Author's Note: I know it's a little early to be posting a new chapter, but I start school on Monday, so I might not have time to post this weekend. I hope to continue updating on a regular basis, but things are gonna get a little crazy, so bear with me. I am determined to finish this story! It always helps to read your comments and reviews and gives me incentive to carry on, so thank you 3 Speaking of reviews, there are a few I got from guests and I'd like to reply to them, so I am going to do so here:

Cool (on Ch. 18): Thank you so much! And you'll have to wait and see what Sokka does (but trust me, it won't be pretty!).

Guest (on Ch. 19): No problem! Thanks for reading :)

S.A guest101 (on Ch. 5): I will definitely finish! It's going to get more difficult to write since I'm in school and I'll be taking 4 english classes, but I will do my best! And I doubt it'll be 99 chapters long haha...but if you guys want it I'm sure I can think of something! (I'm actually already planning a sequel, so...:)

To everyone else: Thank you for reading and for your reviews/favs/follows! Enjoy Chapter 20!

Disclaimer: Bryke and Nickelodeon own all the avatar characters, blah blah blah, I own mine, who cares :p

Zuko had been doing ridiculous tasks for the Prince all day. First, he had given the Prince a foot rub, during which he kicked Zuko in the jaw twice 'by accident' because he'd rubbed his 'tickle spot'. Then Zuko had to cut his lunch into tiny squares and feed him. It probably wasn't the best idea to give Zuko a knife, as he'd envisioned slicing the guy's throat no less than 10 times, but he cooled down by reminding himself that he was just biding his time. He would get his revenge. Eventually.

Also, his feet were sore and blistered from carrying his royal highness up and down the stairs all day in his palanquin just to go between his chambers and the Great Hall. At least he was getting to see more of the palace. He now had a pretty good idea of the layout of the place, even though he was sure there were many hidden passages and secrets he would need to discover to be successful in his mission.

He hadn't been allowed to stay in the room while the Prince sat in on the war council, so he lingered outside with his ear pressed eagerly to the door. The Princess had walked up behind him as he did this, and he jumped away from the door, expecting to be hit or dragged away by guards, but she had just looked at him. Without comment, she entered the room. Zuko had stared after her, dumbfounded, as the doors closed once more. She was definintely unusual.

When he asked Jin about the Princess during their dinner break, she got an odd look on her face, a mix of pity and disapproval. "She's a powerful bender," Jin said between spoonfuls of kelp stew. "But she's a woman."

"So?" Zuko asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

In the Fire Nation, women were just as influential, if not more so, than men. It all depended on your heritage and bending abilities. His sister would have been the one to assume the throne had she not been….

Anyway, gender had nothing to do with one's leadership qualifications. If you were strong, you were strong, and that was that.

"The Water Empire is more…traditional than most cultures," Jin explaned. Her voice dropped and she looked up at Zuko through her eyelashes. "It is said that when the Emperor learned that his first-born was a female, he tried to drown her." Zuko knew this as well, though he had always passed it off as twisted fable. It was disturbing to learn that it was the truth.

"But he didn't," he pointed out.

Jin gave him a look as if to say, well obviously, and rolled her eyes. "It is also said that when she touched the water she began to bend it. Even as a newborn she was immensely powerful. So her father let her live, afraid to anger Tui and La, the spirits who had blessed her with such an extraordinary gift."

Zuko frowned. This image of such a powerful child did not match up with the sniveling girl he had seen in the throne room only days ago. There was no way that girl could live up to the expectations these people had placed on her since birth. She was just hiding in the shell of a powerful bender.

Zuko started, confused. "But why didn't he just give the throne to his son?" He hated to even consider his royal Jerk-ness as the next Water Emperor, but if the Empire was so concerned with tradition, why wouldn't they just give him the job?

Jin shot a look around to room to see if anyone was listening to their conversation before hissing, "He's a non-bender." Zuko didn't need further explanation; he understood. Especially in such dangerous times, having a non-bender as the leader of a powerful empire, someone who could not defend himself, was a risky move. Sure he was handy with a sword, but that didn't mean much against a bender. Even though Zuko prided himself on his sword skills, he had to admit that sheets of metal wouldn't keep him alive for long if he was faced with a bender and wasn't able to bend as well.

"So what," Zuko scoffed, "they're going to let this girl they don't respect or take seriously assume the throne of the most powerful nation in the world?"

Jin just shrugged.

Zuko stabbed at a chunk of kelp in his stew, but suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. None of it made sense. How could anyone respect a nation that didn't even respect its own leaders?

After dinner, Prince Sokka's guards came to collect him and they went downstairs, but not to the prince's chambers. Instead, he was led to a spacious room lit with dim torches on the second level. The Prince was waiting for him there, watching with crossed arms as Zuko was thrown into the room. He tripped and landed on his hands and knees on a rubbery mat that seemed to cover the whole floor. It was a relief to not be standing on the cold icy ground, even though Jin had given him a servant's uniform that morning, which had included thin sealskin slippers.

Prince Sokka approached him and only when he was a few feet away did Zuko notice the black metal sword in his hand. Zuko rose to his feet and was pleased to find he was taller than the other man; it made him feel a little more powerful, even though he was weaponless.

"What am I doing here?"

The Prince tilted his head and looked Zuko up and down, petting his nonexistent facial hair. "My father did say I could do whatever I want with you."

Zuko straightened. He didn't trust the sly smile that had just spread over the Prince's face, the dangerous glint in his dark blue eyes. "And just what are you going to do?" Zuko asked carefully, eyeing the twirling sword in the prince's hand.

"We're going to spar, of course!" The Prince threw his hands up and the sword passed disconcertingly close to Zuko's face. "You look healthy enough. Maybe you'll be a worthy adversary." His voice dropped and he leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "The last few were inadequate, I regret to say."

A chill ran down Zuko's spine and suddenly the guards at the door felt more like an audience than an intimidating presence. He didn't want to know what had happened to the last few 'inadequate' partners. "Do I at least get a sword, too?" he asked, and took a step back as the Prince advanced.

The Prince laughed. He actually laughed in Zuko's face; a bellowing, indulgent sound that echoed through the room and gave Zuko an idea of how vast it really was. "Do you get a sword, ha, that's a good one!"

Zuko glared down at him. "Wouldn't you rather win in a fair fight?"

"Oh, I am going to win," the Prince asserted, his voice becoming instantly menacing. "But you'll soon learn, my friend, that I never play fair."

Since Katara wasn't learning anything new from the masters her father sought out from the corners of the world, he often volunteered to train her himself. She dreaded these lessons, as the majority of them were bloodbending, but accepted his offers nonetheless (as if she had a choice). He was one of the most—if not the most—skilled waterbenders in the world, and even more talented at at bloodbending. Thankfully, this evening they were just waterbending.

For the past hour Hakoda had been trying to teach her what he called "the Torpedo", an advanced move that was capable of disabling ships even as fortified as those in the Fire Nation. It was best performed underwater, and against a real ship, but it was almost autumn, making the water too cold, and her father did not have any spare ships to practice on. So instead they were in their training room using each other as dummies.

Katara fell down for the fourth time as her father's torpedo hit her square in the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her tumbling backwards towards the doors. Panting heavily, she pushed herself to her elbows and looked across the room at her father, who was studying her with a sour expression.

"This is not that difficult, Katara. You should have mastered this by now."

Maybe if you'd stop beating me up, it'd be easier, Katara thought bitterly to herself as she rose, shakily, to her feet. She resumed a fighting stance, her upper arms screaming with the effort. As her father had taught, she called two streams of water from the barrels that sat to the side and began weaving them together into one thick pike. Then she spun, bringing the water around her body diagonally, and sent it streaming towards her father. But she could see that it wasn't sturdy, not like her father's attack had been.

The water shivered and broke formation right before it reached him, and he parted it with a simple flick of his fingers. Katara watched as the pike broke into separate streams and her head dropped, knowing what would come next. But she was spent. The move was too difficult, and she didn't have any energy left, not even to defend herself as her father redirected the water. It circled around him once and then reformed into a solid pike, hurtling toward her, and connected with her stomach with enough force to break the steel barrier of a Fire Nation ship.

Katara was thrown back into the wall and collapsed to the floor, groaning.

"I think that is enough for one evening," the Emperor snarled, disgusted. He collected his robes and began putting them on while Katara peeled herself off the floor, limb by limb. One of her ribs was definitely broken, but she kept quiet. If she complained about it, he would probably just break another one to teach her endurance.

She managed to get into a sitting position by the time her father approached, drying his hands on a cloth. He bent down so they were eye-to-eye, and Katara knew what he was about to say.

"You are weak."

His words came as no shock: he always told her this after every training session. At least this time he wasn't saying it while bloodbending her or throwing ice daggers in her direction. Katara looked down, unable to keep his gaze. It's not that she was afraid of him—well, she was afraid of him, actually—but more than anything she was ashamed. Because she knew she was weak. Every one of her masters had told her that, except for Pakku. Even when she could beat them, they always chalked it up to luck, or dirty tricks. "Scrappy," they called her. Her bending was "messy," and "unorthodox". And she was always weak.

"Are you keeping up with your exercises?" Hakoda asked.

Katara nodded. Every morning she went through basic forms in hopes to strengthen the core of her bending. She'd been doing them since she was a child, and she could perform them in her sleep, but they didn't help her now. Something was missing.

She wished she could contact Pakku. Her bending had never been stronger than when she was studying under him, and she was just a child then. Sure, perhaps now she knew more advanced moves; attacks that could debilitate and kill. But they weren't strong. Pakku had once told her that a waterbender's strength came from her spirit, from the natural energy that moves through her. Katara didn't know if this was true or not, since none of her other teachers had ever said anything similar. But if it was, something in her spirit was seriously wrong.

Her father's lips flattened to a thin line. "Perhaps you've been spending too much time with your mother. You've been distracted from your training."

"No, Father," she tried to insist, afraid he might ban her from healing lessons, but he held up a hand.

"I'll have a talk with her."

A talk, Katara grimaced, knowing that this little 'talk' would turn into an argument, and probably a fight. She could only hope it wouldn't turn physical. She'd never seen her parents bend against each other, but she couldn't imagine it would go well. They were both talented benders, but in very different ways. Even so, her father was immensely powerful, and ruthless to boot, so she couldn't see a scenario where her mother didn't suffer. It made her cringe.

The Emperor stood up, tying his hair back into wolftail. He was dressed once more in his royal regalia. Nothing about his appearance indicated he'd just been in a fight. Then again, it hadn't been much of a fight for him.

He didn't look at her as he said, "You're a disappointment," and left the room.

As much as she tried not to let his comments hurt her, she couldn't avoid the sudden pain in her chest. It felt like she'd been attacked all over again. You are weak, you're a disappointment, weak, disappointment, echoed in her mind, loud as a foghorn, and yet silent as a whisper, meant for her ears alone.