"We need to talk." Zuko's declaration echoed off iron walls. He sat across from the waterbender with the expanse of a table between them. "Admiral Zhao's men will board soon and learn of you—undoubtably while searching my ship." He bristled as he said this.
The waterbender yawned. She straightened from a slouch with her arms stretched, relishing in her freedom from bondage. Back arching, her spine played like a xylophone. Twisting, it cracked clamorous as a clash of cymbals. Notes of the neck, knuckles, and toes followed: the tuning of a stiff vertebrate. Then she composed herself, smugly silent.
Zuko sat blinking thorough the concerto. Katara's lack of subluxations was a marvel. He shifted in his seat thinking he would deserve much worse in the next few minutes than a broken nose.
"I have not been kind to you, but I'm no villain. Not like the Admiral," he said.
Katara sing-songed a reply. "You're all devils to my eyes."
The Prince folded his hands together and cleared his throat. This was serious business. If Katara listened—if she really listened—she may understand what he was choosing to do was in her best interest.
"I am powerless against Zhao." He grimaced. "When he learns of you, he'll steal you away." The Prince waited for Katara to mirror his own concern, but she afforded him no indication. She just lounged in the seat and swung her legs.
"What's the food like over there?" She chewed a lock of hair like it was cud.
Zuko still regarded her warily. "I need legal rights to you. A theft charge would incur a scandal he cannot afford."
She pursed her lips as though the hair tasted pungent. "You say I'm your prisoner. What more do you want from me?"
"Prisoners can change custody, but ownership is binding."
Katara's snorted. "Ownership? What am I? Livestock?"
"I have to claim you. It's the only solution." He fell short of looking Katara in the eyes. His gaze fell back to her puckered mouth.
She spit out the hair. "Speak frankly, Prince." Then she cut him off before he could put in a word. "If you're thinking of making me your concubine—"
Zuko choked on saliva and spiraled into a coughing fit. He wheezed around his words. "I'm not." He tugged at his collar. The room was sweltering.
"A proposal? Cause I don't—"
"No!" Zuko prickled with sweat. Reflux crept up his throat. He re-swallowed his lunchmeat and stammered "I…I'm enslaving you."
The chug of the steamship battered against the silence. Katara's left eye spasmed. Her mouth flopped open and closed like that of the pet goldfish Zuko kept in a bowl on his dresser as a kid.
Zuko sat paralyzed by dread. Was the waterbender capable of murder? In that moment he may just let her have at him.
Katara's face broke into a toothy grin. Her disjointed laughter broke their silence.
Zuko was sprayed with spittle. He wiped his cheek forcibly. "This is no joke."
The waterbender's braying echoed and layered, filling the room with an eerie, offbeat music. "How did I go from prisoner, to mistress, to fiancé, to slave in under a minute?"
"Well, you didn't. You made up most of that."
Katara quieted and the laughter trailed before it died. "It's never going to happen, Prince. I won't fan you with a palm leaf," she said.
Zuko's tone was incredulous. "Your consent is irrelevant. That's the basis of slavery."
Katara regarded him with stony silence.
He apologized having spoken harsher than he should. "I've always shunned the practice of slaveholding. The contract will be a formality. You will be treated as my ward—a better predicament than prisoner—in exchange for my protection."
Katara leaned forward with slitted eyes. "Protection from what? Freedom?"
"From Admiral Zhao."
She rose from the chair trying to seize power through altitude and pointed an accusatory finger at the Prince. Zuko felt dwarfed.
"Your only concern is my alleged affiliation with the Avatar. You have no interest in my well-being; take my crotch for example." She gestured to the bloodstain on her pants. "I had to defend myself against you. Perhaps I should take my chances with the Admiral."
Zuko's nose throbbed. "I cannot let Zhao take you."
The waterbender leaned forward, hulking and snarling like an enraged polar bear. "I'm nobody's bitch."
Zuko swallowed so hard he felt his Adam's apple bob. "I'm sorry it has to be this way."
He spoke truthfully.
Katara was backing away, fixing him with a venomous stare as Zuko signaled his men with a nod. Cadets emerged from the shadows. They reached for her arms and gripped them firmly behind her back.
"Unhand me! What is this?" She bucked wildly, but couldn't break their hold. Panic crept into her voice. "Lay off!" They bent her over the table and held her down as she squirmed atop the surface.
Zuko told himself he had no choice. There wasn't time to file paperwork. Enslaving Katara had to be done the old way. He noticed his hand trembling and quickly balled it into a fist. "Get her something to bite on," he commanded.
Katara went limp a second. The angry snarl slackened and her lips formed an 'O'. It was dawning on her. Her eyes widened. "No! You wouldn't." A wood spoon was pressed to Katara's mouth, but she refused declaring: "I'd rather you heard me scream!" She made certain everyone did.
Zuko had seen the motions, but never initiated them himself. He placed his hand on the bared flesh of the girl's right shoulder and splayed his fingers. Muscles jumped erratically beneath his touch. Hairs visibly stood up along Katara's spine like antenna. She strained against the hands pinning her to the table, reduced to a whining, blubbering mess. The metal tabletop fogged where she panted.
Suspense built as Zuko hesitated above. Burning someone at his mercy was not in his nature. The maddening terror of Firelord Ozai towering above during that fateful Agni Kai came flooding back. The girl seemed stricken now, just as he had been at thirteen. He recalled the physical pain of being scarred. Worse, was the stab of betrayal.
But, this would be a different kind of scar. This one was for Katara's own good, not Zuko's benefit alone. He had no choice. He was saving her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
He did it quickly as he could, but that split second was defining. Smoke rose from the site and filled his nostrils with the stench of burning flesh. He withdrew his hand and saw the ugly charred imprint on her back. The waterbender made a different noise, more of a wail really, that made Zuko shrink inside.
Sweating profusely, he made to wipe his brow and noticed skin stuck to his palm. The room swam before his eyes. His head was light as a hot air balloon and his feet heavy as anchors. Everyone was moving so slowly.
A far away voice said, "Sir? You okay?"
Was he ok? The irony of the question registered with Zuko and he snorted.
Then the Prince was struck across his scarred cheek and sent stumbling into the table.
Someone exclaimed, "whoa there girlie!"
Cadets were hauling the waterbender backwards, away from Zuko by her tunic. She reached for him and he wanted to open his arms to receive her, but Katara's hands were clawed. The claws swiped before her as if she meant to maul him like a bear.
She roared like a predatory animal. "You're a dead man Prince Zuko!"
Zuko's ears rang and he shook his head. He was overheating, setting his belly to a boil. Stomach acid seared his throat. There was a burning, tingling pain in his hands and feet. Tremendous pressure built under his skin as if he might bust his own seams. As if any second he could take off like a bottle rocket and fill the room with…with…fire.
Oh, no. Not again.
His fingertips were aflame. Fire bloomed over his hands and crept up his wrists. Zuko's element was out of his control. He beat his arms against his sides in an effort to extinguish the flames. The cadets looked on and then between one another. Zuko flapped wildly like he were attempting to take flight.
"Make it stop," he yelled. Put it out!"
There was a frenzy of activity in the room. A few cadets removed their hats or boots and proceeded to beat Zuko's flaming arms.
"Ow!" He bellowed in pain. "That's not working!" Fire spread to his shoulders and down over his chest. Two cadets sandwiched the Prince in an embrace. Reflux climbed Zuko's throat again gagging him.
Someone shouted, "Prince is gonna hurl!"
Zuko felt sure he would explode. Though his vision was compromised, he watched the waterbender's white shift—a beacon in the dark cell of a room—shrink, bobbing like a buoy as if Katara was being towed out to sea. Then Zuko couldn't see her anymore. He couldn't see anything because his eyes squeezed shut as he was splashed in the face. His mouth filled with seawater. Instantaneous as it enveloped him, the water fell to the floor. He blinked through drips and gasped for air. Before him, Chang held an empty barrel.
"Well that worked," Chang said. "Spontaneous combustion averted."
Zuko looked down at himself. The fire had chewed through most of his shirt. His chest visibly rose and fell as he puffed. Like before, he was unharmed.
Everyone stared at the sodden Prince. Almost everyone.
"Where's—?" He spun in a circle, but lost his footing on the wet floor. Down went the Prince on his ass.
Katara rethought her death threat. Already many-faced (rebel, prisoner, and now slave), why not add murderess to the list? The Prince would be her first kill—well, first human kill (she'd filled in for the local butcher a time or two).
Long before Katara ever met his heinous, she'd entertained the idea of killing a firebender. It was a product of the times she told herself. The firebender was always a faceless, red-robed entity in her imagination sending fireballs her way. Now the opponent had a pale, sniveling face with a scar over his left eye.
That fuckwad expected her to bend to his will. Had branded her. The shoulder smarted continuously as though the Prince had never let go. Her face burned too in her passion, and hot tears pricked her eyes. She shuddered to think what the wound looked like. Now she'd carry around a piece of the Prince wherever she went. Forever.
I will silence him forever, she thought. She would, and her conscience could suck its thumb in the corner. Her heart would harden. It would bake above the fire in her belly, shriveling until it cracked open as a lifeless nugget. She was quite certain she could accomplish this.
Her hiccups echoed down the narrow corridor. Strung between two cadets, Katara was escorted toward…well, that was yet to be determined. They conversed as if she weren't listening.
"Where do we leave her? There's no brig. No infirmary. This is a fishing vessel for Ozai's sake."
Katara could not contain herself any longer and let out a loud sob. It sounded like a death rattle.
She was finally acknowledged. "Oh, no. No crying on the fish ship." The left cadet adjusted uncomfortably. "Wait, what happens when waterbenders cry? Could it rain indoors? Will the ship flood?"
The men glanced nervously between themselves.
"You suck those back up, girl. Hear me?" Left insisted.
Katara sobbed louder. Her face contorted like a squalling baby's.
"Always the charmer," said the right cadet over Katara's head.
They dumped her by one of the unobtrusive doors below deck and pushed her inside insisting she blot. A lock clicked into place.
Katara let herself cry in privacy on the cot in the room. The wound continued its slow burn, becoming a constant reminder of the Prince. His face swam before her, cold and resolute. I'm sorry it has to be this way he'd said. Katara buried her face in a pillow and screamed. She beat the mattress making it creak and scrape against the iron floor. Exhaustion set in quickly and the fight left her like the dispersal of a riot. She dried her eyes and rolled onto her back, hissing as her shoulder touched the bed.
Pasted to the ceiling in direct line of sight was a poster. Instead of the usual busty figure on a beach Katara had come to expect on boy's ceilings was a wanted poster.
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!
AVATAR AANG
FOR CRIMES OF CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER, TREASON, CRIMINAL TRESPASSING AND RECKLESS FLYING
Below the list of criminal charges was a rendering of an old bald man with a trailing beard. An arrow tattoo pointed between his scruffy brows. Several thoughts flitted through Katara's head. First, she knew an Aang with arrow tattoos. He was a kid though, and he was no Avatar.
Second, the only person she would expect to get hard off this decrepit old Avatar Aang was Prince Zuko, so this must be his room. And this must be his bed. She rose from the pillow not interested in lying where Zuko touched himself and brushed off her clothes to remove whatever essence left behind.
Last and most importantly, Katara was willing to bet Zuko owned many weapons and stored them in his bedroom. The space was small, accented in red, and dimly lit by oil lamps. A dark stained armoire lurked across the room. She'd start there. She wondered if Zuko's knife collection stocked a cleaver. Something weighted would feel good in hand.
Inside the cabinet were the black pants and red silk shirt Zuko wore times ten. Tossing aside her stained clothes she helped herself. She rooted inside the Prince's coat pockets uncovering a hair tie and some spare change. The bottom drawer housed stockings and undergarments. Katara spent no time rummaging through them. By the door was a pair of those funny pointed shoes Firebenders love to march around in.
The corner desk was not the workspace of someone healthy. Papers, books and writing implements were positioned in orderly rows of even numbers. Cubbies housed scrolls in groups of six. She displaced a few and littered the desk.
In the Prince's trunk were bed linens, a monkey figurine with ruby eyes, and one small dagger encrusted with mother of pearl.
"Son of a warmonger are you?" she said aloud.
There was a whine. Katara froze and held her breath sensing she was not alone. Another mewl sounded and then a scratching noise from behind. Katara unsheathed the knife and turned around. On the other side of a connecting door came the protests. Katara jumped when a pink tongue shot out from the gap beneath the door and licked the iron floor. There was more whining and then a high-pitched bark.
Katara opened the door to what turned out to be a master bathroom and gaped at the dachshund wagging it's tail happy to see her. It was not a well trained dog as it jumped up on Katara and barked hello. Its feet pitter-pattered over the floor in excitement. Hanging from the pet's collar hung a tag inscribed For my Nephew on his Sweet 16. The underside just said Fifi.
"Fifi?" she asked.
Fifi's cocked her head in recognition before proceeding to lick Katara's dirty toes clean.
