Chapter Three
Katara was appalled.
"Excuse you? I'm not somebody's chattel! And I especially am not yours."
"Yes you are," he answered with conviction. Zuko's stare, smoldering hot, held her swallowed nervously as the heat seemed to roll off him in waves.
"You are mine. Mine to fight, mine to take, mine to kill, and mine to spare. When we engaged in mutual combat, I chose you, marked you for myself. You are mine, and I will not allow some common bilge-rats to touch you."
Zuko shook his head wryly, before speaking again.
"You don't even realize it, do you? Why you sought me out alone, kidnapped me off my own ship – I bet you didn't even tell your little friends," he murmured with a small smirk. "You slunk off into the night, on a clandestine mission to capture me and face me one-on-one. Do you deny it?"
Katara was rooted to where she stood, a look of apprehensive horror dawning on her face.
"No," she breathed.
"Yes – and you took the initiative this time, little waterbender. Not me."
With that he pounced on her, faster than she ever could have imagined, evaporating the waters at her feet with a wave of fire that burned white-hot and firmly placing her in a submission hold. Katara thrashed wildly as he dragged her off the beach and into the jungle, ignoring her frantic attempts to escape and screams of fury.
"LET ME GO!"
"I think not," he replied calmly, searching for a suitable spot to conduct his own interrogation.
"It seems that turnabout is fair play, peasant," he purred with delight, then cut a nearby length of vine and bound her arms behind her back, securing her to a tree.
"Now... we are going to have a little chat," the prince said with a dark smile.
Katara shook with abject and profound terror, fearing what would come next. She desperately searched for a body of water, any body water, trying with all her might to summon the oceans to wash him away. Yet immobilized as she was, the only 'waterbending' she could manage was to stop the tears that threatened to spill.
"Where is the Avatar?" he said simply.
She lowered her head and remained silent, not trusting her voice to remain steady.
Zuko grabbed her head, and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
"I asked you a question. I answered yours, now you answer mine."
"I will not," she choked out, gritting her teeth.
"You had your chance," he said simply.
"Remember that while you may have brought me here thinking to seek answers, you simply allowed me the chance to ask questions of my own."
Katara flinched at her own stupidity, swallowing as though she could prevent the rise of the cold dread gathering in the pit of her stomach.
What was I thinking?
Zuko stepped away, then disappeared from view as he walked behind the tree. She heard rustling, the sound of armor and clothing shifting, and then he reappeared, this time holding a flask.
"What is that?" she asked, instantly throwing together an escape idea. If she could bend the liquid inside of it, then maybe she could form an ice dagger!
He ignored her, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink, his eyes closing briefly as he swallowed the unknown liquid. When they reopened, they seemed to burn brighter, regarding Katara as though he could see into her soul.
She coaxed the fluid, feeling it move slightly, but it didn't seem to respond to her attempts at freezing it.
What kind of stuff is in that?
Without any warning, Zuko pulled her braid and tilted her head back, forcing the flask into her mouth. She sputtered at the warm sting of strong alcohol, but he continued, forcing the remainder down her throat as she coughed and choked. Her stomach flipped, then seemed to burn, an indescribable heat radiating from her center throughout her body. She felt the tension release as her thoughts grew muddy, and she felt as though she was swimming.
Fifteen minutes passed, an eternity of alcoholic numbness to Katara, as she hung limply against the vines. Zuko inspected her carefully, watching the rise and fall of her chest slow as her body absorbed the whiskey. It was an expensive brew, imported from deep in the Fire Nation, an extremely strong blend that had aged 18 years in fine fire-oak barrels. One flask could keep him drunk all night, and the swig he took earlier burned hot in his stomach still, a fuzzy release from the tension he felt. He appraised her slowly, ignoring the urge to undo her hair and examine her more intimately.
"Where is the Avatar," he asked again, his voice rough from the whiskey.
Katara opened her eyes, a swimming vision of two Zukos before her.
"That's a secret," she mumbled, defiant even in her compromised state.
The prince felt a spark of irritation, but quickly stopped it and took a different approach.
"You can tell me your secrets," he coaxed softly. "You can trust me, I won't to hurt you."
Katara stared into his eyes, lost in the luminous gold of his stare.
My secrets...
"I— I dream about you at night," she confessed. "—sometimes you kiss me."
Zuko froze in place.
That was... unexpected.
