Hello again! I'm back with another chapter! Also, warning: this is a long author's note and I apologize in advance :x

I just wanted to clarify a couple things real quick. I was asked if it was a mistake that there seems to be skipping around between seasons, to which my response is: it is not a mistake. This story is not trying to conform to canon – it still occurs in the A:TLA universe, but I take a lot of liberties with the timeline. If you are more interested in reading something that sticks to the show, I would recommend my other story, Metamorphose.

There was some concern about the potential of Zuko's character to do some flip-flopping and how that may affect his development. While this story does not conform to canon, I do use a lot of themes from the show. From the start, I wanted this story to be about Zuko's struggle to find himself and calibrate his moral compass, and how Katara plays into that – along with Katara's development into a master waterbender and a woman. It is less about Zuko repeatedly going back and forth and more about him trying to balance his love for his country, the expectations of him as the Prince of the Fire Nation, and managing his own trauma with his feelings for Katara. But in the show he does do some flip-flopping too: he goes around saving children and sparing pregnant women but then he joins Azula after all that and helps "kill" Aang without much remorse. Part of the beauty of Zuko is his struggle – he seems to have a hard time fully considering the consequences of his decisions and tends to act on impulse which is largely driven by his distorted view of honor and the need to fulfill his "destiny". He doesn't decide to join team Avatar until after he betrays those closest to him [read: Iroh] and finds out about his great-grandfather (because for some reason that's the tipping point?). So, I try to emulate that struggle in this story, just in a different way (:

I think it's also important to note perspective here. As viewers, we have a pretty clear indication of right/wrong and good/bad, because the show creators and writers incorporate that bias. But if you put yourself in the shoes of someone who is doing things we consider to be "bad", you find they have their own perspective, justifications, and experiences that leads them to do what they do – and realistically, things like that don't change suddenly because you find out your great-grandfather was the Avatar. Zuko is such a great character to explore with this because he is also a victim – he has suffered abuse at the hands of an authority figure [read: his father, but also the ruler of the world]. I do recognize that it's difficult to reconcile Zuko's character after he does something we deem as bad, which is part of the reason I wanted to write this: I like a challenge (; Thanks for listening to my TED talk haha. Actually though, sorry for the tangent!

Anyways, thank you guys so so so much for the reviews! They really do help me consider the approach I'm taking and gauge how it is being interpreted by others!

This chapter is the first that is not inspired by a Florence + The Machine song… The inspiration here was 'Eyes on Fire' by Blue Foundation from their 2007 album 'Life of a Ghost'.

Please please please let me know what you think of where this is going! [read: REVIEWWW?!]

Chapter 7: Eyes on Fire

…

I won't soothe your pain

I won't ease your strain

You'll be waiting in vain

I got nothing for you to gain

…

I'm taking it slow

Feeding my flame

Shuffling the cards of your game

…

The fire crackled, flames licking at the sky as she looked on, rubbing at her wrists. Darkness had just fallen. When she had finally stopped crying, she pulled on the shirt Zuko had given her. He had gone about setting up the campsite around her as she watched from far away, feeling oddly empty. He gathered wood and lit a fire. He set up two canvas tents on either side of the firepit. He didn't say a word. After he actively averted his gaze when their eyes chanced to meet, feeling came back.

The placid emptiness inside her exploded, sending molten rage pulsing through her veins. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists at her side. Something about his silence and reluctance to look at her was infuriating. He had put her in that position and now… was he judging her? Was he trying to ignore what had just happened? Or did he really think it wasn't anything to bother thinking about? Surely, he had no idea what it was like to be in such a position. He was a fucking Prince of a ruthless fucking nation that sought to subjugate the people of the world to much worse than she had just experienced - and he ignored it?

Or did he acknowledge it and just not care? Maybe he was well aware of all the agony and suffering that he and his family brought upon the world but felt nothing. He wouldn't know what it was like to be helpless and vulnerable, to be trapped like an animal with no way out. He wouldn't know what it was like to look into your captor's eyes and see the malicious intent; to be filled with fear and foreboding. He wouldn't know what it was like to watch your parent die, your village burn. He wouldn't know what it was like to grow up in a society that had internalized that suffering – how the grief was passed on over generations, so that you could see the hundred years of pain in the eyes of an innocent child.

The rage had her in its grip now, turning her blood to lava. She watched him with contempt, a scalding hate that burned away at her insides and filled her head with abhorrent thoughts – violent, reprehensible things. Unable to contain it any longer, she stood up and stormed off into the dark cover of the trees.

The blood rushing in her ears blocked out all sound and she didn't hear him when he shouted after her.

She was storming through the undergrowth, her clothes and skin catching on bushes and tearing; she didn't feel a thing. The anger flowed through her, occupying all her senses – so much so, that she almost didn't feel the presence of the water until she was nearly stepping in the creek. Suddenly finding her element so close, feeling it follow its path down to the ocean as it had been doing for hundreds of years, brought her back. She breathed and the thrumming in her ears was gone, replaced by the steady trickle of water flowing over rock. The fury was reduced to a simmer and no longer threatened to unhinge her. That was when the Prince caught up to her and his presence reignited the flame.

"What do you think you're doing? You can't just-" She cut him off with a wave of water that knocked him against a tree. With a flick of her wrist, the wave was frozen, trapping his lower body in place.

"I can't just what?" She screamed, "What makes you think you can tell me what to do?"

His mouth fell open as he stared at her blankly, stupidly.

"Because you're the Prince of the fucking Fire Nation, is that it? That gives you the divine right to do whatever you want? You have no idea what the world is like! You're a spoiled Prince, so used to getting your own way, you don't even see the people you're treading on to get it. It's so easy for you, isn't it? You have power and money and status – and yet you think the whole world owes you!"

"You don't know anything about me," He snarled back.

"Don't I? Or am I exactly right and you refuse to admit it? Have I offended you, Prince Zuko?" She gave him a mock curtsy as his name slipped off her tongue like poison. Then, with feigned deference, "Have I spoken out of line, Your Majesty? Is that punishable by burning or by the slaughter of my people?"

Her last barb seemed to wrench at something in him; he closed his eyes as a pained expression crossed his features. When they opened, she saw the flash of fire in dark amber as his nostrils flared and the muscles in his jaw tensed and flexed. Then, he turned his head and breathed flames upwards into the air. Some of the lower branches of the tree he was still frozen to caught fire above. She might have been impressed if she wasn't so furious.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" He yelled at her, his tone dark, "I'm banished. I don't have any fucking money or power! I have nothing!"

His yelling only heightened hers, "Nothing? You?" A cruel laugh, "At least you still have your dignity!" She stormed over to him, getting right up in his face as she grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. The glint in his dark amber eyes was murderous.

"How does this feel, huh? To be trapped and vulnerable? To be powerless, subject to someone else's whim? Do you like it? Do you like feeling like you can't do anything? You have no remorse. And you judge me," She spat, tears now rushing down her cheeks again.

Something changed in his expression then, "Judge you? What do you mean?"

She was still yelling, though now her tone was broken intermittently as sobs racked her, "What happened earlier! You let it happen while my wrists were tied! You said nothing! You did nothing! That man- The look in his eyes. What he- was-... I can't forget it!"

"You think that didn't bother me?" He replied, his voice still raised, though now he sounded surprised.

"You ignored it until the last possible moment!"

"I wanted to kill the guy that touched you!" He shouted, "I wanted him to die the most painful death possible for what he did!"

She was suddenly quiet, as if someone had poured cold water over her and the molten rage in her bloodstream instantly hardened into warm stone, paralyzing her. He was breathing heavily now from shouting, his chest constricted under the ice. Katara couldn't move or speak or think. It didn't make sense. His chest was still heaving against her ice trap when she blinked a couple times and turned back towards the campsite.

…

Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult and it took everything he had not to break out of the ice. He didn't try to escape for fear that he might lose his temper and frighten her beyond reconciliation. The waterbender's words stung, like acid to his core. She couldn't possibly know the truth of her words, could she? How they resonated in him?

Have I spoken out of turn?

Is that punishable by burning…?

Zuko closed his eyes, trying to stifle the memory, but it couldn't be helped. His adrenaline kicked in as the smell of burning flesh filled his nose. His scar tingled. He could almost feel the flames licking at his skin, melting the flesh. His ears rang with a thousand gasps and cries of horror – echoes of his disgrace. If he wasn't frozen to the tree, he'd be on his knees by now. Then the burning sensation migrated down from his face and into his lungs. He roared as it exploded from his mouth, filling the empty air with flame.

When she grabbed his hair and threatened him, he was grateful for the ice holding him down. He was in no state to control himself – especially when she was so good at pushing his buttons – and hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Then he saw her tears and everything changed. She broke down in front of him, fumbling for words through strangled sobs. It struck a chord in him and his chest ached, not for lack of breath but for her. He couldn't forget either. He wanted to tell her he knew how she felt – that trauma was an old friend of his.

More than anything, he wanted to end the man that had touched her – that had made her feel like this – in the most brutal way he could imagine. A wave of possession washed over him; he wouldn't allow anyone to touch her, ever. Now, he was thankful for the ice restraining him because he had half the mind to grab her and crush his lips against hers, claiming her as his and his alone. Doe-eyed, she blinked at him. He was overcome with the urge to comfort her, to go to her. If only he could hold her, maybe then she would know. Maybe she would be able to feel it through his touch, hear it on his breath; in that instant, he wanted to hold her and never let go.

But what he wanted didn't matter. It never did.

He watched her disappear into the darkness again, heading back towards the campsite. When she was out of sight, he grit his teeth and blasted himself out of the ice. He needed to take a walk, to burn something; adrenaline coursed through his veins and his muscles tensed. What was it about her? What was she doing to him?

…

The fire at the campsite was visible between the trees, crackling away just like she had left it. Her limbs stung as she gained back her senses. Cuts and scrapes streaked her arms, lazily oozing blood that trickled down the length of her forearm. The tears had finally stopped and she was suddenly exhausted. She hadn't eaten anything since the morning but didn't dare stay up long enough to be awake when he got back.

She didn't understand it, any of it. For a moment, he had seemed so genuine; But how could he be? It was only last night that he had tied her down to the bed. She had been scared at the time, but since she had seen the evil glint the bandit's eyes, the reality set in. He was just like them; he had made her feel weak, helpless, and trapped. He said he was bothered by what had happened – but why? He had no right to be. They were cut from the same cloth, she told herself, Prince Zuko and those bandits. They thought that the world was theirs, that other people were just entertainment, pawns in their game, or a means to an end. They were selfish.

Snoring rattled through the campsite from one of the tents, which she assumed meant that the old man, Iroh, had returned from town. Ducking into the other canvas tent, she curled up in the corner, deep in thought. Zuko was dangerous. He was quick tempered and selfish and despicable. But there was something else about him that she couldn't place a finger on. It wasn't anything he said or did, it was a look in his eyes and a feeling in his touch. Something that frightened her as much as it compelled her. He was like something that bumps in the night; she knew to be frightened, she knew it could be something terrible – but she felt like she had to find out, she had to know… was it a monster or a wounded animal?

She inhaled deeply; she couldn't wait to find out and it hardly mattered anyways. Katara wasn't going to let the Fire Nation Prince get a hold of Aang – she wouldn't let her friend become a pawn in his twisted game when the world itself hung in the balance. She would die before she let that happen. Unless she killed Zuko first.

…

When he arrived back at the campsite, his Uncle had returned. He wondered idly whether the old General knew of the bandit attack or heard any of the ensuing commotion. The fire had been reduced to a pile of smoldering embers and he fumbled around for some water to put them out. Next to the tent that his Uncle occupied, underneath a sack of onions, was a bucket and Katara's water skin. He pulled it out from under the pile and examined it. The water skin was empty and light; it appeared to be made of some kind of seal skin leather. The bucket was empty too, so he walked back over to the stream, to where she had frozen him to a tree. The flames that had burned in the tree's canopy had gone out and only blackened wood remained. The ground was muddy where the ice had melted after he broke free. He filled up the bucket, then placed the water skin in the stream. If she was going to be unrestrained for the rest of this journey – he had promised not to tie her up again – than he was going to have to gain her trust somehow.

Their interaction earlier hadn't done much towards developing any level of trust between them. If anything, he feared it had the opposite effect. Perhaps a gesture of peace was needed. She had mentioned that the water skin was a gift; she clearly had some sentimental connection to it. Must be something her mother made, he assumed. As far as he knew, she wasn't aware that he'd had someone retrieve it from the dungeons under Omashu Palace. Then, when she realized what he had done, she would stop being so frightened of him. Maybe it would dampen the fiery contempt in her eyes.

The embers sizzled as the water flowed over them, spitting and sending a plume of steam and smoke up into the sky above. The bucket was enough to put out what remained of the fire and he nestled the waterskin back under the bag of onions. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he quietly entered the tent. As he had hoped, the waterbender was fast asleep, curled up in the corner, barely visible in the shadows. He unstrapped the sheathed dagger that he kept at his hip – a present from Uncle Iroh during his youth – before removing his shirt and lying down on the other side of the tent. He stretched out his limbs as his eyes readjusted to the darkness. Then he turned over to watch her back from across the tent; the subtle rise and fall of her shoulder that accompanied each breath. Though she was swimming in his shirt, when she lay on her side, the silk fabric clung to her slim waist and outlined the gentle sloping of her hips. He would gain her trust, he told himself, before rolling over and closing his eyes. He didn't want her to be frightened of him.

…

Screams echoed through the village, accompanied by a hazy din of orders shouted in the distance, clanking metal armor, and the crackling of flames. But it was the screaming she always remembered; like a chorus of anguish and loss. Snow was falling over the Southern Water Tribe. She opened her mouth, sticking her tongue to the sky, but reeled in disgust when ash landed on her tongue. Looking down the hill, she watched a soldier dressed in heavy red armor enter their tent. Her legs must have been moving under her, but she may as well have been floating down into the village. She could heard voices from outside, but couldn't make out any words. A feeling of apprehension stirred inside her and, as if in a trance, she opened the tent flap and peered inside. Her mother stood on one side of the tent, the soldier on the other. Mother looked very serious, more serious than she could ever remember her looking before, while the soldier's face was obscured by his helmet. When she moved to take a step into the tent, they both turned to her.

Katara, darling, go find your father.

I don't want to, mama, I'm scared. The words were not her own, but came from somewhere else – a deep, long forgotten place in her mind.

There is nothing to be scared of. Now go be my big strong girl and find your dad, okay? I love you.

She turned to leave the tent but realized she forgot to say 'I love you' back. However, before she could open her mouth, another scream joined the chorus. When she peered back into the tent, everything was engulfed in flame. Her mother lay crumpled on the floor, her parka blackened and charred. Everything was burning. The soldier stepped towards her and she stumbled backwards, out into the snow. He reached up to his helmet and lifted it off. His amber eyes glistened, reflecting the fire all around them.

Don't worry, Little Rabbit… I won't hurt you.

She was sitting upright, gasping for breath before she was fully conscious, her head swimming with distant voices. Her heart was pounding painfully hard against her chest. Assessing her surroundings, she remembered where she was. It was just a dream, she reminded herself. Then her gaze slid over the sleeping firebender on the other side of the tent. The dream had been hauntingly vivid; Every detail evocative and fresh in her mind. The glimmer in his eyes, the raspy tone of his voice… her mother's charred parka and reddened skin. A sliver of moonlight entered the tent through the flap and the light caught something in the corner near the sleeping Prince – a metallic gleam.

Silently, she crawled to towards it, her eyes not leaving Zuko's form. It was a dagger; the moonlight was reflecting off the blade that peeked out between the sheath and the hilt. She grasped the hilt in one hand and slid the dagger free, pausing when the blade hummed against the sheath.

She examined the dagger in the light of the moon. The blade was engraved with characters that read: 'Made in the Earth Kingdom'. It was almost ironic.

Prince Zuko was on his back, one hand resting on his chest with the other tucked behind his head. His shirt lay crumpled on the ground beside him. She had a clear view of his neck. Her lip found its way between her teeth and her eyebrows knit together. She may not get another chance like this; it was now or never. Inching towards the sleeping man, she tilted the sharp edge of the blade outwards. When she was over him, she paused. Could she really do this?

Frowning again, she told herself she had to and moved the dagger towards his throat. She was holding her breath, trying her best to be quiet. The blade was hovering over his neck, shaking in her hand, when his eyes flicked open and met hers. They glistened like fire in the moonlight and she was reminded of her dream. He didn't move or say anything, he just stared at her blankly, not breaking eye contact.

After what must have been minutes, his voice came, raspy and low from sleep, "Do it."

Her eyes widened momentarily and she bit her lip again. As much as she tried to will her hand to move, to press the blade into his pale skin, to slide it across the width of his neck, she was paralyzed. She couldn't do it.

As if simultaneously coming to that realization, he grabbed her wrist and rolled, pulling her underneath him. The dagger fell from her grasp and clattered to the ground as she gasped at the swift and sudden movement. He was on top of her now, holding her wrist above her head, leaning in between her knees. His face was dangerously close, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath gliding across her cheek, but they never broke eye contact. Something had softened in his eyes and, in her clouded mind, she couldn't understand why. In that moment, she wasn't afraid like she probably should have been.

They exchanged breaths back and forth, neither willing to move, for what felt like an eternity. Her heart was hammering at her chest again, so loud that she was sure he could hear it. His hand on her wrist loosened as he leaned in, his unmarred cheek brushing against her own. His breath came ragged in her ear and she felt heat moving to her neck and face when he whispered, his tone low and husky.

"Come with me."

I love writing scenes where characters just yell at each other haha. So this chapter was a little shorter than some of the other recent ones, but I wrote it over the course of 4 hours and I just can't help myself - I have to post when I finish it.

Depending on the response this gets, I might take a short break from this story [read: a normal amount of time between posting] because I think I have written and posted the last 3 chapters over 3 consecutive days and that's too much... I swear, I do have a life!

Please tell me about your thoughts and feelings! Review?

...

With love,

A Storm