A/N: It's not quite St. Patrick's Day, but I was pretty lucky to get this chapter up. I dedicate it to ML8991, who doesn't give up on me. Big four leaf clover thanks to Eiowynn who story favorited me.

Disclaimer: I'm not lucky enough to own any rights to Avatar the Last Airbender.


A shaft of golden light slithers through the balcony curtains. It dances across Katara's caramel cheek and slowly pries open her right eye. Throwing her arm over her face, Katara groans as she rolls to her side. Highlighting the deep creases of the pillow, roughened from a restless night of sleep, the sun huffs its frustration that Katara is dreaming through the morning. It sends a burst of bright light into the room and a warm breeze to billow the curtains wider, allowing even more afternoon light to radiate upon the twisted sheets. Katara ignores the urging to wake. She isn't ready to face the day, for it feels as if she had only fallen asleep moments ago. She grabs a pillow and shoves it over her head, making her bright bedroom feel darker. The day will not be mollified until Katara is fully awake. The sun urges a late-morning report dictated by a flock of sparrowkeets.

"Oh, go away!" Katara yells between the pillow crevices. The birds twitter louder. Katara moans, "please, go away."

The sparrowkeets cease singing. Katara sighs and tries to relax into sleep once more. She wiggles under the bedding and can feel the wave of warmth descend upon her. Darkness drifts over her again. The sun will not be deterred in waking Katara, demanding the sound of daily activity to drift up to the balcony.

The sound of nature and snatches of passing gossip burst through the open curtains. "Did you see those fireworks last night...Avoid Prince Zuko today, he is in one of his moods...Princess Azula fired another maid today for a misplaced comb; I pray I'm not assigned to her." Laughter drifts upwards, followed by a chuckle reply. "I don't want to work in the brothels either." The last snippet of a conversation chases away Katara's final vestige of sleep. "There were reports of the Blue Spirit being in the area again."

Katara tosses off the pillow and splays out on her back. "Fine, are you happy? I'm awake." The high plaster ceiling and chandelier glass lamps shades glint in the morning light. The bright sunshine gleefully bounces across the blue patterned wallpaper.

Rubbing her eyes, Katara grumbles. "This is why I like the moon," she rises from the covers and barks to the sunny day, "Pesky Sun!" She falls back in a huff onto the bed and grumbles. "The moon, at least, has the decency to go to sleep once a month." A sigh of frustration develops into a wide yawn. As she huffs with indignation, recalling how the days are short and nights long on the Southern Tundra, Gran Gran wanders into Katara's mind.

As if on cue, Gran Gran's voice smugly states a reminder to Katara. "Some of us have to get up in the morning. We don't get the luxury of sleeping the day away. There are fires that must be stoked, meals cooked, and fishing nets to be mended."

The imaginary admonishment for Katara's slothfulness is enough for her to shed the pile of bed linens. A night of fitful sleeping had shifted Katara's nightgown up to her waist, exposing her bindings. Her legs reveal unblemished skin. Running a hand along the tan muscular lines, she searches again for any sign of the hideous black mark. Katara closes her eyes, scanning her innermost being for evidence of the line. She can feel nothing, nor can she see anything that substantiates last night's dream, even the sensation of a foreign presence seems erased. Katara's entire chi channels flow with energy.

Maybe the line was only some nightmare which seemed vivid? Yet, Katara can recall the frantic healing which lasted for several hours, before the black mark had finally disappeared. She shakes her head to clear those frightening thoughts. Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, her feet hit the cold floor. The coolness feels good with the mounting heat that is accumulating within the room.

Katara moves over to the dresser. She stares at the reflection of the mirror. A young girl in her twenties blinks back at her. There are no black and blue marks on her face, nor even scrapes which might indicate the previous night's scuffle with the pirates. Katara has the same rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes which show clear. She touches the blue disc at her throat. She clutches the necklace for protection. The visible record upon Katara's body may have been removed, but she can close her eyes and transport herself back to the alley, even anticipating the sparring movements of the Blue Spirit.

"Who is this Blue Spirit?" The reflection staring back at her provides no insight. Katara contemplates if the Blue Spirit is a mythical deity or some vigilante who needs the cloak of the night. There has to be someone that can help direct her queries. She needs Sokka on the case. Together, they can get answers.

Katara drops her hand from her necklace. If only she hadn't let Sokka convince her to attend the festival. The evening's escapade and devolved into a Southern fireside tale designed to keep curious children from venturing beyond the fire border. There were so many elements of fantastical danger to that night. It didn't help that Sokka's logical reasoning for attending the festival led Katara into almost being raped. She asserts to the image at the mirror, "No, not raped, I defended myself." The reflection replies with a determined look, followed by a guilty admission. "Besides, it isn't fair to blame Sokka. You wanted to attend; he just gave you an excuse." Katara amends, "You were having fun until you were kidnapped, and then there was that Blue Spirit." The Blue Spirit from the dream with sinister incisors, jaws open to swallow her, causes Katara to shiver. That fearsome image is juxtaposed against the Blue Spirit in the alley who had helped her. "Which is the real Blue Spirit?" Her reflection stares blankly back at her with no indication of an answer.

Katara returns her attention to getting ready to face the day. Her room's opulent interior has touches of wealth, down to even the most insignificant items. A collection of glass-cut bottles, varying sizes, and colors, cluster around a pitcher and bowl. A small hand towel with the royal insignia lies next to it. Golden dragons encircle the initials of the Imperial Emperor and Sovereign Fire Lord Azulon. Her fingers run over the raised stitching. The array of beauty stimulates girlish excitement. Katara removes her hand from the towel and eagerly looks over the splay of indulging delights. Picking up each bottle, she examines it, uncorks it, and smells the contents.

Pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl, Katara chooses a bottle which smells of saxifrage flowers. It perfumes the air and creates bubbles within the basin. She leans over the bowl, splashing the suds onto her face. The sudden desire to waterbend makes her weak. She grips the dresser with both hands. The pull of her element twists in her belly. Closing her eyes, she takes deep breaths. The sensation passes her. Straightening, the mirror counterpart has a damp faced and wide-eyed look blinking back at her. She grabs the towel and quickly wipes away the droplets from her face.

Katara yanks her nightgown over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She picks up the sea sponge and wills her chi to be still. Dipping the sponge into the scented water, she cleans her body. After the more intimate places upon her body are washed, she towels herself dry. Lifting up a pink glass bottle, she uncorks it. The smell of rose-orchids wafts under her nose. She pours lotion onto her hand and rubs the liquid all over her body.

Feeling refreshed, Katara pulls out a drawer but pauses. The realization that her best dress is now lying in tatters somewhere beyond the royal palace knots Katara's stomach. The soft fabric was weaved with the careful time of a season; one dress can represent a year of work. Women of the tribe gathered the tundra flax, packing it under layers of snow which breaks down the strong fibers. When the snow melts, unearthing the weathered plants, the tundra flax is rolled into bundles. Women beat the reeds into a more pliable substance and simultaneously release its inner blue, the distinctive color identified as Southern Blue. Katara's lost dress had been embroidered by Gran Gran's hands and presented as a sixteenth birthday present.

"May you wear this and remember that I am never far from you." Katara had clutched the dress in her hands, willing herself to not cry in front of Grandmother. Gran Gran lifted up Katara's chin, "Do not be afraid to show your love or tears for it is what makes you Katara and a true Southern Tribe Princess."

Even if Katara knew where the dress was, it would be ruined. A single tear runs down her cheek for all the love and craftsmanship that is forever lost. The few items she had brought with her from the ship barely fill the huge interior of the drawer. Katara will have to resign herself to wear one of her day dresses.

If the royal staff and family had been snobby about Katara's best dress, the open derision concerning her day dress would be quite apparent. She lifts the article from the drawer. It is pliant and resistant to dirt; a quality much needed with the amount of labor required to run a Southern Tribe home. The dress's construction aids work, protection from the unpredictable weather, and ease of play. Katara holds the material to her face and can faintly smell the sea. Inhaling the brine makes her feel better, the smell contains the reminders of home. Even though a life near the ocean can be treacherous, there are rich rewards. As she slips the dress over her head, she smugly thinks that the snooty Fire Nation couldn't forecast the weather or determine best planting day just by the color of the sea. With renewed satisfaction and confidence, she puts on her matching pantaloons.

The final step is brushing out her hair. It seems particularly unruly, but she manages to twist it into a braid that hangs down her back. She hesitates slightly about her side loops that indicate she is a young maiden. It would be another obvious difference from the typical hairstyle prevalent at Imperial City. Instead of filling her with uncertainty, Katara determinedly loops the strands of hair and pins them into her braid.

"I won't lose myself." Katara is water, an element that remains steadfast and true. The saying echoes in her heart as she slips on her sandals.

Master Pakku interjects Katara's heart with another rhythm reminder. "Water also ebbs and flows. It is flexible and can be manipulated."

Katara wanders out into the main room. She anticipates finding her brother lounging on a couch, smelly socks bared for all to see and endure, and her father going through the required tribute paperwork. Yet, the room is empty, no signs of occupation. Everything is tidy. At the table, a rolled scroll lays next to a silver domed platter. Unlike Sokka and his appetite abyss, Katara doesn't feel hungry. She lifts up the silver dome, more out of curiosity than a desire for sustenance. Expecting the food to look congealed and cold, she is assailed with rich aromas. A Southern Tribe typical breakfast of oatmeal and cinnamon seaweed fills a golden tureen. The green seaweed, normally gobbled by Katara, resembles the sinister snakes from Katara's dream. Repulsion fills her, along with the fear of the burning internal sensation returning, but nothing happens. Lifting up her pantaloons, she verifies; the mark hasn't reappeared either.

Katara recovers the food with the dome, and her stomach settles. Picking up the scroll, she unrolls it. The calligraphy is written in Southern Tribe code, utilized for those that need to know and be purposely cryptic to those that have no business in knowing. Her father's hand had scripted a message. Sokka and her father were attending requisite meetings. As Katara scans down, her father suggests a visit to the royal archives or gardens.

Tracing the words of her father, Katara could feel the script's edges of meaning. "We will find you. Occupy yourself, for there is much to learn if you search for it."

"I hear you, Dad." Katara had been carefully taught that to be knowledgeable gave you more negotiating power. Perhaps there was something to discern, including locating a viable loophole to spare Sokka's life. If nothing else, it would give Katara a purpose beyond the endless fretting about her brother. She rolls up the note and returns it to the spot on the table. Walking over to the outer door, she opens it and steps out into the hallway.

"How may I help you?" Joo Dee bows briefly in front of Katara, not as low as Katara's station dictates, though.

"Where did you come from?" Startled, Katara glances around at the sudden apparition. The hallway stretches fore and aft, devoid of any other life. There is something disconcerting about Joo Dee, beyond her creepy smile. Katara experiences unease, her skin itchy and uncomfortable.

Joo Dee speaks through grinning teeth. "I am where I am needed."

"Thank you?" Katara answers in a lame upturned form of questioning confusion. She blushes at her blunder. As Joo Dee stands, awaiting a command, Katara adds, "Yes, well, I was wondering where the royal archives are? I'm interested in some reading material."

"What kind of reading material?" Joo Dee adds with an even wider smile, revealing her back, white teeth.

"I was wanting to…" Katara stops herself from saying she was going to research about the tribute and inserts instead, "find out about the Blue Spirit."

"The Blue Spirit is a myth." Joo Dee's eyes flicker briefly, but her smile remains firmly plastered on her face.

"Not true, I heard the Blue Spirit was spotted only last evening."

"It isn't proper to indulge in idle gossip." Joo Dee says coolly. "Imperial City does not allow enemies of the state to roam free."

Katara feels frustrated with herself, even the servants manage to make her feel like an errant school girl who has misplaced her lessons. She says with a regal-air, "I will go to the library and read up on the Blue Spirit myth myself, then."

"I am more than happy to retrieve reading materials for you."

"I will go and choose my own reading materials, thank you," Katara responds with slight irritation.

Hardly phased, Joo Dee bows, "Very well, then, I will take you to the royal archives."

Joo Dee begins leading Katara, not even verifying if Katara is following. The route to the archival library starts out in a similar path from the previous evening but quickly varies from Sokka's route. Katara tries to note the surroundings for future reference but is continually distracted by Joo Dee's trivial facts concerning the palace. Joo Dee pulls up short. Katara abruptly stops, managing to prevent herself from colliding into Joo Dee. Glancing upwards, Katara finds herself in front of double doors of rich Mahanoy.

The doors open and a slender man with long fingers folded stands within the doorway. His thin mustache curls into a wry grin. "How may I help you?"

Joo Dee bows with reverence. "Sir Long Feng, Lady Katara from the Southern Water Tribe is interested in procuring some novels."

"Novels?" Katara is confused. She had been specific in her desire to read something else. The clutter of Joo Dee's prattle fills her mind. Katara tries to recall what it was she had originally desired but can't.

"Novels are a fine item for young lady's' mind. There is nothing upsetting to be found in those. It is good to be able to relax." Long Feng says the words in such a soothing manner. They drift over Katara in fluid motions, stroking her mind into a steady mode of thinking.

Katara replies in a rhythmic trance. "Yes, I would like to relax."

Long Feng's eyes narrow into knowing slits. "Thank you, Joo Dee, for your due diligence." Joo Dee bows and backs away. Long Feng extends a hand, directing Katara into the royal archives. "Follow me, Lady Katara."

Katara drifts over the threshold, and the doors close behind her. A circular room has couches and chairs arranged for solitary reading or study. A flank of windows, intersperse with glass doors, stretches to the ceiling. Long, heavy drapes hang from the sides of the windows, grazing the wooden flooring. Sunlight filters through the beveled glass. Green shaded lamps add to the light, making the room seem less dim. Bookcases spiral outwards into tall lines that reach the ceiling. Leather bound volumes fill the shelves. A ladder zooms down a bookcase towards Long Feng. It stops next to him. He climbs the ladder easily, pulls out a book and then descends.

"Your book." A tome is held out to a dazed Katara.

Katara takes it automatically, "Thank you." She can feel the leather cover and binding in her hand but doesn't look down at the title.

"Perhaps you would like to sit in the gardens."

"Yes, the garden." Katara feels her feet walking forward. Long Feng leads her toward the long windows and opens a door.

"Good day, Lady Katara, enjoy your novel."

Katara nods and steps out into the sunshine. The sound of the door shutting behind her melds into the buzzing that has encircled her being. She barely blinks away the brightness of the day, walking forward blindly. Her feet move in a straight line, ignoring the designated pathways and grass borders. Katara moves toward the far pond. She can feel the pull of the water and doesn't notice the stairs which lead down to it. The chi of the water shoves past the buzzing within Katara's being, calling her to the pond. Heedless of the stairs, Katara hovers over the first step. Her foot misses it and causes her to pitch forward. She tumbles down the steps. Crying out, she can't push through the fog to catch herself. She rolls and bumps down the stairs, before finally resting on the bottom.

Lying there stunned, Katara seems to wake from another dream. The relief that her senses have returned is quickly followed by the pain of her fall. Pushing herself to sit, she notices her scraped hand. She checks her head and feels a small bump on her forehead. Tasting blood, she is aware that her lip must be cut. She knows bruises will form momentarily.

"Great, Katara, another one for the books." Katara feels the water yanking at her core. "I can at least wash off this blood in the pond." She just hopes that's all she will do, not reveal her bending. Gingerly, she stands and moves stiffly to the shimmering pond.

Katara passes planters that glimmer golden in the sunlight. The large urns burst with groupings of bright oranges and fiery reds. Elongated thin petals are bent backward, jutting out random pointed purple styles, almost as if breathing blue flames. A perfume hangs in the air, making the whole courtyard intoxicatingly sweet. The smell bewitches Katara, bombarding her senses with each inhale. It makes her mind feel dull and slightly lethargic.

Katara reaches the pond in a sluggish daze. A tree trunk, gnarled with age, is robust with pink blossomed branches. Kneeling at the edge of the pond, the tree curtains Katara with shade. Dipping her hand in the water, she resists the pull of healing, beads of sweat break out on her forehead from her intense concentration. Her chi yearns to weld the water. The urge to waterbend is almost deafening. It rumbles in her chest and pounds in her ears.

"Lady Katara?"

A rough voice floats over Katara's shoulder, startling her from her reverie. She immediately recognizes the deep timbre tones. "Prince Zuko!" The surprise at having Zuko behind her causes Katara to fall forward, plopping into the water. Her hands press into the pond's bottom. Leaning back onto her haunches, her hands lift out of the water, dripping with oozing muck. She flicks her fingers with disgust. Mud splatters onto the lap of her dress. She looks down dismayed. "What is it with me and this place?" A turtle duck paddles from the protection of the reeds. It swims over to Katara. She glares at its fuzzy, yellow head. "Have you come to mock me now?" The little duck seems to squawk with laughter.

Zuko responds with an emphatic, "No!" Thinking Katara's statement was in reference to him and slightly guilt-ridden that he had startled Katara, especially after last night, he stands stiffly, justifying his approach. "I called your name several times; you didn't seem to hear me."

The earlier fog in her brain has lifted, she can finally think clearly. With relief, Katara replies, "I was preoccupied. I didn't hear you."

Zuko says gruffly. "Are you alright?" She is kneeling by the pond, mud dropping in clumps, plopping into the water.

Katara wants to snap that she hasn't been fine since she stepped off the Blue Orca but knows that it isn't a befitting response to a Prince, much less considered polite. "I will be after I clean off this muck." Katara dips her hands back in the water; waving them around, she washes off the mud. Her cleaning actions cause ripples in the pond, which chase away the curious turtle duck. Mud not dripping from her hands, Katara cups water into her palm and raises it to the side of her mouth. She carefully cleanses the blood from her lip, concentrating to not trigger any waterbending healing. The pond reflects a clean face, even with the appearance of bruises. Satisfied she maintained her ruse of a non-bender, she leans back again on her haunches and starts to stand.

With regal politeness, Zuko holds out his hand. "Allow me, Lady Katara."

Katara looks at Zuko's fingers, which are long and tapered. His skin is so pale, compared to Katara's darker one. Laying her hand on his, Zuko clasps it, helping Katara to her feet. A heat warms her palm; the sensation seems oddly familiar. She glances at their intertwined hands in bewilderment. Standing, she is several inches shorter than the Prince. Katara's eyes follow up from Zuko's light gray suit jacket to a golden tie that is knotted tightly at his throat. Katara finally looks into Zuko's yellow eyes, which are gazing at Katara with a burning intensity.

Zuko can see that a bruise is forming on Katara's forehead. There is a slight cut on her lip. Zuko's eyes narrow, noting Katara's bruises but is confused by the fresh appearance of the marks. Last night, he had been impressed by Katara's strength in the face of a dangerous situation. Her level of assuredness is only felt by Zuko when he wears the Blue Spirit mask. The way Katara fought him and later when they joined forces against the pirates, hadn't emasculated him but Zuko actually felt bolstered by it. It had been nice to have a partner. Yet, when he left Katara lying across her bed, in sleep, she exhibited a fresh sense of vulnerability which he wasn't use to, these feelings that were germinating within him were odd. He has been careful to suppress his emotions; it is dangerous to feel; sentiment equates weakness in his world.

Katara is standing inches from the Prince. She can see the ridges of his scar. His unmarred jawline is strong and proud. One side of his face is so handsome; he would have had countless conquests if not for his scar. Even though the royalty dictates certain fashion sensibilities, Zuko doesn't possess the fashionable sideburns, typically worn by the male elite and nobility. His hair is clipped short and combed away from his face, too, where most of the men had let theirs grow slightly longer.

"Thank you for helping me to my feet."

"You're welcome," Zuko replies, immovable and stoic. He wonders if Katara knows that he is the Blue Spirit. He never speaks and rarely interacts with anyone on his missions. Katara had been the first. He hopes he hadn't given away his identity.

The heat from Zuko's hand warms Katara's palm and makes her slightly blush. She glances down at their combined grip. Zuko notices Katara looking downwards. He becomes cognizant of the fact that he was still grasping Katara's palm. He releases his hand. Both of their arms fall to their sides. He clears his throat and stifles his embarrassment. They both begin to speak, then stop. A moment of silence, anticipating the other to communicate, Katara and Zuko stare at each other, and then the pattern is repeated. After two failed attempts, a girlie nervous giggle and stumbling manly chuckle break the uncomfortable tension between them. Zuko bows before Katara, indicating for her to speak first.

Katara blushes rosy with the horror, realizing she had never formally recognized Zuko's princely station. She curtsies deeply. "Good morning, Prince Zuko." Katara glances up through the tree's pink fronds and notices the sun's zenith, "Pardon me, good afternoon, Prince Zuko."

A slight smile turns up the corner of Zuko's mouth. He has always found the courtly conversation stiff and unyielding in attempts at familiarity. Yet, being a Prince, he was bound by its restrictions. "Good afternoon to you, too, Lady Katara." Aware of the found novel in his other hand, the book had been located shortly before he noticed Katara by the pond. He thrusts the novel toward Katara, stating abruptly. "Is this yours?"

Katara recoils slightly, preventing the novel from hitting her in the bosom. She had completely forgotten about the book. "Yes, I," a slight confession is halted, for it would only make her sound ludicrous. How could Zuko comprehend that her senses had been dulled and that she had tripped and fallen down the stairs. She reaches for the book and adds hastily to cover her delay. "I must have dropped it by accident. Thank you for retrieving it for me." The tips of their fingers graze as Katara takes back the novel. She ignores the strange feeling welling up within her over the touch of their fingertips.

Zuko steps back from Katara with nervousness. He stops himself from blushing. This is ridiculous. I'm succumbing to male appetites and at my age. While it had been only a year since Mai and he had parted, he wasn't some pubescent teen with raging hormones. Besides, he was tired of women using him for his station. Mai had proven no different. Her association with Azula had made Zuko distrustful and anxious, especially in the final months of their relationship.

Zuko says suddenly to cover the silence between them, "Love Amongst the Dragons."

"Pardon?"

Zuko indicates the cover the book in Katara's grip. "Your novel, Love Amongst the Dragons, is a favorite in the Fire Nation."

"I didn't realize." Katara runs her hands across the embossed title. She looks up and sees that Zuko has a hooded expression on his face. She settles upon a brief explanation, partial truth can be easier to digest. "The royal archivist chose it for me."

"You met Long Feng, then?" Zuko swallows his disgust for the man who doesn't hide his ambition. Long Feng has worked hard to climb the inner sanctum of the palace and stake his claim to be near the throne.

Katara reflects upon her interaction with the royal archivist. "Not really, Sir Long Feng gave me this book, and then I found myself out in the garden." She supplies more for wanting to divert the conversation from this uncomfortable territory. "The palace gardens are beautiful."

"The pond is my favorite part." Zuko looks out over the water.

Water lilies float along the surface supporting a badger frog, who is sunning itself. Turtle ducklings follow behind their swimming mother. The turtle-duck, who had ventured close to Katara, bumps into its siblings. Shaking water off its feathers, it paddles to catch-up but only repeats the process. Katara bursts out laughing and then covers her mouth. She glances up at the Prince, who is watching the same spectacle and has a slight smile on his face.

"The turtle duck mother is very protective of her babies."

Katara touches the necklace at her throat. "Parents are usually protective of their children."

"Yes, parents," Zuko thinks of his father. Tension wells up in his body, fueling his chi.

Katara notices a dark look pass over Zuko's face. She adds truthfully, "Archduchess Ursa is very kind." She neglects to mention that Archduke Ozai is anything but kind.

Zuko relaxes and smiles wistfully. "Yes, Mother is kind to everyone." The turtle ducks family is bobbing for food amongst the water lilies. The badger frog croaks from his lily pad, not relishing being surrounded by the ducklings. He finally springs off his sunning spot, diving into the water. "This is one of Mother's favorite places in the palace. She is contented with the water." Zuko's hands are clasped behind his back. He turns to her and stares at Katara pointedly. "Do you find it contenting to be by the water?"

Katara looks out over the pond, resisting the urge to close her eyes and embrace the sensation of the water's chi. She says without revealing her true emotion for her element. "I'm Southern Water Tribe; it is implied that we all love the water."

"That is true, and I'm Fire Nation, so then, I must love fire?" Zuko states it, but there is a note of question in his tone. He turns to Katara, almost confronting her with the social inquiry. "Did you sleep well last night?"

The inky, black snakes appear in her mind, Katara pushes away the image. "I always sleep uneasily, when I'm in a strange place."

"Do you find this place strange?" Zuko wishes his uncle was here. He is much more adept at ferreting out information. Zuko knows he can't outright ask Katara about the pirates, for it would reveal that he was there with her.

Katara faces Zuko boldly. For some reason, she thinks Zuko is trying to trap her, to get her to reveal something. "It is different than my home; so yes, I find this place very strange."

"It must be different since you don't have tribute festivals at your home."

Katara reigns in her anger over the futility of their situation, trapped by the Faceless Ones and the tribute. "No, all of our festivals were shuttered when we had to divert funds for the tribute."

"Then it must have been a nice experience for you to attend the festival." Zuko's eyes are unreadable as he stares into Katara's churning blue eyes. Zuko waits for a glimmer of an expression to reveal why Katara had been taken to that alley with the pirates.

"I didn't attend the festival last night." Katara lets the lie roll off her tongue. Suspicion for the course of their conversation makes the normally bitter taste of lying easier for her to swallow.

"That is too bad; the festival can be fun." Zuko looks away, brooding over the reasons why Katara is lying to him.

Katara switches the questioning attacks. "Did you attend the festival last night?"

Zuko doesn't even glance at her. "No, royalty rarely attend the commoners' functions."

Katara resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I would have attended the festival," Katara clarifies, "If I had been allowed, so that must make me a commoner."

"But you didn't attend the festival, according to you." Zuko had lived long enough with Azula to pick up some of her interrogating tricks. "So that would make you like me, correct?"

"That's correct, according to me, I didn't attend the festival." Katara watches Zuko closely. "Why do you care if I attended the festival or not?"

Zuko looks up sharply, wading into uncomfortable territory. While he knew some of Azula's tricks, he wasn't as skilled as his sister to handle the trickier depths. "There are dangers to be found at the festival, especially from certain undesirables."

Katara thinks of the pirates, who had mentioned she would fetch a pretty price. Then there was her kidnapper. Did the royal family send Yon Ra after her? She steps closer to Zuko, or did the Prince send Yon Ra after her instead? "Yes, I heard there were dangers there last evening." Katara starts to mention the pirates but stops herself, which would reveal too much. "I heard there were sightings of the Blue Spirit in the lower city."

Zuko's face gets a steely expression. "The Blue Spirit is a myth."

"That's not what the commoners think." Katara makes sure to stress that word for pointed reference to Zuko's earlier derision of his people.

"How would you know what the commoners think, Lady Katara?" Zuko adds emphasis to Katara's title.

"Aren't we all commoners compared to the Imperial family?" Katara knows she is wading into treacherous waters but can't resist the urge.

Zuko spouts out Imperial rhetoric with little affinity for his words. "The Imperial family protects the world from Koh's Faceless Ones. This duty to the world costs many Fire Nation lives, in order to bring balance, the world helps repay the Fire Nation for what it has lost."

"Yes, that is true, but who pays the ultimate price, the Fire Nation or the world?" Katara curtsies. "The world, of course…" She bows her head, pausing but sleekly inserts Imperial propaganda, "is beholden to the Fire Nation's noble sacrifices." She looks up. Her blue eyes stare into Zuko's yellow ones. Seeing that the prince isn't going to make any movement or continue their discourse, Katara makes a respectful curtsey. "Good day, Prince Zuko." She turns on her heel.

Zuko calls after her, "Be careful, Lady Katara, you don't want to find yourself in hot water."

Gripping the novel her hands, Katara ignores his parting words. Striding along the garden pathway, she can sense Zuko following her. He lingers at a distance but is staying abreast with her. Pausing by a fountain, she watches the dancing waters, but from the corner of her eye, notices the Prince has paused, too. Katara is annoyed. She doesn't need a protector. Turning from the fountain, she hurries toward the stairs and rounds the corner.

Zuko quickens his pace, he doesn't want to lose Katara. As he pursues her, worried about her disappearance, he doesn't notice Katara's foot. Zuko starts to trip; but in mid-air, he quickly whips around. Katara notes the lightness of his maneuvers and that he manages to not fall.

"Why are you following me?" Katara demands. "Did I do something wrong?"

Zuko backs up, "No." He stops and barks. "You tripped me."

"Yes, because I don't like being followed." Katara refuses to feel guilty. She rounds. "I can take care of myself. I'm not some coddled prince or princess."

Zuko wants to laugh, no one but the servants coddle anyone in the royal family. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be walking in the same direction."

Katara squashes her mounting temper, slightly chastised. "Were you walking in the same direction?"

"No," Zuko looks flustered. The truth escaping before a lie could be issued. He adds, "But I might have."

"Were you afraid that I would steal something?" Katara says with an edge of hurt. She had moved closer to Zuko in her anger than the protocol of their stations allowed. Her impulsive action causes her to back away and resemble a more humble stance. "I'm not a thief."

"I didn't think you were. In fact, I think you are rather brave." Zuko realizes his slip when Katara looks up at him questionably. Zuko corrects his misstep. "What I meant to say is that I think you must be brave."

"Why?"

"Uncle told me that your brother is sacrificing himself to Koh." Even with his conflicted feelings about Azula, he wouldn't wish that on her or anyone. "I know that must be hard, knowing you only have a short time left with your brother."

Katara closes her eyes, squeezing back her tears. "Yes, I wish there was another way." She adds with such dripping bitterness. Her eyes shiny, she glares at the Prince, a member of the Imperial family who will never have to be sacrificed. "But for us, there is no other way, when the tribute is demanded."

Zuko and Katara stand silently, staring at each other. Both lost in their own thoughts about what the Faceless Ones have taken from them.

"Aw, brother, the spirits are truly working their mischief; twice in one day, I must bear your company." Azula appears from behind the staircase. She runs her sharp fingernails along the back of her brother's suit. Zuko's back immediately goes rigid. Azula's posture, clothes, and hair are perfection personified. Arching an eyebrow, she smiles slowly at Katara. "Servants should be at their stations, not wandering the gardens." Azula's handmaidens, Ty Lee and Mai, loiter nearby, awaiting Azula's command.

Katara snaps, "I'm not one of your servants."

"Azula, this is Lady Katara from the Southern Water Tribe." Mai ceases explaining, too disinterested in her effort already.

"How silly of me, it is so difficult to distinguish the riff-raff from those that are here for the tribute," Azula adds, "you understand."

Katara understands that Azula was consciously trying to demean her. "It must be difficult for you since there is so little required of you."

Azula's face turns chilly. She counters. "Yes, you see, I think the problem was that I was thrown by your attire." She shrugs, "It isn't something I normally expect nobility to wear, but I'm sure where you come from, perhaps…" Azula doesn't bother to finish her futile excuse at rudeness. Her long nails flick away the plebian opponent beside her. Azula sets her sights on a more interesting target to provoke. "Zuzu, it was so disappointing to find that your vote this morning did not align properly with the right side. You can't afford to make ill-advised mistakes."

Zuko's jawline vibrates with the dig of Azula's annoying pet name. "I wouldn't say ill-advised since Uncle's side won."

Azula sighs airily, "A mere technicality that will soon be rectified by father."

Ty Lee flexes her arms behind her back, stretching, hile stating emphatically. "I'm sure you're right, Azula."

Mai utters with a deep sigh, "Azula, can we go? I'm bored by all of this."

Azula rolls her eyes, "When aren't you bored, Mai?" She turns to Katara who has a rather large bruise on her high cheekbone. "You do know we have bathrooms adjacent to all the bedrooms? You might want to heal yourself." Azula laughs, "That's right, there are no waterbenders left in the Southern Tribe, we took them all." She flips her hand at Zuko. "Brother, you might want to take Katara to her kinsmen in the royal infirmary. They might help improve Lady Katara's face." She sniffs disapprovingly at the soggy hem and dried spots of mud on Katara's dress. "There are even royal tailors on site to help with more befitting clothes." Azula doesn't hide her grin. "There is no need to try and launder your clothes in the pond."

"Azula!" Zuko barks sharply. "Watch yourself."

Hardly concerned by Zuko's admonishment, Azula shrugs innocently. "Oh Zuzu, no need to ruffle your feathers, I was merely offering this backwater peasant some friendly advice."

Katara's fingers itch to send ice picks from the pond into Azula's eyes. Stilling her desire to waterbend, Katara says through gritted teeth. "I apologize, but I must leave. I'm not feeling well; there is something rank in the air."

Ty Lee looks alert, "It might be Azula's perfume. I told her it was too strong."

"Ty Lee!" Azula said sharply. "Mind your tongue."

"Sorry, Azula," Ty Lee chirps back and then walks in a circle on her tiptoes. Mai subtly smiles, but then sighs to make the grin disappear.

Zuko wants to get far away from Azula and her gang of handmaids. Bowing to Katara, he stands and offers his arm. "Lady Katara, allow me escort you from the gardens."

"Honestly, brother, I thought you had taste."

Zuko says slowly and deliberately to Azula. "I do have taste, and I prefer Lady Katara's company to yours."

Katara glances down at Zuko's offered arm. She doesn't want to be another Pai Sho piece to maneuver in this royal family squabble. Yet, she does want to get far away from the spiteful princess and Katara isn't sure if she can find her way back to her apartment. Placing her arm on top of Zuko's, she says primly. "Thank you, Prince Zuko; I would appreciate your escort."

Zuko nods. Relieved that Katara didn't deny him, he knew Azula was waiting to pounce if Katara had. Together, they begin to walk away.

Azula calls out, "Zuzu, you might want to take your little muskrat to the royal trainers, instead. They can teach her how to become more civilized."

Zuko and Katara forgo responding to Azula's parting taunt. They stride briskly away, wanting as much distance between Azula and her handmaidens.


A/N: ML8991 can't do all the hard work of cheering me on, please leave a review, favorite, story follower, or all three if you please.