago there was this bakery on Whale Tail Island that made nothing but tart pies, we should go there!
What would Toph say? That's what happens when you're not on good solid earth, Sugar Queen. Eat faster instead of like a little priss next time.
Appa and Momo wouldn't say anything, of course. They'd be too busy licking her to see if there were any bits of crust left. Then everyone would laugh, they'd fall asleep, and the next morning they'd be flying off to their next adventure.
Katara hasn't seen the sky since she fell into the catacombs.
***
One morning -- she's losing track, but she thinks they've been at sea for about four weeks -- just as their sparring session is beginning to really warm up, the doors open without a knock.
"Hello, Sparrowkeet."
Katara's water dome drops to the floor with a splash, and Zuko's fire bomb vanishes mid-air.
Azula's regal, relaxed face shows no sign of concern as she she walks in. "Don't stop on my account," she says, completely ignoring her brother's furious expression. "But your appropriate deference is noted."
Katara stays in her fighting stance.
The Fire Prince doesn't frighten her. The Fire Princess does.
Azula raises an eyebrow at Katara and holds up her hands in a mocking gesture of peace. "There's no need for that. You're spending too much time with my brother. He's got a flare for melodrama, as I'm sure you've noticed."
"It runs in the family," Zuko mutters. "What do want, Azula?"
"Want? Oh, I don't want anything." Azula might be the younger sibling but she looks every inch the heir apparent, from the tips of her blood-red shoes to the golden flame in her hair. "I'm only curious about what's been taking up so much of your valuable time, Zuzu."
Katara glances at Zuzu, who is flushing. "I'm training, Azula," he says. "Some of us like a challenge."
"I'm challenging. So is Ty Lee. So is Mai. Really, we're all feeling rather neglected."
"You're not Waterbenders."
Azula smirks. "You're right. We're not."
Katara prefers it when Azula's voice is hard; this cold sweetness is much, much worse. She doesn't dare relax her stance, and she has a grip on every single drop of moisture in the room, from the sea water on the floor to the sweat on Zuko's forehead. She could call it to her in less than a second -- which might still be too short a time to block an attack.
The Princess walks around Katara in a slow circle; Katara stays at the ready. "Where did you find the clothes?" Azula asks, glancing down at Katara's bare midriff and silk skirt.
"Some of the women on the crew," Zuko snaps. "What difference does it make?"
"No difference. She looks lovely, that's all. Almost Fire Nation, don't you think?"
Zuko looks away.
"And how about you, Sparrowkeet?" Azula is standing directly in front of Katara now, her smirk widening, her hands clasped behind her back. "Do you feel Fire Nation?"
Katara raises her chin and wonders if she could choke this girl on her own saliva.
"I asked you a question."
She remains silent.
Azula's eyes narrow for the briefest moment, then she turns away with a wave of her spiked fingers. "She's very polite, Zuzu. Father is just going to love her."
Zuko stiffens, but the barb doesn't hit Katara; she has no intention of ever seeing the Capital, much less the Palace. By then she will either have escaped or died in the attempt. The potential reaction of the Fire Lord to her insolence is hardly a concern.
"Well, don't let me delay your little playdate, brother." Azula looks Zuko up and down like a viper bat, ready to strike with or without provocation. "Like I said, I was only curious. You'd best get back to training... below deck... where there's no chance of the Avatar spotting our bait."
Azula is barely out the door before Zuko is stripping off his tunic. "What are you doing?" Katara demands, her muscles shaking now that the danger has passed.
"Teaching you," he says flatly. "There's a way to channel lightning through the body without harm. I learned it from Uncle. Watch my movements carefully, you have to get this right fast."
"Why?"
Zuko's pale skin is covered with bruises and frost burns from their daily battles. "Because Azula likes to break my toys."
***
They practice nothing but electric redirection for two days. Since Zuko can't produce lightning himself, there's no way to be sure she's doing it right; instead he simply drills her over and over and over on technique and the flow of chi. In one arm, through the stomach, out the other arm. In one arm, through the stomach, out the other arm.
"I really think I've got it," Katara complains, bored and irritable. "Can we do something else?"
"No. Again."
"But--"
"Again."
She throws a handful of water in his face -- not a bend, just a regular splash from the barrel. He sputters and, wet hair sticking to his eyelashes, gives her such an incredulous, insulted, childish look of indignation that Katara bursts out laughing.
The annoyance fades from Zuko's expression. His mouth curls up in a hesitant half-smile.
And because she hates that she laughed and that she doesn't hate the half-smile, Katara shoots a high-pressure stream at his chest and knocks him back fifteen feet. He quickly counters with a blazing kick and they're fighting again, the way they should be.
***
Katara has gotten so good at sensing the ship's vibrations that she thinks even Toph would be impressed. Given that she spends twenty hours a day in her room, it's not like she has much to do but study her surroundings -- and the only part of her surroundings that changes is the feel of the engine.
She knows when they're slowing down and when the captain has to steer against the weather. She knows when they're dodging icebergs and when they've stopped mid-ocean for repairs. And, of course, she always knows the tides.
She knows they're not making good time.
***
It's another day where they fight themselves to a standstill and end slumped against opposite walls, exhausted and panting. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to think. All of the water is steam in the air and it reminds Katara painfully of her trip to the spa with Toph.
Zuko gets up first. He crosses the room, limping -- he'd fallen hard when she'd turned a puddle beneath him into an ice slick -- and offers Katara a hand.
She turns her head.
After a long moment he withdraws, exhales smoke, and watches resentfully as Katara struggles to her feet. She desperately wants something to drink. It feels like every drop of moisture has been boiled out of her body.
Katara finds herself saying, "I'll take that tea now."
They don't speak on the walk to his quarters. She hasn't been to this part of the ship, and she keeps her eyes open for a window, a port hole, anything that might allow her a glimpse of the open sky. But apparently Zuko doesn't care for that sort of thing, because his accommodations seem to be below water level.
Katara realizes quickly that on a vessel this large, a Fire Prince is entitled to multiple private rooms. This particular room is small and more comfortable than she would have expected for her sparring partner, so she assumes it was furnished by someone else. The low table in the center of the space holds a tea set, as well as several small dishes of food. Cushions line the walls. A red Fire Nation banner is flanked by two sconces.
Katara settles on the floor and crosses her legs, back straight, determined to ignore her nervousness. Having only seen three rooms for more than a month has made her uneasy about changes in her surroundings... and to think that not long ago, she felt relaxed in a new town almost every day.
Zuko sits down. He wets his lips. He stares at her.
A minute passes.
Finally Katara raises an eyebrow and glances pointedly at the teapot. Zuko's good cheek turns bright red, and he lights the fire beneath the pot with a snap of his fingers. "Sorry," he mutters.
Katara doesn't really know how to respond, so she just shrugs.
Zuko lines the tea cups along a slotted tray. When he pulls out the gai lids as well and awkwardly pours water over them she realizes he's going to do the formal ceremony; it means she'd be here that much longer and this is already difficult, so she says quickly, "Don't worry about that. I'm just thirsty."
Zuko manages to look simultaneously disappointed and relieved.
There's an uncomfortable silence. Even if Katara were inclined to speak -- which she's not -- she has no idea what she would say. It's not as though she and Zuko have had any real discussions; they train, not talk. Sometimes they've gone several days without speaking a word to one another.
"Do you want something to eat?" Zuko asks suddenly. He gestures at the little plates of food. "It's fresh, the servants bring it in just before I--"
"I don't like spicy food."
"The dumplings are mild, it's only the dipping sauce that's hot--"
"No." Katara can feel her grandmother frowning from thousands of miles away, so she reluctantly adds, "But thank you."
More silence.
Finally the brewing is finished and Zuko fills the cups. She waits for him to drink first -- because you never know -- before taking a sip.
She spits it back out.
The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation glares at Katara as she wipes her tongue with a napkin. "What was that for?" he demands furiously.
"It's awful!"
"Uncle said it was bracing."
"He lied."
Zuko pours her some plain water with a scowl.
Katara senses weakness and decides to press her advantage. This is another sparring match, after all, just in a new format. "I bet your uncle's having a good time making tea for Aang."
Zuko's expression darkens further.
"In between all the firebending lessons, of course," she continues, taking a sip from her porcelain cup. "Aang's probably gotten pretty good by now. Better than you. Better than your sister. Better than your father."
"You're assuming," says Zuko, "that the Avatar is still alive."
"I know he is," Katara shoots back. "I healed him myself." But as she says the words she hopes Zuko doesn't notice how her heart is sinking. If everyone thinks Aang is dead it means he hasn't been seen; in other words, he hasn't tried to rescue her.
She tells herself this is a good thing. She tells herself this is what she wanted.
"You'll see," she says stubbornly. "He's alive. He's alive and he'll defeat the Fire Lord and he'll end this war."
"And then what?"
Katara frowns. "Huh?"
Zuko has set down his teacup; the fire of his bloodline is in his amber eyes. "The Avatar and the Earth Kingdom armies -- what's left of them -- are going to invade the Capital during the eclipse, right?"
The blood drains out of her face.
"Let's say they win. They won't, but let's say they do. Do you think the invaders are just going to go home afterward? You're not stupid, Katara. Think about it. If the Fire Nation falls then the Earth Kingdom will rule the world." His tone turns nasty. "Did you like the way Ba Sing Se was run? I didn't."
"No." Katara shakes her head slowly. "It won't be that way."
"What's the other option? Would you rather the Water Tribes control everything? Tell women they can only be healers or mothers?" His eyes flick to the carving Katara still wears around her neck. "Marry girls off to whoever can pay the most turtle seal shells or whatever it is you peasants bargain with?"
"Of course not! Aang wouldn't let that happen!"
"Oh, so the Avatar will rule?"
"No! The Avatar restores balance!"
"How?"
"I don't know, but he will!"
Embers glow where Zuko's fingers touch the table. "I take it back. You are stupid."
Katara is too furious to speak. She is only furious. She is very certain she is not hurt. She can't think of what else to do, so she bends water out of the teapot and douses the wood before it catches fire.
Zuko blinks at his soaked hands. The action seems to bring him back to himself; his shoulders slump and he pinches the bridge of his nose.
A few minutes later Katara has control of herself enough to mutter, "So why are you sharing your meal with a peasant, Prince Zuko?"
He looks down. His finger runs around the edge of his teacup, and then he says quietly, "You were nice. And... you didn't have to be."
"You're right. I didn't." Katara makes her voice like the southern tundra. "Don't worry, it won't happen again."
Her words effectively end the conversation.
***
She learns to conjure ice balls from the moisture in the air.
He learns to create a stable wall of fire.
They keep having tea. His brewing skills improve. She's not really sure why he bothers.
***
Today I cut Zuko's shoulder with a water blade then fought with him over who should get the last coconut butter cookie.
What would Sokka say? Well, it was a coconut butter cookie. Did you win?
What would Aang say? Maybe it would have been best to split the cookie. I hope you didn't get hurt.
What would Toph say? Sugar Queen, you are in so much trouble.
***
(Post B)
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: M
Characters: Katara, Zuko, Azula (K/Z)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warnings: Explicit sex, general darkness
Summary:
Ba Sing Se has fallen and Katara has been captured. She finds herself on a long journey to the Fire Nation... with only her enemies for company. Zutara one-shot. Post-S2 AU.
A/N: This is my first time writing for source material directed at the pre-teen set, so let me start by saying this is not a story for children. I know none of you young 'uns will listen, but I'll ask anyway: Adults only, please. I don't want an express ticket to the Special Hell.
This is not my first time writing in this format. It's actually one of my favorite narrative structures (and is ideal for roadtrip tales, of which I've written a dozen or so in my life; I'm a creature with simple tastes, what can I say). So my apologies to fandom crossover readers who are looking for something totally unique. Though the plot is different, the style will feel familiar.
Speaking of crossover readers: for those who have been waiting on my other projects, please direct your ire to likexaxdove . For those like the story, please also direct your appreciation to likexaxdove . This distraction is entirely her fault and she admits it. Thanks to her and cretin_me for soothing my ego as I went.
Though it is divided into two posts because of character limits, please consider this fic as a one-shot. The flow gets shot otherwise.
Anyway, enough chatter. We begin at the end of the season two finale, The Crossroads of Destiny.
Sparrowkeet
seems I'm damned to live a lie / unaware of what's outside
Chiasm, "Isolated"
The world glows white.
The Avatar rises.
The world splinters blue.
The Avatar falls.
Katara acts on instinct as she calls the water of the canals to her hands and wipes out the Dai Li in a single gushing wave. She rides the bend forward and catches Aang before he hits the stone floor.
The moment he falls into her arms she knows there is no life inside him.
She dully registers that fireballs are rushing toward her. For a moment she is sure that this is the end, that her flesh will fall from her bones under the joint strikes of the Fire Prince and Princess. Her arms are full of Airbender and she cannot block the attack. But then two blasts appear from nowhere and throw her assailants off their feet, and Iroh -- Iroh! -- is there.
"You've got to get out of here!" the former general shouts as flames shoot from his fists. "I'll hold them off as long as I can!"
She has to escape.
Except there is no life inside Aang.
If she runs it could be too late. She's already exhausted from the fight; by the time they are free she may not have the energy left to heal him, to save the only hope any of them have left.
She turns Aang over. She breaks the vial from the Spirit Oasis. She pours the water across the open wound in his back.
"Go! Now!"
She lays her hands on the Avatar and puts every ounce of her strength into the most important thing she's ever done.
The fire throws her backward, and when she hits the wall she passes out.
***
She's still on the cold stone floor when she hears voices. The smell of cooked meat is thick in the air, and for a fuzzy few seconds she thinks she's back at home waiting for Gran-Gran to finish roasting the seal steaks for dinner.
"You didn't have to do that."
"He allowed Uncle and the Avatar to escape. This isn't the time for one of your fits of compassion. This is the time to make an example."
"Burning a man alive isn't--"
"Zuko, we have taken the Earth Kingdom. We have done it in the name of our father. You have restored your rightful place in our family. We will be welcomed home as war heroes. Must we argue over methods of troop discipline at this exact moment in time?"
"...I guess not."
"Good. You can be such a wet blanket. Speaking of wet, is that peasant still alive?"
"I doubt it." The words turn bitter. "You struck her down."
"True. Still."
Katara keeps her eyes closed and listens to the approaching footfalls. She wonders if this is what Toph feels.
A foot wedges under her ribs and rolls her onto her back, and she cannot hold back a groan of pain. Everything hurts, especially her head.
"Oh, how annoying." There's a sudden, intense heat above her. Katara tries to flinch back, but her body doesn't obey. "Perhaps we should strip that robe off first. I detest the smell of burning fur."
"You're going to kill her?"
"No, I'm going to invite her to dinner. Yes, I'm going to kill her."
"Why?"
A snort. "Because, Zuko, she's a Waterbender who has supported our enemies and opposed our respective missions." The heat above flares hotter. "Also she cut my hair."
The next words come from directly overhead, instead of at a distance. "Keep her as a war prisoner," the other voice hisses. "I've been watching these people for months, Azula. Trust me, the Avatar will come for her."
"I didn't miss. The Avatar's some newborn at the North Pole by now."
"We can't be sure of that. You'd be amazed at how lucky he can be."
"I really don't have time for--"
"I'll take responsibility. She's... valuable, Azula."
A long pause, and then a colder laugh than should come from a creature made of fire. "If you want a pet, Zuzu, we could get a sparrowkeet. It'll eat less and smell better."
Silence.
"...oh, fine. I can't believe I forgot how sentimental you can be, brother." The next words echo through the cave. "Take the Fire Prince's new pet to my ship. If she fights or bends, don't hesitate to knock her out again. And don't be gentle about it."
The stone vibrates with the heaviness of approaching Earthbenders.
"Well? Aren't you going to thank me?"
A sullen, "Thank you."
"I hope your manners improve by the time we get home. Father doesn't care for rudeness. But I suppose you remember that, don't you?"
When several rough hands lift her from the floor Katara finally opens her eyes. She can't focus, but she can still make out the scarred face watching her impassively.
She is a Waterbender, and when she spits at his cheek, she doesn't miss.
***
It takes Katara two days before she's able to sit up without dizziness. It's another two before she can bend again.
Not that bending does her any good. At first she is confused about why they dare to shove small skins of tea through the slot in the door along with her rice -- until she tries to freeze the lock. It makes no difference at all, and most of the ice falls through the keyhole. The guard in the hallway laughs at her.
After that she drinks her tea instead of wasting it. A dried out Waterbender is a useless Waterbender.
***
Every evening she is taken to the bathroom by a member of the Dai Li, her hands cuffed behind her back with solid rock. There's no way to escape in there either, at least not that she can find in the sixty seconds she's allowed for each visit.
On one walk back to her cell she tries to simply run. She gets twenty feet. For the next three days they give her nothing to drink and she lays on her cot, too dehydrated to cry.
***
She wonders if Aang is alive. She thinks he must be. She thinks she would somehow know if he wasn't.
She wonders if he'll come for her. He'd want to. Toph too. Sokka, though -- Sokka can stop them. He will remind them of their mission: Prepare the Avatar for the day of Black Sun. Sokka is strong and capable of sacrificing his sister in the name of the greater good, even though it will kill him inside. If Iroh is still with them he will agree, and between the two of them they'll force Aang to keep his focus. Hopefully.
Katara doesn't want to die here, but more importantly she doesn't want Aang to die here. Everything hinges on Aang. He is the Avatar. Katara is expendable.
***
At night Katara comes to the conclusion that she is mentally defective. At least when it comes to boys.
She had believed him. All he'd had to do was say That's something we have in common and she'd caved. For months he'd chased them across the world with a blinding evil fixation, and in one little moment of apparent humanity she'd offered to waste her spirit water on his stupid face. Five minutes later he'd been whipping fire at her. He tricked her.
Not that he was the first. All Jet had had to do was mention his tragic past and then there she was, in his tree hut, worshipfully doing things that would make Gran-Gran shake her head with disappointment. And he'd just wanted to use her waterbending to kill innocent people.
Even Haru had gotten under her skin with all his talk about lost parents. Haru turned out to be honest, but she'd had no proof of that at the time. Twenty minutes of conversation and she'd been willing to get herself arrested for him.
She spends the long hours obsessing over an idiot she's been. Her compassion has been used against her time and time again. And the cave beneath Ba Sing Se was by far her most costly mistake.
She swears that this time she has learned.
***
After two weeks Katara notices a strange vibration in the metal floor. Shortly thereafter she feels a soft, gentle rocking. The ship has finally left port.
The water swaying her cell treats her to her best sleep since leaving the South Pole.
***
"Up, Waterbender."
Katara squints at the outline of the Dai Li in the doorway. Constant darkness has not done good things for her eyesight. "Why?" It's not time for her trip to the bathroom.
"The Prince wishes to see you. Make yourself presentable and follow me."
"Presentable," she grumbles under her breath. "Let me take a bath and wash my clothes, then."
A sneer crosses the guard's face. "That much water? How stupid do you think I am?"
Katara just looks at him.
The guard binds her hands with rock cuffs, then takes her up three flights of stairs and down a long corridor -- toward the center of the ship, she thinks. They come to a stop in front of a huge set of double doors, and when the guard knocks the sound of metal echoes.
If Katara gets out of this alive she never wants to see metal again.
"Enter," a rasping voice calls.
The guard turns the handles, and for a moment Katara can't decide whether it would be more defiant to walk in with her head held high or to plant her feet and make him drag her forward. She decides to walk. She is the daughter of the chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe, and their last bender to boot; if blood is so important to these people then she's entitled to just as much respect as the spoiled two-faced brat of the Fire Lord.
The empty room is large -- twenty feet high, forty feet long, thirty feet wide -- and it occurs to Katara that this ship must really be enormous. She'd been unconscious when brought in and hadn't gotten a look.
Prince Zuko is there and pacing. His hair is pulled back into a formal topknot and he's wearing red silk robes with the formal insignia of the Fire Nation. She's wearing a Water Tribe tunic that has nearly disintegrated with filth. She is a prisoner. He is royalty.
Aang would probably disapprove of how much hatred she feels right now.
Zuko looks up as they enter, and his strange yellow eyes widen at the sight of her -- the right far more than the left, of course. Then, to Katara's complete shock, he wheels on the guard. "Why does she look like this?"
The guard appears even more surprised than Katara feels. "I beg your pardon, Prince Zuko?"
"Why does she look like this?" Tiny flames lick at the Firebender's fingertips. "Where has she been kept?"
"In-- in the prison hold."
The flames creep up Zuko's knuckles. "What?"
Katara notes with some interest that the guard is clearly terrified. "Prince Zuko, I assure you, we received no orders to give the girl special consideration. She has been treated as a standard prisoner--"
"I'll decide how she'll be treated!"
The girl in question is lost.
Zuko looks away and takes a few heaving breaths. The fire disappears from his hands. "Unbind her and get out," he says. His tone reminds Katara more of the Prince at the North Pole and less of the boy in the cave. "Have a proper room prepared with appropriate safety measures. She's of no use to me in this condition."
Katara's blood goes cold as the guard's face lights with understanding. "Of course, Prince Zuko. Right away." The cuffs disappear from her wrists, the rock welding itself around the Dai Li's forearm.
Then he leaves, and it is just her and her enemy.
Katara can't let him have the first word. "Thanks," she says sarcastically, "but I'd rather stay in my cell. I don't care about being of use to you."
Zuko frowns -- and a tiny blush appears on his right cheek. "That isn't what I meant."
"Right."
"It isn't. I wouldn't--"
"Why not?" Getting flame-broiled is starting to sound like a more appealing fate every minute. "What's stopping you? It's not like you have any honor to worry about."
Her words have their intended effect: Zuko flinches as though he's been slapped. But he recovers quickly. "You could be a little nicer," he snarls. "You'd be dead under Ba Sing Se if it wasn't for me."
Katara gapes. "Are you kidding? You're the reason I was injured in the first place!"
"You were protecting the Avatar! I had no choice!"
"Of course you do! Everyone has a choice!"
"I don't!"
"Right, because of your precious destiny--"
"That's right!"
"So is it my destiny to rot here until someone uses me for fish food?"
"Forget it! If that's what you want, next time I'll let Azula finish the job!"
"I hope you do!"
Zuko makes a wordless noise of frustration and smacks his palm against his forehead, but Katara barely notices. Spots are appearing in her vision. Yelling takes effort and this is the most she's exerted herself in two weeks.
She sits down hard on the floor.
"Katara?"
"Leave me alone," she mutters as she wills the room to stop spinning. "Unless you'd like to get me a really big glass of water."
Obviously, he doesn't.
In a few minutes she's steady enough to look up at the Prince instead of just focusing on his boots. His expression is unreadable. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "You weren't supposed to be down in the cells."
She snorts in a way she learned from Toph. "I'm sure feather pillows will make being held prisoner much more fun."
"It might. So will real food."
She silently resolves not to eat a bite.
"Look, I thought you'd be in better shape right now. I have a proposition for you, but it can wait until you can... um... stand."
"I can stand," Katara snaps. "I'm just... choosing not to, is all."
She knows she sounds petulant. She really doesn't care.
The red boots shift, and then Zuko is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. It's another moment where she can't decide what is more defiant: to refuse to meet his eyes, or to stare at him full-on. She decides to stick with insolently studying the gold embroidery of his collar.
"You're a good bender," he says with the reluctant air of someone who's never been asked to give compliments. "Really good. A lot better than you used to be."
Katara squelches the little spark of pride in her chest. It's true. She was Master Pakku's best student, and since the North Pole her skills have only grown.
"And the Avatar has improved, which means you must be a good teacher too."
She is.
"So I want to fight you."
Katara does meet amber eyes at that. "Fight me?" In spite of herself, she starts to scramble backward. "That's not fair, that's cheating, there's no water in here--"
"Spar," he adds quickly. "Just spar. And not now. Once you're stronger." Zuko gestures around the empty room. "That's what this space is for: nighttime firebending practice, so no one sends up flares announcing the ship's location. You and I would use it during the day."
Katara stares at Zuko as though he's grown a second head. Maybe even a third. "Why? Why not practice with Azula?"
"I've fought her a thousand times. She doesn't have anything to show me. And Uncle--" Zuko falters briefly and looks away. "Uncle was able to invent firebending moves no one had ever seen before. He learned them by studying the Waterbenders."
She finds herself mouthing wordlessly for a few moments. She'd picked up a lot about Zuko in the past months -- his obsession, his selfishness, his arrogance -- but insane was an adjective she'd reserved for his sister. Apparently he hasn't escaped the family curse after all. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to help you learn better moves."
The temperature rises several degrees. "Not better," he snaps hotly, clearly insulted. "Just new."
"New, huh? So you can use them against me? So you can use them against Aang?"
Zuko jumps to his feet. "So I can use them against anyone!"
Katara's eyes narrow. So I can use them against Azula is what he doesn't say in that moment, but she hears it anyway.
That makes things a little different.
The Fire Prince paces again in short lengths. "It's not like there's no advantages for you," he says. "You'd get practice, too. Maybe you'll beat me." His tone makes it clear how unlikely he finds that.
Oh, she wants to beat him. "Even if I did," she reminds him, "it's not like I can get away. I can't just fly out of here." She knew the minute the ship put to sea that she was well and truly trapped, so there's no point in launching some grand escape plan. Unlike some people, she thinks things through.
"We won't be at sea forever. We're going around the Earth Kingdom instead of through it. That's a long trip -- two months, maybe. Once we're home, who knows what you could do. Maybe you'll be powerful enough to fight your way free."
Katara crosses her arms. "But what about Aang? Aren't I supposed to be bait?"
When Zuko doesn't answer, the pieces fall into place. Yes, she's bait, but that's not what Zuko had meant when he told Azula she was valuable.
She realizes the only reason he saved her is to study her.
"All right," Katara says.
Zuko's angry pacing stops abruptly. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh. Um... good." Her sudden, flat acceptance has clearly thrown him off. "I'd thought we would get started immediately, but I guess we should probably wait a few days. Until you're stronger."
"Right," she says. "Stronger."
The Waterbender can study the Firebender, too.
***
The new room is more comfortable. There's still a guard outside her door at all times, but now she has a real bed, a small table to eat at, a shelf with a half-dozen scrolls, and a new set of clothes. The latter are Fire Nation color and cut, exposing far more skin than Katara would prefer. She wears them anyway because they are clean, and tries to adjust to the air against her stomach and shoulders.
She even a tiny bathroom of her own. Katara spends hours with her hand on the tap, feeling out how the water runs through the plumbing of the ship. If she tries she could turn it to ice. The pipes -- all of the pipes -- would shatter. The ship would sink. She'd die, of course, but so would the only children of the Fire Lord.
But it would also mean drowning the crew. They are people with friends and family and Katara knows they're at war but it would still feel like murder.
She keeps the pipes clear in her memory anyway, just in case.
***
Her intended hunger strike doesn't last more than thirty seconds after the guard delivers a tray of dishes that make her mouth water. But the new food burns her tongue and blazes down her throat; she chokes so hard on the komodo chicken that she gulps down all of her tea in two swallows. Her nose stings every time she exhales and the only other part of the meal she'll touch is the rice.
Sokka would have eaten it. Sokka would have complained, but he would have eaten it. Meat is meat. Except when it's not meat. But if it tastes like meat, I guess that's good enough. Unless it doesn't taste like meat. Then you should get real meat. Mmm. Meat.
Katara wonders who is taking care of him. Who is taking care of all of them.
She thinks the guard must have heard her coughing, because dinner is plain fruit salad.
***
After four days Katara is fed and rested enough to be brought back to the training room. The Dai Li guard keeps her wrists bound in stone as they travel through the hallways. She's in better accommodations and clean clothes but she's still a prisoner, not a guest.
The double doors lock behind her, and the first thing she notices -- and how can she not notice it in an empty space -- is the enormous wooden barrel. She can hear the sloshing inside as the ship rocks.
Without thinking she pulls so hard that the barrel explodes outward, raining the room with splinters, and then she is encased in a cool, salty cloak of liquid. It takes no concentration to cover herself from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, and she absorbs the moisture through her skin like a frog.
Water.
Through her cloak she can make out muffled speech. Katara opens her eyes to slits and watches the blurry orange form of Prince Zuko standing a few feet away, waving his hand in front of her face, trying to communicate.
She knocks him off his feet with an icy fist.
An instant later she's throwing up a shield to block a fireball and then they are locked in battle, waves striking flames over and over and over and over.
In less than half an hour Katara is panting and shaking with fatigue, while Zuko is still deflecting her blows with annoying ease. That's all he's been doing, really: deflecting, deflecting and watching her technique. She knows she shouldn't make herself such an easy study but she's too angry to hold back now that she's got her element at her fingertips.
He tricked her, so she will fight until she literally can't.
That moment comes a few minutes later, when Katara is too slow to dodge the razor-thin flame that whips toward her. The crack echoes through the room and the searing lash slices into her cheek.
Katara staggers back, hissing. It hurts -- a lot -- and when she instinctively claps a palm against her face it hurts worse.
The light dims as the fire dies, and Zuko stands on the other side of the room, staring at her in horror.
Katara waves her free hand and shoots a few half-hearted ice spikes in his direction, but she drops them out of the air when he doesn't move to block. The fight is clearly over and it would be... cheating to just impale him like that when he's not even trying. She doesn't have to cheat to make him sorry. And she will, soon; even if she's lost this battle she will win the war.
When she moves her palm some of the skin pulls away; her eyes fill with pained tears as she probes at her cheek and assesses the damage.
"Stop, don't, that'll make it worse. I'll have the guard bring some lotus oil--"
"Don't bother." She kneels in the puddle at her feet; her red skirts cling wetly to her legs. Her reflection shows a long crimson welt running from her chin to her temple.
Katara places her hands flat in the water, closes her eyes, and exhales slowly. Cool energy -- life and growth -- pulses through her blood, and when she raises her fingertips to her face the pain vanishes almost instantly.
She's getting better at this.
After another quick stroke to make sure she's gotten all of it, she glances at Zuko. His sparring robes are soaked too. His fingers are on his own cheek and he's looking at her with a strange mix of jealousy and shame.
"I would have healed you," she says spitefully.
"I know," he replies.
The guard takes her back to her room; she sleeps solidly for several hours, then lies awake through the night.
***
They spar every day.
For the next few sessions he does nothing but block, and not very well. Like he's doing some kind of penance. As though he's surprised burns are a consequence of lobbing fireballs at people when he, of all people, should know better.
But Katara realizes she's misjudged the situation when she suddenly finds herself dodging a series of flaming rings that careen through the air at amazing speeds. The rings look, move, and feel suspiciously like her ice discs.
She curses at Zuko with language that would make her father's warriors blush. She curses louder when he smirks at her.
***
She focuses on his footwork. The way his waist twists and his shoulders rotate. How his bending is sharp and forceful in places where her bending would be smooth and fluid.
Her water whips begin to move more like fire whips. They become thinner and faster, and one afternoon she jerks her wrist and forms an ice blade on the end just before it strikes his arm. If he notices the blood dripping from his elbow, he doesn't show it.
***
Her stamina catches up to his quickly. Before long the matches have extended from twenty minutes to nearly two hours, with high sparks and low ebbs, of course. The explosions from their bending must be felt around the ship, because whenever the guards come to collect her they look like they never quite believe she and the Crown Prince are still alive.
Every evening she stands by the sink and repairs her bruises and aches from the day's training. By the next morning she is always ready to fight again.
She doesn't know how her partner is managing, but he can't keep it up forever.
***
"We need... better vents... in here," Zuko wheezes, spread-eagled on his back.
Katara nods against the iron floor.
They have discovered that hitting jets of fire with jets of water over a long period of time only results in a lot of evaporation. Katara gave up first because the effort of constantly reforming the steam sapped her strength, but it was close because Zuko had had to work twice as hard to maintain flames in the sticky air.
Given that they are both half-conscious on the ground, Katara figures it counts as a draw.
The humidity is wretched, even worse than the Foggy Swamp. Katara closes her eyes and blows out slowly; the condensation nearby freezes into tiny ice crystals and the space around her body cools thirty degrees.
For a moment she watches Zuko continue to gasp like a dying koi. Then -- because she always felt sorry for the twitching, struggling nets the men would haul from the sea -- she makes a weary gesture in his direction.
Snowflakes melt against the Firebender's face, and his breathing becomes steadier. "Thank you," he says hoarsely.
Katara grunts in acknowledgement and rolls onto her side.
***
The next day Zuko asks her to have tea with him.
Katara refuses.
As she's led back to her room she hears a thud that sounds a lot like a water barrel hitting a metal wall.
***
Every night before she goes to sleep she plays a game called What Would They Say?
It goes like this: Katara thinks of something that has just happened, something she would have shared over the campfire. Today a wave rocked the ship and my tart pie fell off the table.
What would Sokka say? Did you catch it? No! Oh, lovely tart pie, we hardly knew ye...
What would Aang say? It's okay, Katara, we'll get you another one. A hundred years ago there was this bakery on Whale Tail Island that made nothing but tart pies, we should go there!
What would Toph say? That's what happens when you're not on good solid earth, Sugar Queen. Eat faster instead of like a little priss next time.
Appa and Momo wouldn't say anything, of course. They'd be too busy licking her to see if there were any bits of crust left. Then everyone would laugh, they'd fall asleep, and the next morning they'd be flying off to their next adventure.
Katara hasn't seen the sky since she fell into the catacombs.
***
One morning -- she's losing track, but she thinks they've been at sea for about four weeks -- just as their sparring session is beginning to really warm up, the doors open without a knock.
"Hello, Sparrowkeet."
Katara's water dome drops to the floor with a splash, and Zuko's fire bomb vanishes mid-air.
Azula's regal, relaxed face shows no sign of concern as she she walks in. "Don't stop on my account," she says, completely ignoring her brother's furious expression. "But your appropriate deference is noted."
Katara stays in her fighting stance.
The Fire Prince doesn't frighten her. The Fire Princess does.
Azula raises an eyebrow at Katara and holds up her hands in a mocking gesture of peace. "There's no need for that. You're spending too much time with my brother. He's got a flare for melodrama, as I'm sure you've noticed."
"It runs in the family," Zuko mutters. "What do want, Azula?"
"Want? Oh, I don't want anything." Azula might be the younger sibling but she looks every inch the heir apparent, from the tips of her blood-red shoes to the golden flame in her hair. "I'm only curious about what's been taking up so much of your valuable time, Zuzu."
Katara glances at Zuzu, who is flushing. "I'm training, Azula," he says. "Some of us like a challenge."
"I'm challenging. So is Ty Lee. So is Mai. Really, we're all feeling rather neglected."
"You're not Waterbenders."
Azula smirks. "You're right. We're not."
Katara prefers it when Azula's voice is hard; this cold sweetness is much, much worse. She doesn't dare relax her stance, and she has a grip on every single drop of moisture in the room, from the sea water on the floor to the sweat on Zuko's forehead. She could call it to her in less than a second -- which might still be too short a time to block an attack.
The Princess walks around Katara in a slow circle; Katara stays at the ready. "Where did you find the clothes?" Azula asks, glancing down at Katara's bare midriff and silk skirt.
"Some of the women on the crew," Zuko snaps. "What difference does it make?"
"No difference. She looks lovely, that's all. Almost Fire Nation, don't you think?"
Zuko looks away.
"And how about you, Sparrowkeet?" Azula is standing directly in front of Katara now, her smirk widening, her hands clasped behind her back. "Do you feel Fire Nation?"
Katara raises her chin and wonders if she could choke this girl on her own saliva.
"I asked you a question."
She remains silent.
Azula's eyes narrow for the briefest moment, then she turns away with a wave of her spiked fingers. "She's very polite, Zuzu. Father is just going to love her."
Zuko stiffens, but the barb doesn't hit Katara; she has no intention of ever seeing the Capital, much less the Palace. By then she will either have escaped or died in the attempt. The potential reaction of the Fire Lord to her insolence is hardly a concern.
"Well, don't let me delay your little playdate, brother." Azula looks Zuko up and down like a viper bat, ready to strike with or without provocation. "Like I said, I was only curious. You'd best get back to training... below deck... where there's no chance of the Avatar spotting our bait."
Azula is barely out the door before Zuko is stripping off his tunic. "What are you doing?" Katara demands, her muscles shaking now that the danger has passed.
"Teaching you," he says flatly. "There's a way to channel lightning through the body without harm. I learned it from Uncle. Watch my movements carefully, you have to get this right fast."
"Why?"
Zuko's pale skin is covered with bruises and frost burns from their daily battles. "Because Azula likes to break my toys."
***
They practice nothing but electric redirection for two days. Since Zuko can't produce lightning himself, there's no way to be sure she's doing it right; instead he simply drills her over and over and over on technique and the flow of chi. In one arm, through the stomach, out the other arm. In one arm, through the stomach, out the other arm.
"I really think I've got it," Katara complains, bored and irritable. "Can we do something else?"
"No. Again."
"But--"
"Again."
She throws a handful of water in his face -- not a bend, just a regular splash from the barrel. He sputters and, wet hair sticking to his eyelashes, gives her such an incredulous, insulted, childish look of indignation that Katara bursts out laughing.
The annoyance fades from Zuko's expression. His mouth curls up in a hesitant half-smile.
And because she hates that she laughed and that she doesn't hate the half-smile, Katara shoots a high-pressure stream at his chest and knocks him back fifteen feet. He quickly counters with a blazing kick and they're fighting again, the way they should be.
***
Katara has gotten so good at sensing the ship's vibrations that she thinks even Toph would be impressed. Given that she spends twenty hours a day in her room, it's not like she has much to do but study her surroundings -- and the only part of her surroundings that changes is the feel of the engine.
She knows when they're slowing down and when the captain has to steer against the weather. She knows when they're dodging icebergs and when they've stopped mid-ocean for repairs. And, of course, she always knows the tides.
She knows they're not making good time.
***
It's another day where they fight themselves to a standstill and end slumped against opposite walls, exhausted and panting. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to think. All of the water is steam in the air and it reminds Katara painfully of her trip to the spa with Toph.
Zuko gets up first. He crosses the room, limping -- he'd fallen hard when she'd turned a puddle beneath him into an ice slick -- and offers Katara a hand.
She turns her head.
After a long moment he withdraws, exhales smoke, and watches resentfully as Katara struggles to her feet. She desperately wants something to drink. It feels like every drop of moisture has been boiled out of her body.
Katara finds herself saying, "I'll take that tea now."
They don't speak on the walk to his quarters. She hasn't been to this part of the ship, and she keeps her eyes open for a window, a port hole, anything that might allow her a glimpse of the open sky. But apparently Zuko doesn't care for that sort of thing, because his accommodations seem to be below water level.
Katara realizes quickly that on a vessel this large, a Fire Prince is entitled to multiple private rooms. This particular room is small and more comfortable than she would have expected for her sparring partner, so she assumes it was furnished by someone else. The low table in the center of the space holds a tea set, as well as several small dishes of food. Cushions line the walls. A red Fire Nation banner is flanked by two sconces.
Katara settles on the floor and crosses her legs, back straight, determined to ignore her nervousness. Having only seen three rooms for more than a month has made her uneasy about changes in her surroundings... and to think that not long ago, she felt relaxed in a new town almost every day.
Zuko sits down. He wets his lips. He stares at her.
A minute passes.
Finally Katara raises an eyebrow and glances pointedly at the teapot. Zuko's good cheek turns bright red, and he lights the fire beneath the pot with a snap of his fingers. "Sorry," he mutters.
Katara doesn't really know how to respond, so she just shrugs.
Zuko lines the tea cups along a slotted tray. When he pulls out the gai lids as well and awkwardly pours water over them she realizes he's going to do the formal ceremony; it means she'd be here that much longer and this is already difficult, so she says quickly, "Don't worry about that. I'm just thirsty."
Zuko manages to look simultaneously disappointed and relieved.
There's an uncomfortable silence. Even if Katara were inclined to speak -- which she's not -- she has no idea what she would say. It's not as though she and Zuko have had any real discussions; they train, not talk. Sometimes they've gone several days without speaking a word to one another.
"Do you want something to eat?" Zuko asks suddenly. He gestures at the little plates of food. "It's fresh, the servants bring it in just before I--"
"I don't like spicy food."
"The dumplings are mild, it's only the dipping sauce that's hot--"
"No." Katara can feel her grandmother frowning from thousands of miles away, so she reluctantly adds, "But thank you."
More silence.
Finally the brewing is finished and Zuko fills the cups. She waits for him to drink first -- because you never know -- before taking a sip.
She spits it back out.
The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation glares at Katara as she wipes her tongue with a napkin. "What was that for?" he demands furiously.
"It's awful!"
"Uncle said it was bracing."
"He lied."
Zuko pours her some plain water with a scowl.
Katara senses weakness and decides to press her advantage. This is another sparring match, after all, just in a new format. "I bet your uncle's having a good time making tea for Aang."
Zuko's expression darkens further.
"In between all the firebending lessons, of course," she continues, taking a sip from her porcelain cup. "Aang's probably gotten pretty good by now. Better than you. Better than your sister. Better than your father."
"You're assuming," says Zuko, "that the Avatar is still alive."
"I know he is," Katara shoots back. "I healed him myself." But as she says the words she hopes Zuko doesn't notice how her heart is sinking. If everyone thinks Aang is dead it means he hasn't been seen; in other words, he hasn't tried to rescue her.
She tells herself this is a good thing. She tells herself this is what she wanted.
"You'll see," she says stubbornly. "He's alive. He's alive and he'll defeat the Fire Lord and he'll end this war."
"And then what?"
Katara frowns. "Huh?"
Zuko has set down his teacup; the fire of his bloodline is in his amber eyes. "The Avatar and the Earth Kingdom armies -- what's left of them -- are going to invade the Capital during the eclipse, right?"
The blood drains out of her face.
"Let's say they win. They won't, but let's say they do. Do you think the invaders are just going to go home afterward? You're not stupid, Katara. Think about it. If the Fire Nation falls then the Earth Kingdom will rule the world." His tone turns nasty. "Did you like the way Ba Sing Se was run? I didn't."
"No." Katara shakes her head slowly. "It won't be that way."
"What's the other option? Would you rather the Water Tribes control everything? Tell women they can only be healers or mothers?" His eyes flick to the carving Katara still wears around her neck. "Marry girls off to whoever can pay the most turtle seal shells or whatever it is you peasants bargain with?"
"Of course not! Aang wouldn't let that happen!"
"Oh, so the Avatar will rule?"
"No! The Avatar restores balance!"
"How?"
"I don't know, but he will!"
Embers glow where Zuko's fingers touch the table. "I take it back. You are stupid."
Katara is too furious to speak. She is only furious. She is very certain she is not hurt. She can't think of what else to do, so she bends water out of the teapot and douses the wood before it catches fire.
Zuko blinks at his soaked hands. The action seems to bring him back to himself; his shoulders slump and he pinches the bridge of his nose.
A few minutes later Katara has control of herself enough to mutter, "So why are you sharing your meal with a peasant, Prince Zuko?"
He looks down. His finger runs around the edge of his teacup, and then he says quietly, "You were nice. And... you didn't have to be."
"You're right. I didn't." Katara makes her voice like the southern tundra. "Don't worry, it won't happen again."
Her words effectively end the conversation.
***
She learns to conjure ice balls from the moisture in the air.
He learns to create a stable wall of fire.
They keep having tea. His brewing skills improve. She's not really sure why he bothers.
***
Today I cut Zuko's shoulder with a water blade then fought with him over who should get the last coconut butter cookie.
What would Sokka say? Well, it was a coconut butter cookie. Did you win?
What would Aang say? Maybe it would have been best to split the cookie. I hope you didn't get hurt.
What would Toph say? Sugar Queen, you are in so much trouble.
***
(Post B)