A/N: Day 3 prompt: Steamy

The direction that I went with this chapter was a bit different. Rather than having a literal "steamy" moment, I chose to go a bit more subtle in a sort of "oh no, he's hot" sense. My apologies for how late this chapter has been. I struggled with choosing how best to execute the age-up from the earlier chapter. If there is any confusion, by the end of this chapter Katara is about 14 and 3/4 and Zuko is well into being 15.


There was an imperceptible change in the air after the accident on the boat. Katara tried to continue the rest of the journey in the usual manner of avoiding attention, but she couldn't seem to slip the gaze of those around her. At meals, she felt the eyes on her. They never lingered for long, but it only took another moment for a different soldier or favored guest to turn their attention to the waterbender.

It almost would have been more bearable if the change had been accompanied by attempts to speak with Katara. She remained an outcast. Zuko avoided the public events and feasts for most of the journey, encouraged to rest by his ever-attentive mother. When the ship finally began its trek back to the capital, Katara breathed a sigh of relief. Once back in the familiar halls, things were sure to return to normal. Her skin would stop crawling when she stepped on deck and the story of the prince's near-drowning would fade to old gossip.

The Fire Lady visited Katara once more on the evening before they would return to port and begin the final leg of the journey. Katara sat cautiously on the edge of her bunk, watching the woman settle herself onto a cushion on the floor. This time Katara wasn't going to be caught off guard by an embrace.

"I've spoken with my husband," Ursa began, her hands tucked delicately into the folds of her robe. "It was… an interesting conversation." The subtle smile on her face promised that interesting didn't truly reflect how the conversation went.

Katara tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Lady Ursa waited patiently and didn't speak. So, this was how things were to be. "What did you talk about?" Katara asked through clenched teeth.

The Lady's smile widened. "Why, you my dear," she answered as though it had been obvious.

Katara hated this exchange with every fiber of her being. The forced niceties. The way that Ursa regarded her with such familiarity as though they spoke nightly with one another. She missed being able to retreat behind her silence. But no, now that the tiger seal was out of the cave there was no going back.

"Have I done something to displease the Fire Lord? Maybe I could have been a bit less noticeable saving his son from his own idiotic decisions?" Katara spat.

The jab had no noticeable effect on Ursa. She continued to smile at the young girl with understanding and compassion. It was nauseating. "He was pleased, actually, that you were there in that moment to help save Zuko from drowning. As was I. That allowed me to discuss with him something that had been brought to my attention from one of Azula's teachers," Ursa explained.

Katara stared, unblinking. This had to be some sort of trick. Why wouldn't the Fire Lord blame her for Zuko's accident? She had expected punishment, not praise. "I know that you expressed a desire to learn not just academics but sword work as well," Ursa continued. "I will be speaking with Master Folah about making time to begin your training. You will be allowed to learn the ways of the blade."

The world tipped and Katara went with it, her head landing on the bed with a thump. "This must be a dream," she whispered, staring at the drapery above her bunk. The golden threads danced in the air in dizzying patterns.

Katara had to give Ursa a modicum of respect. She felt a hand touch the back of her hand and heard the Fire Lady ask her if she was alright. Other than that, the woman didn't raise a fuss. Katara nodded and closed her eyes to try and regain her sense of balance. She had resigned herself to misery and an honor-less existence in the Fire Nation. But if she could put her time and effort into mastering something then perhaps she could dream of a future beyond the palace walls.

"It isn't a dream, but there is a cost," Ursa said, her voice turning bitter. Katara sat up and glared at the woman through the haze. "Please consider it a request from a mother rather than a requirement handed down from my husband. You must protect Azula and Zuko."

"Protect them from what?" Katara laughed bitterly. "Too late of a bedtime? Falling prey to their sweet tooth?" The restriction was nothing, a hassle that would be easy to bear.

Ursa twisted her grip to take both of Katara's hands into her own. Her focus was intent just as it had been that odd conversation before the victory tour. Katara regretted dropping her guard; she didn't feel comfortable with the woman acting so familiar with her. "I know that I have no right to ask you this, but I must. Please, Katara. Protect them," Ursa begged. "I won't always be there to but you can be."

Katara nodded slowly. "Alright. I swear. I'll protect them."


Tapping her fingers on the hilt of the practice sword, Katara sat next to the training field. She was behind in what Zuko had learned, always behind. Two and a half years of training under her belt and still she was not equal to Zuko. As such, she was delegated to practicing whenever the prince's lessons had been completed. "When you are closer in skill then we may have you train together," Master Folah promised. It felt empty, accompanied by a smile that never went to his eyes. There was no honor in training a captive how to fight, no matter that she tried harder than the crown prince on some days.

Late in the afternoon, the sun would be dropping behind the outer rim of rock that shielded the capital city. Katara would squint through the deepening shadows to make out the footwork she was supposed to master. Even once the torches and braziers along the walls were lit, it was difficult.

She refused to give up, however. Week by week and year by year, Katara had improved in her technique. Footwork was the easiest aspect. There was something to the steps and twists that felt second nature to the young girl. Working in the blade work in harmony with the sets was where Katara began to struggle.

"I get how to do one and the other, but not together," she had growled to the swordsman one evening early in her training. He had laughed and said that would always be so until she accepted the sword as an extension of herself. From that moment on, Katara brought the blade with her everywhere, trying to form a connection to the length of steel.

It helped to a certain degree. Pacing the matted floor of her room, Katara would drill through the sets she'd been taught that day. Through muscle memory and sheer willpower, she drove to catch up with the prince.

This afternoon Katara focused on the prince's drills once again. They were a window into what she would eventually be asked to learn, to a certain point. Zuko had a different path where his training accentuated the dual blades he used. Katara's training had always been with a single blade. It was more traditional, Master Folah told her. Katara didn't much care for tradition, but she had no significant reason to deviate from it. Her skills were improving and she was, for a few short hours a day, happy.

Zuko's training today was on countering attacks with a single blade, which Katara could use. The retaliating move with his off-hand, well that wasn't as transferrable. She watched the quick-fire cross steps that Zuko used to create space between himself and his opponent. They didn't flow well with the intent of the drill, Katara reasoned. It broke up the flow of motion between parrying and retaliating as he retreated only to re-engage.

"Again," Master Folah insisted. Zuko snarled - he was turning into a spitfire teenager as he passed his thirteenth birthday - and smacked his practice opponent's blade too harshly with the parry. Katara giggled as the soldier reflexively jabbed at the opening the maneuver created and knocked Zuko off balance.

It wasn't the first time that Zuko had fallen in training; everyone fell, including Master Folah. Still, his cheeks flared red and Zuko glared pointedly away from where Katara was sitting. "We're done for the day," he growled.

Katara lurched to her feet and readied her own weapon. She didn't bother to watch him leave, at least not intentionally. As she moved through her first set of warm-up maneuvers, Katara caught a glimpse of the prince crouched down by the doorway. He was staring in her direction, his expression unreadable in the shadows.

She wasn't given time to consider what his staring meant as the next time she faced that direction, Zuko was gone.


Lady Ursa's olive branch of training still had the nasty thorns of spending time with the two royal children. Whenever they left the palace, whether it be for shopping in the Upper Ring or to visit the Fire Sages for a special lesson, Katara was to be by their side. At those times, she felt the most exposed, not in the least because they were outside of her comfort zone. Within the palace they were always under the watchful eye of the Imperial Guard. Katara didn't have to think about her promise to the Fire Lady when there were highly trained soldiers at every corner.

In the city streets, however, there was uncontrollable chaos. Katara kept a small dagger on her belt - Master Folah had been branching her training out to include close combat defensive training with it - and made sure that neither royal were too far from her. Azula treated it as a game, testing Katara's patience as she often tried to slip her attention and then chide her for her terrible skills.

"You're only a year older than me anyhow," Azula griped one afternoon as they took a carriage back to the palace. "You saved Zu-zu from drowning once and that means you're good enough to be our bodyguard? Pah."

Katara resisted the urge to tell the girl to complain to her mother if she didn't like it. Fear resided in the back of her mind that if Azula - or Zuko - did just that, Katara would have her one enjoyable hobby stripped from her. Instead, she laughed off the comment.

"Well I'm not trained all the way yet," she agreed. "And you still have other guards, too. I think-"

"I don't care what you think," Azula interrupted. She was staring out the window of the carriage, unamused. Katara hadn't played her little game by getting indignant, and now the princess was sulking.

Katara smirked and looked at Zuko. He moved to stare at the roof of the carriage quickly. "I don't want to talk about this," he mumbled. "I don't care that Katara comes with us places."

Azula scoffed, turning back to shake her head in dismay at her brother. "You don't care that someone's following us, or you don't care that it's Katara who's following us?" she drawled. "There's a difference."

"There is not," Zuko insisted. The tips of his ears went red and he refused to make eye contact with either girl.

Katara took pity on him. She didn't care one way or the other what Zuko thought of her following the pair of them. It was her responsibility and she was just glad that one of them respected it. "Master Weylan could be following you around and Zuko still wouldn't care. That's how little he is affected by all of this," she said with a laugh. None of the youths enjoyed their time they spent with their wide-set history teacher who wanted to drawl on eternally about the regimes of the past.

"He's gotten over it, maybe you should, too," Katara added.


The war dragged on. Victories were celebrated and losses mourned. Katara remained distant from the reports that Zuko poured over and Azula scoffed at. While one of the Fire Lord's children threw himself into learning everything he could about military strategy, the other focused only on her own personal strength.

Even to Katara's untrained eye it was apparent that Azula was a far superior firebender to her older brother. She mastered the basic techniques that her instructors taught her and devoured the intermediate lessons. Watching Azula spar was like a master course in determination.

Zuko had the same dedication to learning, but his natural talents were not in bending. His sword work progressed even as his firebending hit a plateau. When he wasn't working in the training grounds, Zuko was shadowing his uncle in strategy meetings. The great Dragon of the West seemed a gentler hand than the Fire Lord, and even though Zuko barely rested, he was growing more confident every time that he entered the meeting chambers.

Taking advantage of Zuko's long absences, Katara was afforded the opportunity to fully stretch herself and train in earnest with Master Folah. She was older now, nearing fifteen, and the greying trainer was finally regarding her with some respect.

"I had thought you would give up on the craft," he had admitted at the beginning of the summer.

Katara took it as a challenge and made a deal with him that day. If she could show perfection in every training set she'd learned thus far, he would consider taking her on as an apprentice when she was of age. That had driven her motivation for the entire season and now as it approached autumn, Katara was becoming more and more anxious.

What if she couldn't perfect the move sets? What if the whole deal was impossible to accomplish and she was working towards a foolish goal? Master Folah gave her no indication of what "perfection" meant, only that she had yet to achieve it.

"Again." Katara didn't even wait for the words to leave his mouth before she set herself up in the starting position. She stared down her opponent, a trainee soldier with a dulled blade twin to her own. The soldier didn't flinch, staring down Katara with passive golden eyes.

Step, step, swipe wide, fall back. Katara's sword buzzed when it passed through the air, not colliding with the woman's padded jerkin. She had mis-stepped with her right foot and not properly placed herself to make the blow. The rest of the sequence was useless as the woman slapped Katara's side with the flat of her sword.

Laughter rang out from a corner of the training yard. Katara ignored it and paced back to her starting position. Again. Step, step, swipe wide, fall back, kick out and twist. Get back up from the trip and move to starting positions. Again. Step, step, swipe too wide with a tired wrist. Don't give up, this is all there is. Swordplay and dinner before sleep before doing it all over again.

Katara finished the set once sloppily and again with only a shuffling misstep. Master Folah grunted out mild encouragement and critiqued the misstep. Shoving her sword into her belt, Katara turned to him. "I'm not making significant progress on this today. I don't think my head's in the right place," she admitted.

He lifted a fuzzy, grey eyebrow. "Will you always be in the 'right place' during a fight?" he pressed. "You're free to give up the lesson, I welcome going home to my family before the sun's set for once, but consider the why."

Had she not been tired, Katara might have risen to the challenge. However, it was the end of the week and all she could think about was how soft her bed was compared to the sandy training ground. Waving a hand, Katara said, "I'll take this as my first poor attitude day. I can practice the set some more on my own and get more confident on that final kick."

Her master shrugged and departed after thanking the soldier they'd been working with. Katara also bade her farewell. There was a rotating cycle of assistants to Master Folah, none of which seemed to care that they were helping to train the captive waterbender. Interest in her had pleasantly died down over the years.

She checked her practice blade for damage and exchanged it for the sharpened one she had been permitted to wield in her protection duties. Katara was about to leave for her room when a dark-haired shadow emerged from under the awning. "Having issues with your set?" Prince Zuko asked, a wry smile on his face.

Katara mirrored his smug expression and leaned against the weapons rack. "Just stuck in a rut. I think I need to clear my head. Overthinking is my downfall," she replied. Zuko had never commented on her fighting abilities before. Katara wasn't certain why he would now.

"You hate that practice sword," he stated with a shrug.

"Who doesn't? They're clunky and never as balanced as an actual blade," Katara bit back.

Zuko's smirk widened. "You're not wrong," he admitted. The prince approached her and Katara tipped her head.

"What?" she asked. He had a glint in his eye. "You're in a good mood."

He nodded eagerly. "I've got good reason to. There's been talk of great things in my future," he said.

Katara waited to say anything. She didn't need to coax him to explain further when he was this excited. The last time she'd seen him this animated was when they had snuck out - under Katara's watchful eye - to go to the Ho'Wan carnival while it was in town. Zuko had that same bounce in his step that he'd had that evening.

"They want to give me my own command," he blurted out. "A ship. A squadron of my own. Marching orders."

The air turned to ice and Katara's smile faded. "You're going to war?" she murmured. Every ounce of her being screamed out. Zuko couldn't leave the palace, least of all to join the men and women on the front. He would be too far away for her pledge. Katara's stomach dropped. If she left the palace to follow him, she would have to protect him from Earth Nation troops.

She would have to pick a side.

Bile rose in Katara's throat. She closed her eyes and focused on her meditation techniques to calm the storm inside of her. She heard Zuko's reply but the words drifted in and out her ears without understanding. "I'm sorry, you have to give me a second," she whispered. The weapons rack became her anchor and she clung to it, her knuckles white.

When Katara opened her eyes, she saw the confusion alight in Zuko's expression. His excitement was gone. "I said 'not right away.' It's not official and I've only heard rumors through Uncle," he explained dully. "I thought… never mind. I should have realized otherwise."

The wave of emotions eased off. Zuko wasn't leaving now. It wasn't official. Katara didn't have to go to war. She could remain at the palace for a while yet, safe and happy and impartial.

She forced her cocky smile to return and moved to punch Zuko in the arm, all in good fun of course. "Don't freak me out like that. I haven't figured out how to split myself in two yet," she joked.

Zuko's shoulders relaxed and he rubbed his arm. "Damn Katara, that hurt," he joked. "We need to get you a different hobby so you don't kill Azula and me by accident."

Katara barked out a laugh. "If I'm going to kill either of you, it will be entirely on purpose," she said. Zuko raised an eyebrow at her threat and Katara's stomach did another tiny flip.

"You think you could take me?" he said with a growl. "Go on and try!" He drew his broadswords, separating the pair in a smooth motion.

Katara bared her teeth in a feral grin. Now this was sparring. Her hand went to the practice weapons behind her, but Zuko made a tct noise, shaking his head. So they were throwing caution into the wind, then. Katara drew her own weapon, hefting the double-edged sword in her hand. It was heavier than the practice version and the grip was more suited to her hand.

"Last chance to back out," she warned Zuko as they began to circle one another. All her years of observing the prince were about to be tested.

He broke the cycle first, diving to the side to slash at where Katara was about to step. She leapt over the low strike, her own weapon guarding for the inevitable follow through with Zuko's second sword. When their blades clashed, Katara pushed forward and spun, smacking the flat of her sword against his next blow.

She was on the defensive, darting and dancing to avoid the rapid-fire blows that he was able to execute with the pair of blades. Each parry and riposte was met with equal force and ferocity as they tested one another's abilities.

"You have more stamina than I would have thought for your frame," Zuko huffed when they broke apart. They circled one another again, eyes darting to find the next weakness that would give them the advantage.

Katara didn't waste her breath replying, exhaling as she crossed the distance once again. Zuko swung randomly to disrupt her plan and Katara ducked to avoid the blow. Her legs coiled, Katara shoved off into an arcing leap. Her intention was to land behind Zuko and strike him there, but he was already moving, guarding, darting in for the offensive.

It was a deadly dance. Katara's heart pounded in her chest and the world around her felt more crisp and alive than it ever had. She fought to match Zuko's every move, attacking when he was exposed and falling back when he retaliated. Pride dictated that she not lose.

She had already been sweating before they'd begun and now Katara felt miserably warm. Zuko was breathing heavily, too, his forehead slick. She took too long to consider his sweat-streaked brow and was forced on the defensive. Step, step, swipe wide, fall back to defend. Kick out an ankle to catch Zuko on his, twist to bring him down to one knee. Katara darted in and kicked one twin blade out of his grasp.

Her own blade danced in front of his throat. Katara let the tip rest there for a moment, pressed against his flesh as he swallowed heavily. "Alright," Zuko breathed. "You were right."

Katara smirked and took her sword away from his throat. "I told you I could kill you," she gloated. "Not that I would want to."

Zuko took her extended hand and she pulled him up. He shook his head, which irked Katara. She was right. "Not what I meant," he panted. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of the hand still holding a sword. Spirits above, Katara could feel how heat emanated from him at so small a distance.

She let go of his other hand with a jerk and stepped away. It felt… wrong to stand so close. Zuko's expression fell slightly before he, too, moved. He collected his other sword and sheathed both silently.

"Katara," he said quietly. She looked at him expectantly. Twisting to study the area around him, Zuko didn't immediately continue. Only when he studied every corner of the training grounds did he approach her once again.

Katara tried to step away when once again he entered that bubble of "too close" space, but he followed her and gently touched one of her shoulders. "You have talent," he murmured, his voice barely carrying between their two huddled heads. "You shouldn't waste it just on broadswords."

What was he going on about? There wasn't anything else to "waste" her time on. She hadn't even mastered this skill yet. Katara was about to pull away from his grip when he said something that froze her in place.

"I want to teach you what I know about bending so that you can waterbend for real," Zuko whispered.


A/N: One last thing: I threw in a lowkey reference to one of my all-time favorite classic Zutara fics by Vicki So - The Ho'Wan Island Carnival. It's the first in a trilogy and it's an amazing ride.