She is still beautiful, even with the weight of all things collapsing around her. Anger etches wrinkles into her brow, scarring the once perfect skin that was praised and loved. Her eyes are deep with sorrow and remorse, and she clings to any hope she has of life and happiness. Foolish thoughts had clouded her mind when she had set foot in this land, thinking that love was the only thing she could control and live for. Foul words and cold handcuffs betrayed her, bruising her spirit and flesh, making her a slave, and follower, a worshipper. Only in body, but never in mind had she surrendered, and her mouth had proved that. Deep cuts on her back and bruises on her cheek had been the response. She would stand and live, if not for herself, then for the others around her who's pride had been shattered and will broken, only for her to show hope.
Her ears catch someone approaching and she coils up and clenches her fists, only to see a small child. The boy is light in complexion, similar to her captors. His eyes are a dark amber, and they remind her of the fires that lit the skies the day she had been exiled.
"Miss, I have a message from the Royal Guard."
She nods her heavy head and darts her ice eyes up to him, only to study his boyish features, and she smiles inside.
"This way, Miss."
His tiny dirt covered hands scramble with the lock before her cell door squeaks open, and she clings to a metal handle on the wall. Her body seems heavy and for a minute her knees buckle, before she regains her strength. Callused feet follow the small patter of the boy, and she passes several hallways before coming to a simply lit door. It is pushed open to reveal a lavish office of some kind, and she grimaces as her eyes adjust to the light and sees the colors she has been dreading.
Red, black, and gold tapestries and furnishes are scattered throughout, and her torn up blue robe seems to stand out among the burning crimson of the uniforms the guards wore.
"Your name, girl."
The man was stern in his features, his mouth turned in a permanent grimace and his eyes ablaze with hunger. She frowned and did not say anything. He was outraged by her silence, and he jumped from his chair and slamed his fists into the deep oak of the desk.
"I will have your name."
His face is young but wretched with hate, and she cannot help the small feeling of pity. To be raised to hate so deeply...she could not imagine. His dark hair almost covers his eyes, and she notices a burn.
He is furious now, stalking over to her and grabbing her shoulders with firm, calloused hands.
"Your name." He hisses out in her ear, and she quells her overwhelming fright. Calm and steady eyes meet fiery passionate ones, and she whispers.
"Katara."
The darkness of the cell consumes her again. Her eyes are heavy and her limbs tired, as she has not slept for days. They don't let her rest here, only work and suffer. She is called back to the room every day, to meet with the general and to get questioned.
She has burn marks from every visit.
"I will have you do something for me."
He seems vulnerable, asking her a favor. She feels the need to smirk, but remembers the heat of fire on her skin and decides to stay quiet.
"Go back to your tribe. Go back, and tell them we let you free."
She is not foolish, and knows a trap when she hears one. She feels his heat draw close, and she glances up into the glowing red. Her fists clench and her toes curl, but she smiles.
"I am exiled. They will not accept me. Find another pet for your dirty schemes, Zuko." The way she spits his name is an insult, befitting the dirty plans he makes. He growls and slaps her across the cheek, leaving her mouth bleeding. Fists encircle her chained wrists and she stares defiantly at the face that has tormented her for weeks, and she knows that she will never lose to the likes of him.
"If you EVER address me with that name again, you will not see the light of day!"
He throws her to the floor and calls the guards to take her away.
She has gotten used to seeing the little boy everyday, bringing her stale bread and dirty water. He looks like a mix between earth and fire, and she wonders if that is why he is a servant. He seems spirited, and she wonders what brings him such joy.
She decides to ask him one day.
"Miss, here is your bread and water." He drops the wood flank underneath the bars and she smiles, touching the bread lightly.
"What is your name, little boy?" she uses her sweet voice,the one her mother used to use all of the time. He smiles and leans closer to her.
"Zuko."
The name shocks her, and she stares at him for a while, and wonders if he is related at all to the person who has caused her nightmares.
"It's the only reason I am serving under his majesty. He says I remind him of himself when he was a boy."
Her blood runs cold as soon as she hears 'majesty'. He is royalty?
"So, the general is royalty?" she asks timidly, and is afraid of the answer she might get.
"Yep! The Crown Prince."
"You know, Royalty shouldn't be treated like this."
Zuko almost spits out his ginger tea, and Katara bites her tongue to hold her laughter. It's become a game now, seeing how angry she can make him.
"And you are royalty? I hardly believe that." Zuko and Katara are usually alone in the office, but today three advisors are with him. One of them pipes up.
"The Princess of the Water Tribe is not you, little girl. Her name is.." The advisor's eyes grow wide and glance over to the awaiting Prince.
"Katara Selari Winowe." The advisor glances over to Katara and a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. Zuko strides over, gripping her shoulders and stares blankly into her eyes.
"You are the Princess of the Water Tribe." Zuko is not asking for an answer, he is making sure. She looks up and stares him down with the will of a thousand people.
"Yes."
He smirks. She is now horrified, realizing how much danger she has subjected herself to. He draws close, making her uncomfortable. His finger scorches down her cheek, and chills overwhelm her. He draws close to her ear, and whispers.
"You have no idea how happy that makes me, water tribe."
She has had nightmares ever since he uttered those words. He has let her sleep, maybe on purpose so she fears him even more. He hasn't seen her in five days.
Today she is greeted by him, at her cell.
"Unlock her. Future Fire Nation royalty don't stay in cells."
Her eyes widen in unspeakable terror and surprise. She stares into those dark amber eyes and she knows he was planning this all along. To break her, and then to trick her and humiliate her. Her mouth opens to say something, but her vocal cords are paralyzed. The little boy comes over to unlock her shackles, and she looks at him with pleading eyes. He doesn't glance up at her even once, knowing that doing so will get him punished. She finds courage in the little boy.
When she is free from chains, she stands and walks over to him. Her newfound energy is from days being held under his jurisdiction just so he can torment her. She feels like she is the one on fire.
"This better be some sort of joke, Prince." Her face is unrelenting and downright threatening, but steel is not so easily defeated by water.
"Now now, princess. I am being nice, so maybe you can stop being such a bitch and actually listen."
Her eyes flare up in frustration, and seeing a cup of stale water from a prisoners lunch, she throws her arm toward Zuko and water flies at his face. She is instantly pinned to the wall by hard arms. He seethes and spits in her face.
"We are going to get married. You will actually be a princess, not some water tribe peasant. Do want to know why?" He ground her wrists into the stone wall and Katara whimpered. His hands heated up, and Katara felt her skin burning. "You will be flaunted as a Fire Tribe Princess. And your little water tribe," he squeezes her burning wrists, "will know how bad of a leader you are. And your people, Katara?" His hands move from her wrists to her neck, squeezing and pinching. "They will be broken, and weak. And we will crush them."
He drags her limp, marred body out of the cells and through the trees of the inner prison walls. When he reaches his cabin, one she had never been to before, he throws her inside.
"Change clothes. I don't want the servants to confuse you as one of them."
She lies on the bed she recognizes as his and cries. She cries mostly for herself, the servant boy, and the peasants of this horrid nation. But she also cries for Zuko.
The marriage takes place five days later at the Fire nation capital. Katara remembers everything about that day as if she were trying to press it into the very corners of her mind. She remembers the cool silk the servants dress her in, a floral pattern of white dancing on red. She remembers the weight of pins in her hair and ornaments, tugging at her scalp until tears threaten to form in her eyes and she bears the pain. She remembers walking in front of a watching city, hearing the whispered traitor traitor until it's buzzing in her ears and the only thing that stops it is her mouth opening to say I do.
The ironic thing, Katara thinks, is that she doesn't want to remember it at all.
Later in the day, after the celebrations of the wedding are starting to dim down, Katara has a chance to sit by herself and she gladly takes it. Her toes are burning from being pinched into delicate little shoes, and her neck is tired from supporting the mass of jangle hanging from her head. A sigh escapes her as she leans back and closes her eyes, letting her defenses drop so she can breathe.
Zuko.
The very word, the sound of the harsh k across her thought makes her nose twitch in agitation and her nails dig into her thigh. She hadn't kissed him at the ceremony, thankfully that wasn't part of Fire Nation customs, but he had smirked when she said the final words to it all. He had kissed her hand (later she washed it off in the bathroom until her skin bled) and then left to join the crowd. He had been surprisingly distant through the whole process, she would have thought him to be watching her suffer through it all.
"My Lady?"
Katara flicks to alertness and looks over where the young servant girl is standing. Her smile is plastered as she bows and sweetly addresses her.
"My Lord requests your presence in the royal suite."
Katara thinks that for a second, her heart stops. The wedding night. Of course, the one thing that every nation recognized, and the one thing that Katara forgot about.
She follows the servant to a grand doorway covered in dragons and gold and the girl pushes it open lightly. The door swings open easily and reveals a ember colored room, dark and saturated in its colors. Katara thinks it is supposed to be passionate, but to her it is just a room filled with ugly colors, ugly men, and an ugly memory.
Zuko is sitting on the bed, his eyes burning a dark yellow and his face a stone mask. The servant girl leaves before Katara can stop her and the door slams shut, and she wonders briefly about the heaviness of it. Her eyes flick over to him and he doesn't smirk, doesn't speak. He quietly walks over to her.
Katara flinches when his hand gently touches her cheek, and he sighs. His voice is a low whisper.
"I'm sorry." And then he brushes her mouth with his, and it takes all she can not to kiss back.