Driven by the strangle of vein
Showing no mercy I'd do it again
Open up your eyes
You keep on crying
Baby I'll bleed you dry
Skies are blinking at me
I see a storm bubbling up from the sea

And it's coming closer.

-"Closer", Kings of Leon

There's blood.

There's so much blood.

It coats his hands, runs down his dual swords, splatters against his cheeks. The metallic smell of it is overriding his senses, but he doesn't find it appalling like he should. He is surrounded by the color of blood, but it doesn't bother Zuko. He's always been fond of the color red.

And then he sees her, the waterbender. There's something wrong with her face. Where her scars are supposed to be there is now a burn instead. It's hideous; it's crumpled and bright red, still oozing.

He glances down and sees that his palm is on fire. Katara is screaming and she's trying to get away from him, as if he is a curse that she has to escape.

He did this to her.

He laughs and laughs and laughs.

Zuko doesn't jerk awake. His eyes simply open. But his breathing is labored and he's covered in a sheen of sweat. He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall, trying to erase the images in his head.

But they won't go away. It's as if someone has burned them into his memory.

"Rough night?"

Zuko shoots the guard the foulest glare that he can manage, and the man quickly mutters an apology and ducks his head.

In truth, Zuko did have a rough night. Nightmares plagued him to the point where he'd stopped trying to get any sleep, so he'd stayed awake and had watched the sun rise, hoping to draw energy from it.

He's in his office, staring numbly at the paperwork that's littered all over his desk. He's too tired to bother trying to sort through it and get any of it done. All he wants to do is sleep.

But instead this guard is standing before him telling him that the waterbender is outside and that she's supposed to see him.

Zuko groans and waves at the guard to let her in.

The first thing he does when she walks in is stare at the side of her face that's always covered by a curtain of hair. He can't quite make them out, but he knows that that her scars are still there, hidden. They're not burns, he reminds himself. And even more importantly, they're not his fault.

"Rough night?" Katara says, casually repeating the guard's sentiments.

Zuko can't muster up the energy to glare at her too. "Shut up," he grumbles, averting his gaze away from her eyes. He can't bring himself to keep eye contact this morning. "What do you want? Why do you keep bugging me?"

She quirks her one visible eyebrow and he can tell that she'd like to spit out something snarky. Instead, she says, "You summoned me, remember?"

Zuko frowns and narrows his eyes at her. "No, I didn't."

She narrows her eyes right back. "Yes, you did. You sent out the order yesterday evening." Her lips tilt down into a frown, and he's surprised to see that she looks slightly concerned. "You really did have a rough night, huh?"

"What's it to you, waterbender?" he snaps, frustrated. He did send out the summons order last night and he'd completely forgotten. How un-princely of him. He's supposed to be on top of mundane things like this.

The trace of concern vanishes from the visible half of her face and she glares down at the floor, not saying anything.

"Anyway," Zuko bites out, "I want you to search my sister's room and let me know if you come up with something, anything that might indicate where she might be—"

"And what the goal of her mission is?" Katara interrupts, ahead of herself.

Zuko sighs. He's starting to get a headache. "No. I know what her mission is."

"You haven't explained it to me yet. Just that she's trying to 'one up you'," Katara points out.

"That's because you don't need to know any more than that. Search her room and let me know if you find anything."

Katara's lowers her head in embarrassment and Zuko notices that her visible cheek has turned bright red. She mutters something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I'vealreadysearchedherroom."

"What was that?"

"I've already searched Princess Azula's rooms!" she exclaims.

"WHAT?" Zuko immediately starts to get to his feet but Katara waves her hands around rapidly, trying to maintain his attention.

"It's just, I knew that that'd be the first place to start—"

"And did your guards just let you waltz into my sister's room and search it?"

The waterbender quickly shakes her head, still looking somewhat embarrassed. "No! It wasn't their fault! I'm… just very good at persuading."

Zuko braces his palms against his desk and levels Katara with the most furious look he can manage. "You don't just walk into a royal's room without permission, even if that royal isn't there. Actions like that can get you severely punished, even killed." To emphasis his statement he pulls up one of his hands and lights a bright, blazing fire in his palm.

And suddenly all he can think about is his nightmare. This Katara doesn't shrink back in fear. She doesn't try to get away from him. Instead she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him as if he's a petulant child that she's using up all her patience in order to deal with him. She's not afraid of the potential pain. She's not afraid of pain at all.

Maybe she should be.

Zuko snaps his fingers closed and carelessly allows some sparks to fly out of his hand. One lands on the back of Katara's thumb and she jerks a bit at the burn, but otherwise doesn't react.

He wonders, not for the first time, if Katara isn't afraid of the pain, but that she's just simply used to it.

"You're not going to ask me if I found anything?" she pipes up, sounding anxious.

He tilts his golden eyes back up toward the ceiling and sits down into his chair. He's so exhausted. "What did you find?" he asks, remembering that this is important to him, that he has to find his sister.

"Nothing," she answers immediately. "Absolutely nothing."

"Well, then," he drawls, "I'm glad you risked capital punishment for absolutely nothing."

"I know where we can go for information," she states firmly. "The people there are always willing to spill what they know, as long as you have the coin."

Zuko frowns, but nods. "Where?"

Half of Katara's mouth tilts up into an expression that could be considered devious. Zuko isn't sure if he likes this or not. "Summon me tonight, Prince Zuko."

Then she turns and leaves, without waiting for him to properly dismiss her.

He's dressed in all black and he's left his hair out of its usual top knot. It spills a ways past his shoulders, long and raven colored, just like his father's. Zuko sighs and rubs his temples. A very large part of him would rather stay in this evening, preferably in bed.

But the knock sounds at his door and he rolls his shoulders in preparation. "Come in."

When the waterbender steps inside his office his jaw nearly unhinges itself and falls to the floor.

Katara has officially struck him stupid.

She's wearing the dress that she wore to the banquet, except she's removed about half of the fabric. She's reworked the neckline so that it plunges to just above her navel, exposing the sides of her breasts. Zuko can't help but stare like an idiot because they're right there.

The dress now ends above her knees. Before it had been floor length. Her shapely calves are exposed and Zuko lets the complete image of her imprint itself into his mind so that he can recall it later. Preferably in private.

His gaze trails back up her body to once again locks onto her chest. That's when he notices the outline of her dark nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

He swallows thickly. For the first time, she's not just an annoying waterbender; she's an annoying waterbender who he might like to fuck.

He shakes that thought out of his head quickly and blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "You look like a prostitute."

And then, for some unimaginable reason, Katara's face lights up. "Really? That's great! I was worried that I hadn't made the skirt short enough—"

"Okay." Zuko's voice comes out husky and lower than usual. He quickly clears his throat. "Why are you dressed like a prostitute?"

One corner of her mouth tilts up into a half smile. "Because we're going to a brothel. You see, Prince Zuko, people talk when they're happy."

They've both opted to leave the palace on foot again, and this particular district in the upper ring is bustling with people, mostly adults. There's a small crowd hanging about the brothel, and they're all eating, drinking, and flirting.

Zuko can tell that Katara is starting to get anxious from the way that she's walking. Her steps are jerky and every few minutes she sucks in a deep breath, as if she's attempting to calm herself.

They've both remained relatively silent, although Zuko can't help sneaking glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye. He can literally see down her dress.

"Have you ever been to this place before?" Katara asks, voice shaky with nerves. She's staring up ahead, visible blue eye wide.

Zuko glares at the side of her face that's facing him, insulted. "Of course not. I've never had to pay." All of his partners are willing. More than willing, actually. Half of them are hoping that he'll knock them up.

He half expects a snippy response from her, but her gaze doesn't waver from the building ahead of them. She nods slowly, accepting his answer.

They finally reach the outside of the brothel and Zuko stands behind Katara, waiting for her to be the first one to walk in. It's strange, he thinks, to be following someone else's lead for once.

She briefly hesitates and then quickly reaches up and pulls her hair back and out of her face with a long, blue ribbon. Then her scars are on complete display and Zuko slowly takes them in. They don't look quite as gruesome as he had remembered them.

"Men like mystery," she mumbles before Zuko can even open his mouth to ask the question. "My face is a mystery."

The light pouring out of the brothel catches her scars, defining them. Zuko frowns, tilts his head to the side, and calculates his next question. It' technically rude, but he's too curious. "How did you get them?"

Katara slowly turns her head and looks up at him suspiciously. She doesn't answer, but moves to the brothel and steps inside. Zuko sighs and quietly follows her. She'll eventually tell him. She has to.

There are people everywhere and the air is thick with the smell of perfume. Women are leaning on men, touching them suggestively, and laughing too loudly at bad jokes. Zuko has to fight down the urge to turn around and leave and instead fixates his gaze on the back of Katara's shoulders. She quickly leads him into a corner and then turns around to survey the room.

"I have to go find the Madame," she says sharply. "Tell her I'm interested in working for the night. Then I'll try to find a regular customer. They always know the latest gossip."

Zuko frowns. "But it's just gossip."

Blue eyes turn and lock onto him. "You'll find that gossip turns out to have a lot more merit then you might think. Especially over situations like the one your sister is causing."

"How do you know so much about brothels anyway?"

Suddenly Katara can't keep his gaze. Her eyes drift down to the floor. "I used to work in one."

"I'm sorry?"

"It was when I was young." Her cheeks are growing pink. "I wasn't even a woman yet, I didn't perform or anything."

The thought of her working in this type of environment makes Zuko feel slightly sick to his stomach. For some reason the idea of her running around with a bounty hunter and investigating dead bodies is much easier for him to swallow.

"I'll be back soon," Katara vows and moves to walk away from him.

He quickly catches her elbow. He hates feeling unsure but… "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

She rolls his eyes at him. "You're in a brothel. You're a wealthy prince. Figure something out." And then she's walking away and disappearing into the crowd of people.

An hour and a half later Zuko is basically drunk and has come to the conclusion that he loves brothels. He's sitting at a round table playing cards with four other men and two whores whose tits are practically falling out of their tops. There's a half empty bottle of whiskey next to him and Zuko picks it up and takes a swig, all the while being careful not to let anyone else at the table see the cards in his hands.

Zuko doesn't like cheaters, which is ironic.

The man to his right folds, laughing hysterically at something one of the girls is whispering in his ear. Then he smacks her on the ass and they both get up and move towards the staircase to where the bedrooms presumably are.

That's when another girl moseys on over and takes the now empty seat. "Well, aren't you pretty," she purrs, eyeing Zuko up and down and smirking at him. "I've always had a soft spot for pretty boys." She slides her chair closer to Zuko's and trails her hand down his arm.

This is where Zuko's self control begins to slip a little. He has enough coins lining his pockets; he could buy any girl he wanted, and this one was fairly good looking with a nice mouth. But then he remembers that he'd have to buy her and his pride gets in the way.

Zuko is the Prince of the Fire Nation. He'll never pay.

He swats the girl's hand away and forces himself to turn all of his attention onto the card game. Soon it's time to lay down his hand. He wins again and happily collects the coins that are sitting in the middle of the table. Then he takes another swig of his whiskey and orders a bottle of wine for the girl.

No, he won't pay for her services, but he's willing to bet that he could get her to do anything that he wanted for free.

Forty minutes fly by and Zuko's not so sure that he can feel his legs.

The girl is drunk, a lightweight, and she's sitting in his lap and happily shouting and joking with the other working girls sitting at the table.

Zuko's hand of cards is promising, but not all that exciting, which isn't very good for him right now. He got it in his mind that because of his winning streak he won't lose at all tonight.

So he bet that he'd got off all his hair.

He has a feeling that he'll come to regret this decision.

And then he's laying down his hand and he's lost and the other men are roaring with laughter at the horrified look on his face.

"Not my hair," he slurs out, feeling stricken. The girl in his lap is stroking his jaw and giggling and her long, black hair is sticking to her neck. She places a sloppy kiss onto his ear, causing Zuko to shift a little bit in his seat.

Then the man on the other side of the table stands up and pulls out his knife. "Come on, pretty boy. It's just hair."

Zuko lights a fire in his palm and tries to get to his feet. But his legs give out from underneath him and he tumbles to the floor. He rolls over and all he can hear is laughing and he's so hot right now and his head is pounding and where is Katara?

The girl is helping him onto his feet and he grasps her shoulder and sways in place. The man who beat him at this hand of cards, the man with the knife is shaking his fist at him and spouting out things about honor and how Zuko has to give up his hair because that's what he bet and if he loved his hair so much then he shouldn't have been a smug bastard and bet on it in the first place.

Zuko finds himself shoved back down into his chair while the man saws off his hair. Zuko watches his raven locks fall to the floor and a bitter part of him wonders if he'll look so much like his father now.

He muses that he probably won't and that maybe that's a good thing.

His new, short hair now falls a bit into his eyes and Zuko's stomach rolls with nausea. Then the girl's tongue is in his mouth and her hand is in his pants. He realizes that he'll have to add public fucking to the list of un-princely things that he's managed to accomplish in his nineteen years.

Someone grabs a fistful of his now short hair and hauls him up and out of his chair. He reacts blindly, swinging two fistfuls of fire at his attacker. He hears a sharp intake of pain and then he's being practically thrown out of the brothel and onto the street.

It's raining and the cool water soaks into his skin and Zuko breaths in deeply, trying to make his head stop spinning.

Then someone is crouching down in front of him and the only thing he can register is blue, blue eyes and a face that would be beautiful if it wasn't marred by three long scars.

"—even understand me?" she's saying, slapping his face a bit.

He nods and manages to get to his feet without her help. "What'd you find?" he bites out, swallowing back a groan.

"I'm not telling you," Katara snaps. "You'll have forgotten it all by morning."

Somewhere in the back of his mind Zuko is able to register that this is a fair point, so he doesn't argue. He does, however, fall to his knees and puke violently.

There's a noise of disgust from overhead. He spits out the sour remains in his mouth and forces himself to look up at her. "You're going to leave me," he states, because that's what makes sense to him. That's what any normal person, prisoner would do.

Katara is quiet for a long time. "No. Not because I don't want to, but because I have some honor."

Unlike some people I know, he finishes in his head. She doesn't say it, but Zuko can almost hear her voice form the words.

Slim fingers reache under his elbow and pulls him to his feet. Katara puts a hand on his back and pushes him forward and eventually Zuko settles into a rhythm of walking, occasionally stumbling. He can't remember the last time he's been this drunk.

They make it a couple of blocks down the street when Zuko sees it. Someone is stretched out in the middle of the road in front of them.

"Katara—" he starts, but she's already left him and has sprinted to the side of the person. Zuko's feet move forward on their own accord and soon he's leaning down and looking at the body.

It's the girl he had spent the majority of the evening with. Her throat has been slashed and there's blood all over the scant amount of clothes that she had been wearing.

"She's dead. She's dead." The girl's face is white as snow and her empty eyes stare up at the raining sky above her. Zuko's vision swims and he bites back the bile building up in his throat. Azula had been there. She had been watching him.

This doesn't have anything to do with politics or their father. This is in cold blood.

"What is your sister trying to prove?" Katara cries out, voice high with fear. This murder must have taken place in the past ten minutes or so. That's how long ago they left the brothel.

Zuko knows exactly what Azula's trying to prove, although he can't bring himself to say anything to the waterbender standing next to him. His tongue feels too heavy and a strong rage towards his sister swims through his veins. He sways on his feet and then falls to the street. The ground is wet from the rain, but when he pulls his hands up to his face they're dark with the girl's blood.

Blood.

He'd practically signed her death certificate, poor thing.

When he glances back up at the body he doesn't see the girl from the brothel, but the dark skinned waterbender. Her throat isn't slit, but there's a large burn on her neck instead. Her blue eyes are open and void of all life and all Zuko can think is that he did this.

Someone's cool hand is moving his hair away from his eyes and when he looks up he sees that same waterbender with a burn on her neck. He scrambles away, his head spinning. "I've killed you," he spits out, voice barely audible over the pouring rain.

Katara is rapidly shaking her head but isn't she supposed to be dead on the ground?

"No, you—"

"I burned you. You're dead. No. She killed you, you're going to die—"

He vomits again and starts to shiver uncontrollably. He's not sure what's going on, just that he's surrounded by death and betrayal. He cannot trust anyone, not even himself, but especially not her. He can see her golden eyes in his mind and they're lit up with fire, just like his.

He wakes up in his bed. He's not sure how he's in his bed, but he is in his bed.

His head is killing him and he's sick to his stomach, but he yanks back his silken sheets and gets up. He grabs a shirt and a pair of pants, throws them on and marches out of his room, ignoring the call of his guards.

When he gets to the waterbender's room his hand hesitates over the doorknob before he slowly brings his fist up and knocks.

There's a polite "come in" and then he's stepping inside.

Katara doesn't look very good, but that's not the first thing that jumps out at Zuko. There's a bright red burn on her neck.

"Who did that's to you?" he asks, voice sharp as a whip.

Katara frowns. "You did, at the brothel."

The truth hits him like a ton of bricks. He vaguely recalls striking out at someone with hands filled with fire. He opens his mouth but cannot bring himself to apologize.

"You look awful," Katara points out, slowly rising from her makeshift desk and crossing her room to stand in front of him.

"What did you find out?" he asks immediately, forcing himself to concentrate on something besides the burn on the waterbender's neck. He watches Katara as she fidgets slightly and looks away from him, clearly uncomfortable.

"She has a list, your sister. A list of people she wants to murder. That's what everyone was whispering about last night, anyway." She turns her head back to him and looks Zuko right in the eyes. "The way she's acting, it sounds as if she's snapped. This isn't the behavior of someone who's spent the majority of her life being the perfect princess. Did you…did you do something to set her off?"

"No," Zuko lies.

Katara doesn't look disappointed; she looks suspicious.

He wonders if he'll eventually have to spit out the truth.

A/N:

Truth about what, I wonder? *ponders*

Sorry for the delay! I've felt really distracted lately, what with Korra and Game of Thrones, plus my sister-in-law had her baby a couple of days ago and that's easily taken up the majority of my free time this week.

But anyway, I'm exciting for what's coming up in this story and hope you are too! I am sorry for not replying to reviews this time around, but figured you guys wouldn't mind too much as long as you got an update! I do appreciate every single one of the reviews that I get, so thank you, my readers, for being so awesome!

Love you guys and hope to hear your thoughts! :)