A/N: Yeah, so … how many years has it been? A lot, definitely.
So, Young-Adult Dystopia AU's are getting out-of-fashion, huh? Who'd have thought that trope would die so quick? A lot of this one was planned before the times changed so much but I gotta be real with you guys … you ever re-read the whole … LILA series? In like … circa 2020? Oof. I die inside. I cringe, so hard it hurts. But hey, what's a childhood without a Highschool AU to take you away from reality?
I'm rambling. But, I've been obsessed with this story even when I dropped off the face of this planet, lemme tell ya. I do have the overall story mapped out, I'm just super obsessive and controlling and I'm never satisfied with what I'm doing. And I've realized, that maybe avoiding feedback to this extent is part of the reason I run out of steam, but then again, I got all of this done in isolation so ya know. Side note, the point where I really started hacking out a lot of this story was right after I finished watching Empress Ki - don't know if any of you have seen it, but it's given me new ideas for the ATLA-verse.
Pacing-wise, I've been battling with wanting to do a time-skip in this story because as a now 24-year-old, I don't feel it's totally cool to write about these things happening to some pretty young people so, be warned – that could be coming up. Not for at least another 3-4 chapters, though and Yeah, there will Be More. I mean, this story is already a million times better than those other ones that I abandoned.
So I'll definitely stick with it!
Right?
-xrhiax
(but look I made you some content)
"Katara, slow down," Zuko hissed, his bare feet patting against the marble floors as he scurried after her hastily. She was moving fast, but as he came to pause just past the throne room doors, he watched her pace some ten yards down the hall, as if deep in thought, before turning back and returning with the same manner of haste. Her face tensed and eased as if she were working on a puzzle.
As her eyes snapped to his, expression remaining the same – after all, he was just another part of the puzzle – the heavy boot steps of the royal guards echoed through the doors behind the Fire Prince, and the look melted to disdain. She turned away again, seeming no less flighty than the first time she'd stormed off. The two guards, only one of whom Zuko could recall having met before, appeared at his shoulder, and he felt himself startle a little as the unfamiliar guard lunged forth, past him, one arm extended in a grasp.
"Wait," he forced his voice to carry, and was surprised both at his request, and that his voice did not shake.
To his further amazement, the guard stopped. Zuko couldn't remember the last time he had been able to make orders, so he stiffened a little when the guard turned to him.
The man was not much younger than Ozai, Zuko thought; only shorter and more tanned, with evening shadow cloaking the lower half of his square face, and wide, pudgy, pig-like black eyes. Now that the night's mystery was resolved, he was more aware of the attending guards, and he wondered at when a new royal guard had been added to the ranks. Thinking fast, Zuko stood tall and swallowed his trepidation.
He glanced to the waterbender, who remained some distance down the hall, but now stood with her arms crossed and her weight on one leg, as if waiting to be followed. Zuko set his good brow in a sort of grim look and he lifted an arm, offering her the crook of his elbow to grasp along the walk. Perhaps it was a futile attempt to return to his former manners at court, a knee-jerk reaction as his mind whirled upon new imagined futures in the wake of this night.
The expression on her face wilted a little and the corner of her mouth pitched upward in a lopsided jeer. "Keep dreaming," she scoffed, her hip seeming to cock out a little more.
Zuko didn't know why he felt the blood rush in his ears at her derision. He set his jaw for a second before lowering his arm and feeling heat rise in his palm as he unfurled a fist he didn't know he had held. "Don't be stupid, waterbender," he rasped in warning, and he was distinctly aware of her eyes fleeting from his to the guard just past him, turning in her direction. "I said wait," Prince Zuko snapped it this time.
The waterbender's breath was quickened, but her half smile seemed to remain in spite of a slight flinch. She unfurled her arms, slowly, then shifted her weight and took a step toward the three men. She breathed a small sigh through her nose and ambled a little closer, keeping her eyes on the advancing royal guard, "I guess a romantic moonlit stroll it is, then," she breathed sarcastically.
She skipped a little in haste as she went past the guard, but Zuko thought it was only he that saw it. She came almost to where she would have stood if she held his arm, but left an empty space between them that seemed filled with unbreathable air. Her hands grasped her tribal skirts at her sides, and she didn't break her stare with the guard.
"There will be no moonlight for you, water peasant," a gravelly baritone ground out, the strange royal guard, now standing ahead and off to one side of them. He tucked his arms back into his robes and glared at the water tribe girl with his pudgy eyes narrowed, then turned his stare on the young prince. "Come along," he growled out firmly.
Zuko looked to the man, face still pinched tight with anticipation. He eased into defeat, however, as he realized his momentary grasp at power was over. This new guard seemed to have been warned not to give the disgraced royal enough rope to hang himself with. The man turned down the corridor and began to walk.
Katara gave a displeased snort, glanced at Zuko, and then she walked after the guard. The prince followed a few steps after, and the final guard trailed not long behind.
They walked in terse silence for a few minutes, the return not quite as urgent as the summoning. The waterbender seemed dazed, though she kept up easily with the guard leading their way, her hands swaying a little as she went, as if deep in thought.
The halls were dark, with long shadows cast by the party as lonely candles intermittently illuminated sections of the journey. Even Zuko paused to gaze at certain items decorating the walls, for it had been some time since his last freedom to roam the palace at night. The guards were hasty, though, clearly uncomfortable with the unpalatable grey area between prisoner and prince, eager to return both of them to their entrapments and be done with the night. They drove them wordlessly toward the secured apartments, so it was silent enough that when Katara thought to ask a question, and as appeared to be her way, thoughtlessly opened her mouth to speak, it was her unwilling husband whose eyes she met.
He regarded her with new patience, unsure how else to mollify the situation. It didn't translate well through his face to soothe her nerves as he wished to, for her question died on her lips and she narrowed her eyes at him over her shoulder. Then she looked ahead again, hiding her clearly tribal features from view. Zuko returned his gaze to the walls, watching hopefully for portraits of family members he might recognize, but it was now that she spoke.
"I wouldn't really kill you," she spoke unevenly, and from behind, he could see her hands fidgeting.
Zuko halted for a beat but he returned his attention to her and took a few faster steps to catch up and hear her more clearly. "That's good to know," he replied flatly, and her eyes flashed in his direction with displeasure. Perhaps it was bad timing, but he went on to joke, "Although you're probably just saying that to get me to lower my guard."
This time she looked fully at him, and even slowed enough to allow him to walk at her side. Her brows tilted in an apologetic kind of way which made her look innocent and strangely youthful, which made the prisoner prince's stomach twist a little as she spoke earnestly, "No, I mean … it's not like I could. What your father said," she began, and hesitated a little at the tight look that took over Zuko's face, as if rethinking what she meant to say. Then she frowned and looked away, breathing through her admission, "I am just a frivolous waterbender."
He was not proud of the amount of relief he felt at her honesty. He had never met a waterbender before and had no idea what kind of damage one could do – especially if his father was truthful in his depiction of Katara as a blood bender. Still, she didn't appear particularly confident of her abilities, and she couldn't be much of a bender if in losing control she had killed only one person during her capture. Logistically, it didn't look like too risky a situation.
It was the specifics of the arrangement which sent Zuko's mind racing.
Had he been quiet for too long? He certainly had.
"If it helps, I'm an average firebender at best. That's when I'm on top form, too," he forced the words out in a rush of air that was barely comprehensible, even to himself. His hasty reassurance earned him the faintest flash of a waterbender's smile, as well as a narrowed glare from one of the guards.
The waterbender halted for a moment, but didn't break stride as she furrowed her brow and turned her eyes to the large mosaic mural at the end of a long corridor that they passed. Her features twisted with something - disdain or curiosity, he wasn't sure - as she looked back to him, "So, you really just got married so you could practice your bending?" her voice was a tone of disbelief, with a note of judgment.
Zuko felt warmth spreading across his neck, and when he answered, his ears felt hot. Opening his mouth, he thought of how he could best explain his situation here to her, in a way that might better dispose her to being cooperative, but his shoulders drooped against his will. "It's been a long time," he answered curtly, the words sour in his mouth, "And it's the only interesting thing I get to do any more."
Katara frowned at him from his side, and when he met her gaze, he noticed her dragging it away quickly. "You're a prisoner, too," she said, her voice sad. Zuko expected her face to turn sad too, but it remained twisted into confusion and frustration.
"I met the Avatar," Zuko blurted, as though this explained everything.
This time, Katara looked fully puzzled at him.
"I mean the old one, not ..." in perhaps his least delicate moment, he gestured absently to her stomach.
The waterbender's eyes bulged wide, before she scoffed her disbelief. "Wow," she managed, frowning at him in a manner not unlike Zuko's mother once had done. "That's not even … okay, what?" she shook her head at him, sure she was missing something. "First of all," she began, the volume of her voice rising, but this was all it took for the guards to become uncomfortable, and she was silenced before she could go on.
"Silence!" one of the guards snapped over the sounds of his clicking boots on the marble, and the soft slapping sound of the prince's bare feet.
Both prisoners scowled at the man's back, but Zuko was dismayed that the waterbender turned her sour look at him straight after. Then she lowered her eyes to the floor and crossed her arms huffily, in a manner which reminded the prince of his sister's much younger years. A pang of emotion shot through him at the sight – amusement, or sympathy, or some manner of endearment. It sat like an uncomfortable mass in his throat as he held back a quirk of his lips.
Maybe she was his wife, in this weird twist of – well, destiny, if the dragons were to be believed – circumstance, but with guilty pleasure, Zuko was still excited about his new neighbour, like an eager panther-pup.
As they walked in uneasy silence, Zuko recalled the unusual visit from his father and inwardly cringed at his harebrained response. In hindsight, the proposition from his father was ultimately pointless, since the Fire Lord had decided that cooperation was mandatory. Still, it weighed on him to have ever agreed to anything. Part of him thought he might have agreed even if Ozai had never shown up, his days were so bland, but now at least one of his royal superiors was expecting … results? Zuko cringed again, hoping that waterbenders couldn't sense when a person broke out in a cold sweat.
As promised, there was no moonlight for the waterbender girl; the route picked for them was meticulously internal - avoided all windows, exits, gardens, kitchens, and baths. They were guided past several aged, historical murals on their final stretch toward her room, and after that, every door ahead was visibly locked away; in some cases quite literally boarded up, and the others layered over with dust.
The far double doors at the end led into the quarters that had once belonged to Princess Ursa, Zuko's mother. The doors nearest it had belonged to Zuko and Azula, respectively – but the entire wing had been vacated after Ursa's disappearance.
"Prince Zuko," one of the guards spoke amongst a silence that Zuko only now registered.
He had paused, and the guard behind him had hesitated too, suspicious. Katara and the older guard were still too, and with embarrassment, the traitor prince realized he must have been looking around for some time. Paranoid, he began to move, fixing his eyes to the ground with a grimace. The rhythmic clatter of armoured boots resumed, but the waterbender stalled until he walked at her side.
Beneath her breath, and without breaking step or attempting eye contact, she grumbled aside to him, "What's your problem? You suddenly remember you're getting locked up again too?" with no small amount of petty pleasure in her tone.
Zuko lifted his eyes and narrowed them at her peevishly. "No," he snapped back grimly, staring forth to the double doors. "This room ..." he started, then snarled his lips and trailed off.
They reached the doors and the new guard shot both teenagers a warning look before setting about opening the locks. As he did, Katara nibbled on her lip anxiously and fidgeted with the fabric of her skirt in her hands. As the chains clinked, she spared him another look, this time with unmasked worry.
"Hey, listen," she began with the whites of her eyes flashing nervously and her brows tilting, "Back there … what your dad said about this room."
"My father," Zuko found himself correcting, with distaste in his mouth.
"Whatever you fire people call each other," she rolled her eyes, her worry momentarily discarded. When he turned his head away dismissively, she reached out and took hold of his elbow bravely. Her small hands seemed weak and inconsequential, but he glanced back to her all the same, though with little patience. "He said, 'for tonight, at least'. What does that mean? You don't think tomorrow they're gonna stick us in … together?" her voice rose in pitch as her fingers pinched him in a terrified grip.
"Be quiet, woman," the guard fumbling with the keys groused curtly.
Katara hesitated at the rebuke, but with her nerves wound tight, she gestured to the dusty doors around them. "Who exactly are you worried about waking up?" she huffed aside to him.
Zuko arched his brow at her casual rebellion, tensing minutely as he calculated her chances of angering the unfamiliar guard. When the guard pulled the chain through the door handles and shoved open the suite, he held it open with a dark glare in the girl's direction, causing her to wilt in defeat. Swallowing, she let go of the sleeve of Zuko's robe and met his gaze for a moment, the light from torches inside the room glowing off her umber skin.
Her eyes were blue, which he might have guessed at before, just based off her heritage – but not a pale, icy blue like he realized he'd been expecting. The centres of them were deep and dark, like a treacherous sea – either that, or they were brimming with tears. As she tore away and ducked into the room, he suspected the latter. The uneasy moment where she turned those dark troubled eyes on him over her shoulder from within her confines, was cut thankfully short when the guard yanked the door closed again and sealed her away inside.
Behind him, the guard with whom Zuko was familiar cleared his throat and spoke quietly, "We are assigned to the young lady, Prince Zuko. Your guards are waiting for you at your quarters."
The words didn't register in the young prince's mind at first, and when they did, his first response was derision at the very idea that he might be tripped up with such nonsense. But when his eyes told him that the two guards were assuming their posts outside the waterbender's door, his stomach leapt in giddy, excited terror – which he did his best to keep off his face.
"Right," he finally answered, lifting a hand and scratching his head awkwardly, "So, I'll just … walk myself there."
They did not seem perturbed by this – and one of them even nodded in assent. So, feeling as though he might be dreaming, Zuko turned his back to the men and began to walk. When, as implied, they did not run to catch or apprehend him, he felt his shoulders begin to droop, somewhere between exhaustion and relief.
Though the temptation was there, Zuko did not dally on his journey back to his room. Probably by design, he felt that the best way to retain all this new freedom was not to instantly take advantage of it. Any semblance of an escape attempt right now could severely impact the length of metaphorical rope given to him, and so he arrived at his doors some minutes later without incident.
"Your highness," his guards, though historically disdainful, chorused at his arrival, and opened his doors with newfound ceremony.
Feeling braver himself, Prince Zuko responded with considered apathy, "Shai, Lee."
With cautious satisfaction, he spotted surprise on their features – whether it was at his lack of deference or the fact that he knew their names, he couldn't tell – that quickly melted into displeasure. So, their opinions of him had not changed, Zuko decided. They had simply been told to act more cordially. Proving his theory, they said nothing and let him pass without comment, shutting the doors quietly behind him.
Zuko released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding onto and wandered absently across the lounge space until he could press his hand against the hearth. He drew another breath, shut his eyes, and tried to process the weight of the night.
"Congratulations, brother," crowed a familiar voice, cutting through his thoughts like an explosion in the silence.
"Gah!" Zuko barked, wheeling around to face the sound. In the gloom of the corner, Princess Azula was perched comfortably on the chaise in her own thick night robes, long hair simply tied back and her face strangely youthful in the absence of make-up, despite its wicked expression. His heart thumping hard in his chest, the prince groaned in both annoyance and relief at the identity his intruder.
As bad as Azula was, at least she wasn't their father.
"You scared me half to death," Zuko growled, shaking his head and punching at the hearth viciously. Flames spewed from his knuckles and clung to the ashy logs in the pit, crackling to life without much coercion.
"I expect you were halfway there already," Azula mused, oddly energetic considering the hour of night, but unflinching at his outburst. Zuko could only hazard that she knew exactly what had happened – as she often did. With regurgitated awe, she purred, "Uncle's little speech about not asking was probably the highlight for me," and pursed her lips at her brother with mocking pity, folding her legs beneath herself on the chaise.
Zuko's eyes widened as he drew nearer and frowned down at her. His eyes shot to the door anxiously, but they held only scolding when he laid them on his younger sister again. "You snuck in," he surmised quietly, crossing his arms.
"Child's play," she responded, shutting her eyes confidently, before smirking at him like the cat that got the cream.
"You were there for the whole thing?" Zuko pressed, his ire easing in favour of curiosity.
Azula shrugged one shoulder and demurely sighed, "Let's assume I was, mainly because I couldn't believe no-one," the princess paused to scowl momentarily, "and I mean, no-one, was going to tell me about it. I had to hear it from Princess Puff of all people," her voice turned petulant at the mention.
Zuko had never met his cousin's wife, and so he had little to go on, but he was at least aware that his sister's nickname for said relative had nothing, in fact, to do with pregnancy. As it turned out – or as Azula's hired spies had uprooted – Princess Yetsa was actually a firebender, despite being a self-proclaimed non-bender. The uncovered proof was rather conclusive, or so Azula thought, and she presumed that Yetsa was hiding her power because it was so absolutely feeble it could hardly count as bending. To a certain degree, Zuko was surprised that his cousin's precious Princess Royal could be in on the family's newest dirty secret – in fact, that Lu Ten would allow her to be. The Crown Prince never spoke to Zuko about his budding new family; perhaps to keep his knowledge limited, in case poor scarred Zuko really was the long-fuse bomb people thought he would turn out to be.
He was lost in thought until he noticed Azula gulping a large swig from a bottle, and he sputtered at her in surprise, but she was unperturbed. On the table beside her, Zuko's eyes settled on another bottle of wine that wasn't his, and it had already been put away – comfortably, looking at Azula's sharp demeanour.
"Look at you, a married prisoner," she said at last, lowering the bottle from her lips, her eyes settling on the crackling fire on the other side of the room, expression unreadable.
Zuko arched his good brow at her before sighing and coming to sit at her side. With barely suppressed irritation, he reached out and took the bottle, despite a momentary glare from his sister. Her glare faded as he took his own swig and found it went down quite smoothly. "Is everything alright?" he chanced carefully, wondering whether she might explode and turn his room to ash.
Azula leant back against the cushions and put her cheek on her hand, a sour look of affront on her unpainted features. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Zuzu, you've never been a golden child," she exhaled dismissively, reaching for the bottle.
"Mom liked me well enough," Zuko countered bluntly, snatching it from her. "Come on. Don't tell me you actually feel bad for me?" he suggested sarcastically, already knowing it wasn't the source of her conflict. When she scoffed at the notion, he heightened the challenge by gulping a hearty portion of the berry wine.
Fluidly, she raised her leg and kicked his elbow so that the bottle was launched upward. Some splattered across the rug, but Azula caught it by the neck and put it impatiently on the table beside her. "Yes, yes, my heart bleeds," she countered haughtily, "but no. Strategically, this marriage is an advantageous move for you, so I have no pity for you today."
As she spared a moment of attention for her nails, Zuko considered the words from her mouth and eventually blurted suspiciously, "Was … that a compliment?"
"I guess it would be if you actually had any choice in the matter," his sister sneered obviously at him, before drawing an exasperated breath and sweeping to her feet swiftly. In a few steps, she crossed the distance to the fireplace and settled her eyes on dancing flames that cast her shadow into long black lines across the bedroom wall. "Choice is a funny thing, brother," she mused absently, the sound of a further sneer in her voice.
Her shoulders, without their familiar angled armour, seemed smaller and more human than Zuko was generally used to seeing his sister, though he knew better than to spare her any pity – even in what might seem like dark times. Still, she cut a strange figure before the fire, eyes downcast and hands limp at her sides. "Does it strike a nerve?" he finally asked, having taken a moment to guess at her mental state.
With barely restrained fury, she whipped her head to glare over her shoulder at Zuko, only confirming his suspicions.
"You'll be married soon, won't you?" he pressed, vaguely aware that he was stepping over a line. As if to illustrate this, he thought he might help himself to another tipple from Azula's bottle on the table to his side, so he reached out for it.
Roused into action, the firebending prodigy herself marched back at her brother, causing him to flinch as she snatched her drink back, producing a cork from her pocket and stopping up the bottle with a scowl of her usually statuesque features. "Not if I can help it," she snapped darkly, still hunched slightly over the table, suddenly looking like a general preparing for battle.
Maybe the night's waning adrenaline was getting to him, but this put a wry grin on Zuko's face despite his misgivings. "You always get your way," he observed drily, huffing a laugh through his nose and sinking backward into the chaise's cushioning.
He had missed the moment of weakness, as he was wont to do, and so he didn't see the frustration on her face before it was wiped away by an agreeable and satisfied smirk at the way he said it. Perhaps the fact that he clearly didn't mean it as praise was precisely the reason she took it as such. A moment later she was straightening, her bottle tucked away under her arm as though its services were no longer required.
Her smirk was still in place as she backed toward the door and teased, "At least I don't have to worry about being kidnapped in the night for my wedding."
Zuko found his grin fading as he realized she was going, and even that surprised him. It should have been obvious that Azula was merely coming to poke fun at him, as she typically did, even despite the circumstances and the time of night. It seemed he was becoming a glutton for company – so much of it in one day, maybe. Heaving a sigh, he tried to shake it off, since he really was tired now that he stopped and noticed just how much thinking, and overthinking, he'd been doing lately. He stood and added as an afterthought, "Hey, question."
"Yes, Zu-zu," she breathed with her usual exasperation.
"Can you get me an invitation? I'd love to see some guy I've never met get left at the altar."
Azula's eyes lit with genuine surprise, not having expected the turnabout, then she scoffed and flicked her hair easily, before shooting him a judging look and answering, "A trifling request. But of course, brother." Then, taking a long blink and feigning realization, "Hey, you should bring your wife!"
Zuko startled at the reality that he suddenly had a wife, feeling the playfulness drain out of him. Completely gotten, he deflated into deep thought once more, and this inevitably drew out the peal of wicked laughter that Azula always used him to evoke. Distantly, Zuko murmured, "Night, Azula ..."
"Hmm," she broke off the end of her fit with true pleasure, and echoed, "Good night, Dum-dum," before stalking to the doors and simply yanking them open in a fluid movement that startled the guards outside. She took a moment to glance back at the semi-disgraced prince and exhaled appreciatively, "Ah, so much nicer without the knocking," before disappearing without a word, leaving the doors wide open.
Zuko lifted his head from his musings a few moments later, just as one of the guards was looking at the open doors and mouthing to his partner. Shai met Zuko's eye with slight surprise, and then his dilemma seemed decided and the guard went back to his position out of sight, the entrance still fully ajar and nobody making a move to close it.
For a beat, he nearly slithered back into thought without appreciating the moment, but then he found himself standing straighter and wandering away, considering just ordering them to close it because he probably could. Instead, he shut his eyes and felt a warm, low breeze passing through the room now that it could flow. Tomorrow, he would hear about his bending, he remembered. It could happen early – as early as dawn training, if he allowed himself to get his hopes up. And he did.
"You can shut the door," Zuko decided aloud, not waiting for the sound of confirmation before he marched into the bedchamber and threw himself back into bed.
He might have been up all night thinking about training, he was so enamoured with it when his head hit the pillow. His eyes traced the patterns on the ceiling and he imagined the katas, his muscles working hard under the red sun of the morning. The rush of his chi and its soothing action on his boredom – the inevitable exhaustion that sometimes enabled him to sleep whole days away. The glow of his own fire, before his eyes – the physical evidence that it was there, still there inside him despite his imprisoning and silencing and misery. The occasional sting of a stray spark or flurry, the pain that told him he was alive. He wanted it so bad, he wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.
But it wasn't that which kept him up.
As Zuko's breathing settled and he quieted in his bed, a distant cry was rhythmically breaking the still of the night. It was a shameless, unabashed cry, and it came in waves like an ocean of despair. Immediately, he knew who it was, and something like a slow jolt went through him as he lay there. The waterbender dragged in these awful, grating gasps of air that Zuko could hear from his room, even with the balcony doors shut, and the hitching, keening moan that tore out of her after those … he was sure that sound could make the very walls shake.
He told himself firmly that it was not guilt that he felt. But after almost an hour, when he thought it might die down, as each sound grew quieter and more hoarse, a fresh volley broke out, and her sorrow seemed to have found new bounds. Admitting the truth to himself, Zuko folded a pillow over his head and tried to return to the memory of katas, but they would not come.
The waterbender's fitful, eventual rest was sharply interrupted by the clatter of her chamber doors being thrown open in the early hours of the morning. Katara's eyes hadn't opened yet by the time a rush of adrenaline catapulted her from her curled position at the foot of the bed, across the room to the corner, where she regrettably cowered before the sudden appearance of a troop of four servants marching into the room.
They were led by one of her guards – the less grouchy one, Gung - she thought with minute relief as the haze of sleep broke away. She had come back to the harsh reality of her imprisonment and surprise marriage. Drat, last night really wasn't a horrible dream.
With perhaps passing dissatisfaction with her rumpled, feral position in the corner, the young guard stiffly informed her, "These maids will prepare you for your day and take you to your …" Katara thought she saw the man's eyes flick away briefly as he managed, "medical examination." At least he had the good sense to look like he knew this was bad news.
She felt the colour drain from her face as she wondered what that might possibly entail. Straightening near the wall, she put that awfulness to one side and passed her wary eyes over the uncomfortable guard, and chanced a dry query, "You and your buddy not coming along?" while shifting her weight to one hip, wishing she didn't sound so hopeful, and cringing at the reaction it gleaned.
Suddenly an inch taller from tension alone, the soldier fixed his dark brown eyes on her and snorted back curtly, "Your daytime security will arrive shortly."
A moment later, he receded to the closed doors and silently blocked them – more with his height than his width. If he were only a little shorter, he could have reminded her of Sokka – all arms and legs. Snarling a little, but feeling the tension dissipating, she rolled her eyes at him and huffed, "Let me guess – you're cranky because your shift change is late."
He refused to engage – stared forward and set his mouth in a line.
One of the servant ladies stepped out of line and into the fray, and before she could notice anything else, Katara was aware of this frail, middle-aged woman's hands shaking at her sides as she raised a weak voice to attempt, "It is … an honour to serve Prince Zuko's household," and bowed from the waist even though it caused her evident anxiety to do so.
The other three women fell into the same movement, but remained silent. One was as young as Katara herself – discernibly younger, even. The guard at the door made a quiet scoffing sound, but didn't interject, and Katara found herself perplexed by the absurdity of being a prisoner and having people bowing at her.
"You fire people are weird," she murmured first, to herself, then shrugged into defeat and breathed an acquiescent sigh at the nervous maids. "What do you mean? Is this like a permanent thing?" she asked with a suspicious narrowing of the eyes.
The woman at the fore stood straight, but was not quite Katara's height and so had to look up to explain with cautious concern on her lined features, "We are to serve yourself and the Prince, miss. I am Gigan, and I have been chosen by Advisor Min Seng as majordomo for the Prince's home affairs. These girls are Mayu, Shun and Yaname."
Katara's gaze flicked from Gigan's amber eyes to the bowed heads of the other three. One of them flinched at the attention and Katara found herself shifting back, rubbing her elbow and feeling strangely guilty. "I notice they didn't introduce themselves," her voice halted with uncertainty.
"My apologies, miss," Gigan bowed her head again.
"Don't apologise for me," one of the girls raised their head and glared at the back of Gigan's salt-and-pepper hair.
Katara watched an expression of failing patience blossom on the older woman's face in response to the outburst, even as the girl rounded past Gigan to make herself known.
"I have no interest in serving a Water Tribe savage," the girl – a handful of years Katara's senior with tight glossy black curls and sharp honey coloured eyes, lithe but short – was completely uncowed by said savage's height on her. When they were face to face, Katara frowned defensively at the wide-eyed disgust pointed at her.
"It is the Firelord's mercy, Yaname!" Gigan snapped tersely.
"I don't care," the girl squared her shoulders at Katara and then averted her gaze to grind out, "I wish I had just been fired, this is too cruel."
"Fired?" Katara tilted her head, curiosity pinching her brows together. The girl's eyes shot to her with malice.
Gigan merged into the foreground, surprisingly spritely, and elbowed Yaname to one side. "These girls have been disgraced, miss. Forgive them their coldness, they will warm when they have regained their honour through service," there was a small snapping sound below, and Katara looked to the floor too late to see the woman stamping on Yaname's small foot.
"Prince marrying a stupid peasant," Yaname huffed under her breath, abandoning the parley without ever considering an apology of her own.
Katara blinked at Gigan, not sure exactly how whelmed she was. "Yeah … real … friendly bunch," she turned her eyes on the other two, still gazing at the floor – probably about twenty-five and thirteen years old, both with long black hair and perfectly porcelain features set around stunning golden eyes. With a sigh, Katara pointed to the older and guessed, "Mayu?" hopefully.
She looked up, seemingly surprised, but unwilling to express anything for longer than two seconds. Satisfied that she had guessed correctly, Katara turned to the younger girl with confidence.
"And that makes you Shun," Katara smiled on her, then both girls in turn, warily attempting friendliness. Distantly, she wondered how a kid so young could possibly be considered disgraced by the Firelord, or require any mercy, but that wasn't important now. "Alright. I can cooperate – a change of clothes sounds pretty good, actually," she eased the remaining three's fears, she could tell, by their slight exhales, "though I'm guessing you don't have anything in blue," she said, hoping her nervous tone would pass for humour.
It didn't earn her any laughter, and the flat silence left her hanging. The nerves she had been trying to soothe felt like they were sticking out of her in places, exposed.
Dutifully ignoring the awkward moment, Gigan clapped her hands at the two girls – and even Yaname, who had paused near the vanity and was inspecting its fine surfaces, returned to the older woman's side. "Quick girls, hurry," she said in an impatient huff, "Yaname, fetch the new robes from the other room. You two, get those rags off her."
Her face was still awash with insulted surprise at the comment when the two young maids suddenly laid their hands on Katara, and she fought her instinct to flinch, as the younger girl untied the sash at her waist and the other pulled the robe down from her shoulder. It felt strange to let them undress her, especially when aboard that awful steam ship, the soldiers had rarely come closer than was necessary to haul her from one cell to another, or stick some drugged gruel in front of her. She supposed if they'd really wanted to, the guards could have done whatever they wanted while she was unconscious, and then simply dress her again, and she would probably be none the wiser.
That concept was rattling around her head uncomfortably when Mayu rolled the blue tunic off her arms, leaving Katara standing shirtless at the foot of the bed. The waterbender shot her eyes to the guard at the door, and didn't know whether or not she was surprised to see him averting his gaze to the window. At first, she was relieved, but then irritation niggled at her and she drew an incensed breath through her nose.
"So, do strange men always watch you undress in the Fire Nation?" she sourly asked the maid who was wrestling with the tight knots in her belt.
Mayu sputtered in evident surprise at the question, her honey-coloured eyes daring to meet Katara's briefly. Then she looked back to the knot and murmured passively in response, "No, ma'am. At least, not us."
Katara furrowed her brow, not sure what the maid was getting at, until she slowly recognized a tinge of smugness in the girl's voice.
"We live in the Women's Pavilion," Shun, the youngest maid, interjected mildly, while crouching to Katara's feet and gesturing a request for the Water Tribe woman's boots. As Katara hesitantly lifted a foot and the girl began to wrestle a boot off, she went on, "There are no men allowed in there at all. Well, except the eunuchs."
Katara had heard stories about the Fire Nation from other members of her tribe, but had always assumed the majority of those stories were false, or simply embellishments on the truth. Since her childhood, she remembered hearing about how the new Fire Lord – Azulon's son – was strange and unpredictable, both on and off the battlefield. How the man took prisoners often, rather than razing his enemies entirely – and thus, how the Royal Harem had been growing rapidly since his ascension.
It only made sense that the Fire Lord would make eunuchs to guard it, in that event. Her heart momentarily hammered against her ribs as she thought about her father – the party of warriors that had left from the South Pole only three years ago. She and Sokka hadn't received so much as a letter, so who knew if Hakoda and the others might have been captured?
Katara sized up Gung again, near the door, and thought aloud, "How do you know who's a eunuch and who's not?"
Gung, as expected, turned his eyes on her with a sudden flush and an expression of petulant fury. "I'm not a eunuch!" he barked out, scandalized.
"It is Agni's great blessing, miss," Gigan explained patiently, as Mayu handed Katara's tunic to her. "The sages, those chosen by the dragons - they take a solemn oath to Him," the old woman mused in a raspy, weary tone. Yaname came in with a set of clothes on one arm and a basket held against her hip with the other, and Gigan turned to the basket urgently to deposit the tunic.
Katara's face cleared with a small amount of relief at this, before she found herself unable to help the curious tilt of her brows and pressed on, "You mean, all the sages are … ?" while her hand twitched to make a scissor-cut gesture. She was thinking about the old man from the ceremony last night, grimly wondering if the so-called 'Holy High Sage' of the Fire Nation was missing his manly parts.
"They weren't always," a harsh voice snapped her from her musings – Yaname, stepping in front of Katara and extending the robes on her arm to Gigan. As the elder woman was lifting a crisp white linen under-robe, Yaname's eyes turned beady and she looked over the waterbender with obvious distaste. "Those wrappings are filthy, Matron," she began, with vitriol, but her voice turned sour-sweet when she added, "we ought to get her a fresh set."
Katara knew well enough that her wrappings were grubby, but it didn't stop her from hunching her shoulders in contempt and clutching her extended arms back over herself. Mayu chose this inopportune moment to start at the tribeswoman's leggings, from the waistband, and found the back of her hand rapped sharply instead. "Ouch!" the girl squeaked, straightening and scowling.
Ignoring Mayu, as well as Katara's smack, Gigan turned her nose up and exhaled easily, "No. The Royal Advisor was very clear," before coming close with the matter-of-fact weariness that unwelcomely reminded Katara of her grandmother, holding the sleeve of the white robe open for her in invitation. Though confused, Katara swallowed and hesitantly complied. As she drew the sleeve up her arm, Gigan went on to explain flatly, "No one is to touch the girl's body but the Prince."
Katara cringed, but managed to do it silently, as the woman wrapped her up in the clean cloth. As grubby as she felt, the lighter fabric smelled good and eased her nerves just a little bit. She lifted her eyes and saw Mayu glaring at her, but shook it off and decided to take off the leggings for herself. Once Gigan had tied the white robe, Katara made short work of wiggling her leggings out the bottom, even as Yaname and Mayu exchanged judging glances.
"What a lucky Prince," Yaname scoffed sarcastically.
"Here you go," Katara countered, swinging down and flinging the blue leggings at her with a chirpy smile.
Yaname caught them before they could hit her, and flung them into the basket with a grimace. Shun giggled quietly, sliding a pair of white socks onto Katara's feet before slotting them into a pair of red, pointy-toed slippers that seemed to have come out of nowhere.
A realization dawned on Katara as Gigan started slipping the red silk outer robe onto her shoulders, and she thought about protesting as Mayu pulled a ribbon free from her hair and let loose the braid it was stowed in. Instead, she looked to the matron and asked, "Is that where we're going, after this ..." Katara paused to make air quotes, "'medical examination'? To the Prince's room?" a measure of dread crept into her voice.
She glanced past Gung into the other room and spotted the balcony doors, still shut from when she had slammed them closed yesterday to avoid her begrudged audience. He was boxed in too, she concluded, based on the bars alone – escape from there would be no easier. No worse, she supposed, either; except for the addition of the watchful eye of a brand new husband. Who was …
Well, it was too early to make an assessment. She'd hoped a good cry might have helped her work out a plan, but instead she found herself dumbly working things out one step at a time. Frustration showed on her face as she waited for Gigan's answer.
Gigan was patting her down in managed, prim movements which served their purpose of mollifying the waterbender, unpressed by the query. She feigned distraction, as Mayu spread the waterbender's tangled brown hair out of its braid, and then pinched her face before tutting. "Yes, this really won't do," she finally said, and Katara could see that she would give nothing away.
One stupid step at a time, then.
Katara waited in irritated silence as Gigan and Mayu sat her down at the vanity and combed her hair out at length, though Yaname muttered to Shun, both waiting near the door, that it should just be cut off. The waterbender was reluctantly inclined to agree, since the other two had yanked out no less than a quarter of her hair, in tangled snags and large chunks that they wasted no patience on like Gran-Gran would have. Tears crept up on her again, but she willed them down and waited for it to be over.
She prayed a small thanks to the moon spirit when they didn't bother at all with her hair loops, and instead focused on making a traditional topknot out of her thick locks. They struggled and pinched, and by the time they were done, she was gritting her teeth and gripping the bench, but finally, the top of her hair was gathered back in the style of the firebenders who'd once razed her homeland.
They brushed the hair off her shoulders and congratulated themselves on making her 'presentable'.
And then a fresh new disaster appeared, with silent steps that startled Katara, when she finally realized there was someone else beside Shun and Yaname, and Gung had disappeared. But relief washed over her, along with confusion, as she took in the replacement guard.
A girl in pink clothes – not the overtly traditional robes Katara was given, but a tunic and trousers, with darker pink trim – was perched beside the maids, smiling directly at her.
"Hi, nice to meet you!" she greeted cheerfully, her pale features brightening with a genuine smile, and then put her hands together in a brief but polite bow, before popping back up and bounding over to the vanity.
Gigan ushered Katara to stand, but her manners already had her halfway up, and she met the girl with a confused but bemused expression, surprised when a hand was offered to shake. The waterbender hesitated for a moment, before she took the hand and met the girl's sweet brown eyes. She was hard not to like.
"I'm Ty Lee," the girl blurted energetically, squeezing Katara's hand. She opened her mouth to go on, and immediately, Katara got the feeling that she might be a chatterbox, so she made her own introduction quick.
"Katara," she managed, and got a nod of comprehension before Ty Lee continued.
"I'm your daytime security retinue!" she released Katara's hand and made a small flourish of excitement, before saluting and emphatically going on, "Now, I know what you're thinking! What's her deal? Is she a firebender? How is she gonna keep little-old-me under lock and key?" her voice carried the bubble of hidden laughter, and quickly, her quirky personality rubbed Katara the wrong way, as she happily explained, "Well, no, I'm not a firebender! And I'm not really that good with weapons either!" and then rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.
The maids by the door looked positively horrified, Katara noticed distantly, but then again, so did she – because she could already tell the girl was confidently leading up to her point.
"But the truth is, I'm an old friend of Prince Zuko's!" Ty Lee shrugged, and then let out the giggle she'd been holding back, "And when I heard there was a way I could help him out, and do a favour for the Royal Family at that! Well, I knew that had my name written all over it!" she declared, putting her hands together and interlocking her fingers against her chest with true satisfaction.
It kind of made Katara sick.
"So you'll do anything to stop me getting out of here, huh?" Katara asked, both cautious, and slightly curious how far this girl – who was about the same age as Katara – was willing to go to help out her old friend the Prince.
What kind of friend, she wondered hotly, before deciding she didn't care. He was kind of her husband, though.
"Oh, yeah – definitely," Ty Lee nodded, shaking her long auburn braid, before resettling her bright eyes on Katara with startling focus.
Her face flinched a little in response to the sheer gall of it. "Oh yeah?" Katara echoed in challenge, her face taking on a sneer, before she bit out, "How's that?"
She started at the girl, and in hindsight she would realize that she didn't really know why, but almost immediately, she learned that it wasn't worth it. In response to a two-inch step forward, Ty Lee launched her hands in rapid-fire succession at numerous spots across the waterbender's torso with shocking precision. The girl's face set into emotionless focus as she did it, but it was so quick that she was standing back in her spot, hands raised readily, by the time Katara registered the impacts that had pelted her.
The wind rushed out of her lungs and her arms went limp – and straight after, she began to collapse in a heap – only to be caught under the elbows by Gigan and Mayu.
"Like that," Ty Lee answered at last, lowering her stance and exhaling a small sound of either relief or mild guilt.
Katara righted herself and got her legs back under her, coughed a few times and then tried to shake off the maids, only to find that she couldn't. Suddenly, she froze with understanding.
"Your arms are paralysed. You'll get the feeling back in an hour or so, but that's okay," Ty Lee assured with her cheerful tone coming back, "the main thing is that you can't bend now."
Another wave of horror shook Katara and she balked, throwing a vicious glare at the other girl and barking out in disbelief, "What? How can you do that?" but it went ignored.
"Come on, ladies – we'd better get going, or it'll be my job!" Ty Lee prompted with merry urgency, clapping her hands and chuckling as the maids nodded and ushered Katara forth.
They got her to the threshold of the lounge before she reminded herself her legs were still functional, and screeched to a halt in the doorway. A second later, Yaname and Shun jumped in from behind and shoved her forwards. "Rragh!" Katara groaned as she struggled, "Stop! Let me go, you … you … Damn it!" she devolved to nonsense and jammed her legs against further progress.
Katara was hauled, haltingly, with her red slippers skidding against the marble, across the lounge and toward the chained door. The maids were surprisingly strong, and the momentum she'd built up through resistance gave way as they stopped at the foot of the door – so that she tumbled forward, out of their grasp – right onto her face.
At that moment, the supposedly-chained doors were decidedly unchained. They were shoved open without warning, startling not just Katara, but all four maids and Ty Lee to boot. For the most part, Katara was just glad the door didn't hit her in the face – it was a close shave.
At first her blue eyes settled only on a pair of bare feet in front of her, around the time the pain of her cheek on the floor filtered back to her. Distantly, she groaned, "Ow," and noticed another two sets of feet behind. Guards?
"What the hell is going on in here?" a familiar, squawky rasp cut through the shocked silence. It was early – his voice cracked. A second later, Prince Zuko seemed to recognize the girl in pink, and uttered, dumbly, "Ty Lee?"
"Zuko!" the girl exclaimed, completely ignoring Katara on the floor.
Katara watched the reflection in the marble as Ty Lee rushed in to hug the confused Prince, and wished she had the physical capacity to roll her eyes at them.
Zuko asked again, voice muffled in the pink girl's happy embrace, "No, seriously, what the hell is going on in here?"