WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of an attempted sexual assault. If this is something you'd rather not read, you can skip to "Moving quickly…" which I have put in BOLD to help you find.
….
Katara jerked awake at the sound of a key turning in the outer door of her cell.
Despite the fact that Katara had changed into her night clothes and prepared for bed as usual, sleep had eluded her for hours. Thoughts of Aang kept spiraling over and over inside her head until she had eventually resigned herself to a sleepless night. She hadn't even realized that she'd finally drifted off until the grinding gears of the lock awoke her.
Katara glanced at the window—it was still pitch dark outside—and sat up, immediately on her guard. Who would be here at this hour?
Kicking off her covers, Katara reached for her robe and tied it around her waist hastily as she sat back down on the side of her bed, listening intently. She could just make out voices outside. Orders being given.
"All of you guards, go! You're no longer needed for the time being. I'll mange her… by myself."
Katara's heart plummeted. It was Counselor Zhao's voice.
The inner wooden door slid open, and Zhao appeared in the doorway. His hulking body stood dressed in fine formal wear, backlit by and nearly blocking out the light from the torches in the hallway. Zhao leaned one shoulder against the doorframe casually, watching her as he waited for the last of the guards to leave. In one hand he held a tall glass of half-drunk sake. In the other, two sets of handcuffs.
Something about his stance sent Katara's stomach sinking through her tailbone.
"Ah, Master Katara…" Zhao's oily voice oozed. "There you are."
Katara's eyebrows furrowed. Where else did he expect her to be? Her hands gripped the edge of the bed, even as her eyes darted through the nearly empty room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. But of course, she already knew there was nothing.
"What do you want, Zhao?" Katara asked with false confidence. "It's a bit late to be going out don't you think?"
"It's Counselor Zhao, you little whelp!" he bit back sharply, a slight slur in his words.
But he calmed visibly as he then took a predatory step inside and closed the wooden door behind him, turning the key in the lock with a resounding clink, and placing the key in his pocket. "And don't worry, we won't be 'going out.' Tonight we'll be staying in…"
Dread quickly ate away Katara's insides, and she rose slowly to her feet, a defensive crouch in her stance. "You… don't you…" Katara's mouth turned desert dry in an instant.
Zhao took another step inside and tipped the goblet to his mouth, downing the rest of his sake in one gulp. He then set the tall empty glass on the desk and turned towards Katara.
"The Avatar has given me special charge to attend to your care while he is away." His voice held a false, exaggerated consideration. He took another step towards her. "I'd planned to wait until after he left for the Earthlands, but…" Zhao's eyes turned dark, "the festivities have put me in the mood."
Katara's teeth clenched, and she swept around in a low turn, pulling water from the air to form a small ice-dagger—all that she could manage from the dry air—and move herself further away from Zhao. She gripped the too-small dagger defensively between them as she snarled, "Don't you touch me, Zhao!"
The Counselor laughed, a big hearty sound that reverberated loudly around her tiny cell. "Oh you've had your turn warming the Avatar's bed, but now that he is otherwise occupied, it's about time someone taught you some respect!"
Zhao lunged forward, holding one of the open handcuffs towards her and reaching for her arm. But Katara moved fast, sliding sideways and bringing her knee up to connect hard with the side of Zhao's thigh. The pain momentarily bent Zhao forward just as Katara brought the knife upward, slicing a red gash across Zhao's sideburned cheek. She immediately scurried across the room, trying to get as far away from him as possible in the small space.
Zhao cupped his face with his hand, and glared at her, a snarl forming on his mouth. "You will pay for that you little whore!" And he lunged for her again. She moved to sidestep him, but the desk was in her way, and this time he got ahold of her arm and pulled her back, swinging her hard against the back wall between the bed and the desk. Katara felt her head hit the wall with a thwack, and then Zhao's weight was up against her, knocking the air from her lungs. Katara tried to bring the dagger hard down towards him, but he grabbed her wrist and held it against the wall even as he pinned her across the neck and chest with his forearm.
Katara struggled, trying to bring her knees up, but Zhao's body leaned heavily against her, blocking her movement. She felt cold metal lock into place around her wrist—the one outstretched and holding the ice dagger. She struggled to free herself but suddenly she felt the cold metal on her wrist turn hot. She looked with horror at her own outstretched arm to see that the handcuff pinned under Zhao's hand was turning red hot. She screamed and dropped the ice in her hand, yanking her burning arm out of Zhao's grasp.
Katara elbowed Zhao's chest hard, knocking his forearm off her, and wriggled from between him and the wall and raced to the opposite side of the desk. She called the water from her shattered ice dagger and froze it on her forearm, dousing the hot metal with a sizzling steam. She breathed in short labors out her mouth, the burning pain in her arm clouding her ability to think.
Zhao chuckled, turning toward her again almost casually. "Come, come, Master Katara. It needn't be this way," he drawled. He reached for her again, but she spun, grabbing Zhao's empty goblet and smashing it on the table, bringing the sharp glass handle back just in time to slice Zhao's arm and across his chest. Zhao howled but gripped her forearm, banging it hard on the desk until she lost hold of the glass and it fell to the floor, shattering.
"I've had enough of this!" Zhao growled in her face, his breath rancid with the smell of alcohol. "Enough!"
He then lifted Katara and hauled her bodily across the small room, flinging her onto her own bed, his weight following immediately on top of her. He sat on top of her legs, grabbing at her fists.
Katara thrashed, tears leaking from her clenched eyes as she turned her face away from his stinking breath. She heard another handcuff click closed. She looked to see Zhao locking one end of the second set of chains onto the headboard of her bed. He then reached for her free hand trying to pull it over the the cuff on the bed to lock it into place. But Katara growled and swung her burned arm heavily at Zhao's face, clocking his jaw hard with the free metal end of the restraint.
Zhao grunted and sat up, sucking in his breath in pain. He then looked down on her from his place straddling her legs and fire erupted in his eyes and both of his hands. Katara's eyes blew wide in fear. She turned her face away from the heat, closing her eyes tight against it!
But as he leaned towards her, she felt it.
The sake. Deep in Zhao's gut. She felt the liquid shift as he lowered his burning hands towards her.
And faster than conscious thought, Katara pulled—her hand grabbing at the air as though picking up an invisible ball—calling to the sake, waterbending it from deep inside her enemy and jamming it up into his throat.
Suddenly Zhao stopped, his body stilling stiffly in surprise, his breath ceasing. Only a watery choking gurgled from his throat. The fire in his hands went out and he clutched at his neck desperately.
Katara jerked to sitting and heaved Zhao off of her; he rolled clawing at his throat on the bed. Standing up, Katara's hand still gripped the invisible ball in her hand. Her teeth bared in anger while tears streamed down her face.
"I said don't touch me, Zhao!" she snarled as an angry, terrified sob rose up from her chest.
Zhao thrashed now, like a fish drowning in air, a white foam dribbling from his mouth. His eyes pleaded up at her, bulging and desperate. For a moment she considered holding him longer, wondering how long it would take before…
She recoiled at her own thoughts.
She hated him. But she didn't want his life on her hands.
Katara's eyes darted to the headboard—to the chain Zhao had locked there—and she grabbed one of Zhao's wrists, yanking it up and locking it into place in the handcuff chained to the bed. Quickly she snatched the keys from Zhao's pocket.
Then she stood back, took a breath. And dropped the invisible ball.
Zhao sputtered, sake pouring from his mouth onto the sheets. He turned his face into the bed and coughed, sucking in air desperately. His red face gradually drained of color.
Katara's own face paled as well as she realized what had nearly happened.
Moving quickly, Katara shoved one of the keys she'd taken from Zhao into the lock of the dangling handcuff on her wrist; the metal hit the ground with a clunk, freeing her scorched left arm. The burned skin of her wrist was angry, welted and tender. And thanks to Zhao's fire, the air inside the room was now too hot and dry to draw out any water. But with a concentrated and deep inhale, Katara felt for water from the cool air and dew on the plants outside. She bent a small mist of it in through the window. She had to do this a few times, but when she had enough, Katara condensed the water to her wrist with an instant healing glow. The livid burn disappeared like magic, and Katara exhaled in relief.
Wasting no time, Katara yanked on her shoes and found the key to the doors of her cell. Feeling the lock turn open in her hand with a satisfying shink felt even better than greeting the ocean after so many months of being locked up. As she freed herself, stepping unrestricted from her prison, she glanced once more back at the defeated and still gasping Zhao chained to her bed.
He laid there still catching his breath, glaring at her.
"I told you not to touch me," Katara said staring down at him. She then looked exaggeratedly around the empty guard room outside her cell and added lightly, "Sure was nice of you to give the guards the night off, Zhao."
And with that she slammed the metal bars shut.
….
Azula should have been content to send the guards to retrieve the waterbender for her. But she wasn't. And with good reason, it would appear.
Azula knew she had been indulgent tonight. Leaning into Aang's side as the two of them had returned to their wedding to perform their final toast. She had reveled in the way he'd stayed close to her, smiling at her, touching her in small ways here and there. Despite the irrationality of it, Azula had pretended that he loved her… even while she finalized her strategies of how to intercept him in his inevitable deceit!
It hadn't made sense. But the world was making less and less sense to Azula every day.
After the toast, Azula had returned quickly to her room, briskly changed into more practical clothing (donning her armor much sooner that she'd expected), and notified Father of her plans.
She'd tucked Mai's knife surely in her pocket, and fingered it all the way to the waterbender's cell. A lesser person might have cut themselves in surprise when, rounding the corner to the prison corridor, Master Katara herself ran right into her!
The brief skirmish between them had been fierce and hot. But a couple of well placed chi blocking punches, which Azula had learned from Ty Lee, left the water peasant immediately defenseless.
Azula now looked down on the waterbender in chains, flanked by two guards who held her tightly.
"Well, well, well. It would appear our slippery water-mink has escaped her cage."
Azula's eyes narrowed as she approached Katara's cell. The metal door was closed tightly. The princess's eyebrow arched to find Counselor Zhao behind the bars, groaning in disarray and chained to the triber's bed.
"Ah, Zhao," Azula sneered, her eyes darting through the room, taking in the mess, the broken glass, the handcuffs, Zhao's injuries. It was so obvious what had happened that Azula scoffed in disgust. Seeing him here, brought low by his own perverted lust, was utterly disgraceful. "Fancy meeting you here."
Zhao looked up at her, anger and shame making his face red.
Azula's eyes darted to the chained waterbender, looking her up and down. Azula had known all along that Zhao was degenerate, but even so she hated how his perverted interest in the waterbender reinforced the woman's desirability. Azula thought of Aang, and jealousy raged inside her.
Azula retrained her eyes on Zhao. "I see that your broad spectrum incompetency is in peak form tonight."
Zhao glared at her, but tried to keep his voice respectful as he groveled. "Princess, kindly get me out of here."
Azula examined her sharp fingernails. "I don't think so, Zhao." Her voice high in mock-apology. "It appears to me that you've failed in more than just your warped romantic endeavors."
"What… do you mean?"
"The Avatar will betray us tonight."
"You can't be serious!"
"I am. Quite."
"But… Aang was at the wedding! He's leaving with you in two days! I don't understand—"
"The list of things you don't understand is far too extensive to go over at the moment," Azula quipped, cutting him off. "But be clear that your failure with the Avatar is inexcusable."
Zhao sputtered, "I haven't—"
But Azula silenced him, talking over him with feigned triviality. "Oh, but if the Avatar does happen to stop by… tell him we've got his waterbender. And if he wants her, Father will welcome him for reeducation."
Azula turned as if to leave. Zhao struggled and yelled from his chained position on the bed. "You can't leave me here!"
"On the contrary," Azula answered frankly. "I think you've found yourself the perfect abode for a failure."
"What?!" Zhao sputtered. "I'm the Firelord's advisor! The Avatar's mentor! I'm Counselor Zhao!"
"Who?" Azula answered tritely, raising her perfect eyebrows in mock question.
She then turned for the last time, speaking dismissively over her shoulder as she left. "I'll try to remind someone to feed you on occasion," Azula smirked, "as it will be so easy to forget all about you."
…..
"Katara?"
Aang pushed down the nervous excitement tumbling around in his stomach as he crouched amid the dark branches of the maple outside Katara's cell window.
After returning to his room at the conclusion of the wedding celebration, Aang had waited a fat quarter of an hour before stuffing some supplies—some fruit and a couple buns, a canteen of water, an extra pair of clothes, his black cloak, and, last minute, the pai sho game—into a satchel. He then quickly changed into a set of dark sparring clothes and left out his window. To come here. For Katara! So that they could escape together on Appa!
Of course Aang felt an undercurrent of anxiety, of concern for the danger they could encounter. But more than anything right now, what Aang felt most was excitement—excitement at the prospect of finally leaving the Fire Nation! And of taking Katara with him!
Katara…
His excitement to be with her filled him with a vibrating, eager energy.
Just today Katara had told him that she still loved him. And now, having shaken off the burden of marrying Azula, the love Aang felt for Katara reared powerfully. He loved her! So much. And right now the joyful anticipation of being with her again was almost more than he could contain!
"Katara, wake up!" he whispered urgently through the bars.
He heard a rustling and a heavy creak, as though someone was sitting up in the bed.
"Katara, it's me, Aang!" he said unable to fight the smile that spread across his face as he hopped lightly to the branch below the window. "Are you there?"
Aang stood up and peeked in through the barred window into Katara's room. The room itself was unlit, but light from the torches in the hallway shone into the room leaving long shadows from the barred door to drape the small cell in stripes. Aang's eyes followed the lines of shadow from the door, across the floor, and up to the person sitting on the bed.
Aang's grip on the window bars contracted like a vice. "Counselor Zhao!? What are you—?" His eyes frantically searched the room, "Where is Katara?!"
Counselor Zhao let out a derisive snort through his nose. "So, the Princess was right after all…?"
Aang had no idea what he meant, but his concern for Katara was paramount. "What did you do to Katara?" Aang recognized what sort of man Counselor Zhao was, and suddenly he felt cold with dread.
Again Counselor Zhao scoffed. "You did ask me to take special care of her, Aang."
The metal bars under Aang's hands began to glow red with heat from his hands. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word. "I said, what did you do to her!"
Zhao looked up at him insolently from his place seated on Katara's bed. "I think the real question is why are you here, Aang? Shouldn't you be resting up for your wedding ceremony tomorrow? You didn't really come here for one final tussle with your water whore before you tie the knot in the morning, did you?"
Aang snarled and slammed the stone wall of the cell with his fist, causing the whole room to shake. Rock dust and stone shards rained down from the ceiling onto his pompous mentor.
Zhao's hands lifted to shield his head—well at least one of them did; the other hand, Aang noticed for the first time, was chained to the bed. Aang's brow furrowed in confusion. He spoke in measured, furious words. "You listen to me, Zhao. I don't know what's going on, or why you are here. But you will tell me where Katara is or I will bring this building down on top of you."
"Doubtful," Zhao said dismissively, although Aang did notice the way Zhao glanced nervously at the ceiling.
Aang grit his teeth, placing both palms flat on the walls beside the window, and earthbent, shaking the room again. This time larger chunks of stone fell down into the cell. One large one landed solidly next to Zhao on the bed, causing him to pull against his chain in alarm.
"Fine, fine!" Zhao cried in surrender, his body cowering down to duck under his chained hand. "I don't have the girl! Princess Azula took her!"
The building stopped shaking. However, when Aang took his hands away from the stone wall, they now shook. Why? What did Azula want with Katara? Fear spread through Aang like a broken dam running downhill from his skull to his toes.
"Where is she?" Aang's voice was barely a whisper.
"The Princess said to tell you that if you want your waterbender, then to report to your father for reeducation."
Aang's head now shook subconsciously back and forth, his forearm starting to feel hot from the friction of his rubbing. No. No. This couldn't be happening! Aang suddenly couldn't suck in enough air.
"I can help you, Aang," Zhao's voice coaxed. It was that same soothing way his mentor had often spoken to him over the years. "Just get me out of here."
Aang's eyes darted to the yellow eyes of his mentor. He had been Counselor Zhao's ward for the last seven years; this man had made more decisions for Aang than he'd made for himself. Aang had trusted him, even cared for him. But now he could see Zhao for the poisonous viper-rat he was.
"No."
"What?" Repressed anger trembled in Counselor Zhao's voice. "I order you to get me out of here, Aang!" His tone was a warning.
But Aang stood up straight, pushing back from the window and riding the bob of the branch under his feet. "No. I'm not taking anymore orders from you. I've done everything you've asked of me. I trusted you. And all you did was tell me lies."
"I always wanted what was best for you, Aang."
"No. You always wanted what was best for yourself!" Aang shot back, his final word echoing loudly in the small room. "I'm not listening to you anymore."
And then Aang was gone, back up on the rooftop…
Racing towards his greatest fear.
…