The knocking just wouldn't stop.

It would usually annoy him. It did annoy him. Of course it did. But this time, it was worse than that. This time, he couldn't open the door.

"What do you want?" he yelled.

"You're the one who demanded daily firebending practice, Prince Zuko. If you don't get moving, you'll lose your sparring partner. I'm not wasting my whole day on this."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Zuko thumped his head against the wall. Ouch. Straightening, he rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"You'll wait as long as I want you to, Lieutenant." Maybe if he yelled loud enough, his voice wouldn't shake. Maybe if there was enough force behind his voice, no one would realize that there was anything wrong.

Zuko looked back over his shoulder, at the row of extinguished candles that he'd been trying—and failing—to light for the past half hour. He hadn't managed to so much as melt the wax or to leave streaks of soot behind on the shelf.

This was bad. This was really bad. And he was still doing his very best not to acknowledge the droplets of water that had fallen in a speckled pattern across the floor when his frustration had first gotten the better of him.

If he had his way, he would never think about that. If he had his way, it would just stop.

"Prince Zuko, if there is something troubling you, perhaps I could help," Uncle called through the door.

Great. They were ganging up on him now.

"I said that I need a little time, Uncle."

"Shall I ask the medic to pay you a visit? I did think that there was something a bit off about the komodo sausage that we were served last night. But the medic has recently restocked his medicines for intestinal complaints, and—"

Zuko slammed the door open and grabbed Uncle by the front of his robes. "Could you please be quiet?"

"Ah. Just as I suspected. It's—"

"That's not it!" Zuko shouted. He yanked Uncle into his cabin. "If you're not going to leave me alone, then get in here and try to be useful."

Lieutenant Jee made a slight motion like he wanted to come in too.

"Not you!" Zuko slammed the door in his face and locked it.

"Very princely behavior, Your Highness," Jee called through the door, voice muffled. Then, before there could be any response, he stomped away.

Damn it. If Zuko could ever set foot outside his cabin again, he'd have to deal with that insubordinate jerk.

If he could ever leave the cabin.

"Now." Uncle folded his hands delicately over his big, round stomach. "Tell me what is bothering you, Prince Zuko."


"Let me get this straight." Sokka thumped down beside her, limbs sprawling out much farther than necessary. "My sister, Miss Waterbender, who's been annoyingly obsessed with magic nonsense for as long as either of us can remember, suddenly doesn't want to get the water for the night?" He threw his arms out to the sides. "The injustice, the hypocrisy—"

Katara whacked him in the shoulder. It was not her fault. She wasn't trying to shirk her share of the chores. It was just that—well, she couldn't. And she didn't like it. It felt weird and uncomfortable and bad.

Aang sat down by her other side. "Is there something wrong, Katara?"

She wouldn't look at either of them. Instead, she wrapped her arms tight around her knees and dug her nails into her wrist. "I don't know for sure. Maybe."

"Could you be a little less specific? I'm overwhelmed with details here."

"What do you think the problem is?" Aang leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Maybe we can help you figure it out."

Katara stared straight ahead. Maybe Aang had a point. Maybe talking about the problem would make things better. It certainly couldn't hurt, and she'd tried almost everything else already.

"I think there might be something wrong with my bending," she said in a rush.

Sokka snorted. "Now there's a surprise. Bending is just kinda wrong." He looked around her to fix his eyes on Aang. "No offense."

"Wrong how?" If Aang had heard the comment, he was doing an impressive job of pretending otherwise. "Is your bending weaker than normal? Or maybe your forms aren't working the way they normally do? Or is it something else?"

She shook her head. "Something else."

"Again with the overwhelmingly specific detail. Quick, someone get me a piece of paper before I start losing track of all this enlightening information."

"I mean that it's not working at all!" she shouted. "Now could you please stop being so obnoxious, Sokka? I'm trying to deal with a serious problem, and if you don't knock it off, I'm going to—" Her voice failed her. All of her usual threats—freezing Sokka's head to the ground, sending a load of snow down the back of his shirt, splashing him with his own soup—involved waterbending. Which meant that they were entirely useless to her now.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait." Sokka sat up straight. "When did this start? You do realize that we left home for your waterbending, right? It's going to be kind of useless to go to the North Pole for a waterbending master if you can't waterbend anymore."

"That was not the only reason we left, and you know it!" Try as she might, she couldn't keep her voice from creeping higher and higher. "We were in danger there. We had to go to protect Gran-Gran and the others, and Aang, and—"

And to find a waterbending teacher. Though that wasn't the only reason, it had certainly been part of it. And that was absolutely the reason they were so intent on going so far north. It was the whole point of choosing the Northern Water Tribe as their destination. If she couldn't waterbend, then what was the point in going so far?

Aside from Aang's waterbending, of course. He needed to learn too. But if Katara couldn't learn along with him, then traveling all that way sounded a little pointless to her. She didn't want to stand by while anyone else learned her element.

"Do you know when this happened?" Aang asked, gentler than Sokka. "If we know when it started, that could give us a clue about how to fix it."

"A little after we left home." There was one extremely precise, extremely vivid moment that stood out in her memory when she thought back on it, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. What if she was wrong? Or, even worse, what if she was right?

"So why didn't you tell us anything about this before?"

She shrugged. "I guess I was just hoping that it would get better on its own. I felt—weird. For a while, I thought that I was getting sick and that my bending would go back to normal afterward."

"But you aren't sick."

"No, I'm not." She wrapped her arms even tighter around herself. Beside her, even Sokka seemed a bit more solemn.

She stared deeper into the campfire, watching the flames leap and dance higher and higher into the air. "And that's not the worst part either."


"Uncle, I really can't do lessons right now." He massaged his temples, hoping desperately that it might drive away the gathering headache. "I knew you weren't going to understand this."

"No, Prince Zuko, I believe that I do." Uncle perched on the edge of the bunk with all his usual maddening calm. "You know, when your cousin passed, my own firebending was somewhat affected for a time. If I am not mistaken, then—"

"Well, you are mistaken."

"And what makes you think so?"

Zuko should have been keeping his voice down. Anyone could have been outside, ear pressed to the door for a scrap of gossip. His crewmen weren't known for being discreet. But yelling felt better to him. More powerful, more authoritative. More like he had some semblance of control over his life.

"Somewhat! You said 'somewhat', which means that you have absolutely no idea what's going on!"

"Then perhaps you would care to explain what the trouble is."

Zuko clenched his jaw. He didn't want to explain anything, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he'd never be able to solve this problem on his own. He'd tried. Lots of times.

"I can't—Uncle, I can't firebend."

"You can't?"

"Don't you think I'd know if I could?"

"Hmm." Uncle rubbed at his beard. "Perhaps you might try again."

"Uncle! What do you think I've been doing in here all day long?"

Uncle shrugged. "I assume that you have been trying to use your bending, but I haven't seen it. I doubt that I will be able to help without a personal demonstration."

There was a chance that he had a point. Zuko couldn't be sure about that, though. It was very, very difficult to think about much of anything at the moment.

"Fine." Taking his stance, Zuko drew in a deep breath, focusing with all his effort on the dormant pool of energy in his stomach, then roared with effort as he tried to throw a ball of fire at the door.

Nothing happened.

Of course it didn't. Zuko wanted to kick himself for believing that anything else was possible.

"Well. That is quite unusual," Uncle said.

Zuko turned back. There had to be more than that. Uncle had to know something that could help. "And?"

"And I must admit that I was not expecting such a complete loss of bending. It is—rather striking."

"Ugh!" Zuko whirled on the spot, throwing another punch into the empty air. It didn't feel nearly as satisfying when no flames emerged to echo his rage.

"Oh." Uncle's voice was considerably less steady, less composed than before. "Now that is interesting."

Zuko turned again to find Uncle staring at the porcelain pitcher next to the bunk, now cracked neatly up the side, and the washbasin frozen solid beside it.

Uncle looked up at Zuko, rubbed his beard, clamped his hands together, then returned to rubbing his beard again. "Well. This is—well. Well."

Zuko let out a puff of breath. This wasn't just a trick of his mind anymore. Now that Uncle had seen it, it was an undeniable fact. Zuko's bending was all wrong.

"Fuck."


"What is the worst part?"

Katara took a deep breath and uncurled herself. "I should probably show you. There's no way you'll believe me if I just say it."

"The more you build this up, the less impressed I'm gonna be when I actually see it," Sokka mumbled.

Aang elbowed him in the ribs, and Katara nodded approvingly.

"Thanks."

Doubt was the last thing she needed to hear right now. She was busy enough doubting her own sanity. She certainly didn't need her brother echoing the sentiment.

"Do we have any water around here?" she asked, slowly pushing herself to her feet.

"Why? What do you need water for if your bending isn't working?"

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. "Shut up. This has only ever worked when I'm trying to waterbend. And—I don't know. Maybe I'll get lucky, and things will be normal this time. Maybe my bending will work the way it's supposed to."

"I'll get it." Aang stood and trotted to the other side of the clearing. "I really hope your waterbending is okay, Katara."

She grimaced. "Yeah. Me too." A few minutes passed, and when the bucket was sitting in front of her, she took a deep breath and nodded at Aang. "You might want to stand back a little bit. Both of you. Just in case."

Sokka grumbled, but Aang tugged on the end of his wolftail. "Come on. You have to move anyway if you're going to set up your tent."

"But it's not gonna rain, Aang. I'm tired of setting up my tent every night. You never have to do it."

"That's because I don't have a tent. Just back up."

There was more grumbling, but at long last, Sokka scooted back from the fire, joining Aang atop a fallen log at the edge of the clearing.

After a long inhalation, Katara nodded to Aang, then slowly, carefully, raised her arms, willing the water to respond. But just like every other time she'd tried in the past few days, the water remained where it was, barely even rippling in response to the breeze. The campfire, on the other hand, blazed higher and hotter, shooting out a spray of sparks almost as tall as she was. Then, when she reached forward, trying to push the water in the boys' direction, it was the flames that obeyed her instead.

"What the fuck?" Sokka yelped. He tried to stand so quickly that his leg caught on the log, and he toppled over it backward.

"Whoa." Aang looked more fascinated than frightened, and he leaned forward for a better look. "Katara, that's really cool! You're like me!"

"What?" Sokka pushed himself halfway up, his feet still hanging over the top of the log. "She can firebend. That doesn't make her the Avatar."

"He's right." Katara's throat felt raw, and she stared down at the pail of water and wiped her hands against her skirt. It made her feel a little dirty to know that her own element had rejected her, that fire had taken its place. "I've tried everything. Fire is the only element I can bend."

"That's really weird," Aang said softly. "Do you have any idea why you can firebend now?"

"Actually," Katara answered, "it doesn't make a lot of sense, but yes. I think I have an idea about that."


"Prince Zuko! Come quickly, the Avatar is—"

Clenching his jaw, Zuko lunged out of the way of the peasant girl's haphazard attack. This girl was crazy. She wasn't fighting, she was flailing. It seemed that she didn't actually know how to fight, and yet she just kept throwing water at him like he might die of dampness if she just kept at it for long enough.

And the weirdest thing was that it was kind of working. Zuko wasn't going to give up. No, of course he wouldn't. This was his mission, his destiny. A little peasant girl who could barely fight wasn't going to keep him from the Avatar. But at the very least, she was making this more difficult. She was nearly as stupidly reckless as Zuko.

He dodged to the side as a fresh wave approached from the front and shook his head when he landed back on his feet. Did she think that she was actually going to hit anything like that? He wasn't upset by her inaccuracy, of course—far from it, but it was still irritating. The girl wasn't a skilled enough bender to put up a real fight, and yet she was determined enough to slow him down a little. And if there was one thing that Zuko couldn't afford right now, it was delay.

Behind her, on the opposite side of the deck, the door to the ship's hold burst open, and the Avatar and the other Water Tribe peasant came sprinting out into the daylight.

Shit. The girl was just here as a distraction, wasn't she?

"That's enough playing," Zuko announced as he ducked under yet another wave and used the momentum to carry himself forward into an attack of his own. "I have more important things to do than entertain you, Peasant."

"Ah!" She attempted to dodge his flames, and instead threw a mostly ineffectual splash at Zuko. The flames didn't touch her, but she was thrown off balance and staggered a few steps back.

He aimed one more attack—low and to the side, just enough to knock her off her feet—and broke into a run before she even hit the deck.

The Avatar was escaping. Zuko wasn't going to let that happen. He was older, faster, stronger than the Avatar—than all of them. He had a ship full of crewmen to keep the Avatar imprisoned. He had every advantage. He wasn't even that worried about the Avatar trying to escape. Of course Zuko had to get to the other side of the deck before the Avatar could try and haul him into the cell where he belonged, but that wasn't a real problem. He would get there.

Things were going to be fine.

Maybe.

"Oh no, you don't," the peasant shouted from behind him, and a pair of footsteps began racing after him.

She was determined, Zuko had to give her that much. She wasn't going to catch him—his legs were much longer than hers—but she was certainly trying.

He would probably have to keep an eye on her in the future.

But as he drew closer, something happened—something unfamiliar struck, some kind of bending—and the ship pitched beneath Zuko's feet.

He felt himself falling.


Falling over because the ship had lurched abruptly beneath her feet—which, Katara suspected, was probably Aang's doing—wasn't ideal. On the bright side, it meant that Zuko wasn't gaining any ground. On the less-bright side, in losing her balance, Katara had pitched forward and landed right on top of Zuko.

For a moment, all she could do was lie motionless, stunned to stillness by the impact. She felt weird. The breath had been knocked from her lungs, which wasn't pleasant, but there was something else too. Something uncertain and unpleasant deep in her middle that she couldn't seem to ignore.

It was probably just the fact that she was lying on cold steel, her limbs tangled up with Zuko's. That was what she tried to convince herself, anyway. She couldn't be positive that that was the problem, but lying on top of a firebender couldn't possibly help.

She did her best to untangle herself and pushed back to her feet. Though she hadn't quite managed to catch her breath yet, she could see that the boys had made their escape—whether Sokka had rescued Aang, or Aang had saved himself and then dragged Sokka out too, it didn't really matter—and the sooner she could catch up with them, the sooner they could leave.

If she could just make it that far, they could all pile into Appa's saddle and be done with Zuko forever.

"Hey!" Zuko shouted after her. There were loud clanking, rattling sounds as though he was trying to clamber to his feet, but it all seemed slower than before. Almost as if there was something more than his armor weighing him down. "You're not getting away from me."

If that was as fast as he was planning to move, she doubted that. Still, Katara knew better than to look back. Even if he was moving slowly, even if she was feeling a little strange, she couldn't afford to lose any ground. Whatever the problem was, she could deal with it after they'd gotten away.

"Hey!" Zuko shouted again, and the footsteps behind her began to move, to gather speed he was sprinting after her. "Get back here, or—"

He made up so much distance in such a short time that Katara couldn't help but shoot a glance back over her shoulder. Ugh, how was he so fast? This wasn't fair.

When he began to swing his arms forward, apparently preparing to hurl another ball of fire her way, Katara spun back around, blindly throwing all the water she could in his direction. Or she tried to throw water in his direction. Her arms moved, but none of the water splattered across the deck responded to her. Which wasn't really that strange. She didn't know very much waterbending yet, and what little she did know was inconsistent, even at the best of times.

What did strike her as unusual was the fact that when Zuko's hands came all the way up, and she braced herself for the inevitable attack, no flames erupted from his palms. In fact, nothing happened at all.

Katara stopped running, a little breathless, and stared as Zuko's forehead creased and he tried all over again. Again, nothing happened. Each time that he tried to firebend at her, she flinched, but every time, over and over, the flames failed to answer him.

For several long seconds, Katara was both too shocked and too terrified to move. What if this was a hallucination? What if he'd really managed to hit her, and her mind was merely refusing to acknowledge the fact?

But no, that didn't seem right. She could still feel things. She could still sense the wrongness floating somewhere near her navel, and she could still feel the shadows of new bruises where she'd landed on top of Zuko's rigid armor. If he had struck her with a wall of flame as he'd clearly intended, then she would know it by now.

Then, as though invisible ropes keeping them bound in place had been severed, they both crashed back into reality in the same instant. Katara backed away, out of his reach just as Zuko made a barehanded swipe at her arm. Again, she started to run, but this time, Zuko didn't seem to be gaining any ground as she fled. Instead, just before she made the final leap to grab the edge of Appa's saddle, his voice reached her one last time.

"What did you do to me, waterbender?"


Zuko wasn't sure if what he was doing counted as pacing. It felt too quick, too frantic for that. What he did know was that he couldn't seem to stop.

"What am I supposed to do, Uncle? I can't be a wate—" The word caught in his throat, and he nearly choked on it. A waterbender. He couldn't be a waterbender. "What if someone finds out? I can't be more banished than I am right now, can I? Or maybe I can. Is Father going to ultra-banish me if he finds out that I can't firebend anymore?"

Uncle's eyes followed Zuko up and down the length of the cabin over and over again. "There is no such thing as ultra-banishment, Prince Zuko."

"So what? Is there any possible way for this to end well for me? Because I can't see one."

"It is still early. Until we know more about how and why this happened, it seems unwise to rule anything out. For all that we know today, this may very well be the best thing to ever happen to either of us." He watched Zuko pace up and down the cabin a few more times. "You are beginning to make me dizzy, Nephew."

Zuko scowled. Too bad. He was already feeling dizzy just from the effects of having lost his firebending. He was confused and disoriented and possibly even a little bit scared. Not that he would ever admit to that last bit, even if he was certain. "Look away if I'm bothering you."

Uncle, unsurprisingly, didn't listen. "I would not be entirely surprised if this experience were most enlightening for you."

"How?" Zuko demanded. He gestured back in what he thought was the direction of the South Pole. "That girl stole my bending, Uncle. How is that supposed to be enlightening?"

The frozen pitcher lurched to the edge of the table along with Zuko's gesture, then crashed to the floor.

Uncle stared at the shards of ice and porcelain for a moment. "In fairness, if she has stolen from you, it seems that you have stolen from her as well."

"I didn't—ugh. No, Uncle, I didn't do anything. If this is anyone's fault, it has to be hers." He fumbled for words. "She must be a—a witch or something!"

"That's a rather impolite thing to say about a young lady."

"Then what else could she possibly be? How did she get my bending?"

Uncle shrugged. "Perhaps she has an affinity with the spirits."

Zuko scoffed. Some affinity that would be. How pleased could anyone possibly be to get ahold of his firebending? Even the peasant's untrained flailing made his mediocrity seem like a poor trade. She didn't know what she was doing, but she'd had power, he remembered that much.

Still, the realization of his own lost bending settled over his shoulders again, and dread rose up from the pit of his stomach to meet it. "What am I going to do, Uncle? I have to get my bending back, or—"

Or my life is over.

For several long moments, Uncle stared downward, mouth pursed. Then at last, he said, "This is an unusual situation. However, I believe that our first step is clear." Rising to his feet, he clapped Zuko on the shoulder. "We must find the girl who has taken your firebending."


"So basically," Sokka said, lounging back on one hand while he picked his teeth with the pinky nail of the other, "this Zuko guy snatched your waterbending while you were snuggling with him. On the deck of his ship. Right in the middle of a fight."

"What?" Her voice came out so high that it was nearly a shriek. "He tackled me, Sokka! There was nothing snuggly about it."

Aang crept up behind her and planted his palm firmly in the space between her shoulder blades. Katara spun back around and stared at him.

"What are you doing?" It almost seemed like he was trying to give her a reassuring pat on the back, except that there was no actual patting involved. It reminded her more of when the children at the South Pole would press their pudgy hands into the mud along the shorelines in the springtime, then leave careful, dark colored impressions of their hands in the melting snow.

Aang shrugged. "You lost your bending when another bender touched you, right?"

"Right," she answered slowly.

"So then maybe," Aang continued, "If you touch another bender, you might get it back."

Sokka's eyebrows shot upward. "Aang. Buddy."

"What? It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"No, it really doesn't. You're not the one who took Katara's waterbending. Even if that was a thing that could just happen, you don't have her bending to give back." He paused, then wrinkled his nose. "Do you think Zuko is just waterbending all over his ship right now?"

Katara's skin crawled a little at the thought. That was her bending. Zuko had better not be using it for anything bad.

Aang didn't seem to hear that last bit. Instead, he bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. "I don't have Katara's bending, but I am the Avatar. I have loads of bending to spare. If I could give Katara my waterbending for a little while, then—"

"Nope." Sokka reached over, grabbed Aang by the shoulder, and hauled him away from Katara. "The last thing we need right now is an Avatar with messed up bending. A little sister with firebending she doesn't know how to use is bad enough. We don't need a double-flamey Avatar with no waterbending to balance it out."

"It wouldn't work anyway, Aang," Katara added. "Right after it happened, you grabbed my hand to make sure I made it up into Appa's saddle. If you could've given me my waterbending back, I think it would've happened then."

"Oh." Aang looked crestfallen, and he dropped onto the ground, legs splayed out in front of him, and shoulders hunched forward. "Man. This sucks major monkey balls."

She made a face. Ew.

Sokka gave a small, affirmative grunt. But then, after just an instant, he clapped his hands together and puffed out his chest. "I think it's pretty clear what we need to do now."

Katara quirked an eyebrow upward. "Is it?"

"Yep." He put one foot up on the log at the edge of the clearing and leaned in like he had some grand secret. "We've gotta find someplace easy to defend. The top of a hill or something. Then we'll set up a whole load of traps, lure Zuko into them, and then pow! Katara can steal her bending back, and I'll make sure that there's one less firebender for us to worry about."


Author's Note:

Thanks so much to my amazing beta readers, TheBenevolentQueen & starlight-and-tea for their help with getting this story cleaned up and ready to go! And thank you to my artists, risemaclay & barelyaware for the incredible art that they created to accompany Stolen Bending (their work can be found on Tumblr)!