Disclaimer: I make no claim on the characters of Avatar: The Last Airbender. They belong solely to their creators, and I garner no profit from their usage.

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Morning, noon, and night, Katara would talk to herself.

There was no shame in such behavior. When faced with lifelong imprisonment ( as far as one could tell, particularly if the captor was brought into the equation ), what other alternatives were there?

The sound of her own voice kept her sane. It exercised the atrophying muscles of her throat, turned raw and strained by even the most simplistic speech: the painful result of a lack in usage.

"Aang... oh, Aang... where are you...?"

Daily "visits" by the reigning heir to the Fire throne were treated with relative indifference. Even when the younger girl baited her with venomous promises regarding the decimation of her tribe, response was limited to a brief glance, eyes unfocused and fingers splayed unthreateningly at her sides.

As soon as those booted footsteps were undetectable, signaling the Princess's departure, she would once again slump against the discomforting wall that served as her enclosure and surrender to renewed despair.

The apathy displayed by the normally impassioned Waterbender bewildered Azula beyond allocation, and she would get to the root of this problem one way or another.

Fortunately, she was adept in the realm of stealth maneuvers – she always seemed to know what pillar to stand behind; which corner was the shadiest and would conceal her the best; which area of the floor to step on, to keep her footfalls as muted as possible.

In a test of her finely honed sneakiness, she would be "treated", so to speak, by the unrestrained weeping of her captive.

"...Aang... please... I need to see you again..."

To divulge something so heartfelt; so personal... likely, the peasant was heedless of her presence. While such began as her original intention, she found herself tempted by the notion of revealing herself and putting an end to the shameful display of emotion.

But, to her growing displeasure – perhaps going a step beyond; to her horror – prolonged exposure stoked the onset of jealousy each time the Avatar's name was repeated between sobs; unconscionable envy flooded her senses in condemnation of the recipient to such an emotional outpour, driven to agony by cruel separation.

A mere child was the object of such need. Infuriating.

She had never been jealous before; was never given a reason to be. "Born lucky," gifts of the highest degree were lavished upon her from the moment her father first held her in his arms. She was only familiar with the vice through her brother – who, to this day, harbored an insatiable longing for everything she had.

Upon the unforgiving floor sat this Water Tribe peasant, arms wrapped tightly about her knees as her head lolled to the side, weighted down by the expansion of her grief. Her entire body convulsed to the rhythm of fallen tears; strangled gasps marked each intake of air as the girl struggled to achieve the normally simple function of breathing.

The internal torment wracking the form of the Waterbender once meant nothing to the Fire Princess...

...and should continue to mean nothing.

Every so often, when the dark-skinned girl felt she'd caught her breath to a sufficient degree, she'd choke out that dreaded four-letter assault on royal ears.

Azula lacked the understanding of the mechanics behind such puzzling behavior. Emotion itself was a subject of limited knowledge to her, as her own range had never reached the pinnacle of development. You could say she was born without the capacity to feel – she would live her life forever alienated from the deepest, most meaningful facets of the human experience – and be correct in your assessment.

The only thing she knew with certainty, was that she craved the attention showered upon the absent Avatar, for better or worse.

She'd left without being seen, a strange – yet not entirely unpleasant – sense of purpose filling her.

Days went on – still, the Water Tribe girl proved unmoveable; uncured from her languishing. That which would quell her grief would never come to her rescue, the sardonic Firebender vowed.

And such an immoral promise would be reinforced to her prisoner in verbal form.

"He's never coming back for you."

"He abandoned you."

"You'll never see him again. You should move on with your life."

Each declaration was treated as a lie – and whether or not Katara was gifted ( burdened? ) with extraordinary foresight would forever remain a mystery – but Azula persisted, in the hopes of breaking what remained of the older girl's spirit.

It always ended in failure. Because, in her heart of hearts, Katara knew Aang would never abandon her; never falter in his quest to free her and be held in her comforting embrace once more.

Slowly, but surely, the Fire Princess came to understand this ( as much as her stunted capabilities allotted her ).

Time to up the ante a bit.

"The Avatar is dead."

Katara inclined her tear-stained face to the source of the sordid statement.

"Did you hear me? He's dead."

Tangled brown hair, free from its usual bonds, spilled over the Waterbender's shoulder as her head tilted in calm assessment of Azula's honesty. "...You're lying."

The younger girl started. "Of course not. I have no reason to."

Settling her chin upon her knees, Katara fixated a cool blue gaze upon her jailer. "It's almost like you're... jealous, or something."

An indignant snort. "Jealous of a child?"

"Well, why do you keep making up these lies about him? Can't you let me grieve in peace? Do you get a thrill out of seeing me cry?"

"I told you because it's true. Whether or not you choose to believe me isn't my problem."

"Mm..." and Katara, for the first time in weeks, allowed herself a private grin; "...okay. Thank you for telling me, then. I can finally move on with my life."

Having missed the other girl's expression in the cloak of darkness, the Firebender nodded and took her leave. Had she a normal understanding of emotions, she would have noted the strange shift in the Waterbender's mood, regardless of visible facial expression... the odd lack of grief that was to be expected at such a crushing revelation.

But, alas, it was lost to her.

And now, the tables had turned. The provoker would soon become the provokee.

Staying locked up in a Fire Nation dungeon was far removed from Katara's idea of fun, but she'd finally found something to make her stay less unbearable: the future discomfort of her captor.

There's a lesson to be learned here. Don't mess with things you don't understand, Azula.