Author's note: Yeah... no self control. It's a theme, here.
For those of you waiting on HMPB, it is NOT abandoned. The new chapter is almost ready and should be up within the coming week. I am *REALLY* sorry to all of you for keeping you waiting for so long! Once again, I hope this goofy little side-fic might appease you until I get my act together.
Oneshot, Part Two (eyeroll)
Katara's arms were very, very tired. They had the sluggish, unresponsive feeling of limbs that hadn't been made to work this hard before. Of course, the waterbender was no stranger to hard work – everyone worked at the South Pole – but the combination of the unfamiliar flapping motion and the chilly water sapped the strength from her with alarming speed.
And the speed at which that ship was approaching was alarming, too.
For a while, Katara had thought that she was being released, that the Fire Prince had decided that he didn't actually want a prisoner after all. The waterbender had watched the ship speed off into the distance, the space between them fed by a combination of the steamer's engines and Katara's clumsy, instinctive bending. When the dark blob in the distance turned broadside and began to grow larger again, she had squawked in alarm and redoubled her efforts, but it was no use.
Katara cast a desperate eye over her shoulder, scanning the horizon for any speck of land, any place she might hide, but there was nothing. She stopped paddling and just treaded water for a time, catching her breath and watching as the black ship drew nearer. There was no way she could outpace its engines and, now that the adrenaline had dropped to a simmer in her system and she could think clearly, she realized that marooning herself at sea wasn't actually the best idea, anyway.
The waterbender wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious aboard the Prince's vessel, so she had no clue how far she was, now, from the island where she and the boys had made camp. She didn't even know which direction she should be going; she could guess, but if there was one thing she had learned in her travels with Aang, it was that the ocean was very, very big. Even if she did pick the right general direction, it would be all too easy for her to miss the island the boys were on and send herself even further out to sea.
Much as Katara detested the thought of giving up and just allowing herself to become Prince Zuko's prisoner, running wasn't a viable option – not now, anyway – and continuing would just wear her out and make her docile when he eventually did catch up to her. While fighting single-handed against a ship full of Fire Nation soldiers wasn't really likely to end in a victory for the waterbender, either, she didn't want to seem too agreeable when they took her aboard. She had her pride, after all.
So, Katara bobbed in the waves as the steamer approached and consoled herself by plotting her escape even before her capture.
Zuko drew away from his spyglass with a frown. "The Water Tribe girl has stopped fleeing. Lieutenant Jee, have the men prepare a net!"
Stoic as ever, Jee only blinked. "Yes, sir."
As the gray-haired officer strode off to follow orders, Iroh cleared his throat. "Prince Zuko, perhaps it would be more gentlemanly to offer her a rope ladder? She is a young lady, after all… not a fish."
The younger firebender turned a scowl on his uncle. "I don't care if she's a young lady! She's an escaped prisoner and she'll be netted like any other creature we drag out of the sea!"
"Of course, of course. My mistake." Iroh linked his hands behind his back and stood beside his nephew, watching the dot that was Katara grow larger.
After a moment, Zuko spoke again, his tone more moderate. "Uncle, why do you think she stopped trying to escape? Could she be planning some kind of attack?"
"I do not know, my nephew… Perhaps she has grown weary or is unsure of which way to go." Iroh's face split into a sly grin and he cast the other firebender a sideways glance. "…or perhaps she has decided that she does not mind being your prisoner so much, after all!"
The Fire Prince shot his uncle a dark look before commanding the helmsman to reduce speed and stalking off to the lower deck.
Katara stared up the side of the ship, squinting to pick out the distant shapes of soldiers peering down at her. They heaved something overboard and, before she could react beyond taking a breath and ducking her head so that her face wouldn't be hit, a net came down on top of her. The rope was heavy and she found herself submerged, then entangled as she tried to resurface. It was actually a relief when they began hauling her up – at least then she could breathe.
During her ascension, the waterbender's annoyance grew with each upward jerk so that, when the net was finally overturned and she tumbled to her belly on the deck, Katara was contemplating murder. She rose slowly to her hands and knees, water dripping from her clothes and tangled hair, and found herself glaring up into the smug face of Prince Zuko.
He stood with hands braced on his armored hips, the warlike tail of his hair flipping in the wind. Behind him stood his pensive uncle and a handful of soldiers, but Katara's point of fierce focus went no further than the smirking Fire Prince.
"So, you gave up. I guess you're a smart girl, after all." His patronizing tone made the waterbender's lip curl up in a sneer. The firebender seemed even more amused. "Get up, water peasant – unless, of course, you're not through wallowing on my deck like a landed guppy-trout."
Steady and seething, Katara rose to her feet. The wind cut through her wet clothes as if they weren't even there, but she focused on slow, deep breathing and on looking her enemy in the eye. She clenched her jaw to stop its chattering, but did nothing to fight the deep scowl from her face.
Prince Zuko went on, expression that of a man who knew authority as his right. "You are now a prisoner aboard my ship and I suggest you cooperate, as a gesture of your gratitude for my leniency in regards to your pathetic attempt at escape."
Standing fully erect, Katara still had to tilt her head up to glare at him. In fact, her chin lifted to exactly the same angle she used to scold Sokka, which was perhaps part of the reason for her words. The other part of the reason was probably the cold, leaching any lingering good sense from her.
"Go soak yourself, P-prince Hotpants."
Prince Zuko glared down his nose at her for a long moment, then spoke through gritted teeth. "Men, take the prisoner to the brig."
Katara became suddenly aware that there were guards behind her as well and, as one of the men approached her, she drew a water whip up from the puddles in which she stood. The liquid cracked against his armor before returning to the bender's side – and splashing impotently to the boards beneath her. She glanced around at the ring of men surrounding her, teeth bared, and iced over the water lingering on the deck. A couple of the soldiers toppled over and one man found his boots frozen down, but the others rushed in and became a wall of grabbing hands. Katara flailed against them, but quickly found herself restrained by a man at each arm. She yanked against them, but they were too heavy, too strong.
"I see you've been practicing that ridiculous whip technique," the Prince still glared down his nose at her, as if the struggle hadn't even occurred. "Think of your time here as a chance to hone that skill – you clearly need it." His tone sharpened. "The brig. Now!"
With that, Katara was hustled away down some stairs and into the dark belly of the ship.
Finally, with the Water Tribe girl out of the way – Prince Hotpants? Who did she think she was? – he could focus again on his mission.
Zuko stood at the prow of the ship, glaring out over the sea to the west. The sun was edging toward the horizon and, beyond that, his home. It seemed impossibly far away but, with the girl aboard, he felt he was getting closer. Somewhere, the Avatar was searching for his lost friend. Inevitably, the boy would catch up. The Fire Prince could only hope that he would be ready when the time came.
That had been his mistake in the past – a lack of preparation. This time would be different. This time, he would train harder, longer. He would do away with his uncle's stupid tea breaks. He would train every hour that the sun gave him. In fact, the sun had some hours yet to offer today…
"Uncle!" Prince Zuko spun on his heel, only to find the startled old man sitting at his little table just a few paces away.
Iroh's wide eyes quickly relaxed as he smiled, looking a bit self-satisfied. "Do not trouble yourself, my nephew. It is already taken care of!"
"I must train, Uncle. The Avatar could catch up with us at any time. I need to be ready to…" The younger man pulled up short. "What is taken care of?"
"Oh, many things are taken care of, Prince Zuko." Iroh began ticking items off on one hand, clutching some game tiles in the other. "The prisoner has been given dry clothes and blankets to stay warm – I have always been amazed at how cold it becomes in the brig on these old steamers! I also ensured that she had some rice and hot tea because you can never be too-"
"She hasn't been back on the ship for an hour and you've already fed her?" Zuko peered at his uncle, narrow-eyed and incredulous. This did not seem like proper treatment for a war prisoner…
Iroh ignored his question and laid a tile down on the board before him, peering thoughtfully at those remaining in his hand. "Yes, my nephew, you make a valid point. I am told the cook plans to make dragon-tern stew with the last of the dried meat, tonight. Not, of course, that he has complained about the stock of the galley, but he has expressed some desire to make a stop for supplies."
Zuko paused a beat before gnashing his teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. "No. We are not stopping this ship. I need all the time to prepare that I can get and going back to catch the water tribe girl has already slowed us down too much. No stops."
The old man cast him a woeful look, holding his hands helplessly out to his sides. "Nephew, if we do not stop at some point, we will be reduced to eating only the rice with the bugs in it that the cook hung onto in case of emergencies."
"I don't care! I'll eat bugs without the rice if it means catching the Avatar!"
Iroh frowned at his nephew and laid the last of his tiles in a heap on the table. "Prince Zuko, are you feeling alright? Perhaps you should sit here with me and have a hot-"
Zuko flung one arm sideways, sending a dazzle of sparks over the ship's side. "No, Uncle! I don't want a hot cup of tea or a game of Pai Sho or… or… a girl or whatever ridiculous thing you are about to offer me. I want to train. I must train."
The old man let out a breath. "Very well. Begin with Phoenix Pierces The Moon and work backwards to Crane Drops His Guard…"
Katara was very pleased with herself. She burrowed into the blankets layered over her simple rope bed in the brig, warm and dry. It was amazingly nice to have enough food to eat after the past few weeks of hunting for every nut and wild fruit. With a belly full of rice and tea and weariness weighing her limbs, the waterbender was beginning to drowse, secure in her own brilliance. After all, she had gone to prison on purpose before – how different could this be?
Of course, she had had the support of her friends and a mass of rebelling earthbenders, that time. And she had had the secret of her waterbending. Not to mention, the prison was just a rig at sea rather an actual cell with locks and bars…
Katara sighed and peered through the dimly-lit room of cages toward the guard, who sat at a low table, apparently playing some kind of game. He seemed to be stuck, stroking his lower lip with one finger as he thought. The waterbender shut her eyes and focused on making a brilliant decision… rather than a big, unfixable mistake.
Then, things started exploding.
The blasts were distant, but Katara would recognize the familiar sounds of firebending anywhere. She shot upright amongst the blankets in her bed, staring wide-eyed at the guard.
"What is that? Is the ship under attack?"
The armored man released a slow sigh and did not look up, shifting one of the game tiles on the table before him. "No. The ship is not under attack."
He seemed content to leave it at that, but Katara climbed from the bed and gripped the chilly bars of her cell, determined. "It sounds like there's a lot of firebending going on up there. Aren't you even a little concerned?"
The guard cast her a dry glance, his drooping moustaches only further emphasizing his lack of enthusiasm. "I would be more concerned if I didn't hear the Prince training."
Katara blinked and frowned at the ceiling of her cell, through which the blasts still rumbled. She waited a moment longer, but when the guard only went on playing his game and the cold of the steel floor began to sting her feet, the waterbender clambered back into the rope bed. She lay on her back, now too on-edge for sleep.
After a while, she began to pick out patterns in the rhythms of blasts as the Prince practiced the same set of forms over and over and over again. Occasionally, there would be long silences and Katara would begin to doze off, only to startle awake as the activity resumed with renewed vigor.
It crossed her mind that, if Aang was as determined in his training as the Fire Prince, he would probably have already mastered water... not that Katara would criticize Aang for a lack of dedication… Well, maybe just a bit.
But that, of course, didn't mean that she would praise Prince Zuko. He was a terrible person whose only ambition was to snuff out the world's last hope for peace. He hunted her friends like animals and clearly had no consideration for anyone on the planet but himself. Actually, the most positive thing about the Prince that Katara could think of was, 'He could be worse.'
She rolled onto her side and covered one ear with her blankets, trying to muffle the sounds. She couldn't muffle the memory of the furious Prince looming over her, gripping her thighs with steely hands, pressed against her in the most intimate position she'd ever found herself in with a boy. There had been a terrible second when she realized that she might be about to pay an unthinkably high price for being brave…
…but the look in Zuko's eyes when he fully realized the implications of what he was doing…
He had looked like nothing more than a startled kid in his dad's armor. Katara had never seen a Fire Nation man blush, before – she hadn't realized that they were capable – and the memory of it stuck with her pleasantly. But so, too, did the memory of his golden eyes – the enemy's eyes – roaming her body, coming to rest between her legs.
He could be worse.
