AN: I apologize profusely for the long delay the last part of 2020 and the first half of 2021 has been hectic for me at work. But, I am back and back with regular updates. I will start responding to your comments, come next chapter. Hope you all enjoy!
Shallow breaths escape her sleep ridden body. Tender caresses lap against her skin and she shifts with each touch. Her name is whispered into her ear, as if from a lover's lips and she feels hot breath trailing down the expanse of her throat. Lips press firmly against her rib cage, hands grip tenderly at her waist and Katara mewls at the tingling sensation between her thighs.
Zuko she thinks to herself, a small smile edging at the corners of her lips. Katara's hands slide down her body, grasping onto Zuko's calloused ones. Tenderly she begins to guide them to the part of her that aches to be cleansed, purged of any remnants of Ozai. His touch, she wants to forget the way his hands felt upon her. How it felt to have him inside her and she hopes, no, she knows Zuko is the only one to expel it all.
"Please," she pleads in the darkness softly, her hands loosening their grip from his, "rid me of him."
A chuckle echoes around her, but there is something sinister in its tone that forces her eyes to snap open. Suddenly hands that were once so gentle, dig into her thighs with a deadly grip and drags her body down the bed with force. A scream rips from her lungs and into the night, but no sound reverberates around the room. She kicks and screams, hands clawing at those on her body, but nothing is working. Her breathing quickens as she is pulled down again, a solid body slipping between her thighs.
"Oh Katara," a maliciously seductive voice echos around her, "I'm going to make you bleed."
She tries to pull herself away, to drag her body up the bed, but the hands bring her back toward a faceless man as he spreads her legs further. Opening her up like a lotus flower for hungry eyes to take in. Suddenly weight shifts on the bed and the faceless one looms over her, his hand clasping around her throat. Her air supply is effectively being cut off and she tries to force him off her, but her efforts are useless. He grinds into her and all she can feel is pain. Fire licks at her skin beneath his palm as he moves in closer, his golden orbs piercing through the darkness.
"He'll never fuck you the way I do, my precious water lily."
Her heart pounds violently in her chest as Ozai's face comes into view, her breath catches in the back of her throat and her eyes widen in fear. His gaze is that of a predator and she is too weak to escape him. She can feel the fiery trail his other hand leaves, his fingers dancing across the suppleness of her body, as they make their way between her thighs.
"Let me—"
"NOOOOOOO!"
Katara jerks in her sleep, bolting upright in sheer terror. Her breathing is harsh and her body drenched in sweat. Her eyes are wild as she looks around the room, but her breathing stops when she feels a warm hand hesitantly settle on the lower curve of her back.
She tries to scurry off the bed, "Don't touch me!" she hisses violently, as a hand grips at her ankle tenderly.
"Katara?" his rugged voice echoes all around her. His hand tugs her back toward him and all she can feel is an overwhelming tightness in her chest. The panic envelopes her as the thought of him taking her again creeps into every crevasse of her mind. Katara cries out and kicks as hard as she can, her foot connecting with his solid form. He grunts in surprise and his grip loosens just enough for her to roll off the bed and make a run for the doors. The feeling of his hands on her body, between her thighs—she gasps—the feeling of him inside of her—she wants to forget!
Not again. NOT AGAIN!
Suddenly strong arms wrap around her middle, pulling her into a solid body and Katara screams. In the distance, she can faintly hear the churning of her element from the washroom. It is turbulent, raw with unbridled rage and relief washes over her in waves. The water surges toward her, answering her fear driven call and she slams the torrent of water into her attacker's face. A grunt escapes him as he is swept to the floor. Desperately she charges for the doors once more, her heart pounding, but he is on her yet again. She kicks and thrashes around as arms cage her against a naked torso.
"No!" she screams, her voice cracking from the strain on her vocal chords, "Let me go!"
Tears stream down her face, "You've taken enough," she collapses in his arms, "you've taken—!"
"Katara," his breath tickles her ear, "it's me, it's Zuko," he turns her in his hold, his hands instantly cupping her face, drawing her eyes up to meet his own, "he isn't here."
But his voice is unable to penetrate through the fog in her mind. Her eyes shift wildly as they take in his face, her hand frantically comes to rest on his scarred cheek, fingers dancing over the leathery skin. It is only then, when her fingers caress damaged flesh, that she understands who holds her now. She gasps in relief and slumps against him. Sobs wrack her body, tears spill over her cheekbones as she buries her face into his chest. Hands claw at his back, in a desperate search for something, anything to hold on to. A hand weaves its way into her hair, massaging her scalp softly, while another runs down her back, soothing Katara into a state of calm. Zuko rests his head atop hers, trying so hard to keep her stable.
"I've got you."
Her shrill cries die down to soft whimpers, but soon her legs can no longer support her weight and she collapses into Zuko. Quickly he adjusts their bodies and picks her up, carrying her back to the bed.
Zuko sits on the bed's edge as covers her up in the silk sheets. His hand goes to tuck her hair behind her ear but instinctively she flinches at his touch. Slowly he pulls his hand away and he sighs, watching as eyes slowly flutter shut and hears that her breathing is evening out. A hand runs over his face before he fixes a glare on the man in the family portrait above the mantle.
How could someone like you, have ever been loved by someone like her, he thinks, his eyes drifting to the woman in the painting.
Another sigh escapes him as he looks back to Katara and guilt gnaws away at him. His face drops into his hands and he cannot help but curse softly into his palms. He never should have left her side. Not even for a moment. Not after his father engaged her at the harem.
I am such a fool he hisses to himself, his hand gently caresses her cheek, this time she nuzzles her face into his touch. Frustration and worry seep into his bones and he cannot bury the guilt that continues to swell within him. This is his fault and he will do anything to make it right.
A sharp knock at the door draws his focus from Katara and there is a commotion that can be heard on the other side. A woman's high pitch voice, followed by apologies and angry screaming. Zuko sighs heavily, giving Katara one last look before begrudgingly heading for the door. He quickly puts his trousers on and throws on his red silk robe, before pushing the doors open to find out what all the fuss is about at such an hour.
The sun hasn't even risen yet he muses.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demands, seeing that his guards are preventing Song from entering his chambers.
They bow to him in unison, while Song adjusts her robe and fixes her mused hair. Zuko's eyes narrow a fraction as he takes in the cloak she's wearing. Olive green, with gold flowers embroidered along the hem. His eyes travel slowly up to her face to see her flushed but smiling brilliantly at him.
"Zuko—"
His glare hardens, "It's Prince Zuko, Mistress Song," he approaches slowly, waiving the guards off, "should you call me by my name again, I'll see to it that you're sent back to that Earth Kingdom shit hole I found you in."
Her eyes widen at an alarming rate and she quickly bows to him, "I meant no offense, your majesty!"
With a click of his tongue, Zuko brushes past her, the doors sealing shut behind him. He mutters orders to the guards before moving on. When she does not immediately follow, he turns back to her, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Did you need something Mistress or do you plan on staking out my chambers all evening?"
Song stares after him, dumbfounded for a moment. He has never treated her this way before and she silently wonders if Katara has told him. It is the only thing that could explain his hostility toward her. Quietly she follows him down the hall, her head remains bowed and her eyes glued to the bottom of his robe.
Soon, they find themselves in the gardens. Song perks up a bit when she realizes that they have come to Zuko's favorite sector and she sighs softly. She comes next to his side, her hand gingerly reaching for his, but as soon as her fingers graze the back of his hand, Zuko pulls away.
"What is it?" she inquires softly.
Zuko's jaw tenses, "Why did you come?"
Song's brow furrows, she reaches for him again, only to see him move just out of reach.
"Does my touch offend you? It wasn't so earlier this evening, my lord." She states softly.
Golden eyes shift to her, they trail down her body with a calculating glare once more before locking with her own gaze.
"Must I repeat myself?" He snaps harshly.
Song shakes her head timidly, "You never came back after—"
"I told you I wouldn't."
"I suppose I didn't hear that," she admits softly, "I apologize."
He looks away from her, his eyes wandering about the garden, "Besides, I'm sure my father would be more than willing to keep your bed warm," he airs his suspicions.
Don't be true. Please don't let it be true, he thinks softly.
A soft, almost inaudible gasp reaches his ears and he snarls at the action.
Slowly he turns to her, "What? You didn't think I would have figured it out eventually?"
She backs away from him as he advances toward her, his tone is calm but his eyes hold a raging inferno, "How long have you been my father's pet?"
Without noticing, she ends up backing herself up against one of the garden walls, her eyes widen when she realizes she has nowhere else to go. Zuko is barely a few inches from her, their breaths mingle and Song tries to come up with an excuse, anything that could save her.
"It's not what you think—" she gasps out in fear.
Zuko comes to cup the side of her face, his hand tender, though his voice betrays the action, "To think, the one person I was trying to protect you from, you were fucking behind my back all along."
"Would you really take her word over mine!" Song snaps hysterically, tears brimming her waterline.
Zuko's brow furrows a fraction and he leans in close, his other hand resting on the wall near her head.
"I don't need the word of anyone, when my own eyes bared witness."
Song is trembling, her chest heaving, "I—he—" she tries to take a deep breath, but her body fails to comply, "I did nothing wrong!"
She pushes against his chest.
Zuko is unmoving, Song is not as strong as she likes to believe, "From the moment that Water Tribe whore arrived, you've barely spoken to me," she's crying now, "you hardly touch me and every time I turn around, you are always with her! I have needs too, Prince Zuko!"
Zuko pulls away from Song, giving her a moment to collect herself, "Are you quite finished?"
"That whore got what she deserved! What possessed her to think that I would save her—"
The breath is knocked out of her as she is slammed against the wall, Zuko's hand wrapped around her throat, "What did you just say?"
Her hands grapple at his wrist, trying to pry his off her, but Song is failing miserably, "What do you mean, save her?"
Song laughs defeatedly, suddenly her whole demeanor turns sour, "How else would you know that I was with your father?"
Thoughts race in his mind, "I saw your cloak hanging near his chamber doors the night I—"
His eyes widen as the weight of her words crash against him, "You. Were. There." He grinds out, his grip tightening around her throat.
Song gasps, her face starting to turn a soft hue of red, a vein begins to bulge down the center of her forehead, "I thought—she—" Song is finding it hard to breathe, dark spots begin to cloud her vision, "—told you!"
"She told me nothing of your betrayal," he rips her from the wall and throws her down onto the soft grass at his feet.
Song touches the hollow of her neck as she tries to scurry away from him, "How can I betray someone I don't even know, let alone like!"
Zuko steps toward her, "But you knew she meant something to me," pain is evident in his tone, "you were the only one who knew. For years."
Song's fingers dig into the moist bank of the small pond, "You were my friend. Who I confided in and still, you betrayed me. By turning a blind eye as the woman I love gets raped by my father!"
Fire seeps from his mouth as he exhales deeply between clenched teeth. Song knows that he is in a dangerous state right now.
"Zu-zuko—" Song is visibly shaking, her body unable to contain the fear that rattles her to her core, "—p-p-please—"
Zuko scuffs as he looks down upon her, disgust and hatred evident in his eyes, "Did she beg as you are now?"
Tears stream down her face as he inches closer. Slowly Zuko lowers himself to where he's crouched, resting on the balls of his feet, his hand grips at Song's ankle and with a quick jerk, he pulls her under him.
"Did she beg as you lay here, begging me now?" He yells in her face, her body flinches in response.
Song mutters something so softly that he cannot quite hear her. His hand grips her mandible and he forces her upper body to sit up and all she can do is whimper in pain.
"What was that?"
Song fixes a glare on him and she sucks in a deep breath from her nose, nostrils flaring defiantly, "I said yes! She begged him to fuck her like the whore she is!"
For a moment there is silence. Their eyes connect, taking in the other and all the emotions that swirl rage within dilated pupils.
"What happened to you?" His voice comes out in a soft murmur. Confusion evident in his eyes. His breath shudders across her face in warm puffs and his grip loosens to were it feels almost like a gentle cupping of her jaw now.
The whiplash she receives from the shift in his mood is deadly and tears continue to stream down her face as she tries to reach out to him. But he sighs and releases his grip on her jaw. He stands and withdraws himself from her presence and begins to leave the gardens.
Song scurries toward him on her hands and knees, "Do not blame this solely on me! Because you left me, your father—"
"I was never yours!"
She pulls herself up, wrapping her arms around her nimble frame, "You promised to protect me—"
Zuko's eyes widen a fraction, "When did it start?"
"What?"
Slowly he approaches, "When did my father's advances on you start?"
Song remains silent, her eyes cast down, staring at the grass beneath her feet. She couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. She and Ozai had been secretly meeting for months, long before Katara's arrival. But it was Zuko's attention that she craved and vied for. Though he may not know or understand, everything she did was for him. Slowly her eyes trail upward to meet his gaze, but movement from the corner of her eye made her turn her head to see the intruder.
There was no one there but the retreating shadow was evidence enough. Her heart hammers in her chest and she once more casts her gaze downward, her jaw clenching.
It was this moment of deafening silence that told Zuko all he needed to know, "I never stopped protecting you," his voice is soft but firm, "but I cannot very well protect a sheep pig that walks into the dragons lair willingly."
With that Zuko begins to walk away, but Song is not willing to watch him go. She runs to him, her small arms encircling his waist and her fingers dig desperately into the fabric of his robe as she pulls him back toward her.
"Zuko please!" She yells frantically.
Zuko stills, but he cannot bring himself to look at her, "Let me go," he says.
There is a finality in his voice that leaves no room for argument. With trembling hands Song releases him. For a moment he remains glued to the spot, almost as if begging her to give him something, anything that would make him see things differently. But Song remains silent. Her teary eyes follow him as he finally continues to walk out of the gardens and she collapses in sheer despair. Trying to muffle her sorrowful cries, Song buries her face into her hands.
"If I didn't know any better, one might think you wanted to tell him our little secret," a grave voice whispers into her ear.
Song stills as a hand grasps her shoulder tightly, "No! I would never betr—" she gasps into the night air, as fingers dig into her shoulder.
"See to it that you keep your mouth shut."
Song nods furiously, never once turning her gaze to look upon the man as he retreated deep into the garden. Her breaths are shaky as she tries to stand. Bile churns in her stomach and she cannot stop herself from emptying her stomach onto the grass. She is beside herself and she only wishes for Zuko to hold and comfort her. If only he knew what she was willing to sacrifice for him.
Zuko finds himself back in his chambers, whiskey hot on his breath as he sits across from his fireplace. His robe has come undone, falling off one of his shoulders, his trousers resting just below his hips and his hair is a mess. Grooves and pathways form where fingers raked through locks as his mind wandered. The whiskey churns and fire dances across its copper face as Zuko rolls the bottle around on its end, across the armrest of his chair. His conversation with Song repeating in his mind, over and over again.
Something didn't seem quite right and yet, she said nothing to defend her position. He has known Song for years and she has never lied to him before, but tonight, she was so bold as to lie straight to his face. It was insulting. For her to think that he didn't know her well enough to see her tells, it made his blood boil.
She was hiding something and he was going to find out what that was.
With a burst of rage, Zuko hurls the whiskey bottle into the fire and watches as the flames combust, roaring like Agni himself. Their wild fury reflecting in his amber eyes.
"Zuko?" a soft, yet frightened voice calls out to him from the darkness. His body moves of its own accord, moving toward that sweet, melodic voice and he sees Katara stirring in his bed.
He curses softly as he carefully approaches, trying desperately not to startle her in any way.
"Go back to bed Katara," he encourages her and she tries to focus on him through the haze of her sleepiness.
Katara notices his state of being and sits up hesitantly, gripping the sheets to her chest, "Are you alright?"
Zuko cannot help the dark chuckle that rumbles deep in his chest. She was asking him if he was alright?
"Do I amuse you?" She asks sharply, confused as to why he found her question humorous.
Slowly Zuko sheds his body of his robe and trousers and proceeds to crawl beneath the sheets.
He shakes his head as he kills the flames in the hearth and pulls her down into the bed with him, "I should be the one asking you that. Not the other way around," he presses his chest against her back as he curls curls his arm around her waist.
"I'm ok," she whispers, her response barely audible, bringing her arm to rest atop his.
Zuko presses his lips to her bare shoulder, kissing her tenderly.
She freezes at the intimate touch, fear crawling down her spine and Zuko cannot help but notice the way her body responds, "Liar," he breathes into her ear before burrowing his head into her nest of hair.
Katara breathes deeply, she buries her face into her pillow, trying so hard to push out that singular word.
I am not a liar.
Silent tears escape her misty eyes. She senses that Zuko knows, because his hold on her tightens as he nuzzles against the back of her neck and kisses her tenderly, whispering soft words of adoration to ease her suffering. It is endearing and sweet. Her grip on his arm tightens as she presses herself further into his warmth, wanting to be engulfed by his presence.
I am a liar.
"I'm fine," she grinds out with more conviction and it makes Zuko's heart clench. So strong, yet not strong enough.
"AANG RUN!" a guttural scream rips from her throat as she forces the soldiers back. Her robes are tattered and burnt, patches of angry flesh peer through the shredded material along her arms, abdomen and legs. Her dark tresses dance around her wildly, having fallen from her tightly confined braid.
Suddenly more soldiers surround her. Katara maneuvers her water into the octopus form and she sends soldiers spiraling. He runs toward her, ignoring Katara's protests, but he is suddenly cut off by a wall of fire. More Fire Nation troops surround her and suddenly a glimpse of white and a flash of blue catch his attention. Sokka breaks through the fire, his boomerang clanking against the helmets of soldiers as it whirls by and soon the Water Tribe royals are backed up against one another. Bender and non-bender against the odds.
His feet carry him, he is weightless as he bolts for the siblings, the air obeying his commands.
"AANG NO! RUN!" Sokka yells at him over the clattering of swords and the sound of rushing water.
It was in that moment, for a split second, her attention was not on the fight, but him and that was all it took for a soldier to shoot a precisely aimed torrent of fire in her direction.
Eyes widen in fear as he surges toward the siblings, tears evident in his eyes as he reaches out for her.
"KATARA!" her name is torn from his lips and Aang bolts upright, sweat clinging to his naked body. His eyes are wide and his chest is heaving.
It was just a dream. Just a dream.
He tries to calm himself down, but he knows it is futile. The nightmares haven't stopped since Katara and Sokka's capture. He was the reason they were taken and all because he couldn't reveal himself. Aang curses softly before rushing around his tent, throwing on his robes and making his way out into the campsite. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and he could feel his blood stir.
Must be a firebender thing, he muses to himself.
Quietly he collects his staff and proceeds to take off toward the east. A few weeks ago he found a cliff that overlooked a lush valley, rich with vegetation and teeming with animal wildlife. The Earth Kingdom was so vast and versatile in its landscape. It consisted of deep canyons, thick swamplands, mountainous forests and desolate deserts. The Earth Kingdom was a land of balance in nature. If only it could have such a balance with the people that inhabited it.
Finally coming to the cliffside, Aang takes a seat, his glider discarded at his side and he begins to meditate. In through the nose and out through the mouth. His breaths are deep and concentrated. His mind empties and he focuses on the air entering his lungs. Meditation always helped him clear his thoughts. But he knows that meditation will only ever get him so far. It won't bring Katara or Sokka back.
Another deep breath leaves his body as he closes his eyes, fists pressing into one another and his legs crossed. Perhaps, he could call upon one of his past lives for aid. Maybe they would know what to do.
"Avatar Roku, please, I need your guidance and wisdom," his voice carries weight.
Wind whirls around him. Dirt and debris flurries dance in the air. There is a shift in the atmospheric pressure, his body feels weightless and he knows he has entered the realm between realms.
"Hello Aang," a gravelly voice calls out to him.
"Roku."
Zuko wakes to the sun's call. Fire erupts in the pit of his stomach as he slowly stretches out. His movements are small and subtle, as to try and not wake Katara.
She had tossed and turned all night. Mumbling things in her sleep. Things that sounded similar to her begging and pleading for him to stop. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to erase the very memory of what happened to her. But, even in her sleep, there were times that she would shy away from his touch. Flinch even and he didn't quite know how to process it. He knew that it wasn't his touch that revolted her, that much he was certain. But, when her eyes were closed, she couldn't distinguish the difference and that's what pains him. Slowly he slips out of bed and retreats to the balcony for meditation. He has found himself sorely displaced, unbalanced and meditation is one of the few things that align his chi and recalibrates his chakras.
After his morning meditation is finished, Zuko quietly treks across his chambers and disappears into the washroom. A soft gasp escapes him as he splashes cool water across his face, trying to chase away the haze of sleep that is still settled into his bones. His eyes roam over his reflection in the mirror. For a moment he is lost, staring aimlessly at himself. There are characteristics about him that remind him of his father. Sharp lines, thin lips and furrowed brows. But there is a tenderness in his eyes that reminds him so much of his mother. She had always told him that he had her eyes. He often wonders if her eyes betrayed her like his do. If they were so easily read as his are. Could people tell what dark truths they held? Were they able to see the sorrow that consumed those golden orbs held? A knock pulls his fixed attention away from his reflection.
Quietly he pads out of the washroom and to his chamber doors, where he finds Commander Nikko awaiting him.
"What is it?"
The Commander bows, "Fire Lord Ozai has summoned the war council. Your presence is required, your highness."
Zuko snarls at the mention of his father. The man literally had no Agni damned shame. Golden orbs narrow in sheer defiance.
"You tell him that—" Zuko takes an immediate pause, "— no," he takes a deep breath, biting back his desired remark, "request on my behalf that the war council reconvene in a week's time."
Nikko bows his head curtly, "Your highness, the council has gathered to hear your proposed plans for issues discussed earlier in the week."
Zuko sneers, "That damn library isn't going anywhere and there aren't any supplies that are being caravanned to our troops for the rebels to attack anytime soon. They can wait a fucking week."
Nikko shifts in his place, "I will beseech the council on your behalf, your highness."
Whimpers inside the chamber interrupt their conversation. A look of urgency pulls tightly at Zuko's features.
"See to it that you do. Once you've finished, tell the cooks to prepare a breakfast spread for Lady Katara and I," Zuko commands before he is retreating into his chamber.
Fingers rub at strained and tense temples. A steaming cup of tea sits before her, along with a mountain of scrolls containing requests for her ladies. There is one scroll in particular that has caused immense strain on her. Eyes drift over the scribbles on the parchment and she cannot stop the heavy sigh that escapes her. Things were complicated to begin with. But this, this makes them dangerously so.
Her mind is still processing the most recent developments and now it is reeling from this unprecedented information. She needs to inform Iroh and get things prepared for their guest's impending arrival.
"Spirits be damned," Nyla curses, her hand reaches down into one of her drawers, pulling out a small bottle of fire whiskey. She scuffs as she uncorks it and proceeds to pour some into her tea.
A soft chuckle comes from the entrance of her office and her eyes snap to the intruder, "A bit early for that, don't you think?"
Commander Nikko of course.
Nyla rolls her eyes in disdain, "What is it that you want?"
The time for pleasantries has long since passed. She is uncertain of his true roll here. Was he a lap dog for the Fire Lord or a well placed spy for Prince Zuko? It is hard to tell. Commander Nikko has many faces and thus makes him hard to trust.
Calculating eyes stare at her momentarily, narrowing a fraction as she sips on her morning brew, "Such a calloused greeting for so early in the day. Perhaps you should add a bit more fire whisky," he points to her tea cup, "maybe it'll actually make you a little ray of sunshine."
Nyla smirks at his comment and she cannot help but lean back in her chair, her cup barely perched beneath her lips.
"Well, if someone didn't barge into my office as if he were the Fire Lord himself, perhaps I would receive you in a different manner."
Nikko scoffs, "That, I seriously doubt."
Her eyes narrow at him, dangerously, "I won't ask again."
Nikko straightens, his hands clasped before him, "Prince Zuko requests a breakfast spread be brought for him and Lady Katara."
"Do I look like a fucking cook? Does my office look like the kitchens to you?"
Nikko sighs, "I have to get to the war council with specific instructions from Prince Zuko. The kitchens are in the opposite direction and I don't know how long I'll be detained."
Nyla narrows her eyes at him, her jaw ticking in annoyance, "Very well," she stands abruptly, her chair screeching across the floor.
"Aren't you going to finish—" Nikko begins, finger pointing to the steaming cup on her desk, but Nyla is already gone.
He reaches across her desk and gulps down her tea and fire whisky concoction. A cough escapes him as he feels the whiskey burn down his throat.
"Spirits! What in Agni's name—did she even have tea in this?" his hand is wiping at his mouth as he hurries out of the Harem.
Teeth naw at her thumbnail as she stands idly by in the kitchens, waiting for the cooks to finish Prince Zuko's breakfast.
The kitchen is bustling with life as servants come and go, unloading the week's food deliveries. Cooks barking orders as they shuffle around between making meals for the Royal family and nobility, all the while inspecting the food brought in by the servants.
"So he has you bringing him breakfast now?" Tao, the Royal Chef, remarks as he hands her a large tray with an assortment of food.
Nyla smiles coyly at him, "Special circumstances this time," she takes the tray from Tao, "always a pleasure seeing you."
"You should come around more often Nyla," he replies, throwing a towel over his shoulder, "don't wait for Prince Zuko's orders to bring you here again."
Nyla chuckles, "I won't. I'll see you around Tao."
Moments later she finds herself knocking on Prince Zuko's chamber doors. Shortly after, a shirtless Prince answers the door and no words are spoken between the two. His jaw tenses momentarily before opening the door, allowing her entrance. As she places the tray down on the small table, her eyes drift to the bed where Katara is still asleep. A rustling noise catches her attention and she sees Zuko slipping into a loose fitting cotton shirt. He begins to fasten the shirt in silence, not sparing a single glance at Nyla.
"How is she?"
The question hangs in the air, poised like a sharpened blade. These are the first words exchanged between Nyla and Zuko after their spat at the infirmary.
Zuko's fingers still for a moment before continuing.
"How do you think she is."
"Don't do that," Nyla snaps, "don't answer me with a question and a back handed one at that."
Zuko sighs, he's having difficulty with one of the ties to his shirt, "Nyla I'm not in the mood for this."
Nyla presses him, smacking his hands away from the ribbons that tie the shirt together. Her fingers make quick work, fastening it closed, her eyes boring holes into his when she is finished.
"We may have had our misunderstanding, fine, I will respect your decisions. But when it comes to her," Zuko's eyes flicker toward the bed, "I at least want my questions answered."
He scoffs, pulling away from Nyla's grasp, "She tossed and turned all night. Woke up screaming," he begins to pull his hair into a topknot, "she attacked me thinking I was Ozai at one point too."
Nyla's brow furrows when Katara shifts in the bed, the sheets slip down just enough to display her state of undress.
"Agni Zuko!" Nyla whispers harshly, taking him by the upper arm and dragging him near the doors of his chamber, "Did you bed her after—after what he did to her!" she hisses, venom dripping from every word.
Zuko jerks his arm from her grasp, his face contorted in anger, "She asked me to make her forget," he turns from her, hands running down his face, "do not think that I didn't realize it was a mistake!"
Nyla fixes her steely gaze on him, her jaw tightening as she watches him pace back and forth, "How could you have been so careless?"
"You weren't there! You didn't see the desperation in her eyes," he grinds out, trying to remind himself to stay calm, "it isn't going to be a mistake I repeat."
Her hand itches to slap him, to truly make him understand the ramifications of his actions, but she cannot. As he so plainly stated, here, he is the Crown Prince and to disrespect him here would be foolish and the consequences grave.
"Is there anything you require of me?" she asks, composing herself as best she can. She needs to leave before her silver tongue gets her into further trouble.
Zuko turns to her, defeat and determination swirling in his golden pools, "I want all of her belongings transferred to my chambers by this evening."
Nyla nods and begins to make her way out of the chamber, "Very well," her hand pulls at the door, "you may want to draw her a warm bath after she eats," their gazes connect, "it'll help her relax."
"I am well aware," his response is curt, yet he appreciates Nyla's concern, "if there is nothing else?"
There is a brief pause, her teeth chew at the corner of her lip, "What of the Lady Song?"
His breath hitches at the mention of the Earth Kingdom girl, his eyes narrow dangerously at Nyla, "What of her?" his tone is sharp and almost unforgiving.
"You two were heard arguing late into the night. I am simply wondering what it is you'd have me do with her."
Zuko scuffs, "You are not without your spies."
"The walls have ears Prince Zuko. Should you wish for no one to hear your private conversations, might I suggest not having them out in the open and in the gardens of all places," Nyla crosses her arms, a smirk creeping into the corner of her mouth.
The tension grows slightly thicker between the two as silence hangs in the air. To be honest, he didn't know what to do with her. Sure he is furious with her, disgusted even, but he cannot fully believe that she would act the way she is if there had not been a reason to.
"That is for you to decide as the Mistress of the Harem. She is one of your ladies after all," he finally states.
Nyla nods, "Very well. I'll see to it her punishment fits her crime," she turns to leave.
"Any harsh punishments are to be approved by me first," he quickly corrects and Nyla shifts her gaze to him from over her shoulder.
"Yes, my Prince."
A sigh of relief escapes him once Nyla leaves. He knows that they will need to discuss what was said between them at the infirmary, but he isn't ready to deal with that just yet. Right now his focus is honed in on Katara and doing whatever it takes to help her through, what he knows will be, a long process toward recovery.
Without making much noise, Zuko walks to the bed and seats himself at her backside, careful to not startle her, "Katara," he gently rests his hand on her covered hip, rubbing soothing circles, "Katara," he applies a little more pressure and some warmth from his palm.
She murmurs at his attentions and slowly stretches her body out. Her eyes peek over her shoulder groggily to see Zuko sitting there with a tender smile on his face. Sighing, she turns over to face him, a soft smile on her lips and she reaches out for his hand.
"Good morning," she replies quietly.
For a moment his eyes dance across her face, a deep breath enters his lungs as he scoots closer to her, his hand caressing her cheek, "Are you hungry?"
Katara nods her head slowly, squeezing his hand tightly, "and in need of a bath."
"I'll draw one up for you," Zuko moves in to kiss her and Katara angles her head up to capture his lips, but he kisses her forehead and gives her hair a few soft strokes before getting up.
With confused eyes and furrowed brows, Katara watches as Zuko disappears into the washroom and she sits up carefully. A hiss escapes her lips as her thighs involuntarily tremble. Her back aches and there is a soreness between her legs that makes itself ever present. Pain and pleasure came hand in hand and she couldn't help but think of the events from the past few nights. Katara tries to hold back a whimper when she shifts her legs off the bed and her body convulses gently as she attempts to stand on her own two feet.
Before she can save herself from the fall, strong arms effortlessly scoop her whole body up and she finds herself pressed into a firm chest.
"I've got you," Zuko whispers into her hair.
Katara secures one arm around his neck, the other on the sheet and allows him to walk her into the washroom. She fidgets slightly in his hold but she is trying to keep her breathing in check. Zuko doesn't make her uncomfortable. His presence doesn't threaten her safety. In fact he makes her feel nothing but safe. So why does she feel slightly uncomfortable being in his arms? The confusion angers her and her fist tightens it's hold on the sheet that wraps around her. Zuko sets her down gently, giving her the opportunity to lean against the marble water basin and she shy's away from him slightly.
"The water is warm," Zuko pulls his hand from the marble in-ground tub, "should you need it warmer, please let me know."
Katara clutches the sheet closer to her as she nods and Zuko seems to notice the small action.
"Would you like some wine?"
"Yes," she breathes out, "thank you."
As soon as he exits the washroom, Katara pries herself away from the water basin, sheet falling from her frame and steps into the bathtub. A sigh escapes her as she slowly sinks into its warm, inviting depths. In a small golden bowl in the corner, she sees different soaps and small circular spheres that looked like they were made with a granular substance. Stuck to these odd looking balls, appear to be dried spices and crushed up flower petals. Carefully she plucks one from the bowl, examining it further. With it raised to her nose, she sniffs at it to see what exactly it is.
"That is a soap bomb. It's infused with herbs, spices and flowers," Zuko's voice has her spinning around to see him approaching with two goblets, presumably filled with wine. He sets the goblets down and extends his hand out to Katara.
"May I?" He asks for the small sphere and she cautiously hands it over.
Carefully, he dips the small object into the water and it instantly begins to fizz, causing Katara to shuffle back somewhat in caution.
Zuko chuckles, "It won't hurt you. It's just making soap suds in the water."
Katara nods as she watches Zuko's hand twirl water around, shifting bubbles across the water's surface and effectively covering her body from his view. Quietly he removed his hand and dries it off with a towel before resting against the water basin.
"Here you are," he passes her the wine glass, which she takes and places off to her side. Offering him a small smile of gratitude.
Zuko looks away from her as he brings the wine to his lips.
His eyes avert to Katara as she slowly sinks herself into the water a little further, leaning her head back against the back of the tub. A sigh escapes her as the water raises to just below her chin. To be engulfed by her element puts her at ease and unconsciously she starts to bend. The water around her begins to glow, trying desperately to heal her broken body. Some wounds cannot be seen on the surface, but buried deep within and there are those wounds that not even her healing waters can mend. A single tear escapes the corner of her eye and she takes in a deep breath, trying so hard not to focus on how broken and weak she feels. With every fiber of her being, she feels rage and not because she wasn't able to fight back, but because she couldn't. Her duty forced her to stay her blade, but her honor, it was torn to tatters.
While lost in her thoughts, she doesn't hear Zuko shuffle around and position himself on the floor. Nor does she feel a disturbance in the water as he dips his hand in to test its warmth. What she does feel is the temperature raise and soon, a calloused hand rest on her ankle. Slowly her eyes open and she takes Zuko into focus. The warmth and tenderness she feels from his touch as his thumb rubs circles into her, ankle almost makes her melt. There is a tenderness in his eyes and a cautious air about him, as if he's tending to a wounded animal. Katara cannot stop the soft scowl that snares at her lips. She is indeed wounded, but she'll be damned if she allows this one incident to break her.
"Katara I—" the sound of his chamber doors slamming open startles them both. Zuko's grip on her ankle tightens a fraction.
"Zuko!" a commanding voice calls out to him from within his chamber and Zuko cannot fight the exasperated sigh that leaves him.
What is it now.
The Prince gives Katara an apologetic look, before pulling his arm from the water, "Give me but a moment."
Katara simply nods as she sinks further into the tub, seemingly trying to all but disappear.
Sighing, Zuko walks through the washroom door, closing it firmly behind him as he approaches the furious woman now in his chambers, "Mai you cannot just ba—"
"You now have two whores who share your bed?" she cuts him off, her tone sharp, "The court is amiss with rumors of you dirtying your sheets with that backwater whore."
Zuko's brow furrows. His teeth clench. He cannot help but glance back at the washroom, hoping Katara cannot hear Mai's words.
Song.
"Do I mean so little to you?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko stills himself, "Mai—"
"We are to be married Zuko. MARRIED. How distasteful it must look to see that I cannot quench your thirst. Thus you resort to whores," she scuffs.
"You knew I never wanted this marriage, Mai."
Silence settles between them for a moment. Her arms are folded across her chest and there is a storm brewing in her eyes.
"Why am I not good enough for you Zuko?"
"You are," Zuko confesses, "you are too good for me and for this family. I'm trying to save you from a lifetime of misery."
It wasn't a lie. Mai deserved far better than anything he could give her. His family was a disaster and his line of succession was not entirely secured. He knew his father teetered between him and Azula, always taunting them as to whom he would name his heir. By law, it was his birthright, but Ozai was not one to follow the rules. He had his own father murdered, his elder brother denounced as heir apparent and so much more. Zuko could not tie Mai, a righteous and untainted woman to this sham of a royal blood line. But these were not the only reasons. In the end, he knew he could not bring himself to love her the way she needed him to love her. That alone meant she was far more deserving of another. A man who would love and cherish her the ways she deserved. Zuko knew he was not that man from the moment their engagement was announced years ago.
"What if I don't wish to be saved?"
"Mai—"
"No! I want this!" her hand gestures back and forth between them, "I want us!"
"But I don't, Mai. I do not desire to be trapped in a political, loveless marriage."
When he had been sent off to the military, a punishment for speaking out of turn, Zuko remembers being extremely elated. Granted he would miss his country, but he wouldn't miss the rivalry between him and Azula for his father's approval and affection. He wouldn't miss the interactions with the fork tongued snakes of the imperial court and lastly, he wouldn't miss Mai. He would be free to breathe openly without her presence choking his internal flame. He had been free to enjoy life without the pressures of their engagement weighing down upon him and it was the freest he has ever felt.
"Zuko, I love you!"
"But I don't love you! Don't you understand? I will never be able to give you what you want, what you fucking deserve!"
Mai stands there, silent, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"I will inform my father of my decision. I'm sorry Mai."
"If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't be doing this to me Zuko. Do you understand the shame and humiliation you're about to put me and my family through?"
"Do you understand the shame you and your family will feel when all the court can mutter about is how your touch revolts me? How I only dare fuck you so that I may have an heir."
Mai slaps him. Hard. His face snaps to the left with force.
Zuko deserves it. He does not retaliate against it.
"You are such an asshole," Mai whispers out harshly.
Zuko turns his face back to her, his hand popping his jaw, "I will not disagree with you."
"What happened to you?" Mai sneers.
His eyes narrow slightly at her inquisition, "I opened my eyes to the truth and to my reality. It's time you did the same."
"Fuck you Zuko," she shoves passed him, her shoulder slamming into his.
Zuko let her storm off. He let her run from him, face stain with salted tears and eyes marred an angry red.
You'll thank me one day Mai.
With a deep sigh, Zuko adjusts his tunic before turning around to head back into the washroom. There was no way Katara couldn't have heard any of that. He just hoped she wasn't uncomfortable with him after hearing Mai's words.
He finds her still in the tub, sipping on her wine and playing with the soap suds. Her eyes shift to him when he enters and there seems to be a glint of amusement.
"How much of that did you hear?"
Katara shrugs her shoulders languidly, "Not much," she watches as Zuko brings the wine glass to his lips, "backwater seemed a bit harsh though."
Zuko chokes on his wine and Katara giggles.
He slips down to the ground, leaning against the base of the counter across from her, "You shouldn't have had to hear any of that. I am sorry for Mai's words and the offense they carried."
"It isn't the first time someone has said something distasteful about me and it won't be the last, I'm sure," she takes another sip, "besides, what kind of warrior would I be if I allow the things people say about me, offend me?"
Zuko looks at her, like he's trying to decipher her, "You'd be like any other," he resigns, "you'd be human."
AN: Such an angsty chapter, no? There are a lot of emotions swirling around in this chapter and navigating them is going to be interesting to say the least. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!