Author's note: Hi everyone, sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I started school last week and it's going to be a much harder semester than I anticipated, so bear with me. Not to sound like an attention grabber, but your reviews and comments honestly do motivate me to keep up with the story. And I can use all the motivation I can get right now! Thanks for sticking with me on this wild ride, and enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Avatar-verse or its characters, I only own my own. (Ew that was a weird sentence)

Water. I need water.

It was the only thing Zuko could think of as he scrambled up the stairs, clutching his arm with tourniquet fingers. He didn't want to go to the kitchens or the servant's bathroom. He didn't want them to know what had happened to him. He was the Fire Lord's son, the Crowned Prince for spirit's sake. He should be able to protect himself.

But then again, he never really had a chance. It's not like he could have fought back. It was like he was in the torture room all over again, being beat up by cowards who rejoiced in it. He should have just killed Prince Sokka. He should have killed him and then went for the rest of his family. Zuko gritted his teeth, partly because he hated himself for being so weak and partly because the pain was beginning to make his vision go black around the edges. He had to clean and bandage the wound before he passed out.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the muted tinkling of what could only have been water. He pushed a thick wooden door that opened to a dark hallway, faintly illuminated by an almost magical blue light at the end of it. He tightened his hold on his slippery arm and followed the light.

When he saw what waited at the end of the hallway, he came to an abrupt stop, almost tripping over his own feet. The room itself was rather small but full of buzzing energy. A stream of water circled the entire room and glowed a brilliant light blue, illuminating the dark room—

Including the girl that was sitting in the center, moving an ethereally glowing hand over her abdomen. Her head jerked up when she heard him approach, her eyes wide.

"Princess! I'm sorry!" Zuko said, his voice shaking with weakness. "I didn't know anyone was in here. I'll leave." He began to back away with his hands up and her eyes were immediately drawn to his bloody palm.

"You're hurt."

As if it could hear her, the cut on his arm started to throb and he grabbed it, wincing. "I'm fine."

Her face was blank as he said this. "Really?"

He nodded, but knew she saw right through him. His vision blurred and he felt himself lurch to the side, only to meet the icy wall with a solid thud.

"Come here," the Princess said, and Zuko shook his head. In the back of his mind he knew this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one member of the royal family: It was late so most people were asleep and the two of them were alone.

But he was far too weak to fight a waterbending 'prodigy'. Yeah, right, he thought. She hadn't seemed like much of a prodigy when she was being forced to the floor by her father the day before. That was the first time Zuko had witnessed bloodbending, and it had terrified him just as much as he expected. Even more so, considering the Water Emperor had done it to his own daughter. His father would never do that to him. Sure, he had made mistakes in the past—his scar burned slightly, remembering—but he was a good man. Unlike Emperor Hakoda. And as he watched the Princess approach him with her glowing hand and pitying look, he wanted to attack her, to load all of his frustration into a great ball of fire and throw it at her face, but he couldn't. He could barely stand.

The Princess was right in front of him, now, looking at the cut on his arm. As she pulled away the damp shreds of his shirt she sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Wow, this is bad."

Zuko scoffed. "Yeah, well, you have your brother to thank for that."

His good eye widened as the words came out of his mouth, an unstoppable spew that he regretted the moment it escaped. He expected her to attack him, to incapacitate him or call the guards. To speak out against a royal was grounds for imprisonment or punishment by force. But Zuko was surprised when her lips pressed tight together and she settled a wet hand on his arm. Without a word of warning the water suddenly began to swirl and glow, and he felt her fingers move against his skin. There was only that one point of contact between them but Zuko was astonished at how close she stood, how she seemed to be all around him. And then a cool sensation flowed through his arm and he felt his entire body relax.

As soon as it began, the feeling stopped, and the Princess dropped her hand and took a step back, her eyes still on his arm.

"I'm sorry. About Sokka. About this whole…situation." She took a shaky breath and her eyes finally met his. "It's my fault."

Zuko tore his gaze from hers to look down at his arm, which he expected to be red and raw or encased in ice. But instead, the skin there was fresh and flawless. In fact, it looked like there had never been an injury in the first place. He looked at her in awe.

"How did you—"

"I'm a healer," she explained, and went back to her mat in the middle of the room. She bent a stream of water around her hands and started moving them over her stomach again. She was fully clothed in sparring gear and Zuko wondered if she had been hurt, too.

And then he wondered why he even cared, because he intended to do more than hurt her. He would kill her.

But not here. Not now. It wasn't the right time. Even if she was injured, it was obvious she could still handle herself, and he might have difficulty taking her down if she could simply heal any wound he might inflict.

Also, she might have just saved your life, a voice in the back of his mind annoyingly pointed out. Zuko silenced it and stepped forward. She didn't react, but Zuko knew she was aware of all his movements. He could see it in the tension of her neck, the way her eyes looked down at her stomach but saw him in the peripheral. He knelt a few feet away and bowed. It was disgraceful for the Crowned Prince of the Fire Nation to bow to the Water Empire Princess, but it was only right. It was honorable.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Her hands stilled. She considered him, her eyes narrowing, and then something in them softened. She was almost painfully easy to read.

"Katara. Call me Katara."

He lowered his head respectfully. "Katara."

She nodded back to him. Zuko watched silently as she bent the water out of her tunic then unfurled one leg and pulled up the fabric there. Dark purple bruises painted her skin. Zuko glanced at the door, wondering if she was going to dismiss him, because he certainly shouldn't be seeing this, but Katara said nothing. She simply bent a new stream of water and began running it up and down her leg.

Zuko cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Your Highness—"

"Katara."

"Right, Katara," he corrected himself awkwardly. "What happened to you?"

Katara's chin seemed to rise a little higher. "Training."

Zuko frowned. "That seems like pretty rough training." She didn't say anything more. When she finished with that leg she moved to the other, which was just as battered, if not worse. He noticed what looked like the fading red line of a scar on the forearm facing him, and another on her exposed shoulder. She had really taken a beating.

"And who were you training with?"

Katara froze for only a fraction of a moment, but it betrayed everything. Her eyes flickered to his, and then she looked down. She moved with a different rhythm now, a more frenzied pace, like panic, and Zuko knew the answer.

"Your father?"

"Don't speak of my father," she replied immediately, not angrily or accusatory, rather like a reflex. But she didn't deny it. Zuko frowned in disgust. What kind of father would do this to his own child? Suddenly the scene from yesterday did not seem so shocking. Zuko got the feeling that displays of power were a common occurrence in the royal family.

And the screams he had heard at night were no longer a mystery.

Katara laid in bed that night staring up at Master Pakku's scroll. She wondered what he was doing right at that moment. Maybe he was sitting in his home eating. Maybe he was out on the town. Or perhaps he was bending, training a new student. Could he be thinking of her? Katara considered getting up and writing him a letter—a hawk could deliver it tomorrow, and it would get to him in a few days—but decided against it. He wouldn't want to hear from her anyway.

Without thinking, Katara rolled onto her stomach and groaned at the sudden rush of pain. Her abdomen still ached from training. Her father had gotten in some pretty good shots. She ran a hand absently over the sensitive skin of her stomach, going through the healing motions. But she had already spent too much time and energy trying to heal herself earlier. Her mother often said that healing was a process, not a reaction. Internal injuries were much harder to heal than external. And she had also spent a lot of her energy helping that servant boy, Zuko, which only made treating her own injuries that much more difficult.

Still, she didn't regret helping him. It was her fault he was in that mess in the first place. Sokka would get an earful from her tomorrow. Zuko hadn't been willing to tell her the details of their little 'spar,' but she'd gotten a pretty good idea of what happened. Sure, her father had given Sokka power over his servants, but that didn't mean he was allowed to treat them like ragdolls; to throw them around for his own amusement.

So Katara didn't regret fixing what she had damaged in the first place.

She hated to admit that when he had first stumbled into the healing room, she'd been afraid. He was obviously Fire Nation—she'd known that the first time she'd lain eyes on him. From his dark, wisping hair to his ivory skin to his prominent scar, he screamed Fire Nation. He screamed danger. And her father had always taught his children to be wary of the Fire Nation citizens; they were malicious, conniving and cruel.

But Zuko had just looked so…broken. And not just because he was bleeding profusely and was about to pass out. No, his pain went deeper than that. She couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but there was something in him that tugged at her compassion. Her father would call that weakness. He would say she was spineless.

Sokka would say she was stupid and naïve.

But she didn't care. She was glad she helped him. So far, he had done nothing to make her question his loyalty. He had taken Sokka's beating in stride, and had gratefully accepted Katara's healing. As long as he keeps to himself, Katara reasoned, he should fit in here just fine.

Even with her immediate doubts quelled, Katara fell asleep to visions of the palace melting in a wave of fire.

Sokka didn't appreciate the lecture she gave him the next morning at breakfast. Their father was absolutely unconcerned about the way Sokka was treating his servants and refused to do anything about it—probably to punish Katara in some twisted way. So she took it upon herself.

"They're just servants!" Sokka yelled, spitting out bits of fried seal all over the tablecloth.

"They are also people, and deserve to be treated as such!" Katara shouted back. Sokka's glass of water froze over with her rage and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh great, thanks a lot. Get a hold of yourself, would ya?"

Katara just glared at him. She had half a mind to send the water flying up into his face, but, contrary to his belief, she did have some self-control. Meanwhile, the Emperor excused himself from the table.

"Katara, Audiences today," he said as he left the room.

"Of course," she sighed, and buried her face in her hands. She was already stressed out and definitely not in the mood to listen to her people complain for hours. It didn't help that she barely got any sleep the night before. She'd had nightmares of the palace burning down, her father and brother being tortured, and her mother being swallowed by flames. She didn't usually have such vivid dreams, and she rarely remembered them in the morning. But for some reason this one stuck with her, and she couldn't help but think maybe it had something to do with him. The fire boy. Zuko.

"You know, you'd better stop protecting these rebels, sister."

Katara looked up at her brother wearily. He was leaning back in his chair, eyeing her contemplatively. "Father might begin to think you care for them. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like something the future Water Empress should be invested in."

"Shut up, Sokka." Katara stood, throwing back her chair with more melodrama than necessary, and stalked towards the door.

"Oh don't be grumpy, Kat!" Sokka called after her. She bristled at the use of her childhood nickname. "Remember, you have an adoring public waiting to see your smiling face." She could hear the smugness in his voice. "I'm sure Audiences won't be that bad today."

He was terribly wrong, but surely he had known this.

Hundreds of irate capital citizens were queued long before Katara even got to the Great Hall. When the guards unlocked the doors they rushed in like a raging river, fighting and leaping over one another to get to the front of the line to have an audience with the Emperor and Princess. The Emperor, of course, paid little mind to his people. He preferred to sit in the secondary throne and pretend to read the grievance scrolls, falsely nodding every once in a while to make it appear like he was paying attention.

Katara had the hard job.

She had to hear every story and determine firstly whether or not it was true, and secondly what to do about it. One man wanted another man drowned for stealing his arctic hens—she fined the guilty party the cost of the hens plus interest; a woman claimed that her house had been raided by Empire soldiers and demanded reparations—Katara caught her in the middle of her lie and sentenced her to two months in prison. By the time she was halfway through the line she could barely keep her eyes open. Her mouth tasted of mud and her jaw hurt from speaking. The roar of the crowds became a ringing in her ears and she begged her father to take over.

"This is your responsibility, Katara. A good ruler never retires or passes his duties off to another."

She simply stared at him. Is that not exactly what you are doing? But she dared not cross her father, not in front of her public. Not after what happened days ago when she stood against him. Especially not after last night. Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment….

So she completed the task placed before her. By the time she finished she could barely carry herself to her chambers, and when she arrived, promptly collapsed on her bed. Toph offered to draw a bath, but she waved the girl away. After that, it didn't take long for sleep to take her. Thankfully this time nightmares did not plague her dreams.